The body was in full rigor mortis, arms rigid in their spread eagle position inside the circle, blood dried a dark brown on the concrete floor. Sam knelt just outside the splatter, examining the beer bottle and glasses; Carol studied the various spell paraphernalia on the rickety folding table. The basement was cold and damp, ancient washer and dryer the only thing in the space confined within crumbling brick walls; they'd been tracing Tessa's path during her missing hours and the trail had led them to this old house, her aunt's home.

"Looks like the waiter from last night at the bar," Sam said. "That would explain how he or she got our DNA to link the spell to us. I don't recognize these symbols though." He took pictures with his phone of the simple chalk circle and drawings on the floor.

"I've got some herbs, a strange rock, a tree branch, and, given the state of the victim, probably human blood." Carol didn't touch anything, carefully avoiding the items on the table. Sam stood and looked over her shoulder, taking a pinch of the herb mixture to sniff.

"Wormwood and something else. Quartz," he pointed to the stone, "focuses magical energies, would help target the spell and increase the power of it. Elm wood, that fits. It's associated with the Great Goddess, especially in her crone form. Tracks with Hera and Hecate. Definitely a female power at work here."

"Well, if I ever need info on magic, I know who to come to now," Carol joked, smiling at him.

"I think we've got all we need here. Why don't you give your friend a call? At least the poor guy's family will know he's dead."

"Friend? Oh, right, you mean April. Good idea," Carol took out her phone and headed up the stairs to get better reception; Sam followed rolling the information they'd gathered around in his head, looking for connections. This whole thing had started with werewolf kills … four of them … and now they were hip deep in deities and alphas. Someone, it seemed, was trying to corner the mark on god power and they'd managed to get right in the middle of it and paint a big target on their back as usual.

His phone rang and he answered while Carol was still talking to the detective.

"Hey, where are you guys? We're almost back to the hotel, and we've got news." Dean said, anxiety evident in his voice.

"On our way, maybe 30 minutes out. We've can compare notes then." Sam opened the passenger door to Carol's car and slid in.

…

"The original Great Goddess?" Sam shook his head. "We are up shit creek if that's true."

"Agreed. She took out an Alpha without blinking, burned the whole place to the ground." Clint had his feet on the end table, a cold bottle of beer in his hand as he lounged on the couch.

"Oh, come on. We've taken out Lucifer. We can handle one Big Bad Bitch Goddess," Dean unscrewed the cap off a second bottle. He dropped down into a chair, paralleling his legs with Clint's. "We figure out how to gank her, send back to the Phantom Zone, and everyone goes back to normal."

"We're talking chaos here, Dean. That's where it all comes from – magic, monsters, god powers. It's the difference between breathing in air and rocket engine liquid oxygen," Sam tried to explain.

Dean just shrugged; he honestly didn't see what all the fuss was about. Everything could be killed. "She needs a vessel and, as we both know, the more powerful the ride-along, the more specific the human that can handle her. Tessa was a demi-god, and she wasn't strong enough."

"Wait. What? Tessa was a demi-god?" Sam asked, surprised. "How do you know that?"

Clint's face stayed impassive; the man was good at not giving anything away. They'd agreed earlier to keep Kali out of the conversation; Dean knew Sam wouldn't be happy about the deal he'd made with the goddess, and he wanted to tell Sam by himself instead of dropping it in the middle of the group.

"Hey, you're not the only one who can do research, man," Dean went with indignation. That usually worked. "Didn't you say Tessa's mom died, and she was raised by an aunt just a second ago?" Sam glared at his brother, but Dean was used to that look. Sam could just get over it.

"Then we need to look for someone with enough power to sustain her, someone she's come into contact with?" Sam was already thinking about the new problem.

"Too bad there's not a directory of monsters and magical creatures," Clint offered. "It would make things easier."

"Nah, it'd include too many people. D.C. is one screwed up town." Dean raised his bottle, and Clint clinked his to it, toasting the uselessness of politicians.

"We should start identifying those markings at the ritual site. You said they weren't Enochian, so we've got to track down what they are," Carol suggested as she crossed the room to put her hands on Dean's shoulders, leaning down over him. "Maybe you guys can try to locate that missing coffee shop worker? The one who didn't come in today?"

Dean started, tensing up as Carol's fingers trailed across his neck, a light caress that might or might not have been too intimate. Seriously, Sam was sitting right there and she was feeling him up? He caught Clint's eye; there was that tell-tale blink, the one that said he'd notice it too.

"Sure, we can do that," Dean sat forward, easing away from her hands. "First we ought to strengthen the warding here, though, so we're protected in case of another attack, right Sam?"

