RCJ

"Fate is never fair. You are caught in a current much stronger than you are; struggle against it and you'll drown not just yourself, but those who try to save you." -City of Ashes

Tennison's night life was about typical for a mid-size town on a Friday night. The movie theater parking lot was packed, as was the local TGI Fridays. Dean was suddenly remorseful that he'd never eaten at one, and wondered if Juliet would think him a cheapskate if he took her there, the whole dating thing still a myster to him. Caleb would be out, considering Hooters was about the only chain his best friend would go truthfully citing scenery as the obvious reasons, instead of the phenomenal ribs. That left Sam.

"How do you feel about TGI Fridays?" Dean asked his brother as they strolled the lively streets of the historical section of Tennison renovated with bistros boasting the best Southern cuisine and eclectic bars catering to anything from country and punk rock to classic blues. It wasn't what Dean experienced on his trips to New York, but it was three times the bustle of New Haven, which tended to shut down at six in the evening, even on weekends.

"What?" Sam looked away from the store front windows he'd been scanning to stare at Dean.

"The restaurant." Dean carefully maneuvered around arm-linked couples clutching cups of Starbuck's coffee, no doubt chatting about the latest book they'd read, or the band they were hoping to see. Enjoying the evening seemed as easy as breathing to them, and Dean fought off the wave of bitterness that sometimes crept in with a glance to what looked like much greener grass. He cleared his throat, hoping to hold off his own dark reality a bit longer. "Have you been there?"

"I guess, maybe." Sam frowned at him, glancing at his watch for the tenth time. They'd hit a couple of bars already, gained nothing but a slight buzz which the cold night air was quickly stealing. He didn't need to be a psychic to pick up on his brother's grim intensity, something he hadn't quite lost since their showdown with Lucifer.

"I just figured it was a rite of passage for college kids." Dean smiled at two young women dressed in club garb -short skirts over skin tight leggings and high boots. Their scarves and hats obviously chosen more for fashion than the cold weather that had set in that morning. Dean had to admire that the young and beautiful twenty set were rarely thwarted by weather. The wolfish grins they retured were a more familiar landscape, one he could naturally navigate. "Did you and Jess go there?"

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes as Dean turned to watch the girls walk on. "What does that have to do with the hunt?"

"You'd rather I speculate some more on how this all might go down if our luck doesn't soon turn?" Dean had silently run the scenarios through his mind, lingering long on the parts where Caleb suffered for their inability to produce a lead until he'd nearly made himself crazy.

"Margarita Mondays." Sam sighed. "Jess liked hers on the rocks, no salt."

"Did tequila make her clothes come off?" Dean bobbed his eyebrows, grateful when Sam snorted, huddling deeper into his jacket in a gesture that spoke more of embarrassment than one of seeking warmth. For a long time he'd treaded softly when teasing his brother about Jessica, never knowing how his words might rub the wounds from her loss, not willing to make his brother's pain worse. But time had worked its magic, allowing for some levity and brotherly teasing that often sparked a hint of warmth if not exasperation in Sam's dark eyes.

"Why? You thinking of taking Juliet there?"

"As you well know, little brother, I don't need Cuervo to get a woman naked…" Dean's rebuttal was chopped short, his attention caught by a glowing sign in the distance. The bar's name was quickly overshadowed by the lifelike, human-sized figure standing sentry at the entrance. Cerberus's Den featured a stone stature of a three headed dog with three sets of glowing red eyes. The center dog gripped a chalkboard in his mouth, inviting customers in to watch tonight's college game without the crowd and to try the featured drink-A Flaming Hades.

"Right, how could I forget one side effect of your irrepressible charm is spontaneous stripping?" Sam's voice trailed off as he slowed and finally stopped walking completely when Dean drew up short in front of the statue.

"You alright?"

His brother's worried tone told Dean that Sam mistook the marble beast's resemblance to the hell hounds that had torn Dean to shred a few years back as the cause for sudden interest. Dean could admit the sight of the snarling figure was the initial culprit for his hesitation, but it was a different dawning of realization that gave him reason to stop. "What's up with this town's fascination with Romans? First The Silver Chariot, now a bar named for the guardian to the underworld."

"What are you thinking?" Sam's shoulder brushed Dean's as he made room for a group of young men and women vying to get their ID's checked, hands stamped for entrance into Cerberus.

"I think I have a sudden hankering for a Flaming Hades." Dean quirked a brow. "How much you want to bet it has tequila in it?"

Dean shot his brother an 'I told you so' smirk as Diana, the cute bartender in the toga dumped a generous portion of Cuervo into the tumbler she was using to prepare Dean's drink. The Goddess of the Moon gave the concoction a good shake, giving Dean a reason to return her toothy smile as the ends of the short white garment that made up her uniform slid further up her long legs with the movement.

Sam's gaze was locked on the intricate mural of The River Styx which lined the wall behind the bar, giving credence to Dean's theory that his brother paid attention to all the wrong details.

"Where's the flaming part come in?" Dean asked when Diana placed the drink in front of him, the question finally doing what the woman's incredible figure hadn't, reclaiming Sam's attention.

"River water." The bartender grabbed a bottle from behind her, labeled only with a skull and cross bones. She pulled her dark hair up into a high pony tail before filling the shot glass with the murky green liquid, pulling a lighter from beneath the bar. "It's rumored to either give a guy the buzz of his life, or a one way ticket to the Underworld."

"Having been to Hell and back once, I'm pulling for the great buzz." Dean glanced at his brother before winking at the bartender. "Go ahead, Diana light my fire."

Sam didn't hold back the groan Dean knew his cheesy comment warranted. The brunette, probably having endured the cliché a few dozen times that night alone, retained her smile as she set the shot a flame and dropped it glass and all into Dean's drink.

