Chapter 4

Dean's idea of "protection" turned out to be a series of Hebrew words tattooed on Cedric's side, which according to Castiel were wards meant to protect him from demons and angels alike. "And before you ask, yes, you do need to be guarded from other angels," said Castiel. "I'm the exception to the rule, as I'm sure you'll find out eventually if you stick around with us much longer." In addition, Dean had Castiel do a strange spell of some sort, which appeared to have no effect until Cedric was put through an X-ray and it was shown that he had runes etched into his bones, as additional protection. Dean assured him that he had the same etchings on his own skeleton, and that it was absolutely nothing to worry about. "Although," Dean added wryly, "it does kinda tend to raise eyebrows with the TSA."

"What's the...never mind." Cedric decided at the last second he didn't want to know. Most of Dean's references were lost on him, and whenever he did bother to explain, it was invariably something he could have done without a mental image of.

"They do airport security and they examine you with this machine that basically shows what you would look like naked," Dean said.

Cedric rolled his eyes. "I'm very, very sorry I asked."

As soon as Cedric was properly warded up, he and his newfound traveling companions set off west for Lake Tahoe. The town itself seemed rather of an anomaly, a built-up area nestled in a large valley, surrounding a big and beautiful blue lake. Along the way, Cedric had seen more than one other car with a bumper sticker reading "Keep Tahoe Blue," and now that he saw the lake for himself, he realized just how important this cause was. Separated from the Muggle world he had been for most of his life - and afterlife - but he still had a rudimentary knowledge of all the problems they faced, and the ways wizards tried to surreptitiously aid them. He wondered if there were, in fact, any local wizards trying to ensure that the lake stayed (relatively) pristine for future generations.

But Cedric had little time to dwell on these environmentalist thoughts. Ten minutes after they finished off lunch at yet another tiny rustic diner, they found the house where Ezekiel was hiding. Dean explained to Cedric (and, to a lesser extent, Castiel) that Lake Tahoe was full of vacation homes rented out to tourists for a few days at a time, and Ezekiel had chosen one of these to stay in while he decided on a course of action.

Dean pulled in and led the way to the front door. As Cedric emerged from the backseat, he heard Crowley (who was still trapped in the trunk) say, "Good luck, mate. No, seriously. You'll need it, and lots of it, if you're gonna win this war."

Wondering why in the world Crowley was verbally supporting the other team, Cedric ignored him and followed Castiel up the front walk. Dean leaned down to the door, which was guarded with an electronic keypad lock. He tried a number of different combinations, but none of them took, and the door remained locked. Cedric decided to give him a hand by stealthily waving his wand behind his back and casting a non-verbal Immobulus! on the lock. His reasoning was that any magic, any at all, would fry the lock and open the door. He had learned in Muggle Studies that magic and Muggle technology really didn't mix.

And now he saw proof that Professor Burbage hadn't been kidding. As soon as Cedric cast his spell, the lock sparked violently, forcing Dean to pull his hand away or else risk being shocked. "Yowch! What the hell?" he groused. "Is that his idea of a joke or what?" He started pounding on the door. "Zeke, open up! It's Dean and Cas, you don't need to shock us!"

The door opened a small fraction, just enough to quickly admit the three men. Before they went in, however, Castiel turned around and gave Cedric a very significant look. In that moment, Cedric realized Castiel knew he had attempted to force his way in by magic. And so what? he thought. Castiel's an angel, he'd probably have had the same idea. Maybe even the same results. What does it matter?

Inside, they were greeted by Ezekiel, who turned out to be a medium-height, stocky man with dark skin and craggy features. If Cedric had to guess, he would say that the powerless angel looked like a Native American.

"How did you find me?" Ezekiel asked. "I thought I was better protected than this."

"Don't ask, and we definitely won't tell," said Dean. "You'd flip your shit if you knew anyway. The point is, we're here, and now we can start planning to, you know, take back heaven."

Ezekiel sighed. "There's the challenge," he said. "Reversing Metatron's spell. That shouldn't take us more than, I dunno, a month."

Dean glared at Ezekiel, as if to say, Don't try to dethrone me. I'm the King of Snark around here.

"And hey, nobody's more pissed at Metatron than I am," said Ezekiel. "He betrayed me completely. He got me out of the dungeon and stole my grace. You just don't go back from that."

"Yeah. Wait, did you say, 'dungeon?'" Dean asked.

Ezekiel started rubbing his hands together. "Wow. Is it just me, or did it just get really cold in here?"

"Don't change the subject, Ezekiel," said Castiel. "Or whoever you really are, 'cause I know Ezekiel would never have been locked up."

"He's right, though," said Dean. "It is really cold in here. What, you couldn't pay the gas bill?"

Cedric, however, crossed to the window on a sudden thought, and as he glanced outside into the fading dusk, he realized his nightmare was about to come true. The long-haired guy, the one Dean said was his brother with the Devil in his body, was standing outside, surrounded by an army of cloaked creatures. Creatures Cedric recognized all too well.

"Dementors," he breathed. He pulled out his wand and ran to the door. "Everyone get behind me!"

"What's going on?" Castiel asked.

"Lucifer's back," said Cedric. "And he's got dementors with him. Which is strange, because I thought dementors were extinct."

"I wish," said Castiel. "I've seen them more and more lately, too."

"Dementors?" Dean asked, nonplussed. "What are-" His question was interrupted by the door being flung open and Sam/Lucifer swaggering in like he owned the place, blanketed in thick white mist from the dementors' presence.

"Hello again, Dean," he said, smirking devilishly. "Miss me?"