Connie Murphy's brittle smile when Sam knocked on her door made his heart weep.

"Agent, please tell me you're going to find my son," she said breathlessly as he flashed his badge at her.

"We're doing everything we can," Sam assured her, feeling like an asshole.

"Come in, come in. I just made some tea, would you like some?" Connie asked as she showed him into a neat living room that looked like it had escaped from an issue of Better Homes and Gardens.

"Yes, thanks," Sam said politely, looking around the room. It was lovely, but sterile. No family photos or personal touches. Even the art on the walls and the objets d'art displayed in expensive looking glass cabinets seemed staged and unreal. Connie made something of a production of pouring tea and Sam waited.

"So, what do you want to know? I already told Sheriff Matthews everything I know, which isn't much. I don't see Nick very often I'm afraid." Her top lip quivered alarmingly but she rallied and gave Sam a weak smile.

"Yes, we spoke to his brother and he explained that there had been a falling out. But anything you can tell us might help," Sam told her. She picked listlessly at one fingernail.

"Warren's a traditional guy," she said softly. "When Nick told us he was… different, Warren couldn't handle it. I told him, things have changed. People are more open to that stuff I guess. Young people I mean. Honestly, I didn't care. He's my son, and I love him. I just want him to be happy."

"But your husband banned him from the house?" Sam asked sympathetically.

"Yes," Connie sighed. "I thought it would just blow over, that Warren would come to his senses. But he never did. Even so, things had been quiet for years. I would go over to Nick's apartment when I could and Warren turned a blind eye to it. But then he decided he was going to run for mayor and the local party chairman started making all these nasty comments about Nick and Father Adams. All lies of course, but Warren took it seriously."

"So the rumors about Adams and Nick aren't true?" Sam asked, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Of course they're not true!" Connie exclaimed, outraged. "What a dreadful thing to say about such a nice young man. So dedicated to his faith." Sam nodded and kept quiet. "You think Warren had something to do with Nick going missing don't you?" She asked, her eyes shrewd. Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"It's a line of enquiry we have to pursue," he told her. "Especially given Warren's history." Connie looked puzzled. "There was a similar case in Electron, Washington, back in the seventies. We think Warren might have been there at the time." Connie stared at him in horror but not surprise.

"You know about that?" she stammered.

"What do you know about it?" Sam countered, watching her reactions closely.

"Warren grew up in Electron. Married his childhood sweetheart, worked for his father in the family business, a hardware store in town. And then the disappearances happened. Warren went to school with the guys who disappeared. The police thought he was involved because he'd had a falling out with them, some stupid business over the property line. But the police couldn't prove anything. Of course, they couldn't because he didn't do it. But that didn't matter, once the town rumor mill started, Warren and his wife didn't have a moment's peace. His dad retired and Warren took over the store, but nobody would shop there. The business folded. So Warren decided to leave town and start over somewhere else. He and Sheila packed up and headed to Portland. Somewhere on that journey, they pulled over to get gas. Sheila went to the restroom, and never returned. Warren searched for her for hours. Eventually he called the cops, and of course with the suspicion already hanging over him over the Electron business, they were convinced he'd done something to her too. But they had nothing, no evidence. And in those days gas stations didn't have cameras or anything like that. The station attendant never saw her. So the case went cold real quick. Warren came here, changed his name.

"He got a death certificate for Sheila once she had been missing for ten years. We married as soon as we could. We'd been living here for about three years, and everyone here already believed us married, so we actually married in Vegas, with strangers for witnesses. But it was OK, because we were together. Nick and John were born six months later."

"And Sheriff Matthews?" Sam asked, bracing himself. Connie raised one eyebrow.

"He's Warren's son. When Sheila went missing, he left him with his brother and sister-in-law. He wasn't in any state to look after a young boy. Later, when we got together I told him he could bring David home. But he'd been living with his aunt and uncle for so long, Warren didn't want to disrupt his life. David and his cousin were as close as brothers and we didn't want to rip him away from that. He believes Warren's his uncle and we never told him the truth. It never seemed like the right time."

Sam almost sagged with relief. He had not wanted to reveal to this woman that the man she was married to was living a lie. Hearing that she already knew made him feel much better.

"Thank you for being honest with me," he said. "It helps a lot."