Dean took a quick breath and drank. He relished the burn of the alcohol, the momentary distraction it offered from the real task at hand. The heated rush worked its way through his system dousing some of his worry fueled nerves, but proved lackluster in the end against his high tolerance. Thanks to the not so healthy coping mechanism handed down from his father, Dean could drink most men his size under the table. The Flaming Hades might as well have been a fizzy Fuzzy Navel.

"Smooth." He coughed slightly, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. He nudged Sam. "You should try one, little brother."

"No thanks," Sam nodded to his beer and then grinned at the bartender. "I prefer to retain the lining of my esophagus and stomach, thank you very much."

"Smart man. I bet you're saving your brain cells for greatness?" Diana took a rag from the gold leaf belt cinched around her waist and used it to wipe up some of the alcohol that had splashed over from Dean's drink. "You have that Joe College look about you."

"Told you that shirt made you look like a complete geek, Sammy." Dean took the toothpick from his empty glass, sliding the cherry off with his teeth. The maraschino soured on his tongue as he studied the plastic spear holding the fruit. He quickly swallowed it and the lump in his throat, tossing the drink favor on the bar. "My awesome jacket makes sure I never get called a nerd."

"Because nothing says high school dropout like leather." Sam looked at Diana. "Ignore my brother. He spent his formative years in juvie."

The brunette favored Dean with a playful wink. "I'd definitely peg him as a repeat offender."

Dean returned the gesture. "Only if you count stealing hearts a crime, sweetheart."

Sam snorted. "Let's just say I chose law for a reason. It will save us a small fortune in getting him counsel."

"So you're pre-law?" Diana asked Sam.

"I am."

"I'm a Fine Art major. Junior." She lifted her eyes to one of the flat screens behind the bar where a women's basketball game was showing. "Go, Centurions."

"Excuse me?"

"The Centurions-the Tennison College Centurions?"

"Centurions are your mascot?" Dean supposed that explained the mystery with the Roman theme, and found it more than ironic that their quest for The Holy Lance had brought them here. He was waiting for the cosmic punch line.

"Yeah." Diana let her gaze go from Dean back to Sam as she continued to wipe down the bar, allowing her fellow bar tenders to wait on the growing crowd. "I thought you were a student."

"I didn't say I went to Tennison," Sam explained. "I'm at NYU."

"Well, our little private Protestant school can't compete with that, but women's basketball has recently put us on the map." Diana glanced to the flat screen again. "I mean everyone's talking about the early season winning streak. Coach Carter is promising to bring us another National Title."

"Did you say Carter?" Dean leaned forward, his Spidey sense on full alert.

"She's practically the Pat Summit of Atlanta, taking the Centurions to nationals the first year she was here." The bartender pointed to a picture hung above the bar. It was in one of the shadow box kind containing a net from a basketball goal, and a shot of a smiling attractive blond woman holding a large gold trophy. "She and my boss were college roommates. Maire is the one who gave Coach Carter the tip on the job at Tennison. Coach and her staff come here to celebrate after every home game. You could say her winning streak has put Cerberus's Den on the map, too."

"You don't say." Dean looked around at the growing crowd, much larger than any of the other bars they had passed. Drinks and food were flowing.

Sam nudged his brother, lowering his voice. "You think she's related to Chief of Police Carter?"

"You bet she is. You're looking at Chief Carter's wife, the one with the once in a lifetime job proposal." Dean nodded to the picture and the image of a large stuffed Roman soldier in the background. "Check out the mascot."

"That's Caesar," Diana informed them. "I think the costume is a little freaky and cartoonish, like some Disney World reject, but the crowd loves him. It was Coach's idea to build fan support. He has a chariot the cheerleaders pull him around in during half time."

Dean could agree that the mascot looked more oversized stuffed animal than brave warrior, but it was the weapon in his hand that drew Dean's scrutiny. He nudged his brother and pointed to the picture. "It looks like Caesar has his very own Lance and not the plastic kind you'd take off an amusement park character."

"You mean the Spear of Victory." Diana nodded, held her finger up to some guys who'd wedged their way in beside Sam and were impatiently waving bills in her direction in hopes of scoring their drink orders more quickly. "It's the only closely authentic thing about the whole get up. Coach Carter found it at some estate sale when she moved here. Caesar throws it from the foul line through a flaming banner of the opposing team's mascot before each game. It's kind of lame if you ask me, but all in the name of showmanship I guess. Coach says it's her lucky charm."

"She has no idea," Sam muttered.

"Is that a home game?" Dean pointed to the screen, reaching for his wallet as he stood.

"Wow, you guys really aren't from around here."

"Where are they playing?" He tossed a twenty on the bar, adding another five when Diana hesitated. They had been on the right track about Chief of Police Carter. Only he was reaping the benefits by proxy. His wife had possession of The Holy Lance, meaning everyone in her small circle benefitted-her husband, her team, and the entire town, including Mayor Jameson.

"At The Coliseum, on campus, like always."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course they are."

"I get a break in twenty." She smiled at Dean as she scooped the money up and stuffed the five within the front folds of her toga. "If you wait, I'll drive you over myself."

"Maybe next time," Dean called over his shoulder, already moving to the door. He wondered briefly if it would be wrong to bring Caleb here for a celebratory drink after this whole mess was behind them, maybe find out if Diana lived up to her goddess stature.

"What should we do?" Sam rushed to keep up, interrupting Dean's lurid train of thought. "It's not like we can just walk in and snatch The Spear of Victory, which we're pretty certain is The Spear of Destiny away from Caesar during the middle of a game."

"Who says?" Dean hit the door, pushing past the line of people waiting to be admitted into Cerberus. "Give me one reason why not. Damien is waiting on us."

