Title: Isis Seeking Osiris

Rating: M because unlike films, I don't need the permission of the board to put sex in my story. Heh heh.

Summary: Dean Winchester was just looking for a good time. Instead he got three annoying adventurers, one treasure-seeking trickster, his long-lost brother, the Ten Plagues of Egypt, a three-thousand-year-old mummy, and a hot librarian who's too curious for his own good.

Disclaimer: It's such a shame about that hunter and his angel boyfriend. Stuck in Purgatory. Too bad they never made an eighth season. A third Mummy film would be nice, too.

Note: It is helpful, but not necessary, to have seen the 1999 film "The Mummy" before reading this.

Thebes – 1290 B.C.

The sun shone down on the massive stone pillars and colored temples, the brilliant gold and blue paint sparkling and reflecting in the waters of the Nile, the Life-Giver. People chattered and bustled about in the market and the main temple plaza, while a procession trooped up the temple steps like a lazy snake, winding into its incense-filled depths to offer their prayers and thanks to the generous gods.

Thebes, City of the Living—crown jewel of Pharaoh Michael the First.

The Pharaoh himself could often be seen driving his chariot about the city. He had a stern face, dark hair and flashing eyes. Just like his father, the priests and generals would whisper with pride.

Thebes was also home of Lucifer, Pharaoh's brother and High Priest, the Keeper of the Dead.

If there was anyone almost equal to the god king himself, it would be the High Priest. Lucifer was Michael's younger brother, and they had been thick as thieves in their younger days. Rumors of a rift growing between them after their father's death were inconsequential, the people said. It had to be. If they were truly on the rocks, then would Michael spend nearly all of his free time in the temples? Would Lucifer constantly visit court when his priestly duties did not compel him to remain in the temple? Would Michael have dubbed his brother the Morning Star, he who guided the sun on its rightful path for the people?

Of course, there was the small matter of Lilith.

Thebes was the birthplace of Lilith, the High Priestess of Isis and the greatest beauty for miles. She was also Michael's mistress. Technically priests and priestesses weren't supposed to have sexual relationships outside of the proper holy days, but nobody paid attention to those rules anymore. And if someone did end up getting pregnant, well, clearly one of the gods had visited them, hadn't they? What a blessing.

So, if Michael wanted to have a little tryst before he settled down and married some princess or other for politics, who was anyone to complain? Lilith certainly didn't seem to mind the extra funds coming to her temple. No other man was allowed to touch her, but it was an easy thing to give up for such a great political gain.

Of course, love has its ways of interfering with more logical plans.

They met in the temple, the High Priest and the High Priestess. She wore nothing but black ink, running up and down and across her body in sinuous lines, made to resemble a fishnet. Her hair hung straight down, shining with oil and heavily scented with perfume, her skin sparkled with gold dust, and her eyes were heavy with kohl. She walked through the marbled hall barefoot, leaving a trail of lust behind her.

It had been growing more dangerous to meet as of late. Michael had begun to be suspicious of his brother's motives for constantly coming to court, and had been keeping an almost obsessive eye on his mistress. But for their love, they were willing to risk life itself.

Lucifer's priests quickly made to close the doors to the inner sanctum so that Lucifer and Lilith might be alone. The priests always stood guard, their faces impassive and ears closed to the sounds of pleasure that came from the lovers. But before they could seal the doors they were opened—by Michael.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, glaring perplexedly at the priests. It was time for evening prayers—they should be burning the altars and chanting on their knees, not sealing the door to the inner sanctum.

Suspicious raised, Michael hurried toward the inner sanctum. He yanked back the curtain, blood boiling, to find—

Lilith, stroking the golden statue of the goddess Bastet. She smiled coyly, looking up at him from her heavily lidded eyes.

But Michael's eyes were keen, and he saw the smeared ink on her body. "Who has touched you?"

Michael both heard and felt his sword being drawn from his scabbard and turned to see who had dared take his weapon from him. The face that met him sent shock and fear through his body. "Lucifer? My brother?"

Lucifer stabbed Michael with his own sword.

