"You wanted to talk," Cas said, eyeing Lucifer as he leaned back on the park bench. His brother had assumed the blond-haired form of Nick for this meeting, much to Cas' relief. He looked around and then raised an eyebrow at Cas.
"Where are we?" he asked curiously.
"A memory. An old one. It's not important," Cas said impatiently.
Lucifer laughed. "OK, OK. I'll get to the point. What's the deal with you and Dean Winchester?" Cas went rigid, which only made Lucifer laugh harder.
"I don't know what you mean," he said. Lucifer raked a hand through his hair and gave him a sympathetic smile.
"There's something strange about your relationship. I want to know what it is."
"There's nothing strange about it. We're friends." Lucifer wagged a finger at him, amused.
"Nuh uh. No dice, Castiel. You and Sam are friends, sure. But you and Dean, no. Not friends." Castiel looked hurt.
"I am his friend. I don't know why-" Lucifer leveled a look at him.
"You can't lie to me Castiel. I'm in your head, remember." Cas rolled his eyes.
"How could I forget?" he asked bitterly.
"So…", Lucifer said, drawing the word out. "Not friends. Lovers?" Cas jerked in shock and turned his face away. "Not lovers then. But not for lack of interest on your part, hmm?"
"Enough," Cas said angrily. "We're done here." Lucifer grinned at him.
"You even talk like him now," he said easily. "Poor Castiel, hopelessly in love with a human who can never return that love." Cas snarled at him but couldn't dissolve the dream state. Lucifer was stronger than he was and right now his brother was determined to get some kind of confession out of him.
"Yes, all right," he growled at his brother. "So what? What difference does it make to you? I said yes to you to get your help in defeating the Darkness. None of this is any of your concern. Nor do I understand why you even care!"
"I don't care, exactly," Lucifer admitted. "I don't see the appeal personally. I was curious, that's all."
"Well, you have your answer now. Let me go." Lucifer continued to regard him with that wicked amusement dancing in his eyes. It did not bode well.
"Do you want me to help you?" Lucifer said casually.
Cas stared at him in horror. "No! Don't interfere, please. I'm happy with how things are," he told his brother urgently.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Lucifer mocked. "Fine, you don't want my help. I hear you. I might even listen." Cas grabbed his arm in alarm.
"Please, brother. Don't do anything to Dean. Do what you came here to do and nothing more. Please."
Lucifer's face went hard and he plucked Cas' hand from his arm. "You don't call the shots here anymore, little brother," he said, his voice soft with menace. Cas gulped with fear, but something was off-kilter here. Why was Lucifer so interested in his relationship with Dean?
"Is this about you and Sam?" he asked suddenly and Lucifer rocked back in astonishment.
"Sam?" he choked. Cas watched him cautiously.
"Why did you tell Sam you didn't like him?" he pressed. Lucifer's face transformed, vicious and angry.
"I don't like him. What's your point?" Cas' gaze was intent and knowing.
"For someone who prides himself on not lying, you do so very easily, brother." Lucifer stood up and loomed over Cas, but the confusion on his face robbed the action of its threat.
"I don't lie. Sam's a prudish, jumped-up little fuck and I-" he broke off and forced out a laugh. "Touché, Castiel. OK, I'll leave Dean alone, for now. But we will speak on this again."
"Awesome," Cas said sarcastically.
Sam threw himself down on the motel bed with a groan. "This case. God! It's like some badly written soap opera!" he exclaimed and Dean laughed.
"Yeah. And other than a report of a bunch of fox hunters from an elderly nun and the nutty ramblings of crazy Theresa, we've got nothing." He tossed the pizza box onto his bed and ambled over to the fridge with the six-pack of beer they'd picked up. He pulled one out and twisted off the cap.
"Beer?" Sam flashed him a thumbs up and sat up, holding out one hand. Dean gave him a bottle and then opened the pizza box and liberated a slice. Sam swallowed half the beer in one go and then dived in, grabbing pizza and dangling strings of stray cheese into his mouth. Dean grinned at him. They ate in comfortable silence and then lay back on their beds digesting their food and the events of the day.
"So," Sam said after a while. "What's next?" Dean sighed.
"No idea. I guess we try to find Sister Angelica." There was a knock at the door and Sam jumped up warily. He padded over to the door, his gun in one hand and peered out of the peephole. An elderly woman in a nun's habit stood patiently outside the door.
"Speak of the devil," Sam said to Dean's baffled expression. "Or rather, nun. There's a nun outside the door."