"Warren didn't do this," she said. "Keeping quiet about his past now would look suspicious. He was angry with Nick, sure. But he wouldn't hurt him, I swear."

Dean looked around the golf club with a shiver. These places gave him the creeps, stuffed full of overpaid swaggering assholes in weird clothes. He straightened his tie and headed over to the office.

Jacinta Pickle was a tiny woman, he towered over her by at least eighteen inches. This must be how Sam feels every day, he thought idly. But tiny did not mean timid. Her expression when he introduced himself was fierce.

"It's been five weeks," she snarled. "Five weeks of nothing. No news. No leads. And now Feds show up and expect me to go over everything again?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Dean apologized. "But we find it more useful to hear witnesses accounts firsthand, rather than relying on the reports from local law enforcement." She snorted.

"Fine. Jared and I have been married for fourteen years. We have two children. He went out most Fridays with his friends. No, I didn't have a problem with it. No, he's never done anything like this before. No, he has no money worries or other reasons to disappear. Our marriage has its challenges, just like anyone's but we're happy. He doesn't have a drink or drug problem. He's a good man." She rattled off the facts in a low monotone, almost robotically. Dean figured she'd answered these questions many times before.

"So there was nothing unusual about that Friday night?" He asked.

"No. Nothing."

"OK. In the days leading up to his disappearance or that night, did you notice anything odd?"

"Odd like what?" Her eyebrows dived over her nose and she squinted at him suspiciously.

"Lights flickering, cold spots, strange sounds. Strange smells. Anything." She looked away.

"Maybe," she said slowly. "I don't know if it means anything."

"You never know what might be important," Dean told her.

"OK. Well, Jared called me around 10, saying he was heading home. I was surprised, it was kinda early you know. He asked if I wanted him to pick anything up on his way. I said no." She twisted her wedding around her finger in a gesture of distress. "He said Warren Murphy had come into the bar and got in a fight with Nick. Just then, the power went out. There wasn't a storm or anything to explain it, but the entire street went out. The line went dead at the same time. My cell wouldn't work either, it was so weird. The power came back on about a half hour later and I tried to call Jared back but it went straight to voicemail. When he wasn't home by midnight, I called the sheriff."

"This is the first I've heard about the power going out," Dean said thoughtfully.

"Well, it was only four blocks on this street. We figured it was the power company doing some work on the lines. It didn't seem relevant to Jared going missing. Are you saying it's related? How?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "But the timing is a little suspicious. It could be nothing, but it's a new lead. Thank you for your time. One more question, and this is going to seem a little strange." She nodded in assent. "Are there any dead trees in the woods behind your house?" She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Are you talking about the twisted oak?" She asked.

"Ah, yeah. I guess I am," Dean said awkwardly.

The diner was crowded and the harried waitress told Dean that the wait for a table would be at least thirty minutes. He sighed and headed back outside to await Sam in the parking lot. Leaning against the Impala, his thoughts drifted to Cas. The angel had pulled another one of his disappearing acts, and even though he knew now what he was up to, it didn't stop him worrying.

Hey Cas? You OK, buddy? It's been a while.

Dean? The angel sounded startled. What's wrong?

Nothing. Nothing. I just haven't spoken to you in a while. I was worried. Dean winced at the frank admission.

Oh. No, I'm fine. We haven't spoken for a long time? I'm sorry. Dean frowned. Cas couldn't remember how long it had been since they'd spoken?

No, it's been a few weeks. But it's OK. As long as you're OK.

I'm fine. Dean could feel warm affection washing over him. It's good to talk to you, Dean.

I miss you. Dammit, he hadn't meant to say that.

I'll be home soon. Cas soothed. Dean looked up to see Sam wandering over.

"Hey Sam," he said, forcing a smile. Sam gave him a strange look, which meant his expression looked weird. Awesome.

"Hey, Dean. How'd your interview with Jacinta Pickle go?"

"Good, I might have something. You?"

"Maybe. Connie knows about her husband's past. We were right about his previous life as Gary Matthews. David Matthews is his son, but believes Warren's his uncle. But it tells us nothing about where the ritual could have been performed."

"Well, that's where I might have a lead," Dean said triumphantly. "Jacinta said Warren Murphy showed up at the bar and got in a fight with his son, according to Jared. He called her around 10pm, saying he was coming home. Just then the power went out on her street, about four blocks were without power for about a half hour. Not just a power outage, her cellphone didn't work either."