The pharaoh's screams of pain echoed throughout the temple, summoning his bodyguards, the Medjai. They burst into the room, overpowering the priests, and hurried down the hall.

"Michael's bodyguards," Lucifer hissed. "You must go! Save yourself!"

"No!" Lilith cried, clinging to him.

"You must. Only you can resurrect me, as Isis resurrected Osiris."

"I won't leave you!"

Lucifer made a sign to his priests and they began to drag Lilith away. "Get away from me!" She shrieked. "You shall live again! I will resurrect you!"

The Medjai burst into the room and froze, staring down at the dead body of their pharaoh. Their eyes rose to take in the sight of Lucifer, the beloved Morning Star, stained with his own brother's blood.

"I will no longer bow down to my father's stooge," Lucifer growled, raising the sword.

Lilith could see her lover stab himself in the stomach from her hiding place, and her heart blackened.

To resurrect Lucifer, Lilith and her lover's priests broke into his crypt and stole his body. They raced deep into the desert, taking Lucifer's corpse to Hamunaptra, City of the Dead—an ancient burial site for the sons of pharaohs and resting place for the wealth of Egypt. For her love, Lilith dared the gods' anger by going deep into the city, where she took the black Book of the Dead from its holy resting place.

Lucifer's soul had been sent to the dark underworld, his vital organs removed and placed in five sacred canopic jars. Lilith laid his body on the altar and, with Lucifer's loyal priests assisting in their chanting, began to recite the incantation from the book. Lucifer's soul slowly rose from the thick waters of the sacred pool, rising from the underworld and returning to his body.

But the Medjai had followed Lilith, suspecting her treachery, and stopped her before the ritual could be completed. They seized Lilith and the priests, and the priestess was forced to watch Lucifer's soul seep out of his body and fly back into the sacred pool, yanked back down to the underworld.

Lucifer's priests were condemned to be mummified alive. As for Lilith—she was condemned to endure the Hom-Dai, the worst of all ancient curses. One so horrible it had never before been bestowed. She had her tongue cut out and was mummified alive before having a vat of flesh-eating scarab beetles dumped upon her to feast. She was to remain sealed inside her sarcophagus, the undead for all of eternity. The Medjai would never allow her to be released, for she would arise a walking disease, a plague upon making, an unholy flesh eater with the strength of ages, power over the sands, and the glory of invincibility.

Hamunaptra – 1923

For 3,000 years, men and armies fought over this land, never knowing what evil lay beneath it. And for 3,000 years we, the Medjai, the descendants of Michael's sacred bodyguards and my adopted family, kept watch.

At the moment, we were watching some very stupid members of the French Foreign Legion.

The legion faced off against the massive Taureg tribes, furious at the Europeans for invading their land and fighting their war where they had always kept to themselves. They did not dare attack the main force, but a small legion cut off from all help was an easy target for their animosity. The army men stood strong, bracing themselves against the low wall, their guns at the ready. Their captain was not so fearless. He whipped his horse into a gallop and took off across the dunes, shouting.

Meg, a wide-cheeked brunette who had managed to fool everyone into thinking she was male until it was too late for them to do anything about it, turned to the man at her side. Dean Winchester was American by birth but had been with the legion since the war began. When he'd signed up, he'd had his younger brother Sam with him. Sam was no longer with them, having mysteriously vanished shortly before they'd arrived at their desert destination. Meg seemed to know the truth of what had happened, but everyone else was too scared of Winchester to ask.

The companions looked at their disappearing leader, and then at each other.

"You just got promoted," Meg said.

Dean rolled his eyes but readied his gun and yelled to the others. "Prenez vos positions!" He shouted. "Steady!" He glanced at Meg. "You're with me on this one, right?

"Oh, your strength gives me strength," Meg replied, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"Steady!" Dean yelled. "Steady!"

The Taureg horde bore down on them, hooves drumming into the sand in a furious staccato rhythm.

Meg jumped up. "It's been a real slice, Wincester." She took off across the sand, beating a hasty retreat.

