There was someone sitting in front of the Bunker's entrance when Dean pulled the car up. Sam blinked in the glare of the headlights before he recognized her pale blonde hair and slight frame.

"Astrid?" She pulled herself to her feet and gave him a wan smile.

"Sam," she said softly. "How are you?"

"I'm OK," Sam told her. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my patron of course," she explained. "I'm trying to rescue him."

"You'd better come in," Dean muttered and gestured to her. "This way."
In the kitchen, Astrid perched on the edge of a chair, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Sam exchanged a look with Dean and then sat opposite her, holding her gaze with his eyes.

"You're trying to free Lugh from the Wild Hunt?" he asked hesitantly. Astrid nodded.

"Yes. Don't worry, Sam. I'm not here to hurt you or Dean." There was a familiar clicking sound as Dean cocked his gun.

"Good." the hunter said gruffly. "I'd hate to have to use this on you." Sam shot an exasperated look at his brother.

"Dean!" He turned back to Astrid. "Ignore him, he's being an ass." She smiled serenely.

"It's all part of the game," she said. "Lugh was mad at being sold to the Hunt. But honestly, he's more mad at himself for letting Loki get the better of him. Again. This ongoing contest between them has been going on for centuries, it's quite tiresome really. Not least of which because my lord is so clearly outmatched but he can't accept it. But we really do need him free of the Hunt's clutches."

"Why?" Dean demanded. "Why would we care what happens to him?" Astrid raised one eyebrow at him and then returned her attention to Sam. She placed her mug down and wrapped her hands around his.

"My lord Lugh is the only one who can help find the remaining Treasures of the Tuatha De. Loki may think he can do it on his own, but he can't. These objects are sentient, they'd never submit to an alien power."

"Alien?" Sam asked. She nodded.

"They're objects of the Tuatha De, so they only respond properly to one of that race. In the hands of humans they can be quite dangerous, as you saw with the spear."

"That you lied about, by the way," Dean interjected. She gave him an indulgent smile.

"It was necessary."

"And you don't think Loki," Sam choked slightly on the name. "Uh, you don't think Loki can handle them either."

"Not really. I mean, he's a pagan god, sure. More powerful than my lord Lugh, much as it pains me to admit it. But strong enough to control the Treasures? I doubt it."

"He's one of the most powerful creatures in Creation," Sam objected. Astrid laughed at him.

"Oh you do have it bad! Please. He's a minor deity, hardly on the same level as Odin or Kali." Sam closed his mouth with a click. It seemed Astrid had no idea who Loki really was. He looked up at Dean, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"OK, well. Anyway. So, what do you want from us?" Sam said, hastily changing the subject. Astrid looked amused.

"Not much. Just keep me informed for now. When you catch up with Nuada, I'll be ready. Just tip me off before you meet with him." She stood up and patted Sam's cheek. "Thank you, Sam." Dean uncocked his weapon and tucked it back in his jeans. "I'll show you out," he told her. She twinkled at him.

"Sure thing."

Dean leaned against the trunk of the Impala, one eye on the gas pump. He wouldn't admit as much to Sam, but his latest brush with death had left him wrung out and exhausted. He was tired, tired of the life, tired of the fighting and most of all, tired of never catching an even break. Maybe he needed a vacation. He just wanted some peace.

"You know, there's another way you can find peace, Dean," Amara said and he whirled around to see her walking around the car, idly trailing one hand along the fender.

"I told you," he said awkwardly. "I don't want…"

"You don't want peace? I never took you for a liar."

"Oh, believe me, I lie all the time," Dean said. "Mostly to Sam."

"But not to me," Amara said in satisfaction. "You can't lie to me, Dean."

"Look, what do you want?"

"The rings," she admitted. "We had an agreement."

"OK," Dean said. "I'm not backing out. But I don't carry them around in my pocket."

"Where are they?" Amara asked, her eyes intent.

"I buried them in Bobby's yard. They should still be there." Dean told her. "We'll drive up there now and meet you there."

"No need," Amara said and laid one hand on his arm. He blinked and saw they were outside the tumble-down remains of Bobby's house.

"Dammit," Dean swore. "You can't just zip me off like that!"

"I can't?" Amara said, sounding confused. "Why not?"