"Like an EMP?" Sam asked curiously.

"Kinda, but the power came back and the cell started working again. I'm thinking a big magical ritual might have had some side effects, which means the working was close to Jared and Jacinta's home. According to Jacinta, there's a dead tree in the woods behind her house known as the twisted oak."

"Sounds suitably ominous," Sam grinned. "Let's check it out."

It had not been difficult to find the tree, Jacinta's directions had been excellent and the tree itself was hard to miss. It was huge, which meant it was very old, at least three hundred years at a guess. The bare branches were twisted and the bark was blackened and gnarled. Even the roots had erupted through the ground,as though the tree had writhed as it died. Nothing grew within a four foot radius of the trunk. Sam shuddered as a chill spread across his shoulders.

"So what's the story?" He asked.

"According to Jacinta, there was a huge storm here last year. The tree was struck by this bug bolt of lightning, and twisted the tree up like this. It also caused a fire, which I guess is why it's all black."

"There's definitely something bad here," Sam said softly. "Can't you feel it?" A muscle worked in Dean's jaw.

"Yeah. There's a creepy vibe here all right. Come on, let's take a closer look."

At the foot of the tree, were the stumps of some candles, two glass vials and a pair of latex gloves. One of the vials had a trace of a reddish-brown substance in the bottom. Sam held it up.

"Stillborn baby blood?" He suggested and Dean nodded. The other vial had nothing inside, but tears wouldn't leave any kind of residue he figured. "No sign of the afanc's tooth."

"Lugh probably took that with him," Dean growled. Sam tried not to flinch. "There's something in this hollow here." Dean pointed his flashlight into the hole in the tree and it flickered and died. "Dammit." Dean shook the flashlight a few times and banged it against his palm but nothing happened. "I'm gonna go back to the car and get another light. Stay here, I'll be back in five."

"I'll come with you," Sam said.

"Nah, just hang out here. I'll be back before you know it." Dean said and ambled off. Sam sighed and walked back to the tree. There were some symbols carved into the bark that he hadn't noticed before. He leaned forward to examine them.

"Well, well," a voice came from behind them. Sam whirled around in horror, he knew that voice all too well. Lugh was leaning nonchalantly against a tree. "Hello, Sam," he purred.

"Lugh," Sam said tightly.

"Ah," Lugh said. "Who told you? Astrid?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted. Lugh shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

"And she sent you here?" Lugh asked. His tone was casual but there was a tenseness in his stance that hadn't been there before.

"She said the leader of the Hunt has a sword that might be able to defeat the Darkness," Sam explained. "But don't you know this already?"

"Bhás an Dorchadas. Yes, I suggested to Astrid that we retrieve it. I didn't know she planned to involve you. I am sorry, Sam."

"Sorry?" Sam retorted. "Because we found out you caused four people to go missing?"

"No," Lugh said sadly. "Because I'm not here alone. But you are."

"Is Cas here?" Sam asked, looking around. Lugh gave a humorless laugh.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"You're such a drama queen," another voice drawled from behind Lugh and Sam stiffened. That voice. No, it can't be… A compact figure stepped out and Sam almost forgot how to breathe.

"Gabriel!"

Dean ambled back to the car, fiddling with his flashlight to see if he could figure out why it had stopped working. So he didn't notice who was standing next to the Impala until he was almost on top of her.

"Dean," Amara said warmly. Dean backed up several steps, discomfort and this weird connection between them twisting in his gut.

"Amara," he replied gruffly. "What do you want?"

"To talk," she said. "You're unhappy with me."

"People are dying," Dean told her. "You're killing people who are nothing to do with your fight with God."

"I already explained this," Amara said firmly, like he was a recalcitrant child. "They're at peace, within me." Dean shuddered at the thought. "It disturbs you," she realized.

"Yeah, it disturbs me," Dean agreed. "You can't just rip people out of their lives like this. Sam and I have spent our whole lives fighting anything that does that."

"No you don't," Amara said derisively. "You fight the supernatural. Demons, vampires, ghosts. But they're not the cause of most human deaths. It's other humans who cause most of human misery. War and poverty are responsible for more death than any monster."

