"Let's see if I've got this right," Bobby groaned slightly as he sat down in the chair he'd shooed Gabriel out of. If he was realizing anything in his time away from his boys, it was that while he missed the thrill of the hunt, he was also getting far to old to be doing it anymore. "You assholes pissed off some Saint of whatever-the-hell and now you need me to tell you how to kill her because you don't know how?"

"Did you say that just so you could repeat that we don't know how to fix the problem?" Gabriel asked, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the old doorframe, staring at the old mechanic.

"And it tasted sweet as a slice of Roadhouse apple pie, Gabriel," his words were sour, despite filling the room with a warmth that came from the image of only the best Macintosh apples and the perfect pinch of cinnamon; no one made it like the Roadhouse had, Ellen always treated pie the right way, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream to dressed the sugar-crusted pastry shell. But the name Gabriel itself made Bobby's skin crawl as only the archangel could—Gabriel couldn't even remember why he was hated in the household but felt resentment to the bearded man all the same.

"Can you help us, Bobby?" Castiel asked, his voice urgent.

"'Course," Bobby answered, he took a sip from a chilled beer bottle. "The thing about saints is that you can't kill them without killing their vessel—"

"That's not an option—" Elijah interjected immediately.

"Wait for it," Gabriel said, without hesitation.

"Unless," Bobby continued, looking at the younger angel.

"There's always got to be an unless," Gabriel sighed.

"Can I talk or are you too busy playing petty, princess?" Bobby asked, looking at the archangel. Words dripped with venom that burned Bobby's throat like perfectly aged whisky—only he didn't enjoy the taste near as much. Perhaps his resentment of the archangel came from what had happened between him and Alisabeth, perhaps Bobby just hadn't liked him from the moment he'd met him. It was hard to tell, considering this Gabriel didn't seem to know who he was, which meant that he likely didn't know who she was—and maybe that pissed Bobby off even further.

Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, "Carry on."

"Thing is," Bobby rose from his seat once again, placing the beer on his desk. Condensation dripped down the bottle, staining the wood below it as he strode over to his bookshelf—it was dusty, but somehow still gave the sense of frequent use. Certain books had thumbprints and streaks that weren't covered in the veil of dust. With a single finger, he pulled a book from the shelf and flipped the pages quickly. "If I remember right, there's a spell that lets you get her out, but it only lasts a few seconds."

"A spell? Like... Like Harry Potter?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

Bobby frowned at both the Ghostfacers. Turning his head to Castiel to ask a silent question—anyone in the room could tell the posed question was who the hell are these guys?—and received a small shrug in response—it's the best we could do.

Sighing softly as he looked back at the Ghostfacers, "You call Hogwarts and let me know what Dumbledore says."

"So, only a few seconds?" Gabriel asked, knitting his eyebrows together, as he veered the conversation back to relevance, "That doesn't sound like it's going to bode well for Goldilocks. You're sure there's nothing else?"

"Well, the only other sources of information we usually have are angels—but," Bobby sighed, looking pointedly at the angelic trio, "We don't seem to have that outlet this time around, do we?"

Gabriel remained quiet—Bobby nearly let out a finally at the silence but knew that situation at hand wasn't exactly the right circumstance for an exclamation of relief. It would be like laughing at a funeral because of a joke heard a week prior. It reminded Bobby of hospital levels—it was like marveling at a new life brought into the world on the hospice floor because that was where the baby decided they were being born. Dire situations were no cause for celebratory measures—even if the fact he'd gotten Gabriel to shut up was cause for every celebratory measure.

"It takes a powerful witch to cast the spell, and it needs a ton of ingredients," his eyes darted across the page in a flurry of old letters.

Harry snuck a peek over Bobby's shoulder at the old text. "Dude," his jaw dropped as realization dawned on his face, "Is that Japanese?"

Bobby grunted in response, muttering something under his breath that, while foreign to both the Ghostfacers, was recognized by the three angels as something that sounded suspiciously like 'dumbass' in Japanese. Gabriel let out a soft snort of approval, causing Ed and Harry to exchange confused glances—because while he felt an inner hostility to the other man, Gabriel was willing to side with anyone who figured that the Ghostfacers were as ridiculous as he believed they were.