"Because I get a say!" Dean snapped. "You have no right to do this to me."

"I have every right!" Amara said, her eyes bright and vicious. "We're linked you and I. I told you. Why do you fight this so hard?"

"Because I have to," Dean said miserably. "Because otherwise I'll lose myself."

"Nonsense," Amara said although she didn't sound certain. "Now where are these rings?"

"Wait a second," Dean objected. "You said you had a way to save Cas. This is an exchange, remember."
"I remember," Amara replied. "I can expel Lucifer for you. Just bring him to me."

"How do I know you'll keep that promise?" Dean asked. "You're asking me to take your word for it."

Amara considered him for a moment. "Retrieve the rings," she instructed. "Hold on to them for now. When you have Lucifer for me, I'll come and expel him and you will give me the rings then."

"Fine," Dean said. She vanished and he swore. Fucking Hell.

Sam came out of the restroom and headed back to the car. He looked around in surprise, where the Hell had Dean gone? The gas tank was full, so he replaced the nozzle on the pump and climbed into the driver's seat where Dean had carelessly left the keys in the ignition. He frowned at that and pulled the car away from the pump and swung it around to park in front of the restrooms. Maybe Dean had gone in and Sam had missed him somehow. He rapped his fingers on the steering wheel and waited.

The sound of his phone ringing disturbed his reverie. He looked down at the screen. Dean?

"Hey," he said, baffled. "Uh, where are you?"

"South Dakota," Dean grumbled.

"What?"

"Amara brought me here," Dean said. "And now she's dumped my ass here and disappeared."

"Why South Dakota," Sam asked. "Oh, you're at Bobby's."

"Yeah. She wants those rings, Sam. Bad. I was hoping I could get one of these old junkers to start but no such luck."

"OK," Sam said. "I'm leaving now. It's gonna be a few hours before I get to you."

"No problem," Dean said. "I'll keep working on this Chevelle, if I get it working I'll give you a call."

When Sam finally pulled up in front of Bobby's old junkyard, a wave of grief passed over him. It had been years since this place had been destroyed. And then they'd lost Bobby too. Sam had grieved Bobby's death even more than his dad's, although he'd never admit that to Dean.

"Sam?" Dean's voice floated over the gate.

"Yeah," Sam croaked. He coughed and tried again. "It's me." The gate opened and Dean came out, his face a little pale. "You OK?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Just…. Memories, you know."

"Yeah."

Dean stared at the gate in silence for a moment.

"Dean?"

"OK. Let's go." Sam scooted over to the passenger side to let Dean climb into the driver's seat.

"Did you dig up the rings?" Sam asked curiously.

"What did you think I was doing?" Dean replied. He patted his pocket, then eased the gear lever into drive and smoothly pulled away.

"And we're just gonna hand them over to Amara?"

"After she kicks Lucifer out of Cas," Dean said firmly. Sam eyed him carefully for a moment. "You don't trust her."

"Well, no," Sam admitted. "Why should I?"

"OK," Dean said. "Look, I know you don't get this, but I don't think she's trying to double cross us."

"No," Sam said acidly. "Why would she? She's winning." Dean cast him an anguished glance and he cursed himself under his breath.

"I'm not saying she's going to win, just that from her perspective she holds all the cards," he said lamely.

Dean snorted. "She does hold all the cards. But if we can get Cas back…" He broke off, focusing on the road ahead.

"We'll figure it out," Sam agreed.

Sam winced as he removed the dressing from his gunshot wound. It was much improved but he still needed to change the dressing everyday, or else he'd run the risk of an infection. If only Cas was here to angel-mojo the thing away. Or Gabriel, his treacherous mind supplied. Sam gritted his teeth. He wouldn't think about Gabriel. He wouldn't.

He cleaned the skin around his stitches carefully, trying not to flinch. Fucking werewolves. He put a clean sterile bandage on the scar and taped it firmly in place, then moved slowly and painfully out of the bathroom. He looked around for Dean and was grateful his brother wasn't around. He'd kept a brave face on when his brother could see him, not wanting him to know how much pain he was in.

"I swear, you Winchesters," a voice drawled behind him. "Is it some kind of macho thing? 'Cos I just don't get it." Gabriel. Awesome.