"I'll give you several." Sam ticked off his thoughts on his fingers as they cut across a darkened alley to avoid the crowded sidewalks. "The game is being watched by thousands of fans, it's publicly televised, and there is bound to be security. Then there is the whole part where everyone who has ever had The Lance taken from them has died a tragic death. I don't know about you, but I'm not comfortable with being the cause of Coach Carter's demise. She doesn't understand what she has."

"All easy to maneuver with the right disguise and perspective." Dean didn't care what he had to do now that the prize was in sight, though the thought of hurting an innocent set him on edge. He had to believe that history only highlighted the worst case scenario when it came to The Lance. "It's not like Carter used the thing to kill people, to cause great harm to her enemy. I'm guessing the worst that happens to her is she loses her title shot, her job at the most. The town's crime rate goes back up, Chief Carter will have to forfeit his fancy espresso machine, Jameson's dream of a senate seat goes up in smoke, and Cerberus has to go back to watering down drinks to turn a profit."

"That's a whole lot of theorizing. What if you're wrong?" Sam grabbed his brother's arm as Dean picked up speed. "And what do you mean by disguise?"

Sam, as usual was being his difficult doubting Tom self. "We just need to blend, Sammy."

"Yeah, because a couple of Tennison t-shirts and a big finger are going to let us walk in and snatch the winning team's good luck charm."

"You need to have faith, little brother." Dean quickened his pace when he caught sight of the Impala. They would call Joshua on the way, and as soon as they had The Holy Lance getting Damien back would be a piece of cake. "I have a plan."

RcJ*SnsnsN*RcJ

"This is a horrible plan, Dean." Sam looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, giving a low groan as his brother held up the giant head for him to take. "It's never going to work."

"I think you look great." Dean shoved the head at Sam. "It's going to work."

"I'm a Fighting Duck, Dean." Sam gestured at the clunky body of the costume. It was ridiculous. "I can barely walk in this thing, let alone go to battle. How the hell am I supposed to wrestle with a Roman Centurion?"

"I don't expect you to go toe to toe with Caesar, just goad him into chasing you this way out of the spotlight. Once he's in the hallway, I'll take care of things." Dean grinned, glancing down at Sam's huge duck feet. Sam resisted the urge to strangle him, or perhaps beat him to death with his massive wings. "Do ducks even have toes?"

"I hate you." Sam growled, pulling the head piece over his face. They'd paid the Madison Tech Fighting Duck's mascot a hundred bucks to let them 'rent' the humiliating costume for ten minutes. Sam wasn't sure if it was Dean's promise of a practical joke on Tennison's smug Caesar, or the fact that Madison Tech was down by twenty points in the beginning of the fourth quarter that had the student so willing to abandon his post, but it was just Sam's luck that the kid was freakishly tall, which meant the suit was sized perfectly for Sam.

"You love me and you know it." Dean smacked Sam's fluffy tail feathers. "This takes me back to when you used to sing 'Little Ducky Duddle' every time you took a bath."

Sam held up his wing in what he hoped Dean correctly interpreted as a fowl gesture. Caleb owed him big time. "Who picks a Fighting Duck for their mascot?"

"You do realize your old Alma Mater Stanford had a lame ass tree as their mascot, right? It looks like the decorations for a pre-school play. "

"Hey, don't disrespect The Tree. It's sacred in Palo Alto." Sam tried to run his hands through his hair, but was thwarted by his wings. "Just give me a minute. I'll be out there and get this done."

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, Ducky Duddle. Don't get your feathers in a twist."

"I really, really hate you."

"Just channel the wrath, Sammy. It will make for a good show." Dean gave him two thumbs up, backed out and exited to set up for his position in the corner of the stands.

Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn't help to wonder if Mackland Ames as the former Scholar of The Brotherhood had ever sunk so low. There was no way Mac would be coerced into wearing a giant duck costume in front of hordes of people all armed with cell phone cameras. Let alone following through on a complex scheme such as Dean's. He actually wanted Sam to put on a show for the crowd, to antagonize Caesar by flapping and quacking about the chariot. It would no doubt be an internet sensation, especially when buzz of the stolen spear got around.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. As The Scholar, Mac would have come up with his own plan, a more logical one where he wasn't forced to make a complete idiot of himself. One last look in the mirror had Sam deciding that another tactic was indeed called for; one not inspired only by the former Scholar, but Sam's father, the late Knight as well. His mind made up, he reached to pull off one of the duck feet.

Sam didn't even look in his brother's direction as he blew past him. His sole focus was on the intended target. Caesar was reclined in his chariot at the corner of the bleachers, taking in the game. Sam pulled his hoody up, stalked over to the lounging centurion and snatched The Lance from his slack grip.

Caesar looked down at his now empty hands and before he had a chance to move, Sam turned and took off for the exit. No one moved to intercept him, no security shouted for him to halt, the only voice he heard was that of his brother's calling for him to wait up, but Sam ignored him, not stopping until he'd made it to the parking lot, ducking down behind the Impala.

"What happened to my brilliant plan?" Dean skidded to a breathless halt beside him.

"It sucked." Sam glanced over the hood of the Impala, reaching for the car door when he saw no one exit after his brother. "Call it a Scholar's Mandate."

"Scholar's don't get to have a mandate." Dean shook his head, pulling the keys from his pocket and quickly making his way around the front to the driver's door. "So you decided the direct approach would work after all?"

Sam got in the car, carefully maneuvering The Holy Lance so as not to stab Dean, although tempting. "I guess I was wrong."

"About?" Dean turned the car around, heading out of the crowded parking lot.

"Turns out you can simply walk in during a televised game and take The Spear of Destiny away from Caesar in front of a thousand fans." Sam grinned at his brother, angling The Lance so the tip was pointed away from Dean's head. "Who knew?"