"Maybe," Dean admitted. "But we can only do what we can. And we can save people. We do." Amara stepped closer to him and he wanted to retreat, he did. But he couldn't.

"Dean," she said. "I want us to be together. We will be together." Nausea roiled in Dean's stomach. "Soon," she promised.

"No," he croaked. The spell broke and he stumbled backwards. 'No." She disappeared and he slumped backwards against a tree and tried to steady his breathing. What the Hell had that been about?

"So let me get this straight," Sam said angry and tight, his mouth a downwards slash of fury and pain. "Lucifer didn't kill you, in that motel. It was all a trick." Gabriel grinned at him delightedly.

"Yup," he replied airily. "Although it didn't work out quite as I'd planned. I did get tossed into Purgatory, after all."

"And you didn't think to tell me, tell us, when you got back. That you were OK?" Sam continued, his hands flexing. Gabriel looked puzzled.

"No. Why would I do that?" He pulled a candy bar out of his pocket and tore at the wrapper. Biting off a large chunk, he chewed contemplatively. "Kinda defeats the purpose, don't you think? I didn't want to be stuck in Purgatory, but I like people thinking that I'm dead."

"Sure. OK, I'll buy that. But you weren't going to let me know, Gabriel?" The archangel frowned, like Sam was talking in a foreign language.

"You seem to be under some kind of misapprehension," Gabriel said finally. "Like I owe you for something." His eyes were harder now, the easy humor had slid away as if it were never there.

"No," Sam said slowly. "Not owe. But, I thought… Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. You're right. You don't owe me anything. You're alive, good for you." He turned to leave, the tightness in his chest a dull ache he was desperate to ignore.

"Wait," Gabriel said. "You're leaving?" He sounded confused, the way Cas did sometimes when he or Dean did something human the angel considered baffling. Sam looked over to him, still leaning lazily against a tree.

"Yes," Sam told him. "I'm leaving. Dean and I have to get back. We have work to do."

"You're angry," the archangel observed. "Why are you angry?"

"Because," Sam said childishly. He turned and began walking in the general direction of the car. Gabriel was suddenly in front of him, his arms folded over his chest.

"I came here for a reason," the archangel said. "And now it looks like I need your help." Sam gave him a withering glance.

"You need my help. After all this time, radio silence, me thinking you were dead. And now you're here because you need my help. No. No way," Sam hissed. Gabriel arched a brow at him.

"Aren't you even going to hear me out?" he asked in surprise.

"You seem to be under some kind of misapprehension," Sam mimicked. "Like I owe you for something." Gabriel stiffened.

"You are angry. At me," he peered at Sam curiously. "And disappointed." Sam's mouth tightened, he did not want Gabriel reading his mind, thank you very much. He tried to concentrate on something, anything. Not on the way Gabriel's smile made him shiver, or how his golden eyes seemed to see right through him. Definitely not on the way his pants fit neatly onto his body, that compact body that for some reason made Sam's mouth water. Not on the tearing grief that had ripped through him when Gabriel had died. Or the way Lucifer had delighted in showing him that moment, over and over again in the Cage. Fuck.

Gabriel was probably quite difficult to shock, Sam thought vaguely. But he'd managed to do it. The archangel's face was a picture, open-mouthed and vulnerable in a way Sam had only seen once before. He remembered his own appalled surprise when they'd discovered Gabriel's identity. And the hard look he'd gotten from Cas as he realized just what he'd done. No matter that Gabriel had seduced him and lied about who he was.

"Sam," Gabriel managed. "I had no idea." Sam's face was drawn in hard lines.

"That's not true. You just didn't want to think about it. You ran away from it, like you run away from everything." Sam said bitterly. "Enough. Let me go."

"I'm serious. I told you it didn't mean anything, that it didn't have to mean anything." Gabriel's voice was thin and stressed.

"It didn't mean anything," Sam said. "To you. You don't get to tell me what it means to me." Gabriel's eyebrows rose.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I made a mistake. I didn't think you would get hurt. It was just a bit of fun," he said dismayed.

"A mistake. Yeah, you're right about that," Sam told him. "Now, please. I have to go." He thought Gabriel would argue, but he just stepped out of Sam's way, his face blank. Sam turned his face away and almost walked straight into Dean's chest.