"What do you want, Gabriel," Sam said tightly, turning around. "I'm not in the mood for joking around."

"Evidently," Gabriel said lightly. He stepping into Sam's personal space and touched his hand to Sam's stomach. Sam flinched away.

"Don't touch me," he ground out. Gabriel wagged a finger at him.

"Now, Sam. Just hold still and let me heal you."

"No," Sam said defiantly. "I'm fine. Thank you." Gabriel arched a brow at him and Sam felt his willpower begin to crumble.

"Come on, Sam. Where's the fun in hobbling about the Bunker like an old man?" Gabriel teased. Sam snarled at him.

"I mean it. I don't want your help. I'll heal on my own." Gabriel's face went hard and he crowded Sam against the wall.

"Why are you resisting me?" he demanded. "Why won't you let me help?"

"Because I don't want anything from you. I don't want to owe anything to you. Why is that so hard to understand?" Sam closed his eyes to hold in the tears.

"Sam," Gabriel sighed, brushing his fingers against Sam's forehead. "Please let me do this. It's a freebie, I swear. I just can't see you in pain like this." Sam shook his head stubbornly.

"No. I appreciate the offer, but no." He felt Gabriel's Grace anyway, filling him with warmth and golden light and he tried to resist but it was futile. The archangel had gotten his way regardless.

"Now, isn't that better?" Gabriel said. His voice was still light and teasing but it sounded forced. Sam couldn't hold back his tears any longer and they ran down his cheeks freely. Gabriel gently brushed them away. "Sammy, come on." Sam opened his eyes.

"Why did you have to do that? I said no." Gabriel shrugged in pretended indifference.

"Like I said, it makes no sense to be in pain if you don't have to be. I was here, and I could help." He folded his arms over his chest. "You're welcome, by the way." Sam sniffled and turned his face away.

"Thanks," he said curtly. "Was there anything else you wanted from me?"

"It wasn't the most effusive outpouring of gratitude I've ever heard," Gabriel noted sourly. Sam turned on him savagely.

"I said no. You ignored me, overrode my bodily autonomy, my choice. Be glad I thanked you at all." Gabriel rocked back on his heels, nakedly astonished.

"Sam, I-" he stuttered. "I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to what? Treat me like a favored pet? Bend me to your will, regardless of my wishes? I'm not your plaything, Gabriel." He shoved away from the wall and turning his back on the archangel, walking away. Gabriel watched him go.

"You're hopeless," Dean commented behind him. Gabriel whirled around in a fury. The hunter was leaning against the wall, relaxed but alert. His arms were folded across his chest.

"He's being unreasonable!" he yelled.

Dean laughed at him. "How is he being unreasonable? What do you want from him anyway?" There was a hard edge to his voice, under the amusement.

"I wanted to heal him. So he wouldn't be in pain! Why wouldn't he want that?" Gabriel demanded. Dean gave a lop-sided shrug.

"Doesn't matter. His body is his own, and he gets to choose what happens to it. You had no right to overrule him." Gabriel threw up his hands in despair.

"I don't know why I'm even bothering!" he exclaimed dramatically.

"Well, that's a good question, isn't it?" Dean said sharply. Gabriel blinked. "Why are you doing this? You've made your feelings about Sam completely clear and Sam has not asked you for anything. So tell me, why are you popping in and out of Sam's life, completely unasked?" Gabriel was speechless. Dean wished he'd recorded this moment on his phone. He leveled a look at the angel. "Stop messing him around and let him move on. You don't want him, fine. He's a big boy, he'll get over it. But you have to leave him alone." Gabriel's face was mulish and sulky.

"I don't want to," he said childishly. He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Dean.

"You have to," Dean said firmly. "Or else you'll destroy him. And I can't let that happen."

"Destroy him," Gabriel said derisively. "Give me a break."

"I'm serious. You have a lot of power over Sam, and he knows it. Hates himself for it. And you keep yanking that chain." Dean's mouth curled downwards. "So, I'm asking you, please. Please, leave Sam alone." Gabriel stared at him for such a long time, Dean began to wonder if he'd broken the archangel.

"I can't," Gabriel admitted in a low tone. "I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. But I just can't."