"You think your John Winchester move might work with getting Caleb back?"

Sam had been wondering the same thing himself. "Why not? I mean we have The Lance now, victory is guaranteed, right?"

"You're thinking Reagan didn't consider that if we actually found The Lance, we'd have the upper hand?" Dean turned onto the road that would lead them back into town. It was a quiet two lane, made more desolate by the late hour and the fact most of Tennison seemed to be either at the game or waiting in line at Cerberus. He took his eyes off the road to meet Sam's. "If what Castiel said about The Lance is true, then it's neutral when it's with us, unless we willing choose to act on its power. It's not going to kick in like it did with Carter."

Sam looked at the spear in his hands, finding it hard to wrap his mind around the fact the thing was authentic, that it had been used against Jesus, a man Sam found almost as hard to believe existed as the mythical big foot they had never gotten around to hunting. "If we used it, there would be repercussions to consider. Like what might happen to you when you turn it over to Castiel? Do you think Reagan was hoping you'd be tempted to use it?"

"I don't know, but if he thinks we haven't learned our lesson about using supernatural forces, then he doesn't know us very well."

They had all sold pieces of their souls in the name of brotherhood, Dean literally when he'd made the deal that sent him to Hell to bring Sam back from the dead. Caleb had given in to his demon side, using Noah Seaver's amulet to stop Dean from having to pay the ultimate price for his sacrifice, and Sam had slept with the enemy, became the enemy, to get revenge when all their efforts proved unable to save Dean. "Maybe he knows us better than we think."

Dean turned first to glare at him and then opened his mouth to reply, to no doubt deny what Sam was sure his brother was thinking. They would do what they had to in order to get Caleb back and they both knew it, even if that meant risking the wrath of God, or whatever force dictated The Lance's formidable power. He didn't get a chance to speak however as Sam's gaze was drawn to the road where the headlights illuminated the tall figure in a trench coat standing dead center of the Impala's path.

"Dean! Look out!"

Dean slammed on the breaks, bringing them to a screeching halt mere inches from Castiel, who seemed neither concerned that the car's bumper was touching his knees, nor worried when Dean jumped from the car with murder in his eyes.

"Damnit, Castiel! How many times do I have to tell you not to pull this shit?"

Sam made his exit more cautiously; grateful the spot Castiel had chosen to drop in on them was at least in a straightaway so that if there was any oncoming traffic they wouldn't be a complete surprise or detriment. Dean had left the car running, headlights on.

"You have The Lance." Castiel's declaration did not improve Dean's demeanor. Sam caught the psychic pulse as his brother's tempered flared with pent up frustration and anger.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Castiel turned his eyes from The Spear in Sam's hand to face Dean, who had wedged himself between the Impala's grill and the angel.

"You knew I was in Tennison."

"Then why the no show when I called for you hours ago?" Dean pushed Castiel back a step. "Hours, Cas."

"I was protecting you." Castiel stood his ground. "I can be tracked by Raphael."

"Protecting us or protecting your assets?"

"I consider them one in the same."

Dean shook his head and Sam worried briefly if his brother might physically lash out. Castiel was not helping his case by appearing completely unrepentant for his action. "Caleb's been kidnapped by a group of yahoos claiming to be some sort of bizarre Triad, but my money is on you already knowing that."

"I knew of the Trinity's existence."

"And you didn't mention this why?" Dean growled.

"Your intelligence is slightly above average for your species, Dean. I imagined you understood the concept of good and evil. It all began in the Garden of Eden when…"

"Never mind." Dean waved a hand in the air with a growl. "Did you know they took Caleb, to force my hand with The Lance?"

Sam hoped Castiel would say no, or at least put a spin on the alternative answer. Instead, the angel stayed true to his stoic form, giving the worst possible response in a manner one might deliver the day's weather forecast.

"It was unfortunate timing, though quite strategic on The Trinity's part."

"Strategic?" Sam didn't even attempt to intervene when Dean wrapped his hands in the lapels of Castiel's coat. "You call my best friend being tortured by a psychopath Navy SEAL on a power trip unfortunate timing!"

"I could not risk Raphael discovering there was another Guardian in close proximity of The Lance-a Guardian who may be willing to pledge his alliance to their faction."

"Could Walsh do that?" Sam hadn't had time to wrap his mind around how the yin and yang of two Triads worked, but imagined it could be possible in theory if they were in fact opposite faces of the same coin that Walsh would have the same authority as Dean.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much if I were you," Dean said before the angel could reply. "If Reagan Walsh is as smart as he says he is, he'd turn tail and run at the first sign of Castiel's kind, blowing on his magic flute for all he's worth." Dean let Castiel go with a shove. "There are days I curse my own fucking stupidity."

"I need for you to give me The Holy Lance, Dean." Castiel glanced skyward. "Time is running short."

"You're damn straight it is-for Caleb." Dean pointed a finger at The Lance. "That is the only thing I can count on to get him back in one piece. So unless you have a better offer to toss on the table, it stays with me."

"Is there any way you could find him?" Sam stepped forward, his grip tightening on The Spear. He wanted to trust Castiel, considered him a friend in an odd way, but wasn't sure the angel wouldn't take the weapon from him if he was desperate enough to betray Dean on a level Sam knew his brother would not take lightly. Dean's loyalty for those he allowed in his inner circle was unshakeable, but family came first.

Castiel sighed, showing a rare display of irritation, which confirmed Sam's theory that his brother at times could test the patience of a saint. "I doubt the Trinity has the knowledge or the capability to shield their location from me."

"You can angel us in there?" Dean looked less angry. "We'll get Caleb out, then you can have The Lance."

"The more I use my abilities, the longer I am out in the open, the easier it becomes for Raphael to find me, you -and The Lance."