"Right. I'll start with the outer door in the hallway." He moved that way. "You want to start in the bedrooms?"

With a wave of her hand, Clint and Dean were slammed back into their seats, the force pressing down on their chests, making it hard to draw in a breath. Sam hung, feet a foot off the ground, suspended in air.

"Well, enough of that," Carol's voice changed, huskier and tinged with more than a little madness. "I'm not much for playing pretend anyway. Just couldn't keep my hands off the merchandise." She winked at Dean.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean ground out at the bitch who'd taken Carol's body.

"Oh, love, I called so many names, all of them given to me by my enemies. The closest you can come is just 'she', but let's go with Morwen for now. I might change it tomorrow." She was still behind Dean and now she ran her hand down his chest and between his legs with a dark laugh. "Goodness, but what a trio I've found here to play with. You, big brother, have depths that I can only begin to plumb; anger, darkness, a vessel of such strong lineage. Who were you meant for, Dean Winchester? It's too bad that my lover is still trapped; you'd be perfect for him. Might last long enough for me to kill the bastard again." She left Dean struggling to break her hold and strolled over to where Sam was suspended; rising up, she brought her face even with his. "And look at you, little Sammy. An Archangel's vessel, demon blood, raised to be King of Hell. I will so enjoy making you my knight. Carol certainly enjoyed the sex, but I can give you what you really want." She leaned in and started to kiss him, but he turned his head and she bit his cheek instead, drawing blood.

"Carol, listen to me. Fight her. You're strong, you can do it." Sam tried to reach out, but she only laughed at him, smearing his blood over her lips with her thumb then sucking it off.

"There is no Carol, only ….. Zuul? What does that mean?" She seemed confused by the quote, unsure of the reference. "I'm afraid your friend is gone." Dean and Sam shared a look; maybe Carol was there, trying to communicate with them. Okay, Ghostbusters quotes were a long shot, but they'd take what they could get.

"Do we get to pick the form of the destroyer?" Dean asked.

She cocked her head as she came to Clint, straddling his legs and settling onto his lap. "Sorry, boys, but this chick is toast."

"Hey, I know, she's in D.C., she's a goddess, we get her laid …."Clint stopped as Morwen's hand splayed on his chest, and he struggled to breathe.

"Enough, Clint. Did you know that Carol has thought about you, wondered what you'd be like in bed?" She tapped her fingers, one after another, pinky to thumb and back again. "Clint Barton. Plain vanilla human, runs with the big boys and girls. What am I to do with you?" As she ran her hand across the soft cotton of his shirt, she paused over his heart. "Well, well. What have we here? I'm afraid this is going to hurt." Fingers sank into his chest until her whole hand was inside; Clint bit down on his lip, a drop of blood running out of the corner as he choked back a cry of pain.

"Alright, stop or I'll…" Dean warned; pushing as hard as he could, he felt his fingers move slightly, the tiniest easing of the band of magic that held him in place.

"Or what, Deano?" She scoffed, then her smile widened. "Oh, my dear Clint." A pulse of blue light ran down her arm and into Clint; he closed his eyes and ground his teeth, throwing his head back. "Fascinating." Dean watched as Clint calmed, lids opening to reveal startling blue eyes, his attention on Morwen. Something was wrong; the humor he'd come to expect was gone, nothing but cold calculation in the blue depths.

"Hmmmm … seems someone left a little something behind here. The magic feels familiar … ah, yes. The Tesseract." She practically crowed. "This power makes Hera's little items seem like nothing in comparison. And you're going to hand it to me."

"Good god, the SecNav is a long-winded son-of-a …." Tony wandered into the room; he stopped when he saw the tableau. "Okay, this is not normal. Unless you're having an orgy and didn't invite me. Um, Clint, are your eyes blue again?"

"Men," Morwen shook her head, casting a hand back at Tony and throwing him across the room, as casually as if she was tossing a Kleenex into the trash. "Always about sex, isn't it? Just give me a second here to break the original spellcaster's hold and you, my little archer, will be the key to my return." She twisted her hand and sweat broke out on Clint's forehead, but he stayed still and quiet; Tony dragged himself off the floor and stood back up.

"Let him go," Tony ordered.

"Wait your turn." She ignored Stark entirely, concentrating on the energies she was manipulating; her forehead furrowed and she cursed under her breath. Growing angry, she pulled her hand out and took Clint's face between her palms, thumbs alongside his nose, fingers spread. Clint's eyes pinched at edges, the only sign of the pain he must be feeling; Dean pushed even more, hand coming free from the arm of the chair. "I will have this power if I have to break you first."

