Warren Murphy was found dead the next morning, hanging from a beam in his garage. Sheriff Matthews had come to the Winchester's motel room to give them the news.

"No sign of foul play?" Dean had asked roughly, his face pale and drawn.

"Not that I can see," Matthews said stiffly. "He left a note, taking responsibility for the murder of his first wife and two men from Washington state. It was kinda weird really, but I guess the guilt just got to him in the end."

"How about the guys we found in the woods?" Sam asked gently.

"Yeah, they're gonna be OK. Dehydrated and exhausted sure, but Doctor Wenceslas is sure they'll make a full recovery. Really, these guys grew up around here. What on earth were they thinking going camping in the woods after a night of drinking?" Sam gave him a weak smile.

"We've all done stupid things when drunk," he said ruefully. Matthews rubbed a hand over his face.

"Ain't that the truth. All right, agents, I guess you'll be heading out of here." Dean nodded.

"Yeah. We've got a report to file and I'm sure another case will be waiting when we get back." Matthews shook their hands and then turned and walked away. Sam grabbed his bag and followed Dean to the car.

"Agent!" A voice called out and Sam looked up to see Father Adams.

"Father," he said in greeting. "How are you?" The priest was rather casually dressed in jeans and a cable-knit sweater, rather than his clerical collar.

"I quit," Adams said happily. Sam blinked.

"You've left the church?" He asked in amazement. Adams flushed.

"Yeah. I've been praying for guidance ever since that night. After our plan to escape went wrong, I thought maybe it was a sign that Nick and I were doing the wrong thing. But then last night, I had a vision."

"A vision," Sam said, deadpan. Dean shot him a look.

"Yeah. From an angel. He said I should follow my heart. That God wants me to be happy." Adams cheeks pinked at little.

"Did this angel have a name?" Sam asked casually. Adams nodded.

"Yes. It's probably not one you've heard of, he's not as well known as say, the angel Gabriel." Sam tried not to flinch but he could feel Dean's eyes on him. "His name is Castiel." Adams continued. Dean started coughing and Sam had to thump him hard on the back.

"Castiel?" Dean said hoarsely. Adams smiled beatifically at him.

"Yes. Castiel is the angel of Thursday. But he's a bit obscure, so it's not surprising if you've never heard of him." He eyed Dean's expression curiously.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're happy," Sam said quickly, before Dean had an apoplexy in front of the baffled ex-priest. He shook Adams hand and then watched him walk away with a wave.

"What the Hell, Sam?" Dean croaked.

"I don't know. Has Cas done anything like this before?" Sam asked.

"Not that I know of," Dean said. "I mean, other than with me." Sam kept his face carefully blank at the note of jealousy in his brother's voice.

"Maybe it wasn't Cas," he suggested. "Maybe Gabriel did it on his way out of town and just used Cas' name to mess with us." Dean looked relieved at that thought.

"You're probably right," he said. "Come on, let's hit the road."

"Hey, where the Hell is all the bourbon?" Dean complained. Sam gave him a shrug.

"You probably drank it all," he said irritably. The drive had been really long from Oregon and he just wanted to wash off the grimy feeling travelling always gave him and then get some sleep.

"Dammit, Sammy. I swear there was a new bottle somewhere." Dean began opening all the cabinets and banging them closed again.

"Look, I don't know. Cas wouldn't have drunk it, so obviously you did and you forgot. We can get some more tomorrow." Dean made a growling sound. "Dean, we've been on the road for days. I need a shower and some sleep. There's a six-pack in the fridge if you're desperate." Dean yanked open the refrigerator and snagged a bottle. He waved it at Sam who refused with a shake of his head.

"I'm beat. I'll see you in the morning."

"Maybe," Dean said with a grin and Sam stared at him. "Have you forgotten what day it is, Sam?" He thought for a moment.

"Oh. Valentine's Day. So you're going out?" Dean grinned at him and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Nice. I'll see you whenever then." He shuffled sulkily out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom.

When Sam padded into his room, wrapped in a towel and slightly chilly, it was to see three missed calls from Garth. He sighed and hesitated over the call button when the phone began to buzz again.

"Hey, Garth," he answered, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.

"Sam!" Garth said delightedly. "I'm so glad to hear from you. Hey, you sound exhausted."

"We just got back from a job in Oregon," Sam explained.