Sighing, Bobby tossed the book down on the desk, which was already littered with papers. Adjusting the ballcap on his head, he looked at the three angels, "Please tell me how you boys didn't know that Saints weren't supposed to be in vessels that are alive."

"Wasn't an issue until now," Gabriel managed. "We didn't have Saints during the Angel War, and she had always had plenty of vessel choices, considering the fact she couldn't reach everyone in time."

"We just did what we thought was right for her," Elijah added, before frowning, "We didn't know that it would go this bad."

"You said this girl—Leila was the name? Like the angel of the night?" Bobby posed the question, receiving nods from all five men in front of him, "Leila, right... Dare I ask how you guys found her and thought she would be the right fit for the vessel?"

All eyes darted to the ground, no one wanting to admit what had happened that night—Elijah barely knew himself. The pain within Leila was something that any angel could sense, likely any human could sense if given enough concentration, but what happened the night that Castiel had revived Gabriel... that was beyond his recognition. In angelic terms, Gabriel hadn't been considered 'dead' for all that long, he was clawing his way back from wherever he'd been sent slowly, most angels were vaguely aware of how long it was taking. (After all, Lucifer had risen faster than Gabriel, despite the belief that Gabriel was the more powerful one of the two.) Elijah had known Gabriel before he'd died, even despite his spacey nature, Elijah could tell that something was off about the archangel.

It was speculated that Castiel hadn't brought him back properly; though how could anyone know when it had never been attempted before? Lucifer and Raphael had revived themselves, and before Michael had disappeared, the four archangels had revived many other celestials from death easily. It took its toll on them, as reincarnation usually did, but it had never taken long for the minds to be back to where they had been—a few Earth hours, to put it into perspective. Usually if it came to bringing back an archangel from the dead, and they weren't capable of doing it themselves, another archangel would have to attempt it, maybe even two—but Castiel had revived Gabriel by himself, and it was clear that somewhere along the way, something was left behind. To most, their memories returned like a dam breaking and allowed their thoughts to swim in the heavy currents.

Gabriel was different.

Gabriel remembered pieces, like his mind was a thrift store puzzle and would likely never be completed. Elijah remembered what Gabriel's wings had looked like when he and Castiel approached him about Leila. They no longer shone with a bright gold that would've made Midas envious, instead they were stagnant, with hints of bronze that barely caught the light, let alone the eye. Feathers were scarce and the few that were there were brittle and beginning to fray like a rope that hadn't been knotted and was destined to unweave. The Gabriel that had stood before Elijah didn't feel like the powerful archangel he'd grown up knowing, it was the broken shell of an angel who wished he could be full again, but likely never would be.

It occurred to Elijah that perhaps that was why Gabriel cared so much about young Leila Connors. Because he understood what it was like to be broken and didn't want to see that happening to someone else—especially when he was to blame.

"She tried to, you know," although he was uncomfortable saying the words, Gabriel was hardly sympathetic as he traced his index finger along his throat and quietly mumbled, "She jumped off a bridge."

"Dean says that she fell, Gabriel," Castiel corrected, raising his eyebrows.

"Right, Dean," Gabriel repeated. His voice dripped with disdain, and not a semblance of regret at the venom. Dean Winchester was the first one Gabriel would've called, despite their history, despite the fact that Gabriel would rather endlessly torment the Winchesters rather than take them seriously as hunters. The Winchesters were the one to called, and from the start, Gabriel had been against not telling them. "The one who's not even allowed to know any of this is happening, right?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, "We can't waste time discussing this again."

"Does no one else think that this would be a hell of a lot easier with the Winchesters in our corner?" Gabriel paused, "I don't think I've ever said that before. Feels wrong... But it's true. They could've had Saint Dymphna out of that poor girl in twenty minutes and would be drinking cold beers and eating huckleberry pie in their storage locker house already. But here we are, avoiding them at all costs, and sitting her with dumbass and dumb... asser—" Gabriel looked to the Ghostfacers, "Full offense intended."