Dean shook his head. If this was anyone else, he'd be tempted to believe the archangel was being honest. But it was Gabriel, so... "Really," Dean said sarcastically. "What is it you want from Sam?"

"Want?" The archangel sounded startled. "I don't want anything from him." Dean raised his eyebrows. "When did you get so perceptive?" Gabriel complained.

"He's my brother," Dean said by way of explanation. Gabriel's shoulders sagged.

"I don't know," he said softly. "But I just can't seem to stay away. You said I should let him move on. But I can't. I don't know why, but the thought of him with anyone else makes me insane."

"But you don't love him," Dean said simply.

"No. No! I just can't… let him go." Gabriel looked unhappy. "You're right. Sam deserves better than this. I'll just have to try harder."

"You do that," Dean said. "Or I'll find a way to end you. Your choice."

As Sam lit the ring of holy oil they'd laid down, Lucifer was smiling at Dean, that cruel, mocking, knowing smile that Sam was all too familiar with.

"Mmm, Dean," Lucifer smirked. "How delicious to see you again." He quirked an eyebrow at Sam. "Want to know how you measure up to your big brother, Sammy?" Dean's head whipped around to stare at Sam in horror.

"My, my," Crowley said, his voice deepening in amusement, but there was an edge there too. "I wonder what poor stupid Castiel thinks of all this."

"Shut up, Crowley," Dean growled.

"Crowley," Lucifer reproached. "Do try not to be catty. It's undignified." He blatantly eyed Dean up and down and grinned. "I'm sorry. Your prayer implied that I'd be... joining the team, but I'm just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here." Dean and Sam exchanged another glance as Lucifer's gaze fell on the Horn. "Wow. There it is. Powered up by Dad himself. Well, that bad boy plus me... That ought to take her out all right." He clapped and rubbed his hands together in glee. "Let's get to it. Douse the flames." An impatient fingersnap. "Or don't?" They needed to work fast. Dean pulled a blade from his belt and cut his hand, and pressing it against the spell they'd etched on the wall earlier. Lucifer's body began to shake and quiver as the force of the spell hit him.

"Cas!" Dean yelled. "Castiel, show yourself!" Lucifer's head dipped and when he looked up again, Dean knew that it was his friend looking out at him once more. Cas looked weary and puzzled.

"Dean?" the angel asked gruffly.

"Cas," Dean said, his insides a turmoil of relief and regret.

"What are you doing?" Cas gritted out. "What's... What's going on?"

"Cas, listen to me, " Dean said urgently. "We don't have a whole lot of time, okay? You have got to…" But he was too late. Cas's body had already begun shivering and shaking again. "Cas!" But Cas no longer seemed able to respond. "Castiel, show yourself!" The laugh that poured out of the vessel was not Cas's, it was Lucifer's.

"Oh-hoo-hoo-hoo!", Lucifer chortled. "Whoo! Uh, he's got to what? You boys…", he broke off, laughing again. "Ooh, you almost had me there for a minute, but these mail-order spells... they're just not what they're cracked up to be, are they?"

"Cas, expel him! You got to kick Lucifer out! Do you hear me?!" Dean screamed, pain tearing at his throat.

"Honestly, I think he's happy with the arrangement." Lucifer said nonchalantly. "I mean, he did invite me in and all, Dean." He gave Dean a lascivious look.

"Cas!" Dean cried, a sound so broken it brought tears to Sam's eyes. He glared at Lucifer.

"Cas!" Lucifer mocked. Dean stared at Lucifer, frustration and anger reddening his eyes and clenching his fists. Lucifer flashed him another smile and then his face hardened.

"Hand over the weapon. What do you say? Or we can just wait for this warding to fail and I'll take it." He glanced around him and Sam realized to his horror that the warding runes were already beginning to dim.

"Bloody hell," Crowley swore behind him and there was a strange sound. Sam turned to see

Crowley smoking out of his meat-suit and entering Lucifer. Dean and Rowena look astonished and Sam was sure his own face was similarly bemused. What the Hell was Crowley up to? Several minutes passed and nothing seemed to be happening, other than a few twitches of Cas's vessel.

"You know, he's been gone a long time. I mean, what do you think is going on?" Sam said nervously. Dean gave a lop-sided shrug.