"It's not like I'm going to turn it over to him." Dean let out a sigh of his own, which Sam recognized as a sign he was willing to let Castiel's transgression slide in order to get his much needed assistance now. "You know I have your back, no matter what."

"You don't have to give it to him, Dean. The Lance is more powerful when handed over by a Guardian, but it can be taken from you. It would not end well for any of us, least of all The Guardian it was taken from."

"What do you mean?" Sam moved closer to his brother, hoping Castiel was not alluding to the fate of all the others who had once possessed The Holy Lance. "Dean hasn't used it as a weapon."

"That doesn't matter. It's under his protection now. He must give it with good blessings or keep it hidden."

"Then I suggest you find a way to cover your assets, Cas." Dean turned and started back for the Impala, Sam's own irritation at his brother's stubborn streak flared.

"Caleb wouldn't allow you to risk yourself, Dean." Sam had no doubt Caleb would not be above inventing a Knight Mandate that overruled The Guardian in any case where Dean's life would be put in jeopardy.

"Yeah, well, Caleb's not here." Dean turned and met his gaze, and Sam knew just as Reagan Walsh had known, his brother's priorities often conflicted with what was in his best interest. No one was going to stop him from doing what he believed was best for his family. "First we're getting my baby off this road and then we're going after Damien."

RcJ*SnsnsnsN*RcJ

Dean would be the first to admit his plans weren't always the well-thought, long pondered and dissected mental blueprints his brother liked to linger over. They were at times fueled more by his heart than commanded by his head, but this one was off the cuff and brilliant. Not only did forcing Castiel to wear a pizza delivery uniform give them an entrance into Reagan Walsh's lair, it also gave Dean a fair amount of satisfaction considering the angel's choice of selective assistance over the last twenty four hours.

He'd decided to go lenient on Castiel, opting to save most his ire for Owen. Dean fully intended to kill the bastard, put him down like the rabid dog he was if not for the long rambling text Sam received from Riley on their way to get Josh that included something about The Matrix String Theory and Superman. In the end, Dean had gotten the gist of it; absolutely under no circumstances were they to kill anybody in The Trinity.

"I don't understand the need for me to wear this strange costume, Dean."

Dean shifted The Lance to his other hand, ignoring Castiel as he bent down over the supplies he'd brought. "It's not a costume. Clowns and kids begging for candy wear costumes. Professionals wear disguises."

"And criminals," Joshua interjected pulling his coat tighter about him. "Let's not forget the unseemly element."

"You're not here to talk, Josh." Dean dug what he needed from his duffel, thankful the clear cold night with its full moon provided perfect light for their mission. He handed the ear piece, spray paint cans and knife to The Advisor. "Stick to your part of the plan."

"Ah, yes. The great plan." Joshua took the items with a smirk. "Why is it I must be the one to bleed for the cause? I'm beginning to feel like a bewildered member of the A-Team. What was it they accused their leader of being high on when he led them into questionable circumstances that would most assuredly secure their demise?"

"They called it the jazz and please don't encourage him," Sam answered Joshua as he rejoined them and knelt by Dean. "No signs of movement from the back of the house. It looks locked tight as a drum-motion activated security lights on every corner."

"Your abilities giving you anything?" Dean gave Walsh credit. Hiding in the middle of a suburb, only a few blocks from the Sheriff's, was ballsy and unexpected. It explained why none of the motels or hotels they checked had turned up any sign of the threesome and Caleb. Even if Dean had considered the suburbs it would have taken too long to search every house. Walsh's cockiness would work against him in the end.

"Besides a massive headache?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

"It's likely there are other witch's purses in the house, not just those we found in the trees on the perimeter of the property." Joshua lifted one of the pouches he'd removed from their initial search. "This would not be enough to explain the psychic black hole and alchemy backwash we've experienced."

"I told you The Trinity are in the house," Castiel spoke up. "Would it not be simpler if I transported all of us inside at one time?"

Dean shook his head. They had held their position in a neighbor's tree lined yard parallel to the property Castiel had brought them to. Every protective instinct Dean had shouted at him to take the place as soon as they were there, but he would not underestimate Walsh again.

"Your intel doesn't give us specific locations, Cas. We don't know where Caleb is or what condition he's in. For all we know Walsh could be expecting us to utilize your particular talents. I'm not risking a Mexican standoff or walking into a boxed canyon without some leverage of my own this time. I want one of his men out in the open and Caleb out of the line of fire."

"And I wish to remove this disguise as quickly as possible." The angel picked at the soiled red and white polo with the Rocky's Pizza logo on the front. "It has a very strange aroma."

"It's called garlic and anchovies," Dean's mouth twitched. The delivery outfit had been stuffed in the back of the Impala along with their exterminator and plumber get ups. "Be glad it doesn't come with feathers and duck feet."

"Trust me when I say you got off easy." Sam handed Castiel the pizza they had picked up on the way, sans the couple of slices Dean had snatched. "All you have to do is go ring the bell. They don't know what you look like, and even if their psychic is halfway decent, he's going to be restrained by the measures they are taking to block Caleb."

"Just in case, put this in your pocket." Joshua handed Castiel the Witch's Purse. "Think of it as a cloak of invisibility. I added a little something extra that I think will protect you from any other fallout as well."

"Any cloak would be preferable to these garments."

Dean handed Castiel the matching ball cap, grinning when the angel pulled it on his head, tugging the bill nearly over his eyes. "You'll be back in your trench coat in no time, buddy."

"I'm quite glad my vessel was not a pizza delivery man."

Dean snorted, and pointed to the front of the house. "Give Sammy and me time to make it to the yard and then do your thing."

"Ring the bell?"

"Or knock." Dean nodded. "I know it's a formality you angels usually skip, but we actually want someone to warn us they are at the door."