Ed and Harry exchanged looks, eyes wide. Harry looked as if he were about to protest, an idea that was promptly shut down by Ed shaking his head vigorously. They looked back to Gabriel, Ed nodding slightly and muttering, "It's cool," under his breath in response.

"Does the old married couple want to take it outside or should we continue with the spell?" Bobby stared at the two angels, Gabriel crossing his arms as he stared at the ground and Castiel looking at Bobby apologetically. Bobby sighed and adjusted his baseball cap, reading aloud, "Says we need the heart of a dryad, three minced sheep bones, seven ground-up shark teeth, a pinch of onyx powder, the tongue of a boar, a bunch of blah-blah about witch's brews and dried berries—got those here—, the wings of a pixie, four spider pancreases'—"

"Mr. Bobby," Elijah began, "I think I speak for the three of us when I say that it won't take us long to get any of these, but how long is this spell going to take? Saint Dymphna is taking over more and more each day, I'm not sure how much longer Leila can take with her inside. She's barely holding on now, from what we've heard."

"Well," Bobby's eyes scanned the paper, "It's going to take about a day, and that's if you can gather these ingredients within the next couple of hours. The instructions are clear that this has to be done perfectly, otherwise it's useless."

"And what if she doesn't have that? The one day, that is," Ed asked. "I—I mean, I can't pretend to understand what the hell any of you are talking about, but we saw that Saint take over her, there was no remorse. No restraint."

"It was like killing someone who's healing someone else on Fortnite," Harry replied. He looked between the four men standing in front of him, confusion dressing their faces. "It was evil. Pure, unwavering evil."

"Thanks for your input," Bobby replied, making a face of disgust, looking back to the angels. "I'm gonna need you boys to get these as quickly as you can, considering that Night Force—"

"Uh, Fortnite," Harry interrupted, raising his finger to make his point.

"Bullshit," Bobby continued, ignoring the interjection. "We don't have much time."

Gabriel, who had been staring at the creaky wooden floor for longer than he'd want to admit, looked up at Bobby. Arms still crossed, he drew in a deep breath. "And you're sure that we can get Saint Dymphna out?"

"I'm sure that it's possible," Bobby replied, shaking his head as he read the book. He shrugged, sighing softly, "It's just that from what I heard, I'm not sure we can get to this kid in time before Saint Dymphna fully takes over."

*****

Gabriel looked over Bobby's shoulder as the old mechanic stirred the grotesque concoction that the angels had gathered the ingredients for—though most of it had been Gabriel and Castiel, considering Elijah kept accidentally landing himself miles away from where he'd meant to. Sniffing loudly, Gabriel dry-gagged at the foul smell.

"Goldilocks is never going to drink that," Gabriel said, making a face. The concoction, in what Bobby insisted to the Ghostfacers was not a cauldron, was of a molten sludge-looking concoction—a mixture of fresh sewage and six-week old, back of the fridge leftovers with just a hint of what Gabriel imagined slug would taste like if ground into a powder. It was meant to be thick as stew yet needed to allow for swallowing in one gulp for what were said to be the best results. "I wouldn't feed that to a constipated hellhound that needed to take a shi—"

"Hate to tell you this, boy," Bobby interrupted as his eyes scanned the ancient text once again, just to make sure he was doing everything properly, "But she's gonna have to if she wants to get that Saint out of her."

Gabriel swallowed hard, looking at the Ghostfacers. "You think you can get this to her before Saint Dymphna takes over?" It was more of a you know what you're doing, right? than an actual questioning of their ability. Gabriel still wasn't convinced that the Ghostfacers were the right choice for the job, but with the brew already being made and the Winchesters nowhere near South Dakota, he wasn't going to win his argument (because no one wanted to attempt to zap the Winchesters anywhere, and Gabriel didn't want to hear Dean's bowel-movement bitching).

"Like we said before..." Ed started, "We might not be the best choice, but we want to help. And if that means giving a teenage girl a polyjuice looking potion... Well, we'll find a way."