"I don't know. Maybe Cas isn't willing to play ball. I mean, you said it yourself... he wanted this." Dean sounded heartbroken, Sam thought.

"Can't you people do anything right?!" Rowena snapped, looking far more concerned than Sam expected of her. "Whilst all this dithering goes on, we're losing time! Look... the warding's almost completely failed." She pointed up to the fading symbols that Sam had already noticed.

"Come on, Cas," Dean said almost like a prayer.

"Fine," Sam growled and grabbed a cross, holding it up to Lucifer. He began to recite the exorcism rite from memory. After a moment's hesitation, Dean grabbed a flask of holy water from his duffel bag and began tossing holy water onto to Lucifer. Sam continued the chant, never hesitating. Suddenly, red smoke began pouring from Lucifer and back into Crowley's own meat-suit. His eyes opened, flashing red and he was gasping.

"Crowley," Sam prompted. Crowley shook his head, looking frustrated.

"Useless," he panted. "Lucifer's hold on him is too strong." At that moment Rowena screamed.

"Lads, the fire!" The holy oil fire was dying and there was nothing any of them could do. Lucifer's face was cold.

"Ah. Trick me? You lied to me. You know, I could have been your warrior." He gave a chilly smile. "Who needs ya? Well. It's just like Crowley to leave right when the party's getting started. Have a seat." He gave an idle flick of his hand and Sam was forced down into a chair. He turned his head to see Dean had also been shoved into a seat. "As much as I get a giggle out of you two, and I do," he paused to wink at Sam. "There comes a time when every relationship has... run its course. So…" he closed his fist and Sam could feel his throat begin to close. He could hear Dean making choking sounds and there was a strange wheezing that he realized was coming from him. Oh fuck.

His vision began to darken when suddenly the pressure was released and there was an odd soundless explosion. A gaping hole appeared where in one of the walls of the church and Sam squinted to see Amara gracefully pick her way through the rubble.

"Oh, Lucifer. Dear nephew, my, how you've changed." Amara said. Lucifer grinned at her. She waved a hand at Rowena. "I was tracking her when she left my side."

"You were safely sealed away. You're gonna wish you'd stayed there," Lucifer told her gleefully, holding up the Horn of Joshua. Sam gasped as it began to glow red and Lucifer's eyes turned white. He turned away and shouted to Dean to do the same. If they watched this, he was afraid it would burn out their eyes. There was a blinding white light that seared Sam's retinas even through closed lids, and a popping sound in Sam's ears. Was Dean crying out? He wasn't sure. But as the glow began to fade and he blinked open his eyes, he could see Amara, still standing and utterly unharmed. As she lifted her hand and gestured, she pulled Lucifer effortlessly towards her. The Horn of Joshua fell from his nerveless fingers with a clatter. Amara cupped her hand on Lucifer's face.

"I think you and I need to have a nice, long chat." Amara said ominously.

"Cas?" Dean yelled and Amara turned to look at him. She made a gesture and Lucifer collapsed to the floor and then she stalked over to Dean. Sam watched in horror as Amara slipped a hand into Dean's jacket and pulled out the Horsemen's rings.

"You promised," Dean said thinly.

"Indeed I did," Amara said. "I'll release your friend. But for now I need my nephew. Once I'm done with him, I'll pull him out. Don't worry, Dean. Everything will be fine." She walked back over to Lucifer and hauled him to his feet and raised her hand. Sam realized that she had broken Lucifer's hold over them and he could move again. There was another blinding flash of light, that seemed to wrap around Amara and Lucifer in a sinuous dance and then they were gone. Sam looked at Dean in a combination of relief, disbelief and horror.

"Where's Rowena?" he asked after a moment. Dean shook his head.

"She must have escaped in the confusion." He looked at Crowley, who gave him a curious look that was almost pained. "You OK?"

"I'm dandy," the demon said sarcastically. "I mean, after this clusterfuck, who wouldn't be?"

"Yeah," Dean said morosely. "That's the word." Crowley rolled his shoulders and then scratched at his beard.

"I'll have to go round up mother again," Crowley announced. "So, toodle pip and all that." And with that parting shot he was gone.

"So what do we do now?" Sam asked and Dean gave him a murderous look.

"We keep going," he said firmly. "We save Cas. That's it."