"I understand." Castiel looked to the spear Dean was holding. "You should bring The Lance so I can go as soon as we are finished."

"Sorry to ruin the ancient gladiator image, but I prefer to keep my hands free for my guns, thank you very much. My Advisor will be holding onto the cursed antiquity until I give the all clear." When Dean turned back around from handing the Lance to Joshua, Castiel had disappeared. Dean hoped he was following through on his part of the plan and not merely pouting.

"Yes, do leave me with the instrument of certain doom, Colonel." Joshua frowned at Dean. "All in the name of the great master plan."

"It's not a far reach, you know-that whole A-Team gig." Dean grinned, unable to resist needling Joshua even on the brink of rescuing Caleb and setting Reagan Walsh straight on the fact of who was the real Guardian in town. He finished gathering the last of his things, sliding Pan's Flute into his pocket. "There are four of us. Carolyn could be our hot brainy chick on the sidelines. We could take Walsh's pimped out van, convince Damien women find men with Mohawks and gold chains hot; before you know it, we're busting Sammy out of the loony bin and on the lamb from the law."

"Why do I have to be Murdock?" Sam countered, giving one last check to the loads in his shotgun. "I could be Face."

"Not with that hair cut, Bro." Dean secured his spare gun in the holster at his ankle. "Never mind your pathetic wardrobe or the part where you suck at lying. GQ Josh already comes equipped with the designer clothes, nice car, and he cons people for a living."

"I do not con people. Public relations is an art."

Joshua's adamant denial was a nice shot of normalcy that calmed Dean's pre-infiltration nerves. It was almost as good as the inappropriate bantering he and Caleb often did before a hunt, a habit that used to drive John Winchester up the wall. The impatient sigh from Sam was so reminiscent of their dad, it helped Dean push away the nagging doubts that this whole plan could unravel in a heartbeat to one giant cluster fuck. He took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of all the unknown variables to the back of his mind and did what he did best.

"Painting is an art, Josh. Just ask Damien." Dean gave his Advisor a rueful grin, feigning the upmost confidence in their success. "Screwing people over without them realizing it is more of a pathological skillset."

"A skillset you don't mind utilizing when it suits your needs."

"Damn straight." He pointed to the spray can in his Advisor's hand, slipping his ear piece on. "I wasn't just wagging my tongue when I told Walsh you were our secret weapon. As soon as we're in the house, get to work and be ready for my signal."

"If you're done with pre-game pep talk, Hannibal, we should go." Sam moved to the end of their tree-line cover. "Caleb's waiting on us."

Dean didn't need the reminder. He nodded to Josh, hoping his Advisor understood that if things for some reason went south he was to get the hell out of there and regroup with Bobby at Griffin's. Bobby, as well as Mac were aware of Dean's wishes if the worst happened and their Triad didn't make it out of a situation, but as Dean made his way with Sam across the yard to the hedges on the side of Reagan Walsh's hideout, he swore a silent vow that those particular plans would never need to be put in action.

RcJ*SnsnsnsN*RcJ

Sam let out a sigh of relief when Castiel appeared on the porch just as he and Dean secured their positions behind shrubbery on either side of the door. He met Dean's gaze as the security lights flooded the yard, watching as Castiel first pushed the doorbell once, twice, three times, then knocked loudly.

"May I help you?"

"Pizza for Barzini." Sam watched as Castiel held out the box to the man who'd opened the door. He winced at Castiel's forced Joker-like smile and the name Dean had instructed the angel to use. Sam hoped The Trinity weren't avid fans of The Godfather and wouldn't pick up on one of Vito Corleone's rival Dons.

"Sorry, we didn't order a pizza." He started to close the door, but Castiel moved forward, speaking in a loud voice.

"But I have the address right here. I made it in less than fifteen minutes."

The man stepped out onto the porch with huff. It wasn't Walsh and not at all what Sam imagined Owen, Caleb's counterpart to look like after hearing Dean's description of the man. That left the Scholar wannabe.

"Look, there must have been a mistake. There is no one here by the name of Barzini."

"This is 300 West Crestview." Castiel struggled with the extra large box, trying to pull the order form from his pocket. He fumbled right on cue, dropping the pizza at the man's feet as he pulled the crumpled paper free. "Great! My boss is going to take this out of my check."

"Maybe it's the next house over." The guy knelt down to help pick up the pizza and that's when Dean stepped out of the shadows, pressing his gun to the base of the man's skull.

"Look where good manners will get you," he hissed. "Stand up, keep both hands on the box."

"If this is a hold up, you most definitely chose the wrong house." The man did as Dean said with his voice calm as he kept his gaze on Castiel.

"This is more of a take out." Dean stepped closer to Walsh's man. "What you and your buddies called a hot extraction, I believe."

"Winchester." The man smiled, realization dawning on his face as Sam stepped onto the porch in front of him, shotgun level at his chest. "And his little brother, too." He turned his head to where Castiel had been, but the angel had disappeared. "Guardian angel makes three."

"We're going to move into the house nice and slow." Sam gestured at the door. "If there are any surprises waiting, I'd advise you tell us now. My brother really hates surprises. They make his trigger finger jittery."

The man nodded, stepping into the entranceway shadowed by Dean. Sam joined them, pulling the door closed as he stepped to the left to sweep the hallway.

"Yo, Jonah, who the hell was at the…" The man who entered from the right stopped instantly upon seeing his teammate and Dean. He dropped the bag of chips he was carrying, hand going to his back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Sam aimed the shotgun at his head. "Stay where you are, pull the gun you're packing nice and easy and put in on the floor, then keep your hands where I can see them."

"Look, Owen. It's the Winchesters," Jonah replied smoothly, lifting the box in his grasp. "They were considerate enough to bring pizza."