"Sister Angelica?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged and Dean made a gesture to indicate he should open the door.
"Sam! Dean!" The nun exclaimed. "How are you both?" Sam stared at her like she'd grown an extra head and she grinned. She closed the door behind her and the Winchesters gaped at her as she morphed into the more familiar form of Astrid.
"Uh, hi," Sam said intelligently.
"Are you really Sister Angelica, or just pretending to be her?" Dean demanded. Astrid twinkled at him.
"I made her up," she admitted. "Can't get more incorruptible than an elderly nun, right?" She winked at Sam and he smiled that strange, serene smile at her. Dean glared at his brother.
"OK, so did you really see the Wild Hunt at all, or was that made up too?" Dean challenged. Astrid gave him an innocent look but he was unmoved.
"Yes, I saw it. I had tracked the Hunt here from the Czech Republic. Someone called it here. Calling the Hunt is not easy, it requires a great deal of power and even then, the Hunt is more likely to come after you than do what you ask."
"So how do you know these sorry sons of bitches didn't call the Hunt themselves?" Dean growled.
"Dean!" Sam snapped. "Must you be so rude?" Dean stared at him.
"It's OK, Sam. I'm not upset. Your brother is under a lot of stress. I know because I recognized the signature of the caster. He's called the Hunt before."
"Electron, Washington." Sam suggested and Astrid nodded.
"That was a long time ago. So that rules out the four who disappeared." Dean said thoughtfully.
"And Nick and Father Adams." Sam pointed out. Astrid blinked in surprise.
"Nick is one of the four," she said slowly. "Do you mean his brother John?" Sam laid out the whole story for her, with occasional sarcastic comments from Dean. She beamed at Sam in pure delight.
"I knew asking you boys to investigate was the right thing to do!" she declared and Sam preened at her praise, making Dean growl at her.
"Was there ever any doubt?" she ignored him.
"OK, so to call the Hunt requires a spell?" Sam said, changing the subject.
"Yes, a ritual. It's old magic, and it requires some very specific ingredients." Astrid explained. "A tree killed by a lightning strike, the blood of a stillborn child, the tear of a virgin maid and the tooth of a monster killed by a knight."
"Not exactly available in your local Walmart," Sam said, wincing.
"Especially the virgin's tears," Dean snarked and Sam shot him a hard look.
"OK, so you could probably get the blood from a hospital. And I'm sure getting a virgin's tears isn't that hard. A tree killed by a lightning strike, we can ask the sheriff about that. Is that where the ritual has to take place?" Astrid nodded and Sam continued, "The only tricky one here that I can see is the monster's tooth. Killed by a knight? How the Hell do we come up with one of those?"
"Monster killed by a knight," Dean said levelly. "Like an afanc killed by one of King Arthur's knights, maybe?" Astrid eyes lit up.
"That would be perfect. Do you have such a thing?" There was a strange cracking sound and Sam realized to his horror that Dean had broken the beer bottle in his hand. Beer foamed onto the floor, tinged pink with Dean's blood.
"Dean?"
"No way, Sam! This is too much of a fucking coincidence!" He advanced on Astrid who stepped back in shock.
"We had our hands on an afanc's tooth, a few weeks ago. Until it was stolen, by that fucker Lucien." Sam flinched. He couldn't help it. Astrid peered closely at each of them.
"Lucien," she said carefully. Sam couldn't look at her, terrified her too-knowing eyes would see right through him.
"That's what he calls himself. Probably not his real name," Dean snarled.
"No," Astrid said, almost to herself. "It's not, although he's used it before." Dean grabbed her arm and pushed his face up to hers.
"Who. Is. He?" He growled at her. She pulled her arm free easily and shoved him backwards. Dean's look of astonishment as he flew across the room might have been funny if this whole situation hadn't been so awful. Astrid straightened her hilariously inappropriate nun's habit, stained now with beer and blood.
"Lucien, as you know him, is my patron," she said finally. Sam gaped at her and Dean's mouth fell open. "His real name is Lugh."
"And who is he, when he's at home," Dean demanded. It might have been more menacing if he wasn't sprawled on his ass on the floor.
"Lugh is one of the Tuatha Dé Danaan." Dean's eyes opened wide in surprise.
"Cas mentioned him, back when we were in Pennsylvania. So you are that Astrid, then?" Astrid smiled sadly.