"Dean!" he blurted. His brother looked curiously at him, then his gaze slid past him to where Lugh was standing by the twisted oak. Sam suddenly wished he was a long, long way away.

"What the Hell is he doing here?" Dean said irritably. He tensed when he saw Sam's misery-hunched shoulders. And then his eyes flicked to the figure behind Sam.

"Gabriel," he breathed. "You tricky son of a bitch. You made it." He didn't sound pissed off, Sam thought. He didn't even sound surprised. The whole situation was insane and upside-down; he was hurt, confused and angry and Dean was amused. Amused! Dean looked at Sam and his eyebrows dived down over his nose.

"What did you do to piss off Sam?" he demanded. Gabriel shrugged.

"Exist, mostly." Dean looked carefully at his brother and the angel.

"OK," he said, clearly wondering what the Hell was going on. "Someone wanna fill me in?"

"You didn't know?" Lugh asked with quiet amusement. Dean stared at him.

"Know what?"

"That I seduced your brother, back in TV Land," Gabriel said pointedly. "Or that Sam thought it meant more than it did."

"You did what?" Dean exclaimed, his gaze landing on Sam in disbelief before darting back to Gabriel. "That was about you?" He shook his head in remembrance. "You should have seen him, after you died. He was so willing to throw himself in the Pit and I never understood why. There may have been no other way to avert the Apocalypse, but it made no sense to me how ready he was to go." Gabriel's mouth had settled into a hard line.

"Fine, I get it. You've made your point. I'm outta here. You won't see me again." With that parting shot, he was gone. Dean was still staring at Sam.

"Dude, what the Hell?" Sam looked down at the ground, silent and sullen. "I said, dude, what the Hell?".

"It's none of your business," Sam told him sourly.

"Like Hell it's not!" Dean barked. "Were you out of your mind? What on earth possessed you to sleep with him? And how come I didn't know about it?"

"He manipulated the timing, I guess." Sam offered. "It was just before he turned me into the Impala." Dean tugged at his hair in frustration.

"Why, Sam?" Sam wouldn't look at him. "What is it with you and sleeping with monsters?"

"Gabriel is not a monster," Sam said stiffly. Dean flicked him a contemptuous glance.

"That's up for discussion. But you didn't know he was Gabriel at the time. So, Sam, another supernatural notch on your belt. An archangel. Go you."

"Fuck you," Sam growled. "I know it was stupid."

"So if you knew it was stupid, then why'd you do it?" Dean asked again.

"Same reason you fall into bed with whoever will have you," Sam ground out. "I wanted to. I wanted him. You don't have to tell me it was wrong, that I shouldn't have. I know that. I knew it then. He didn't seduce me. He offered and I wanted it and I said yes." Dean rubbed a hand over his face.

"At least I restrict my activities to my own species," he snarled, glaring at Sam.

"Well, I think that's my cue to leave as well," Lugh said smoothly. "Happy hunting!"

"Wait!" Sam cried. "Was this your doing?"

"Was what my doing?" Lugh said innocently but Sam wasn't fooled.

"Calling the Hunt. The men who disappeared." Lugh sighed.

"Not directly," he said and Sam gave him a hard look.

"Indirectly then. Warren Murphy, or Gary Matthews as he used to be, was present at both of the recent reports of the Wild Hunt in the Pacific northwest. You helped him?" Sam heard Dean shifting behind him.

"Yes, I did. I needed the Hunt to transport Gabriel out of Purgatory. It was the only way we were going to get him out. We'd tried everything else." Lugh looked annoyed at being questioned like this.

"And the men who went missing, what about them?" Dean demanded.

"Collateral damage," Lugh said in a bored tone. "Isn't that what you humans say?"

"Collateral damage," Sam repeated in a level tone. "So fuck them, is that what you're saying?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Sam. Don't make the same mistake with me you made with Gabriel." Sam gave a strangled sound of frustration and horror.

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded, his gaze bouncing between his brother and Lugh. Lugh gave him a salacious smile. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Sam, tell me you didn't sleep with this asshole as well." Sam looked down at the ground. "All right, I'm done." Dean declared. He turned his attention to the hole in the tree, theatrically ignoring Sam and Lugh.

"Ugh!" Sam exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "I'm going back to the car!" He tramped off into the woods, trying not to feel Lugh's eyes on his back.