"Well fuck me and call me amazed." Owen laughed, doing as Sam said before lifting his hands in the air. "I guess this means I lose that bet with Reaves."

"Kiss that fifty goodbye." Jonah nodded. "Contrary to popular belief, Sam and Dean Winchester can in fact find their own dicks in the dark."

Dean shoved the muzzle of his gun hard against Jonah's head. "Keep talking smart ass and we'll see if your buddy Owen can track down all the pieces of your skull."

"Easy." Sam moved closer to his brother's side afraid Dean might be goaded into forgetting Riley's warning. He angled himself to cover their backs if he had to, but kept his shotgun trained on Owen. The Navy SEAL was dressed in jeans, a stained gray t-shirt. Sam couldn't help but notice the bruises and nicks on his knuckles. He tightened his hold on the shotgun, not ashamed to admit that the predatory grin on the man's face, his nonchalance at their appearance was unnerving, but it was his eyes that spoke volumes. They remained flat and lifeless even as his smile widened.

"If I'd known we were going to have company, I would have changed after my workout." Owen glanced down at the splatters on his chest then back up at Sam. "I'm guessing demon blood is a bitch to get out."

"Where's Walsh?" Sam demanded, hoping to derail Dean's wrath.

"I have a better question..." In one smooth, quick move Dean took his gun away from Jonah's head, aimed it at Owen and pulled the trigger. "Where the fuck is Caleb?"

"Dean!" Sam clenched his jaw, so much for the element of surprise.

"What? I didn't kill him."

"Son of a bitch!" Owen grabbed his shoulder, curling over with what Sam was disturbed to realize was peals of laughter. When he straightened up, his hand pressed against the growing spot of crimson on his shirt, his smile was still in place, though his eyes were now alight with emotion. "You are a man after my own cold black heart, Winchester. Maybe I should have been your Knight-maybe I still could."

"Answer his question." Sam tightened his finger on the trigger, not sure if it wouldn't be worth testing Riley's theory to get rid of Owen once and for all before he could hurt anyone else Sam cared about. "Make that, both of our questions!"

"Reagan went in to town." Jonah spoke, his voice losing some of the arrogance from before. "Reaves went along for the ride."

"That's a lie." Dean jammed the gun against his head again. "Angel sonar doesn't lie."

"I'm right here, Winchester."Sam turned his head, but kept his weapon trained on Owen. A wounded animal was twice as dangerous and he wasn't about to discount Owen's tenacity. Reagan Walsh stood in the entranceway off to their left wearing nothing but a towel, his dark hair dripping wet, Castiel at his side. "I've heard of an angel on your shoulder, but having one show up in the middle of your shower is a little overkill."

"Nice work, Cas." Dean smirked at Reagan. "Catching Walsh with his pants down makes us almost even."

"I take it you found The Holy Lance." Reagan's eyebrows lifted as he regarded Castiel. "It would explain the ethereal assistance."

"Castiel was anxious to see this whole situation cleared up. He wasn't up to waiting around for you to contact us seeing as he has a war to get back to."

Reagan grinned, and Sam had a feeling Dean had been right about this setup from the beginning. A hunch Walsh quickly confirmed. "Raphael said that might be the case."

Sam started as Raphael and three more angels appeared in the small foyer. Owen moved his good arm to reach for the weapon on the floor, but Sam retrained his gun on the SEAL's chest. "Twitch and I'll remove your hand the hard way."

"Castiel." Raphael inclined his head to the other angel. "So good of you to join our surprise party. I hope you brought the gift I've been hoping for."

"Who says anyone's surprised dickhead?" Dean turned to Raphael, touching the ear piece that connected him to Joshua before the angel could say a word. "Engage angel elimination, Face."

The bright light that flashed through the room was blinding. Sam brought his arm up to shield his eyes despite the fact he was ready for it. The Trinity reacted like a grenade had been tossed into the room, ducking down covering their heads.

"What the fuck?" Owen roared once the room was back to normal.

Sam grinned at his brother, who motioned for Walsh to join the rest of his team.

"That was complements of our Advisor. A little blood, some special ancient glyphs and bam-Raphael and kind are blown to kingdom come." Dean pulled Pan's Flute from inside his jacket, tossing it at Reagan's feet. "It works much better than your toy, which although authentic, and I'm sure great at picking up chicks, doesn't do squat to angels."

"Imagine our surprise when Castiel didn't even feel a tickle." Sam met his brother's gaze, then looked to Walsh. "Then we found the tracking device hidden inside. Didn't take long to figure out you three were running a good con. Raphael was your buyer all along."

"He made me an offer I couldn't refuse." Reagan sighed. "It seems you boys took care of any hard feelings on his part."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Dean took a step closer. "Raphael will be back, and I'm quite certain, knowing angels the way that I do, he'll not be happy with you or the lack of product. God may be really into the whole mercy and forgiveness thing, but his soldiers, not so much."

"All the more reason for us to say our farewells and bid each other adieu until we meet again," Jonah offered hopefully.

"Unfortunately, we kind of feel the same way the angels do." Sam knew they couldn't kill any of The Trinity, but it felt good to watch them squirm. "You three aren't going anywhere."

"Surely you realize by now that The Lady of the Lake made provisions. She's serious about the whole balance thing." Walsh looked from Sam to Dean.

Dean grinned. "I spent forty years in Hell being tortured by the demon of all demons; the Lady of the Lake doesn't exactly scare me, Walsh. What is she going to do? Trap me in a tree for eternity?"

"Then think of your Triad."

"They're always my first priority." Sam felt the sudden spike in his brother's emotions before Dean's face changed, smile fading, eyes hardening until they flashed like jade struck by sunlight. "Of course, you already know that."