"OK, no problem. We can keep this short, but I wanted to answer your question," Garth said, his voice dropping his usual happy tone and becoming almost solemn. "Caleb Watkins has something of a… reputation." Cold discomfort began to unfurl in Sam's chest.

"What kind of reputation?" He asked softly.

"He likes… boys. Young teens. Ellen barred him from the Roadhouse when he started creeping on the son of one of her regulars. I don't know who it was but she was pissed." Sam felt dizzy.

"When was this?" He could hear Garth sucking on his lip as he tried to remember.

"Maybe '93 or '94? I'm not really sure. It was long before I started hunting." Garth mused.

"How come you heard the story?" Sam asked him, the cold feeling spreading.

"Huh? Oh, he showed up at the Roadhouse one time when I was there. He was in a terrible state, yelling about sanctuary and begging Ellen to protect him. I don't know who or what was after him but Ellen didn't care. She kicked him out, shoved a shotgun in his face. Man, I'd never seen her so mad. I thought she was gonna blow his head off, for sure. I asked Jo what the story was. I figured he'd creeped on her, because why else would Ellen go crazy like that? But when I asked her about it Jo said she wasn't Caleb's type. She didn't know who it was Caleb had creeped on but she said her mom had pulled out all the stops." Nausea coiled in Sam's stomach.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she didn't just bar him from the Roadhouse. She made sure nobody would work with him, that none of the stores that supply hunters would give him the time of day."

"Did Dad know about this?" Sam managed.

"Everyone knew. But it wasn't talked about. He was just very carefully excluded from the community." There was a beat of silence and then Garth asked, "Why are you so interested in Caleb Watkins, Sam?" Sam tried to calm his breathing.

"His name came up in Dad's journal, in relation to a case he worked with Dad that had some overlap with the case we were working. Dean remembered him but I'd never heard the name before."

"Dean knew him?" Garth yelped and Sam's sense of unease wound even tighter.

"Yeah, he hates the guy." Sam said. "He clammed right up when I mentioned him, which is why I emailed you. I just wanted to know who he was. Now I'm sorry I asked." Garth was silent and Sam held his breath.

"Well," he said eventually. "He's a nasty piece of work. Everyone who ever knew him, hated him. I'm sure that's all it is." But he didn't sound convinced. "You know, I really have to go, Sam. It's been great talking to you and all, but I gotta…"

"Yeah, no. It's fine. Thanks Garth." Sam said and hung up. He didn't want to think about this anymore.

Dean grinned in triumph at the bottle of bourbon he'd brought home from the bar. Just as well, otherwise the evening would have been a total bust. None of the women in the bar had been receptive to his advances and if he was honest with himself his heart hadn't really been in it. He carried his consolation prize back to the library like a trophy, poured a generous measure into a glass and swallowed half of it in one mouthful. He had really hoped Cas would be here when they got back, since Gabriel was now free from Purgatory. But the Bunker had been empty and there was no sign the angel had been here while they'd been away. He threw himself into a chair and swallowed more bourbon before then unlacing his boots. He tossed them under the table and then as an afterthought, pulled off his socks as well and shoved them in one boot. He flexed his toes and gave a contented sigh, then refilled his glass again.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, drinking in silence and letting the alcohol relax him but he had made his way through most of the bottle and things were definitely hazy. A sound caught his attention and he turned to see Cas coming into the room with a strange look on his face.

"Hey, Cas!" He said expansively. "Come to join the party?" The angel looked around uncertainly.

"You're the only one here," he said after a moment.

"Not now I'm not," Dean said, favoring him with a sloppy grin. "You're here too." Cas looked confused, which Dean thought might be his favorite expression on the angel.

"I didn't mean to intrude," Cas said. "I was just returning this." He waved the book in his hand. Dean gestured vaguely to the bookcases.

"Knock yourself out." The angel nodded and then moved over to the shelves. "I think I should go to bed." Cas slipped the book onto a shelf and then turned to face him.

"Do you require assistance?" he said stiffly. Dean pulled a face at him.

"Nah. Just let me…" Dean tried to pull himself upright but his legs didn't seem to want to cooperate. "Uh, maybe." The angel gave a tiny sigh and then put his arm around Dean's shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

Lucifer, trying hard to keep his Cas impression in place, guided the hunter down the hall to his room and as they approached the bed, Dean went completely boneless. His eyes rolled back in his head and Lucifer swore under his breath. Why was he doing this again? Oh, yes…

Dean's eyelids flickered open again when Lucifer picked him up bodily and placed him on the bed.

