Sam held out his hands for the keys to the Impala. Dean frowned at him.
"Look, it's three hours to Philadelphia from here, and you hate talking to academics. Plus, we still haven't actually located Até. So I figure I'll go talk to Dr. Maniatis and you could hang out here and see if you can get a location on our Goddess." Dean looked uncomfortable.
"Nah, man. I'm coming along. I got a weird feeling about this case." Sam peered at him.
"What kind of feeling?" he asked. Dean shrugged.
"I dunno. You said earlier you felt like we were being led around by the nose. Kinda like that. But also like we're being watched," he muttered. Sam frowned, his brother was hardly one to jump at shadows. If his instincts were being roused, they should pay attention.
"You're talking about Astrid," he surmised. Dean grimaced.
"Yeah, and whoever her patron is. I hate this, Sam. Some son of a bitch has decided to turn us into his own personal puppets and I hate it." His hands clenched and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Sam agreed. He climbed into the passenger seat and leaned his head back as Dean gunned the engine.
The History department at the University of Pennsylvania was a curious old building of green and gray stone. It took half an hour to make their way through milling undergraduates and find Dr Maniatis' office. Sam tapped politely at the door and stepped back in surprise when a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties yanked it open. She had flawless pale skin and was lushly figured in a way that Dean was sure to notice, Sam thought. She regarded them both with frank appraisal.
"You're not one of my students," she declared. She looked Sam up and down with an appreciative gaze. "Alas." Sam coughed uncomfortably and Dean flashed her a winning smile.
"We're looking for Dr George Maniatis. We thought this was his office?" She began to laugh, a rich throaty laugh that seemed entirely inappropriate for a college professor.
"I'm Dr Maniatis," she told them. "But you can call me George. It's short for Georgiana. My mother was a Jane Austen fan. I have eight brothers and sisters, all named for characters in Pride and Prejudice."
Sam smiled.
"You're named for Mr. Darcy's sister," he realized. Dean looked at him incredulously.
"It's a good book," Sam defended.
"Well," George said. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"We're researchers for a popular history podcast, We Are History." Sam told her smoothly, using the cover story they'd agreed on in the car. Well, Sam had suggested it and Dean had agreed, once Sam explained what a podcast was. George beamed at them.
"All my students listen to We Are History!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Are you here about the Argos dig?"
"Yes, we're interested in covering a number of important archaeological finds that were made but possibly not widely covered in the mainstream media for our end of the year show." Sam explained. She nodded.
"Ah, yes. You did that last year too, it was very good. Well, come in and I'll see what I can tell you." She ushered them into her office and produced a bottle of very expensive Kentucky whiskey from her desk drawer and three crystal glasses. She waved the bottle at them with a wicked grin.
"Can I tempt you to a little something?" Dean nodded enthusiastically but Sam demurred.
"Come on," she encouraged. "It's five o'clock somewhere." He gave in and accepted the glass she had poured. She spent a few moments outlining the history of the city, her struggles to get funding for her expedition and finally got around to talking about the spear. Normally Dean was struggling to look interested by this point in an interview, but somehow her enthusiasm and vivid way of speaking kept them both riveted.
"Finding the spear was very odd, you know." George mused. "We'd been having some strange occurrences at the dig sites. Graduate students are an excitable lot, and so I'd dismissed it as nothing more than overactive young imaginations. And the site was a bit spooky at night, especially because of this pack of feral cats that would come out to steal food and fight over territory once the sun went down.
"The day we found it had been just a terrible day. One of the students was hurt by some falling masonry. Broke his collarbone. So I had to take him to the hospital. When I got back, the generator had failed and nobody could get it restarted so we had to shut the dig down early. I stayed around, working by candlelight on the translation of an inscription we'd found which we thought was the entrance to Diomedes tomb. Several times I thought I heard someone moving around, or saw someone out of the corner of my eye. But even though I searched the site with a powerful flashlight, I didn't catch them. If they were even there. But it was while I was out searching for the intruder that I caught a glimpse of something reflecting the light of my flashlight. I got closer and realized that what we had thought a old torch was actually the shaft of a spear."
She paused and grinned at them. "Would you like to see it?"
"Oh, yeah!" Dean enthused. Sam plastered an interested look on his face.
"Well, then. Follow me!" She led them down the corridor to a dingy looking flight of stairs lit by a single, flickering lightbulb. Sam exchanged a look with his brother. It could just be bad wiring, but it didn't hurt to be on their guard.
George bounded down the steps without a care to the poor light. She escorted them into a small room dominated by a single table covered in a plain, white sheet. She pulled it back with a flourish. On the table was a spear, the haft made of some yellow wood with three bands of gold in the middle. The blade was green with brown splotches, and shaped rather like a leaf. As an historical artifact it was no doubt interesting, but it didn't seem especially like a powerful weapon capable of slaying a God.