"Like I said before, we're not as different as you think."

"We'll see." Dean touched the earpiece. "Josh, we're coming out."

Sam felt the vibration strum through his ring before the purple glow filled the room. Triad magic was far more powerful than any ward from a Witch's Purse.

"What the hell is that?" Reagan searched Dean's face, then looked to his own band. "What did you just do?"

"Triad Trap-courtesy of our secret weapon."

"A Triad Trap?"

Jonah shook his head when Reagan turned on him. "I've never heard of any such thing."

"It's basically the same concept as a devil's trap," Sam explained, silently cheering that his counterpart wasn't as knowledgeable as he thought himself. "Your weapons are useless, your abilities neutralized, and you're not going anywhere beyond the confines of the trap, in this case, the house."

"In other words it's a real bitch." Dean's smile returned.

"If that's true, then the same applies to you." Reagan started to step forward.

Dean raised his gun. "Funny thing, we learned the hard way about a Triad trap, it only works if the entire Triad is present."

"The angel," Reagan ran his hands through his hair. "He took your Knight out before coming for me."

"It pays to have friends in high places."

"I'm sure he feels the same considering you'll be turning over The Lance."

"Score one for the good guys." Dean backed up to the door. "You ready, Sam."

Sam gave The Trinity one last look, following his brother.

"You're just going to leave us here like this?" Reagan demanded.

Dean opened the door, turned to face Walsh. Sam knew what his brother was going to say, unable to resist the opportunity to throw Reagan's words back at him. "You're a Guardian; you'll figure it out eventually."

Sam slammed the door behind them, not surprised to find Joshua and Caleb waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"Damien." Dean moved quickly to The Knight's side, who despite looking beat to hell and seemed to be depending on Joshua to keep him vertical was grinning."No more play dates with other Knights for you, Lancelot."

"About time, Arthur." Caleb clasped Dean's wrist, lifting his gaze to Sam. "Took you two long enough."

"Dean insisted we stop for pizza on the way." Sam joined them, wincing when he got clear of the house and the psychic link he shared with Caleb flared to life. "You okay?"

"Nothing some painkillers and a few stitches won't fix."

"Where's Castiel?" Dean glanced to Josh. "Did that extra little spice you added to the witch's purse not protect him from being vanquished?"

"I'm here, Dean." Castiel appeared beside them, once more dressed in his typical suit and trench coat.

"Then fix this." Dean gestured to Caleb's face. "All of it."

Sam noticed neither Caleb nor Castiel objected to the healing this time, the angel quickly moving to touch The Knight's head, Caleb relenting. Sam sensed The Knight's relief didn't release his hold until every bruise and cut had disappeared.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, lowering his hand when he was done.

"Don't apologize." Caleb's grin was no longer forced now freed from the grips of pain. "For once, I am totally alright with you groping me."

"This will have to suffice as payment." Dean took The Holy Lance from Joshua, offering it to Castiel. "Take it with my blessings and get the hell out of here before Raphael shows up again."

"Thank you." Castiel took the spear. "If I haven't said it before, I'm extremely pleased that you're on my back, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I have your back, Cas."

"Of course." Castiel nodded, solemnly. "That too."

Castiel was gone before Dean could say anything else.

"Does anyone want to fill me in on what just happened?" Caleb looked from Dean to Sam.

"Dean played fast and loose with our lives. We were lucky to have survived," Joshua replied flatly, moving to gather their things. "What else is new?"

"That doesn't tell me anything." Caleb's brow furrowed. "How'd you find The Spear?"

"No big deal really," Dean explained, flashing Sam a look. "We tracked down Cerberus, you know the Roman guardian of the underworld then took a little trip down The River Styx."

"Cerberus and The River Styx? You're serious?"

Sam nodded. "Dean drank a Flaming Hades then Diana, the goddess of the moon sent us to a game at the Coliseum."

"Where Sammy fought Caesar before a crowd of thousands for The Lance, while wearing a duck suit," Dean continued.

"I did not wear a duck suit."

"Because that's the most unbelievable part of this bullshit story?" Caleb shook his head. "This is what happens when I leave you two alone."

"It was all part of Dean's brilliant plan." Sam smiled at his brother, setting him up.

Dean tossed an arm around Caleb's shoulder, guiding him to where they had stashed the Impala. "You know how I love it when a plan comes together."

Caleb sighed. "I have a feeling the drive to New Haven is going to be very long?"

"We're stopping at Griffin's on the way." Sam called after them. He had asked Riley to meet them there, hoping that the college student might be able to shed some light on The Order and the Trinity. He doubted Joshua's Triad Trap would solve their problem for long. Sam needed the reassurance of having as much information as possible, if there was any pertinent information to be had before they crossed paths with Reagan Walsh and his team again.

"Seriously?" Caleb groaned. "Have I not endured enough torture on this gig?"

"Drop the bad attitude, Damien." Dean glanced over his shoulder to meet Sam's gaze, winked. "How do you feel about Mohawks?"

Sam didn't catch Caleb's answer, but he heard his brother's deep laugh, a feeling of euphoria dampening the lingering worry festering in his gut. He cast one last look to the house where Walsh and his crew had been locked, a shiver running through him as he met Jonah's gaze through one of the windows. He might not have been able to pick up on any telepathy from the other psychic, but his piercing gaze promised they would meet again. Sam clenched his fist, the faint tingling in his ring finger adding to the eeriness of the moment. For the first time in months Sam was dreading going back to New York for a reason besides the fact school and the normal life it had once brought was a miserable disappointment this time around. He didn't want to leave his brother alone with this new threat. The thought prodded him to break the stare off with Jonah, locking his gaze on the two men quickly leaving him behind.

"Hey, guys, wait up."

Epilogue. . .