The Sheriff's body collapsed suddenly under him and Dean once more hit the floor hard. He gave himself a moment to groan and lament his lot in life before calling out, "Sammy?"

"Fine!" The voice was a bit short of breath but it didn't sound particularly pained. Princess could wait then until Dean got his own shit together.

"Other people?" Dean called out lazily.

"Still here." Mulder replied. He was even still on his feet. The empty bottle was half crushed in his hand but he held on to it the way a good soldier never let go of his gun. He reached out a hand and helped Dean force himself up to his feet. His knees and elbows were raw and bruised from banging against so many hard surfaces on his many introductions to the floor. His left shoulder ached in a way that was clear it was going to be stiff and useless for the next couple of days. But he wasn't bleeding too much and he didn't have a concussion, so he was doing better than the rest of the team.

"Nice work, Agent Scully," he commented, shuffling to turn to face her, his best charming grin spreading across his face. "I'm impressed." And he really was. You had to appreciate a girl who could fire a gun and recite perfect Latin.

Mulder was also staring at her. "What did they teach you in those catholic schools?" he asked, sounding a bit awed and intimidated.

Scully scowled back at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Mulder. I Googled it."

"You Googled an exorcism and managed it on the first try?" Sam asked.

She shrugged. "I studied Latin in school. Latin prayers all have a lot in common. I'm not one hundred percent sure I recited every line, but apparently it was enough. Are they dead now, the demons?"

Sam and Dean both scowled at the same time. "No," Dean grumbled. "But you kicked itheir asses well enough they won't be back for some time. Long enough for us to figure out a more permanent solution."

Scully sighed and sat back. "Will that be enough?" she asked and that was when Dean realized she wasn't actively trying to stop the bleeding any more. Mike, the gas station guy, wasn't moving and looked pale even in the crappy lighting. She saw him notice and her lips thinned. "He died almost right away. But pretending he was still alive and all I had time for seemed like good cover. No one was looking at me while I was focused on him."

"Nice work!" Dean reassured her, trying to move the conversation away from the dead body as quickly as possible. "Bastards didn't see it comin'. Good job."

"Now what?" Mulder asked. And there must have been enough of a wobble to his voice because Scully's attention switched sharply to him.

"Sit down before you fall down," she ordered. Mulder complied but frowned while he did so and repeated his question.

"Sam?" Dean demanded.

Boy Wonder didn't miss a beat. "If we remove whatever they've done to block out the angels, we should be able to get some help cleaning this place up."

"The wards?"

"Probably tied to this place," Sam answered, both brothers on the same page.

"Fire?"

Sam nodded. "Make it look like she started it," he added, gesturing to the dead woman at his feet. "Maybe we can at least keep the Sheriff's name clear."

Dean nodded and glanced at the FBI guys. This would hinge on their willingness to lie like a rug. "You think you can handle selling that? That the Sheriff tried to help you rescue our vic and died in the process?"

Mulder looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. Whole. But Scully just nodded thoughtfully. "How do we explain Mulder shooting him? Repeatedly?" And really, Dean hadn't expected her to be the one on board with covering this all up, but going by the chocked off noises Mulder was making, he was the one with a bigger issue at hiding the truth.

Dean looked at the body, taking in the blood stains and counting up rounds in his head. 'We should be able to clean them out. We'll collect up all the brass, dig out any bullets and soak and torch the whole place. A burnt body will hide most sins. But just to be safe, crazy lade shot him a couple of times, okay?"

Scully frowned at that. "Who is she? Are we actually pinning several homicides on an unknown woman…"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Judging by the smell and her clothes, I don't think anyone's reported her missing. At least not recently. We don't have a lot of choice. It's either her or risk draggin' the Sheriff into this. A mentally imbalanced woman performing satanic rituals to kill men will go over better than a serial killer Sheriff. Trust me. You'd be surprised what communities can write off as individual insanity and how much easier that is to live with than the idea that a trusted official may have used his position to murder in cold blood."

"This is wrong!" Mulder finally exploded. "None of these people did those things and the thing that did is a real threat!"

"Good luck with that story, buddy," Dean snapped back snidely. He was not up for coddling that kind of nativity. "You wanna one way ticket to state run living, be my guest. The rest of us have actual work to do and that's kind of hard to accomplish when you're locked up in the looney bin."