"Yes. My lord and I have not always seen eye to eye. But I serve him loyally. I don't know why he didn't tell me he had the afanc's tooth." Dean hauled himself wearily off the floor and sat down heavily on the bed
"Could this have something to do with Purgatory?" Dean asked and Sam stared at him in confusion. What the Hell?
Astrid nodded thoughtfully. "The Wild Hunt can pass in and out of Purgatory as they please. As can anyone who travels with them. But Lugh can't call the Hunt himself without great personal risk. He'd be forced to replace Nuada, the current Huntmaster."
"I don't understand," Sam snapped. "What the Hell does Purgatory have to do with anything?" Dean's shoulders tensed.
"Cas was working with Lucien, uh, Lugh I guess I should say. They're trying to free an angel who's trapped in Purgatory." Sam's forehead wrinkled as he tried to get his head around what his brother had just told him.
"Who is it?" he asked. Dean looked away.
"I don't know. All those feathered assholes seem the same to me. Except for Cas of course." Sam watched him but couldn't tell if Dean was telling the truth or not. An amused expression flickered across Astrid's face and Sam turned on her.
"Do you know who it is?" he demanded and she shook her head.
"I'm not at liberty to discuss it." She looked at Sam for moment as though weighing something up.
"So did your boss convince some poor sap to call the Hunt?"
Astrid's mouth twisted. "It's possible," she admitted. "But unless he knew the caster had successfully done so before, how would he do that?"
"Well, that rather suggests that Lugh was involved in the Electron calling as well," Sam pointed out and Astrid's shoulders sagged.
"That's probably true," she agreed.
"And you didn't know," Sam said gently. "Why are you upset? Because he didn't tell you what he was up to?" Astrid shook her head.
"My Lord Lugh often does things without informing me. But doesn't this mean he's been successful in freeing the trapped angel? So where is he? Where is the angel? And where is Castiel?"
"You think Cas was involved in this?" Dean growled and she cast him a derisive look.
"Of course," she told him. "This was Castiel's mad scheme in the first place. He came to Lugh begging and desperate. The world was ending and all that jazz."
"Well, that's probably true," Dean pointed out. Astrid dismissed him, her face hard.
"Nevertheless, where is my lord Lugh?"
"We don't know. Look, it's late. Let's get some sleep and tomorrow we figure out if we can find this tree. Maybe then we'll find some clues to what happened." Sam suggested. Astrid stared at him for a long time and then nodded. She turned and left the motel room abruptly, slamming the door behind her. Dean blew out a breath and Sam whipped around to face his brother.
"Were you going to tell me about Cas' adventures in Purgatory?" he asked angrily and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Yes, of course. But then you went haring off to Hell and I never got the chance. What difference does it make?"
"Well, I might not have-" Sam broke off. Fuck. He shook his head. "Never mind. You're right, it doesn't make any difference."
He really shouldn't have waited this long to mow this lawn, Dean thought. Now it was all overgrown and the mower engine was making alarming choking sounds. He sighed heavily and looked up at the sky. It had been pure blue when he'd started, not so much as one fluffy white cloud to mar that perfect expanse. But while he'd worked, the sky had darkened and static crackled across his skin, a storm was coming. Once he would have interpreted these things differently, but that was another time. And another him.
I can see why you didn't last long here, a voice said in his ear. He turned quickly but could see nobody.
"Tenebrae?" He asked. There was a pleased sound, like the crackle of burning leaves.
Have you made your decision? Tenebrae asked and Dean shook his head.
"No. I haven't really had time to think about it. And you've told me nothing about what you expect me to do."
Dean, Dean. You've not changed, I see. Very well, I will try to give you a more complete picture. When Metatron closed the gates of Heaven, he set in motion a chain of events that leads us to today. Specifically, you taking on the Mark of Cain and your idiot brother's disastrous method of removing it from you. What's wrong with you people? Abaddon was not so great a threat that it was worth almost destroying the world. But here we are, Amara is loose on the world and all of creation stands in peril. Again. You know where Metatron is. Take me to him and I will do the rest.
"The rest being what exactly?" Dean demanded.
I will undo everything that he did. All the way back to the gates of Heaven of course.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "When you say undo…"
Time is not an arrow for me. I can rewind events to the point before poor stupid Castiel is duped by that duplicitous creature and intervene.
Dean thought hard about it for a moment. "I don't know," he said dubiously. "A lot has happened since then and if you go back and change things now, who knows what will happen. Maybe Amara will get free anyway."