"Hey, Cas," he slurred. "Come join me." Lucifer froze. Castiel had not indicated to him that things had progressed in such a manner. Dean tugged insistently at his arm and when he resisted, surged suddenly upwards and brought their mouths together. The hunter was very drunk and Lucifer wondered for a moment if this was a good idea. But he pushed his misgivings aside and opened his lips, thrusting his tongue into Dean's mouth and noting with a shiver that drunk or not, the older Winchester was really very good at this. Castiel was shrieking at him, somewhere in the back of his mind, but he ignored the angel's pathetic bleating and let Dean pull him into bed.

"Cas…" Dean breathed as he trailed kisses along Lucifer's jaw and down his neck. Lucifer hummed in approval as the hunter nipped at his skin and slid his hands under his shirt.

"Dean," he rumbled in his best approximation of Castiel's voice and Dean groaned. He began tugging at Lucifer's clothing and let out a soft laugh when a tearing sound accompanied the removal of his shirt. Lucifer resisted the urge to dismiss their clothing with a gesture. The human seemed to be enjoying the undressing part and in truth he wasn't sure how far he was going to let this go. He was naked now and Dean was licking and biting his way down his torso, making happy little sounds as he went. And then Dean took him into his mouth and Lucifer gasped. No matter that Castiel had never seen Dean with a man before, this was not the hunter's first rodeo. In fact, his mouth felt so incredible, Lucifer wasn't sure he could contain himself much longer. He gently pushed Dean away, and rolled him over onto his back. The hunter's legs fell open and Lucifer settled himself between them, claiming Dean's mouth again for another searing kiss. He slid his fingers down between their bodies and watched the hunter writhe beneath him, gasping and wanton. Castiel had switched from shrieking to actively fighting him now, trying to push him aside and regain control of his vessel. But Lucifer clamped down viciously on his brother, he was enjoying himself and he was going to see this through! Dean tilted his hips and Lucifer gave Castiel one last push and then thrust himself inside Dean.

The hunter howled, and Lucifer froze. If Sam came running now, this could get rather awkward. But nothing happened and Dean was making desperate keening noises beneath him.

"Cas! Please, Cas. Oh, God."

"Cas! Please, Cas. Oh, God." Sam tugged a pillow over his head and wished fervently that sound didn't carry so well inside the Bunker. So much for lonely drifter Christmas! It wasn't that he didn't want his brother to be happy and if Cas had gotten over his insistence that they were only friends, well that was great. But he didn't actually want to listen to them fucking, for God's sake!

When the pillow proved less than effective, he opened the drawer of the nightstand and found a pair of earphones. He plugged them into his phone and pulled up Spotify, setting it to shuffle. Anything to block out the howling sounds coming down the hall.

"Envy's an unbecoming emotion, Sam." Sam reached out and turned on his lamp, but he was alone. He stared down at his phone, that was supposed to be playing Taylor Swift.

"You're tuned to Radio Gabriel. Don't touch that dial!"

"Very funny." Sam said sourly. He turned the light back off and flopped down onto his pillow.

"Aw, don't be such a wet blanket," Gabriel said through the earphones.

"How are you even doing this?"

"Uh, hello? Archangel?"

"OK, fine. What do you want?" Sam knew he was giving off mixed signals, but he really couldn't deal with Gabriel right now.

"Just checking in. I hear Castiel finally got what he wanted."
"Please, just stop talking." He could feel Gabriel's amusement.

"Why, Sam, isn't this what you were hoping for?"

"Yes, but not like this. Not where I can hear it!" Suddenly it was blessedly silent.

"That better?" Gabriel purred in his ear and Sam shivered.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I uh… I'd like to see you." Shit, he hadn't meant to say that.

"No can do, Sammy boy. Not right now. But maybe later, we'll see. Sweet dreams!" Taylor Swift began singing again and Sam pressed pause. Quiet. Bliss. He dumped his phone on the nightstand, and offered up a quick prayer of thanks to Gabriel, even though that felt a little weird. Then he rolled over and fell asleep.

Dean looked awful and smelled worse Sam noticed. He wondered if Dean was going to mention who his bed partner had been the night before.