"Wow," Sam said, trying to sound impressed. She flashed him a toothy smile.
"You're disappointed," she surmised. Sam looked embarrassed.
"Well, you know. The spear of Diomedes, there's a lot of mythology around it. Like it's supposed to be able to kill anything, even a God." he said weakly.
"Ah," she said. "So that's why you're really here." Sam gaped at her.
"I should have realized that my activities would attract the attention of hunters, sooner or later. Dr Maniatis was such a nice lady, I've really had a lot of fun running around this meatsuit. Mm hmm. It's a shame really."
She thrust out one hand and pinned Dean to the wall behind him with the sheer force of her will. Sam cursed and lunged for the spear, but he was too late. She snatched it out of his reach and pointed it right at him. Oh, shit. Sam stepped back and dropped suddenly, the spear whistling by just above his head. He rolled across the floor and stopped against a set of shelves, that rocked unnervingly. Something fell past his shoulder and he grabbed it instinctively. It was a small statuette, engraved with one word: ἄτη. Sam gasped, this was Até's likeness. This could not be a coincidence, but what it was trying to tell him he couldn't say. So, lacking options, he threw it at Até's head.
She swiped at it with the spear and it shattered into a thousand tiny shards. Sparks flew from the spear's tip. She started to laugh, and then began to shriek and her body began to splinter. Then with a spectacular sound, she shattered, just as the statuette had done. Dean dropped to the floor in a heap and Sam leaned back against the shelves. That had been close.
After catching his breath for a few minutes, Sam pulled himself up off the floor and picked his way through the broken pieces of Goddess to the spear. It looked different to how it had looked before, there was a subtle glow to the wood and the blade looked sharper. Sam picked it up carefully, and inhaled sharply at the sensation that ran up his arm. This blade thirsted for blood and it would be quite happy for Sam to guide it to its next victim. And there was a lovely candidate right here. Sam stared down at the spear horrified as it tugged towards Dean. More sparks began to fly from the blade. Dammit, Astrid hadn't mentioned this!
"Dean!" he shouted in alarm. "The spear wants blood! I don't know if I can hold it!" Dean surged to his feet and danced out of the way as Sam's arm thrust out the spear completely against his wishes.
"Dammit, why is nothing ever simple?" Dean complained as he dodged another thrust. "Can't you drop the spear?" Sam shook his head.
"No. I've tried, believe me." He ducked as something flew past his head. "Hey! Don't throw stuff at me!"
"That wasn't me," Dean grunted as the spear dragged Sam forwards in a lunge. He caught the sight of a shadow in the corner of his eye and turned his head, but he couldn't see anyone. Then he felt a cold sensation, icy and burning against the skin of his arm. He gasped and his hand opened reflexively. The spear clattered to the floor and Sam heaved a sigh of relief. He looked around for his brother. Dean was hidden under the table, his favorite pistol in his hand.
"Were you planning to shoot me?" Sam wondered. Dean grimaced.
"If you couldn't use your arm, I figured you couldn't stick me with the disco stick here." Dean said, shamefaced. Sam looked at the spear, which seemed to emanate a malevolent presence. He looked around to see if he could see any sign of his savior. Something had definitely grabbed hold of his arm and broken the spear's power over him enough that he could let go.
"So how are we going to carry this thing back to Astrid?" Sam asked. "We can't leave it lying around here. Someone's going to get hurt." Dean nodded tiredly.
"I'm open to suggestions." he said. Sam looked around the room. The spear had to have be packaged for shipment from Greece. Maybe the box was still here. Up on a tall shelf he spotted a long crate that would be ideal. Whether it was the original box or not, it would do the trick. Using the handle of a sweeping brush, he rolled the spear into the box and closed it as tightly as he could. He exchanged a look with his brother. He really did not want to be shot if this box was not enough to protect him from the spear's effects. He hesitated and then picked it up. He could feel the spear vibrating inside its makeshift prison, but the urge to stab at Dean was thankfully absent.
Or at least, no stronger than usual, he thought with a carefully concealed grin.
Leaving the basement was going to be another challenge. It was late enough that most undergraduates should no longer be around but academics and graduate students often worked odd hours, so there was every chance they could run into someone who might raise the alarm. They crept up the stairs and tiptoed down the hall. Someone was waiting outside Dr Maniatis' office, but they were concentrating on the note they were writing on a scrap of paper and did not notice the Winchester brothers sneaking by with an eight foot long box. Sam gave a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was responsible that they encountered nobody on the walk back to the Impala and was startled when he felt a strange, warm glow. Like someone had heard him, and appreciated his gratitude.