"I said, let him go." Tony's voice was filtered through the Iron Man suit – Dean had been so focused on Clint and Sam that he'd missed that entirely - hand held out and repulsor ready to fire. In the blink of an eye, Clint slammed his head into hers and then he bucked her off of him, coming up from the couch as she fell into the coffee table, shattering the safety glass as she went down, back of her head thumping against the wrought iron frame. Dean jumped up, spell holding him gone, just as Sam fell heavily back to the ground, collapsing onto the floor. Clint grabbed for her, dragging her up by the hem of Carol's t-shirt; she smiled, blood flowing down her face from a long, jagged cut at her temple.

"That was your plan?" Her blast blew them all back except for Tony whose inertial dampeners keep him in place. Clint slammed into Dean, and they rolled over the back of the chair, limbs tangling together as they tried to right themselves. In the close quarters, the repulsor blast echoed, sound overwhelming Dean's ears, leaving them ringing even as Carol brushed off the beam and launched herself at Tony, adding speed until the two of them went crashing through the plate glass window and out into the sunny afternoon sky.

"Devil's trap?" Sam dashed for a duffel, grabbing a can of red spray paint. "Exorcism? Or holy fire?"

"All of them. Can't hurt." Dean was watching Clint's mechanical movements, the deadened look in his shockingly blue eyes. "Clint? What the hell?" he asked softly. The archer looked, brow knitted as he puzzled something out, and then the blue faded, replaced by the soft blue-grey Dean knew. Shaking his head, Clint stood up and reached a hand down to help Dean up.

"Later. How do we get Carol back?" Clint headed immediately for his bow, slinging his quiver on his back. "A good blow to the head didn't work."

Sam yanked back the rug, drawing the pentagram and symbols as Clint tucked his communicator in his ear. Dean poured a circle of holy oil. "We need her back here," he said to Clint.

"Tony, can you get her back in the…." Red and gold blurred as Tony swept in the now gaping window, Morwen right behind him. Bolts nailed the painting on the wall and the small refrigerator, blowing glasses out of the cabinet where they shattered on the granite countertop. She settled to the ground, feet touching just inside the trap; Dean tossed his lighter into the oil and a ring of fire closed around her. Sam chanted the Latin words to expel the demon.

"Not a demon, boys, but nice try." Morwen put her hands on her hips, her wound already closing up. "I'm not sleeping three feet above the covers." She stepped out of the trap, over the fire; Clint loosed an arrow that wrapped her in a net, but she threw it off easily. In a flash, she grabbed Sam, twisting an arm behind his back, lifting up in the air and zooming back out of the window, the two of them hanging there. "Here's the deal. Give me the bowl, and I won't kill Sam in a way that makes him scream in pain for hours. You've got 30 minutes to think about it; let's say the World War II memorial? I like the pool and fountains. Follow me, and I'll cut off a part or two now."

"Listen to me, Morwen or whatever you want to call yourself. You don't know me, but if you mess with my brother, I'm going to kick your ass," Dean said.

"People who cross the Winchesters or the Avengers always get their comeuppance," Clint said. "Always."

"Patience is a virtue." She didn't look the least bit perturbed. "30 minutes." And then she flew away, taking Sam with her.

…

The National Mall was crawling with tourists; buses paused to disgorge their passengers – a Korean tour group, senior citizens with cameras and V.F.W. caps, school children eating their late lunches on the green grass. In a word, Clint thought, it was a complete and under clusterfuck of a place to do this, and that's what Morwen was counting on. Not that they didn't have a few surprises on their side; he certainly hoped that the Bitch Goddess was so out of touch that she wouldn't think of the possibilities, but Carol certainly might and that would give away any edge they. From his vantage point on top of one of the row of columns, Clint had eyes on Dean, standing by the edge of the pool, jacket concealing a plethora of weapons that they hoped they wouldn't have to use, if all went according to plan. Not that fate ever cooperated which meant they'd probably end up in a firefight just steps from the White House, get the National Guard called in, or the Secret Service, and damn, he hoped Tony's call to the Secretary of Defense had greased some of the wheels.

He shrugged his shoulders, rolling his neck a bit, trying to ease the tension he felt running up the muscles and into the back of his skull from where the bitch had played with his head, finding that little pocket of Loki's magic and reactivating it. Thinking about it wasn't going to help – but damn it, he'd thought he was free from all of that, finally trusting himself again, and she'd gone and dragged it back out. At least she hadn't been able to turn him against the others, but, maybe worse than that, now she knew about the Tesseract and the power it offered. And Dean had seen him, all blue eyed and mind controlled and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

A movement caught his eye; Morwen strolled across the walkway, arm companionably linked through Sam's, looking for the work like a couple out for an evening visit to the memorial. Sam kept his eyes down on his feet, obviously avoiding the danger of giving away anything by reacting to something he saw. Tuning into the mic they'd planted on Dean, he listened into the conversation.