"Is—Was that Harry Potter again?" Bobby looked at the three angels, Elijah and Gabriel shrugged and Castiel nodded slightly, looking at the ground. "Okay, if I hear one more Harry Potter reference out of you Assfacers, so help me, I will shoot you and get some other hunters to recite the spell to Leila," Bobby looked at the two men pointedly, before returning to his stirring and carefully sprinkling an ingredient into the mix.

"We—We're actually the Ghostfacers," Harry replied, receiving a did I ask? look from Bobby, "J—Just so you know."

"I know," Bobby replied. "Idjits."

A crash sounded from beside them, nearly causing Bobby to knock over the entire pot of potion. Harry, Ed, Gabriel, Castiel, and Bobby all looked towards the cause of the noise—and found a sheepish looking Elijah whose mud-splattered combat boots were surrounded by broken glass, shards of wood, and scraps of cloth; which Bobby knew were the remnants of his bottled boat he'd had from his childhood. Bobby sighed, looking from the debris of the crash to Elijah's wide eyes.

"Accident," Elijah said softly, wincing as he looked at the ground, then back up to meet Bobby's stone-cold eyes. "Sorry."

Bobby drew in a deep sigh, because if he was concentrated on telling off Elijah, the potion would never get finished. He counted to ten in his head, eyes closed, hand still stirring. "Alright," Bobby said, opening his eyes slowly. "Assfacers, I need you to get Klutzy over there and put him in a chair in the kitchen and don't let him leave. Got it? And you two can stay there and watch him because, frankly, I don't want to hear another damn word out of either of you before this spell is done." Both Ghostfacers nodded and carefully led Elijah out of the room, glass crunching under their boots as they walked over the remnants of Bobby's boat. Bobby looked at Gabriel and Castiel, "You two need to get the sticks out of your asses or so help me God, I will stick angel blades so far up there, you'll be puking grace for weeks."

Castiel swallowed hard, meeting his brother's eyes. Gabriel rolled his, mostly unafraid because while an angel blade hurt like hell, Gabriel wouldn't be severely hurt by it—at least, that was what he remembered from the Angel War, he wasn't sure this 'new' Gabriel could sustain an angel blade wound and stay alive. Castiel, on the other hand, was more than willing to admit the threat unsettled him.

"Bobby—" Castiel began.

"I don't want to hear it, Cas. Just, go get me a cold beer while I finish this up. You have to figure out a way to get past that damn angel warding, so one of you can get that Saint out of the girl," Bobby looked pointedly at Gabriel, "Or have you forgotten that part too?"

Gabriel pressed his lips together, holding back a string of curses that would make his Father blush and Bobby not help them any longer. Bobby's eyes met Gabriel's, the look on his face daring Gabriel to say the words he wanted to. Gabriel refused to give him the satisfaction.

A crash sounded in the kitchen, followed by what could've only been Harry yelling oh Merlin's beard. Bobby rolled his eyes, grabbing Gabriel's arm and dragging him to where he was standing.

"Stir that," he demanded. Gabriel obliged without question, sighing as he stuffed a hand into his jean pocket. Bobby stomped into the kitchen, turning the corner as he scolded the Ghostfacers, "I thought I told you two assholes to keep him from destroying my shit and stop those damn Harry Potter ref—"

Bobby stopped himself when he saw what had made the noise. Tangled blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in six weeks or brushed in longer than that. A tiny body that was far too skinny to be healthy, with arms that looked like they could break if the wind hit them at the wrong angle. Clothing that hung off her skinny frame was ripped to shreds, like a hellhound had its way with it. Bobby swallowed hard, he didn't have to ask to know who stood in front of him. Bobby glanced at the Ghostfacers, whose faces looked like ghosts themselves.

Bobby looked back to the Saint, "Oh, balls."

*****

A.N. Hey kiddos, new update. Had to leave you with a Bobby catchphrase cliffhanger. Let me know what you think in the comments, and vote & fan if you enjoyed! New updates will come around Christmas, where I'll finish the book and I can't wait to give you the rest of the story as a present. Keep your eyes peeled. :)

- Thalia