Dean glared at her but held his position. "Fire!"

The legion fired as one, reloading as quickly as they could, but the Taureg were already upon them. They cut through the legion, slaughtering them, trampling those who tried to run. Dean fired until he was out of ammo, yanking out two of his pistols and firing with them. He looked for a place to hide, to escape—and saw the open temple door. It was the single door they'd managed to pry open before the Taureg had attacked, and it still stood ajar. It wasn't much, but it would keep them alive.

"Meg!" Dean shouted. "Run, Meg, run! Get inside! Get inside!"

Meg took off, kicking up sand as she reached the doorway—and began closing it behind her.

"Hey, don't you close that door!" Dean shouted, running after her. "Don't you close that door!"

He barreled into the closed door, slamming his shoulder against the ancient stone. "Son of a bitch."

The horsemen were upon him and he had to run, darting around the various stone pillars, their colorful paint long since chipped off by the wind and sand. He ran with no purpose, no end in sight, seeking only to get away from his pursuers. He ran until they surrounded him at the base of a half-buried statue of a massive, jackal-headed man, and he knew that his time had come.

At least he'd be reunited with Sammy and their parents.

Dean closed his eyes, waiting for the pain of the bullets—but nothing came. Instead the horses reared up, whinnying frantically, turning and taking off back across the desert as their owners shouted at them, confused. Dean opened one eye, watching his attackers be carried away by their own steeds.

"What the hell?"

An almighty roar shook the ground and Dean yelped, stumbling as sand began to kick up around him. It was as if a very specific, concentrated wind was carving away at the sand, but Dean knew instinctively that this was more than wind. The strange, hollow roaring continued as he scrambled out of the way, the sand falling back to reveal a horrible, masklike face, with empty eyes and a mouth open in a gaping scream.

It was the face of evil.

Dean turned and booked it, running out of the lost city as fast as his worn legs could carry him. Once he was in the relative safety of the desert he slowed down, his entire body becoming heavy as his adrenaline began to wear down.

From the nearby hilltop, several figures clad in black and deep blue sat atop their horses, watching. Their leader was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark shaggy hair and soft brown eyes.

"The Creature remains undiscovered," he said, speaking in Arabic.

Next to him on a horse of her own sat a small brunette woman with elegant, thin eyebrows and sharply defined cheekbones. "And what of this one?" She asked. "Shall we kill him?"

"No," the man replied. "The desert will kill him."

Cairo, Egypt – 3 Years Later

Cairo was a city so ancient, the stars had changed position above it. Gods had been created, worshipped, and discarded. Countless wars had been fought. Slaves had revolted, civil wars had sprung up, priests had woven and unraveled political schemes, and invasions had washed over its dusty streets. A few decades ago—a small fraction of time to the city itself, but monumental to those living in it—it had seen a new invasion. Europeans had decided that Africa and the Middle East held an unprecedented allure and, sick of the Coliseum and the Parthenon, had descended upon Egypt with its animal-headed gods, worship of the sun, and mathematically boggling pyramids.

The Cairo Museum of Antiquities sought to educate people on the wonders of this strange new land, to glorify the illustrious history of Ancient Egypt and make it accessible to the masses. Unfortunately, most people preferred to go treasure hunting or explore the sand-strewn temples, and the museum was often empty.

Well, except for its dedicated librarian.

Castiel Novak was wearing a suit that was a little too large for him, his tie loosened around his neck and lying askew. He had the sleeves rolled up his arms, the only sign that he might be feeling the heat. It was decidedly cooler in the museum than outside, but it was still hot enough to send beads of sweat running down his back. His hair stuck up on all sides, the result of running his hands through it, and he had a pair of glasses perched on his nose. At the moment he was balancing on the top of a ladder, cataloguing books—one of his many duties as the museum's librarian, and definitely the most boring.

"'Sacred Stones… 'Sculpture and Aesthetics,' Socrates, Seth, volume one, volume two, and volume three. And T—Tuthmosis?" Castiel stared at the book in his hand. "What are you doing here?"