"You could blame it on us," Sam offered in a tone that was much more gentle and understanding and consolatory. "Our reputation can't get any worse."

"No," Scully answered, her voice firm and the look she gave Mulder making it clear she was answering for them both. "You're right, Mulder, in that this threat still exists. But we have no way of providing evidence right now and drawing attention to it will only make it worse. Or do you want Dean and Sam Winchester to be blamed for yet more deaths that they didn't cause?"

"To be fair, we did shoot them a lot…" Dean pointed out in a drawl.

"Be quiet, Mr. Winchester."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied cheekily.

Dean and Sam Winchester brought enough gasoline to burn down an apartment building and it was more than enough to make short work of the small roadside restaurant. They'd made sure to dowse the bodies and the altar liberally. It would make it hard for authorities to identify the remains, but as Dean commented, it would hide many sins.

Agent Scully kept that in mind as she wrote up her final report. Sins of omission were maybe not lies but it was still difficult to walk that fine line between reporting what she could and burying the rest. It was not a skill she wanted to come easily to her, but she understood the importance.

Mulder had struggled with the idea in the days since. She could see it in his face sometimes, the urge to start making proclamations and demanding answers. But thankfully he was more distracted when they returned to Virginia by going through each and every one of the Winchester cases and re-evaluating them based on what he now knew. He whined frequently about not getting to see the Winchesters' records or having a reliable way of contacting them again. When he ran out of cases linked to the brothers, he started reviewing the rest of his files for possible connections.

It kept him busy. For now.

Clean-up took forever and by the time they were done Dean felt like nothing more than one giant bruise. The agents hadn't been much help, but in some ways that was easier. Less awkward cleaning up a crime scene when the law wasn't watching you. The long trudge back to the car and the drive afterwards was made in silence. Yes, they had stopped the seal from being broken. But like any other case involving demons, they sure as hell hadn't actually won this one.

Mulder tried to get them to stay in town, or maybe meet him back at his place in the D.C. area, but it was a damn fool idea and everyone but him knew it. Dean and Sam needed to disappear again and put as much distance between themselves and this case as they could if they wanted to keep their names out of it.

So they bugged out that night. Loaded the car and drove as long as they could without falling asleep. It put them one state over, in another nameless motel for the night. Maybe they'd take a few days to recover. Or swing by Bobby's for a bit. At least maybe now they wouldn't have to worry about squabbling with Fox Fucking Mulder for cases.

Sam called first dibs on the shower so Dean spent a little time putting all of his 'tools' back where they belonged in the Impala. Everything had its own place, and it was important to keep everything in place for when you needed it. The only thing worse than failing a job was failing it because you weren't prepared.

So he had his head inside the trunk when Cas the freakin' Angel of the Lord decided to appear directly behind him. Reflex kicked in and he tried to spin around and stand up straight at the same time. It resulted in banging his poor head yet one more time.

"Godfuckingdamnit!" he yelped.

"Language, Dean Winchester," Castiel rumbled like the sound of thunder above.

"Personal space!" Dean yelped back. "Heart attacks! Not scaring the ever-livin' daylights out of the humans!"

Cas frowned as if this was Dean's fault. "You should be more aware." He didn't wait for Dean's witty reply (it contained the words 'aware' and 'my ass'). "You disappeared for five days and 18 hours."

"Huh?"

Cas's frowny face got worse. "While stopping the demons on Owl's Head. You and your brother disappeared for five days and 18 hours."

Dean shrugged. "You're the one who said they had angel blocking mojo. We took care of it. With no help from you, by the way."

"We could not see the demons," Cas clarified. "We should have been able to see you. Do not do such a thing again. It is imperative that we be able to locate you at any time."

Which was bull shit and clearly not for the benefit of him or his brother. But Dean had to admit, the guy seemed really earnest. He grinned at him. "What's the matter, Cas? Worried?"

Sarcasm went right over the dude's head. "Yes," he replied solemnly. "Very worried."

And damn if Dean didn't believe him. At least a little bit.

Thank you everyone for sticking it out this long! I hope you enjoyed.

A quick plug, I'll have a Hannibal/Supernatural fic coming out in a couple of months, hopefully. It's a monster in length…. I'm at about 90K words and have about three more chapters to go. So stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!