"Morning," he greeted his brother and concealed a smile as Dean grunted at him and coughed. Sam noticed a mark on Dean's neck. Oh, God.

"Is that a hickey?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"And? It was Valentine's day."

"Wow," Sam commented. He watched his brother carefully.

"Can't help it if I'm a hopeless romantic," Dean added casually.

"You got half of that right," Sam snarked.

Dean cleared his throat. "Just doing my civic duty," he laughed. "Helping all the single ladies. You know the best thing about February 14th? You don't have to be Mr. Right - just Mr. Right Now." Did Dean really think he hadn't heard him last night?

"That's classy," Sam heard himself say. Dean was unimpressed.

"Yeah? What'd you do, judgy? Curl up in your snuggie? Watch '50 Shades' on cable?" Sam breathed through his nose. He was not going to rise to this.

"Yeah. No," he took a mouthful of coffee and changed the subject. "Check this out. Staci Altman, 19-year-old babysitter from Hudson, Ohio, was murdered last night."

"Well, that blows," Dean said callously. "But if her name's not Amara, how is that us?"

"Because her heart was ripped out." Sam said patiently.

"On Valentine's day?" Dean asked, his interest beginning to stir.

"Yeah."

"Mm. Was it, like, an ironic werewolf? All right, we'll check it out. But, first, I need bacon."

"No, first, you need a shower." Sam said waspishly.

"Is it- "

"Yeah," Sam said acidly.

Dean sniffed himself and wrinkled his nose. "You're not wrong." Sam shook his head in disbelief as his brother ambled off to get cleaned up.

"So, still no sign of Cas then?" Sam said casually as Dean climbed back into the car. His brother tensed for a moment and then shook his head.

"No," he said finally, his eyes averted. He started the engine and pulled jerkily out of the gas station.

"Huh," he said finally. "You know, it's strange."
"What's strange? Nothing's strange," Dean said too quickly and Sam stared at him.

"Well, Cas told you that all his disappearances were because he was working on finding a way to get Gabriel out of Purgatory, right? Well, Gabriel's free and Cas is still missing in action," Sam said reasonably. Dean's hands tightened on the wheel.

"He's working on stuff, OK? Trying to find a way to defeat Amara." Dean said through gritted teeth.

"OK," Sam said slowly, noting his brother's reaction. "But you'd think he'd at least stop by to say hello."

"I told you, he's busy!" Dean snapped and Sam recoiled. "Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"All right, Dean. Chill. I was just wondering, that's all." Sam said, trying to keep a lid on his own temper. Dean ignored him, staring at the road in stony silence.

They drove like for several miles, Sam staring out of the window and Dean keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"I'm sorry," Dean said suddenly. Sam almost swallowed his tongue in surprise. "I'm worried about Cas and I took it out on you."

"It's OK," Sam said, instantly forgiving him. "I'm sorry too. I wasn't trying to upset you."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said. He gave Sam a friendly punch in the arm. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam retorted happily.

"So where's Gabriel in all this," Dean asked slyly.

Sam pulled a face. "Who knows? He'll be back if it suits him."

"You're not…" Sam looked steadily at Dean as he waved his hand at Sam vaguely.

"Not what?" Sam folded his arms and waited.

"Uh. Y'know. Getting together?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"No, Dean. That was never going to happen, you know that right?" Dean looked sharply at him.

"It wasn't?" He sounded confused and almost hurt. Sam sighed, maybe his brother really was a romantic at heart.

"No. Look, I know I... went off the deep end. And I'm still in love with him," Sam admitted and Dean made a sort of strangled sound. "I just accept that this is how it is. I accept him. He can't return my feelings and… that's OK. I'm OK. I'm not the first person to suffer from unrequited love. It hurts, sure. But I won't die from a broken heart." Dean was silent and Sam thought he'd exhausted his brother's supply of chick-flick moments for the week.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said softly. "I really am." Sam shook his head.

"Thanks." He eyed his brother carefully, but it seemed no more revelations were going to be forthcoming. He leaned his head back, thinking about Dean's confession in the motel room about Amara. It wasn't fair really, Dean taking all of this on himself. After all, Sam had been the one to fuck up and unleash her on the world. Well, fine. He could clean up his own mess. And if Dean can't help, well that just means he has to get it right. For once.