He looked around, trying to find the 'T' shelf. "T. T, T," T, T. T!" Castiel grinned, setting the other books down and reaching across the aisle to the other bookshelf. "I'm going to put you where you belong."

Now that he was actually stretching across the aisle the bookshelf seemed farther away than it had before. But if he stretched just a bit farther—he was almost there, now—

The ladder, pulled by his weight, tipped away from the bookshelf and stood on its own in the middle of the aisle. Castiel gasped, dropping the book and holding onto the ladder, wobbling desperately as he tried to keep from falling. "H-help?" He asked.

The ladder wobbled again and crashed into the bookshelf. Castiel was sent sprawling, rolling out of the way just as the bookshelf fell and began a chain reaction. The bookshelves had, unfortunately, been arranged in a circular manner around the library room, and each falling shelf crashed into another and caused that one to fall, creating a circle of destruction that didn't stop until every shelf was on the floor.

Castiel staggered to his feet, glasses askew, and gaped at the mess around him. "…oops."

"What!"

Castiel's eyes flew up to see Dr. Robert Singer, the curator of the museum, standing in helpless confusion at the scene. "How c—I—H-How—" He spied Castiel and his confusion turned to rage. "Oh, look at this! Sons of the pharaohs! Give me frogs! Flies! Locusts! Anything but you! Compared to you the other plagues were a joy!"

"I am so very sorry. It was an accident."

Dr. Singer sighed. "Boy, when Rameses destroyed Syria, that was an accident. You are a catastrophe! Look at my library! Why the hell do I put up with you?"

Castiel faltered. "Well, you put up with me because I can read and write ancient Egyptian, and I can—I can decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic, and well," He drew himself up, "I am the only person within a thousand miles who knows how to properly code and catalog this library, that's why."

"I put up with you because your father and mother were our finest patrons, that's why! Allah rest their souls. Now, I don't care how you do it. I don't care how long it takes. Straighten up this meshiver!"

Dr. Singer gestured wildly at the mess around him, glaring, before stomping off, muttering things like "goddamned idjit" under his breath. Castiel let out a huge sigh, staring around him. How on earth was he supposed to set this mess to rights?

A clanking noise sounded from the next room. Castiel turned, frowning. The museum had closed two hours ago—the only other person in the building was Dr. Singer, and he had just disappeared into his office, most likely to grumble about Castiel's incompetence.

Castiel made his way toward the clanking noise, entering the darkened mummy hall. A torch burned against the wall and he seized it, holding it up to try and see if anyone was there.

"Hello?"

A dull thud sounded out, but he couldn't tell where it had come from.

"Abdul?" He called. Perhaps one of the paid cleaners had stayed late to finish something up? "Mohammed?" He paused. "Bob?"

There came another thud—this time, Castiel knew where it came from. He made his way over to one of the open sarcophaguses, setting the torch in a sconce nearby and peering in.

A mummy popped up, accompanied by a horrible wailing scream, and Castiel jumped back, yelping in shock. Someone began laughing and another head popped up next to the mummy's—Gabriel's.

"Have you no respect for the dead?" Castiel demanded, glaring at his older brother.

"Of course I do!" Gabriel Novak replied cheerily, wrapping an arm around the mummy. "But sometimes I'd rather like to join them."

"Well I wish you would do it sooner rather than later," Castiel sniped, prying the mummy out of Gabriel's hands and setting it back in its case, "Before you ruin my career the way you've ruined yours. Now get out!" He smacked Gabriel lightly on the cheek, glaring.

Gabriel sighed, hopping out of the sarcophagus. "My dear, sweet baby brother, I'll have you know that at this precise moment my career is on a high note." He stumbled, and Castiel had to dart forward and help keep him upright. Probably drunk again, he noted.

"'High note.' Ha! Gabriel, please, I'm really not in the mood for you." He helped set his brother down, trying to check his breath for the smell of alcohol. "I've just made a bit of a mess in the library, and the Bembridge scholars have rejected by application form again. They say I don't have enough experience in the field."