"No, no. I didn't mean to suggest we wouldn't," Sam denied. "I just meant, well… how? What's the plan? The Hand of God didn't hurt Amara at all."

"Gabriel said the treasures of the Tuatha De could defeat the Darkness, right?" Dean said. "So, we go look for them."

"Dean, I don't want to-" Sam started and Dean cut him off.

"It's OK, Sammy. You don't have to deal with Gabriel if you don't want to. I'll talk to him. Or we'll help Astrid bring Lugh back." Sam leveled a look at his brother. "Look it's not my fault we keep tripping over your fuck buddies." Sam folded his arms and turned away. "All right. I'm sorry. Forget Lugh and Gabriel. We've found all kinds of crazy magical objects. We can find these treasures too."

Sam squinted at the letters on the page that seemed to dance in front of his eyes. Cas had been reading this book before Sam had made his ill-fated trip to Hell and Sam wondered if he'd found anything in it that could help them. It was an account of a priest who met a Knight Templar near Paris in 1315. Or rather, he met a knight whom he believed was a Templar. The knight had appeared at his church late at night, cold and hungry. The priest, Jean-Claude Leroy, recounted how the knight had been evasive about his mission and very nervous, as though someone was following him. Finally, after a hot meal, the knight had left a package in Father Leroy's care before leaving for Paris the next morning. Father Leroy had been curious and the mysterious knight had not forbidden him from opening the parcel and so he had looked inside. He described a strange stone tablet with unreadable runes carved on it and a knife with an obsidian blade. Sam frowned at the book, an obsidian blade would be sharp but fragile. It didn't sound very practical. Perhaps it was a ritual knife? The book was written in a dialect of Old French and Cas would have been able to read the language directly, so he probably hadn't cared how good the translation printed alongside was. Sam only knew a handful of words in modern French and apparently the language had changed a lot. But there was a note in Cas's handwriting in the margin. Stele?

He pulled his laptop towards him and began to search for an expert who might be willing to look at the translation for him. As he browsed, his email program signalled the arrival of a new message. The email was not from anyone he knew but the subject was 'URGENT!'. He chewed his lip for a moment and then opened it.

Dear Mr Winchester,

I apologize for writing to you out of the blue, but your name was given to me by a mutual friend and he tells me that you are the only one who can help me. My name is Martina Black and I am a journalist from Odessa, TX. I've been writing a small local interest piece on a historical artifact that has been in Odessa for over one hundred years.

This artifact, the Odessa Witch Cauldron, was supposedly owned by a local witch, Mahalia Howe. She used to help the local cattle ranchers with sick animals and was reputedly part Comanche. I can't find a birth certificate or any documentation about her at all until about ten years before she died. But this was the late 1890's and this was not unusual. All I know for sure about her is that her father, Mulholland Howe, was a prominent businessman from New York who moved to Texas in 1879, and married a local woman who bore him three children. Mahalia was the oldest.

There's not much to the story other than that. And so I was writing about the recent museum renovation and the Cauldron exhibit, but it was a little flat because we know so little about it. But then the curator told me that there was a curse attached to the Cauldron. She claimed that eating food cooked in the Cauldron would satisfy a person so well, they would achieve a kind of physical perfection. All diseases cured, body weight stabilised at a healthy weight, strength, agility etc. Well, of course I was intrigued. How was this a curse? She explained that the curse part was that once one had eaten of the Cauldron, you could never eat normal food again.

I didn't understand what this meant. She dared me to eat some soup she had heated in the Cauldron and I, foolishly, accepted. At first it was amazing. I lost a lot of weight, my fitness level has never been higher and my asthma disappeared entirely. But I soon realized that the price I was paying was very, very high. The curse makes you crave human flesh. I have become a monster. So far, I've contained my hunger by stealing corpses from the local morgue. But it's not enough and I'm becoming desperate.

Just by chance, I ran into a guy who used to work as a janitor at my old college and he said that you might be able to help me. He said you were some kind of expert in curses and other such things.

Please help me. I don't know how long I can hold out before I kill someone.

Martina

A line appeared between Sam's eyebrows as he read Martina's letter. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the janitor was. He grunted, hating the feeling of being led around by the nose. He tapped out a quick reply and then rose to go find Dean.