"Such lovely humans here. Be a shame if something bad was to happen to them, don't you agree?" was her opening volley.

"Let's just get this done and get on with it." Dean's answer was curt and short.

"Tell your boyfriend if an arrows head my way, I'll make sure they hit an innocent." She looked right at Clint. "In fact, tell him and that egotist Stark to make their way out in the open where I can see them, right here, or all bets are off."

It wasn't unexpected; she had to know they'd be there, and she wanted to humiliate them all. Clint swung down the access ladder, bow across his back, and walked confidently through the parting crowd. Tony's arrival was showier; he always did like to make an entrance. People craned their necks and ogled him as he landed close to Clint, obviously recognizing the two of them; cell phones popped out to take pictures, and camera flashes went off.

"Now, isn't this better?" she asked. "Hera's bowl, please." Hand extended, she waited for a reply.

"Well, see, now that's a problem. You're a day late and a dollar short. You'll have to take that up with the new owner." Dean shrugged, nodded to the right, and Kali stepped out of the crowd, her walk a slow saunter that was as intimidating as her look. "The other interested parties as well." Hera, then Crowley separated from the others, forming a loose circle. "Oh, and there's this other guy. Something about his niece Tessa Black and some glowy cube thing." Thor landed with a crackle of thunder; the empty space around them grew even larger.

"Boys, boys. The gunfight at the O.K. Corral? Don't forget that your brother is right in the line of fire." She shot back, unimpressed.

"Hiya, Sammy. Miss me?" The man who appeared was short, especially when compared to Sam; laying a hand on Sam's shoulder, he grinned up at the tall Winchester. In a blink, they disappeared, reappearing beside Dean and Clint.

"Gabriel?" Sam asked, incredulous. "But you're …."

"Dead? Yep. Seems someone couldn't live without me." The archangel winked at Kali.

"You know any damage you do to me will only hurt your friend in the end? Plus, this body is pretty much impervious to your attack," she said, still smug in her own power.

"Actually, we're counting on that," Clint said. They launched the attack at the exact same time; Thor unleashed his thunder, throwing Mjolnir right at her. Concussive blots flew from Hera's fingertips; a silver arrow streaked from hidden Artemis' vantage point. At a snap of Crowley's fingers, hellfire sprang up around her; the stone beneath her feet cracked and bubbled as Kali's fire rolled up her legs. Tony's repulsor blast hit her dead on, Clint's arrow exploded, and Dean went the old fashioned route – a couple shotgun blasts to the chest. The onslaught pushed her back, forcing her to dig in to keep from being blown away. When the dust cleared, she was still standing, and she threw back her head and laughed at their efforts.

"That's the best you can do?" She asked.

"Just getting you to the right location," Stephen Strange laid a hand on her shoulder, his magic enveloping her. Carol's body jerked and a dark mist poured out, oozing through her skin, hovering in front of the rift that Thor was opening. Breaking into atoms, the mist was pulled into the swirling vortex, disappearing; the rift slowly closed. Carol sank down to her knees; Sam stepped over to help her.

"So, she gone for good?" Dean asked.

"Unfortunately, no. She's a few worlds away, but she will regain power and return. I must research to find a more permanent solution." Strange nodded at the all then simply disappeared.

"Where did you dig him up?" Crowley asked. "Always eye-opening with the thickie twins." And with that, he too was gone.

"Twice now, you've denied me something I wanted, something that belonged to me." Hera's eyes flashed. "Cabo's out of the question now, boys. I'm afraid you've made an enemy when you needn't have."

Thor cocked his head as he watched her vanish. "I do not understand these so called Midgardian gods. So petty."

"Well, buckos, guess it's time to adios. Got me a lot of lovin' to catch up on." Gabriel's smile for Kali was actually very sweet. "We're outta here."

"Am I the only one who needs a drink? 'Cause I think we ought to get out of here sooner rather than later." Tony glanced at the people who had moved away but never left, and the plethora of cameras still rolling.

…

"So let me get this straight," Sam said in that tone of voice Dean knew all too well. "You gave Kali the bowl so she could bring Gabriel … the Trickster/Loki/pain-in-the-ass/archangel … back from Purgatory?"