Dean swore and pounded on the steering wheel as they navigated Philadelphia's traffic. Sam wasn't sure if this was normal end of rush hour craziness or whether there had been an incident that made the traffic so bad, but it took more than two hours just to get outside the city limits and Dean's temper smoldered and burned.
"Fuck!" his brother shouted expressively, as an SUV with Delaware plates swerved into the lane just inches in front of them and then braked hard. Sam gritted his teeth and decided they were never coming back to this city. Finally, just when Sam was beginning to worry that Dean might just pull out his gun and shoot the next person who pissed him off, the traffic began to ease. Still, it was a tense journey back towards Lewisburg, and Sam was more than glad when the lights of their motel appeared.
"Do you want to leave the spear in the car or take it into the room with us?" Sam asked as he got out of the car. Dean frowned in thought.
"I hate the idea of having it in the room with us, but I ain't real happy leaving it in the car either. Better bring it with us." he decided. Sam nodded and helped Dean unload the box from the trunk. They carried it to the room, ignoring the curious stares of a motel guest out on the balcony smoking a cigarette.
Once inside the room, Dean collapsed on the bed.
"I don't suppose Astrid gave you her number?" he asked plaintively.
"No. I think she will contact us soon enough, though. She seemed very concerned about the power of this thing being loosed upon the world." Sam toed off his boots and headed for the bathroom. "I'm gonna hit the shower."
Dean pulled Cas' number up on his phone and hit 'call'. The angel answered after only one ring, as though he had been waiting for the call. Knowing Cas, that wasn't altogether unlikely.
"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted him.
"Hey, Cas. We got the spear and ganked Até. Not bad for a day's work." Dean told him.
"That's impressive," Cas said, sounding genuinely pleased. "Will you be coming straight home?"
Dean felt an aching sensation in his chest at the question. He'd love to be able to say, yes, he and Sam were headed back to the bunker. "Sorry, man. This spear's a piece of work. We met a lady here, well Sam did anyway. Her name is Astrid. She-"
"Astrid!' Cas yelped. Dean felt the stirrings of alarm.
"Yeah, she talked to Sam at the county fair. Do you know her?"
"Not exactly," Cas said evasively.
"Cas," Dean said in warning. "You obviously know who she is."
"The Astrid I'm thinking of is dead. It's just a coincidence." Cas said, but his tone was unsettled. Dean let it go for now.
"Well, she seemed to think she could deal with this spear now it's gone all homicidal maniac on us."
"I don't understand what you're saying," Cas complained.
"The spear, after it killed Até, it took on a mind of its own. Made Sam nearly stab me with it." Dean heard Cas' indrawn breath. "Astrid warned us something bad might happen with the spear. Said she could do something about it."
"It's impossible." Cas declared and Dean's forehead creased.
"I'm telling you man, Sam nearly turned me into a shish kebab!" Dean insisted
"No, no. I believe you about the spear. I'm talking about Astrid." Cas told him.
"Who is she? Tell me!" Dean demanded.
"She was the human consort of the Irish deity, Lugh, for a time. She has been dead for many centuries. So I do not see how it can be the same woman." Cas told him.
"Lou?" Dean asked. "Never heard of him."
"One of the Tuatha Dé Danaan." Cas explained.
"Thoo-a day du-non?" Dean repeated. "Who are they?"
"They're a supernatural race in Irish mythology. They're often confused with the aos si, but they're really quite different."
"Ace shee?"
"Fairies," Cas said shortly. Dean got the impression the angel didn't like fairies very much.
"So, now I know what the Tuatha Dé Danaan are not, but what are they?" Dean felt like he was pulling teeth. Cas really didn't seem to want to talk about this.
"It's hard to explain," Cas said. "They're powerful magical creatures and very dangerous. Morality and ethics as you and I understand them are totally different for them. Most humans have more sense than to interfere in their affairs and thankfully, they mostly ignore anyone who is not Tuatha Dé. Lugh was a high king, like a clan chief. He met Astrid and they fell in love. She bore him a child. The stories differ at this point. Some say she betrayed him with a Fomorian, who are the mortal enemies of the Tuatha Dé. Others say that this was a vicious lie. They claim another Tuatha Dé, who disapproved of Lugh's alliance with a human, framed her. Still others claim that the split was amicable, that Astrid wanted to see more of the world and so Lugh set her free. I do not know what the truth is. It is irrelevant, it cannot be the same Astrid."
"OK," Dean said, tired of story hour. "Well, whoever she is, can she do what she claims?"
"I have no idea," Cas replied. "I didn't even know about the spear's curse." Dean sighed.
"All right, man. Thanks. Talk to you later."