Cass directed us to the Waterville Sheriff's Department in Maine. Apparently a deputy sheriff saw the archangel that killed him, and he still had eyes. Cass wanted to tell him the truth, but Dean pointed out that when humans want something really, really bad, we lie.

"Why?" came Cass's confused demand.

"Because that's how you become President," I smiled.

Inside, we approached the deputy, Dean taking the lead.

"Deputy Framingham?"

He turned to face us, Dean flashing his fake badge.

"Hi. Alonzo Mosely, FBI. These are my partners, Gail Nelson and Eddie Moscone."

I held up my badge, though Cass didn't move.

"Also FBI," Dean pressed.

When Castiel still didn't move, I nudged him subtly, and he finally reached in and grabbed the new fake ID that Dean had given him, displaying it upside down. Dean rolled his eyes, reaching over and flipping the badge over.

"He's, uh, new," Dean apologized to the deputy. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

Castiel was looking at the ID in his hand curiously and I shook my head in exasperation.

"Yeah, sure," Framingham nodded. "Talk here, though."

He indicated his right ear, leading the three of us into his office.

"Hearing's all blown to hell in this one," he referenced his left ear.

"That happen recently?" I inquired.

"Yeah. Gas station. Why you're here, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Dean lied smoothly.

Cass, the deputy and I took a seat, Dean standing at my shoulder due to the lack of another chair.

"You mind just, uh, running us through what happened?" Dean asked.

"A call came in," the deputy began. "Disturbance at the Pump and Go on Route 4."

"What kind of disturbance?"

"Would not have believed my eyes if I hadn't seen it myself. We're talking a riot. Full scale."

"How many?" I queried.

"Thirty, forty, in all-out kill-or-be-killed combat?" the deputy shrugged.

"Any idea what set them off?"

"It's angels and demons, probably," Cass pointed out in a low voice.

I closed my eyes, sucking my lips in between my teeth and letting them go slowly as Framingham gave Castiel a weird look.

"They're skirmishing all over the globe," the angel continued.

"Come again?" Framingham asked, looking over at Dean and I with a 'is this guy serious?' look. "What did he say?"

"Nothing. Nothing," Dean and I chorused as Castiel spoke at the same time.

"Demons. Demons."

On my glare, Cass shut his mouth as Dean tried to save the moment.

"Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt."

Framingham still looked skeptical as he looked back and forth between us and Cass.

"I guess," he agreed slowly.

"Anyway," I shot another look at Castiel to keep him quiet. "What happened next?"

"Freaking explosion, that's what. They said it was one of those underground gas tanks, but, uh, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Wasn't your usual fireball. It was, um-"

"Pure white," Castiel supplied.

"Yeah," the deputy agreed. "Gas station was leveled. Everyone was... it was just horrible. And I see one guy, kneeling, real focused-like, not a damn scratch on him."

"You know him?" Dean inquired.

"Donnie Finneman. Mechanic there."

"Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air?"

"Uh, no Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's."

Castiel turned in his seat to look over at Dean and I.

"Saint Pete's," he repeated, tone serious.

"Thank you," I told him sarcastically, rolling my eyes again.

⁘

Donnie was sitting in a wheelchair at the hospital, catatonic. I didn't see the tell-tale black wings that indicated angelic possession as we observed him from the doorway.

"I take it that's not Raphael anymore," Dean said.

"Just an empty vessel," I confirmed.

Dean glanced at me, having expected Cass to give the confirmation, probably.

"So, is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?" he continued.

"No, not at all," Castiel shook his head. "Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you."

⁘

Castiel had informed us that while Dean and I had a chance at surviving the confrontation with Raphael, he didn't. So, when Dean asked him what his plans were for his last night on earth and Castiel said he thought he would 'sit here quietly', of course Dean had to press harder.

"Come on, anything? Booze, women?"

I rolled my eyes as Castiel glanced away, shifting uncomfortably.

"You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?"

Cass didn't respond, rubbing the back of his neck and Dean scoffed.

"You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?"

"Look, I've never had the occasion, okay?" Cass snapped finally.

"Alright," Dean grabbed his jacket, "let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not going to die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

"Dean-" I started, but off his pointed look, I shut my mouth and followed the two out to the Impala.

Dean drove to a brothel bar, Castiel acting extremely uncomfortable the entire time. I really didn't blame the poor guy.

"Hey. Relax," Dean instructed once we were seated.

"This is a den of iniquity," Cass pointed out. "I shouldn't be here."

"Dude, you full-on rebelled against Heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks."

I rolled my eyes again, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Dean shot at me.

"I need some air."

Ignoring anything else he tried to say to me, I slipped back outside into the cool night air.

"Ecclesia," a voice taunted in my ear.

I looked around, but the only people anywhere near me was a couple making out in the shadows by the bar.

"I'm coming, my love," the voice continued. "It's only a matter of time."

"Leave me alone, Lucifer," I whispered.

"Guess again," the voice said.

"Michael?"

Suddenly, I heard a scream and some commotion coming from inside the bar. Hurrying in, I saw Dean rushing down the hallway that led to the rooms where the hookers brought their clients.

"Get out of my face!" a hooker was screaming at a disheveled Cass. "Leave me alone! Bastard! Screw you, jerk!"

She threw something at the angel, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"I'll kill you!" she threatened.

Running down the hall, she paused briefly to scream at Dean, too.

"Screw you, too! God! Oh! Jerk!"

I looked after her as Dean approached Cass.

"The hell did you do?"

"I don't know. I just looked in her eyes and told her it wasn't her fault her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office."

"Oh, no, man," Dean groaned.

"What?" the angel demanded.

"This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order."

Two bouncers entered through the door the hooker disappeared through, and Dean started shepherding Cass away with me on their heels.

"We should go. Come on."

Dean was laughing as we exited the brothel, and I couldn't help but giggle a little myself.

"What's so funny?" Cass asked, looking between us.

"Oh, nothing," Dean wheezed between laughs. "Whoo. It's been a long time since I laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years."

His face fell as the realization dawned on him, and he and I shared a look.