"And used up the power so that Crazy Cat Lady Morwen wouldn't get it," Dean argued. "Besides that was better than Hera or Crowley getting hold of it." Dean watched Clint from the corner of his eye; the man was still not okay after what had happened earlier, no matter how jovial he was or how much he drank.

"You going to talk to him?" Sam nudged gently.

"You going to talk to Carol?" Dean countered. The brothers looked at each other for a minute before they both smiled in return. "Fine. One day. Check out's not until noon at this fancy place. Might as well sleep in and order overpriced room service on Stark's dime."

…

"Well, that was weird." Carol sat down next to Clint on the balcony of their new suite; the hotel had graciously moved them … after Tony assured them he would pay for all the damages from earlier. A view of the White House and the mall greeted them as the sun began to sink over the western horizon; parts of the WWII memorial was still roped off, and they could see it from this vantage point. "Archangels, the King of Hell, the Queen of Olympus, the Goddess of Destruction … not to mention being a passenger to one bitch of a driver. You'd think we'd get used to weird by now."

Clint kept drinking Tony's scotch; he'd already had a couple keeping up with Thor and Dean who had taken the Asgardian's drinking as a challenge. But the more he drank, the more intense the memory of Morwen digging into what felt like his soul and opening up the darkest corners that even he didn't know existed. And he damn well didn't want to remember any of that.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet, hand lightly on his knee. "For what she did. I couldn't stop her, no matter how much I tried."

"It wasn't your fault. She was controlling you." Clint could say the phrases without thinking, the words he'd heard over and over again, but never really believed.

"Clint," Carol seemed like she was going to say more, but instead she lapsed into silence, sitting in the cool evening with him.

"Good god, but that guy can drink," Dean sauntered out, glass in hand; he plopped down by Clint, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"That's Thor for you. Even Tony doesn't touch Asgardian wine; it knocks him flat on his ass," Carol stood, gave Clint a wink, and headed inside. "Someone better rein them in though. We've done enough damage to the hotel as it is."

Quiet for a time, Clint knew this was one of the reasons he and Dean worked; Dean respected his secrets, content to wait until Clint was ready to talk or willing to drop the topic completely. Truth was, if anyone would understand, it would be Dean, after all he'd been through. But still, Clint wasn't sure what to say.

"So, I'm thinking, before Sam and I head out tomorrow, we find a tattoo parlor for you and Carol. Stark too, if he wants. It's a fashion statement in our line of work," he said as he pulled his t-shirt down to show his anti-possession tattoo. "There are some other symbols we can add. Might not work against Morwen … or others … but can't hurt."

Clint had to smile at that, the thought of them all in the place together, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe. Considering I'm already compromised, might not work, though."

"The other Loki guy - not Gabriel - Thor's brother, right?" Dean tossed back the rest of his scotch. "And the … what did she call it … Tesseract?"

"Well, he's adopted," Clint wondered where Dean was going with this. "But, yeah, shiny cube of destiny, unlimited power, itty bitty living space."

"You were riding shotgun, right? Controlled by the damn thing?" Dean must have seen the assent in Clint's eyes because he kept on talking. "And you're taking all the blame for what you did while he was driving?"

"I did terrible things, killed people …" Clint began but Dean cut him off, a hardness in his face that brooked no argument.

"What I did, and trust me on this I was a fucking sadist, I choose to do. My own free will." Green eyes stared into the blue-grey of Clint's. "I knew, and I did it anyway."

"It was hell, Dean," Clint said in a virtual whisper; there was no comparison, he knew, between his own experiences and Dean's. The fact that the man was here and functioning and could laugh and drink and be so damn tender when they were in bed was beyond amazing. "You did what you had to."

"So did you." Dean's face softened, the shadow gone as quickly as it came, and a smile began to tug on the edge of his lips. "Now, regardless of what your Loki is, everything can be killed. I figure we make a plan to gank him, just in case we ever need to or you just want to. What's a demi-god or two between friends, right?"

"Is that what we are? Friends? With benefits?" Clint found himself chuckling; Dean could only be serious for so long before he hid his emotions again behind his charming facade. And he was damn charming when he wanted to be.

"Sure," Dean agreed. "Assuming the whole glowing blue eyes thing doesn't stop you from fucking me later. Or do you want to find an audience to hold me down in front of? I think I've got handcuffs in the car."

Clint was honestly laughing now. "Mine are in my bag already, plus a few other toys; I'm the alpha remember? I plan ahead."

It didn't solve anything, not really; there was still the next time to deal with, memories to relive, nightmares to survive for both of them. But, somehow, knowing that they had each other, for how ever short the time, made it just the tiniest bit better.