Not if you retain your memory, Tenebrae said slyly. Remember how Zachariah showed you the future back when you were resisting being Michael's vessel? He handed you a very powerful weapon, even if he was too stupid to understand it. Think about all the things you'd do differently if we wound time back and set it running again.
Would Sam or Cas keep their memories too?" Dean asked.
Doing more than one person would be tricky. Castiel isn't human so I don't know if it would work or not. I'd be willing to try but I'm not promising anything. Tenebrae sounded intrigued by the idea.
"OK," Dean said. "Let me think about it a bit more." There was a sense of irritation.
Very well, but you need to make a decision soon. Time is running out.
"I thought time wasn't an arrow for you," Dean snarked.
I can only rewind time if I exist, Tenebrae said sharply. If Amara destroys everything, there's not much I can do.
Dean groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He'd slept with his neck at an awkward angle and now it was throbbing in complaint. He blinked open his eyes.
"Sammy?" He mumbled.
"Hey Dean," Sam greeted him. "I've got coffee if you want some. It's not very hot any more but you were so soundly asleep I didn't want to wake you."
"Yeah, OK. Nuke it for me willya?" Dean struggled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Sam fiddled with the microwave for a moment to reheat the coffee he'd bought over an hour ago. When Dean reappeared he dug into his bag and then swore.
"Everything OK?" Sam asked, watching the way his brother was holding his head.
"Yeah, I've hurt my neck and I can't find any Tylenol," Dean said pathetically. Sam gave him a sympathetic look.
"There's some aspirin in my bag, in the side pocket," he told him. Dean opened the zipper and smiled gratefully before swallowing a handful of pills.
"Hey, take it easy. That stuff'll rot a hole in your gut," Sam said in alarm. Dean rolled his eyes.
"I'm not going to live long enough to worry about an ulcer, Sammy," he said easily. He eyed the screen of the laptop. "Find anything?"
"Yeah, actually. Get this, Nick and John Murphy's dad hails from…" he mimicked a drumroll on the tabletop.
"Electron, Washington?" Dean suggested, smiling at his brother's good mood.
"Bingo. What are the chances, right?" Sam looked pleased with himself, Dean thought. The black mood that had hovered in the background seemed to have dissipated at last.
"Sounds like we need to go talk with Murphy Senior," Dean commented. "What's his name?"
"Well, that's the thing," Sam said. "Now, it's Warren."
"Now it's Warren?" Dean's eyebrows flew upwards. "He changed his name?"
"Yeah. He was called Gary Matthews back then." Sam rotated the laptop so Dean could see the mugshot on the screen.
"Son of a bitch," he said with feeling. "He looks just like the sheriff."
"Yeah, except this picture was taken in 1972. Gary Matthews was a person of interest in the disappearance, in that he was the last person to see the missing men alive. But the police couldn't find anything on him. He leaves Electron with his wife and his baby son and nobody ever sees them again."
"You think the Sheriff is Nick and John's brother?"
"Half-brother, I think. This is Sheila, Gary Matthews wife." Sam called up another photo. A smiling woman with long brown hair and kind eyes was standing on the porch of a house with a baby in her arms. "And this is Connie Murphy." He opened Facebook to show Dean a photo of one of the Murphy twins with his mother. Connie was blonde but Dean couldn't tell what her eye color was as she wasn't looking at the camera, laughing up at her son who had his arm around her.
"She could have dyed her hair," Dean said mildly. Sam laughed.
"Sure. But shrinking eight or nine inches seems unlikely. Look at the first picture, Sheila Matthews is tallish. Maybe 5 foot 9 or 10? The Murphy twins are around your height, which means Connie can't be more than 5 even." Dean peered at the two photos and nodded.
"You're right. Unless that was a freakishly tiny door in that first photo, Sheila was much taller than Connie. I wonder what happened to her."
"Nothing good, I imagine," Sam said darkly.
"You wanna check out the Jane Does found in the area?"
"This is the Pacific Northwest. Do you have any idea how many that would be? You're talking about a time when several prolific serial killers were at work up here." Sam said pointedly and Dean blinked.
"Oh. Your weird hobby again."
"Shut up. The point is, unless we have more to go on than an old photo, there's nothing about Sheila Matthews that stands out enough to recognize her in a cold case file." Sam closed the lid of the laptop. "I think we have to go talk to Connie."
"You do that," Dean demurred. "We didn't talk to Jared Pickle's wife either, so I'm gonna go talk to her." Sam shrugged.
"OK," he agreed. "Let's meet at the diner in a couple hours."