That sobered Gabriel up. Being a Bembridge scholar had been a dream of Castiel's ever since he'd heard of them at age fifteen, and their continued rejection stung. Gabriel nudged his brother with his shoulder, tilting his head so that their eyes met. "You'll always have me, old mum," he said. It was the nickname he'd called Castiel ever since he'd declared his brother to be 'acting like his second mother'. The elder Novak then grinned, his eyebrows waggling. "Besides, I have just the thing to cheer you up!"

He began digging through his pockets, mumbling to himself. Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, no, Gabriel, not another worthless trinket. If I have to take one more piece of junk to the curator to try and—" Castiel froze as Gabriel dropped a small object into his hand. "Sell for you…" He stared. It was a small metal box, dark from years of being passed from hand to hand, with barely discernable hieroglyphs carved onto its sides. "Where did you get this?"

"On a dig down in Thebes," Gabriel answered, the barest of pauses before the last word. "My whole life I've never found anything Cassie, please tell me I've found something."

"Don't call me Cassie," Castiel replied idly, examining the box. He frowned, feeling a slight indentation in certain places. If he pressed just so…

The box popped open, the top fanning out like a sunflower, revealing a small folded piece of paper hidden inside. "Gabriel…" Castiel breathed, "I think you've found something."

"You see the cartouche there?" Castiel said, pointing out the symbol to Dr. Singer. "It's the official royal seal of Michael the First, I'm sure of it."

"Perhaps," Dr. Singer replied, examining the map with a magnifying glass.

"Two questions," Gabriel said. "Who the hell was Michael the First, and was he rich?"

"He was the second pharaoh of the 19th dynasty, said to be the wealthiest pharaoh of them all," Castiel answered.

"Good, that's good." Gabriel grinned, rubbing his hands. "I like this fellow. I like him veeeery much."

Castiel rolled his eyes. Of course all his brother would be interested in was gold. He turned back to Dr. Singer. "I've already dated the map. It's almost 3,000 years old and if you look at the hieratic just here…" He pointed at the corner of the map. "Well, it's Hamunaptra."

Dr. Singer started and stared up at them. "What kind of idjits are you? We're scholars, not treasure hunters. Hamunaptra's a myth told by ancient Arab storytellers to amuse Greek and Roman tourists."

"Yes, yes I know all the silly blather about the city being protected by the curse of a mummy nonsense but my research has led me to believe that the city itself may have actually existed."

Gabriel looked from one to the other. "Are we talking about the Hamunaptra?" He asked.

"Yes." Castiel allowed a grin to overtake his features. "The City of the Dead, where the earliest pharaohs were said to have hidden the wealth of Egypt."

"Y-y-yes, in a big, underground treasure chamber!" Gabriel was practically dancing with glee.

Dr. Singer snorted.

"Oh, come on," Gabriel said, waving his arms about. "Everybody knows the story. The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand on Pharaoh's command. Flip the switch and the whole place would disappear beneath the sand dunes, taking the treasure with it!"

"As the Americans would say,"

"You are American, Dr. Singer."

"It's all fairy tales and hokum—" Dr. Singer released the map with a curse as it got too close to the oil lamp on his desk, setting the paper aflame. "Balls!"

"No!" Castiel dashed forward, hastily patting the map to smother the flames. He held it up, showing that an entire corner of the map had been burnt off.

"You've burnt it!" Gabriel said. "You've burned off the part with the lost city!"

Dr. Singer snorted. "It's for the best, I'm sure. A lot of good men have wasted their lives in the foolish pursuit of Hamunaptra. No one's ever found it. Most have never returned."

Castiel looked up at his brother, and knew that Gabriel was thinking the same thing he was.

They were going to find that lost city.

"Come, come!" Warden Zachariah Adler called. "Step over the threshold!"

Castiel did as he was told, Gabriel at his side. Zachariah spread his arms wide, smiling. "Welcome to Cairo Prison, my humble home."

As they followed the warden into the prison, Castiel glared at his brother. "You told me that you got it on a dig down in Thebes."

"Well, I was mistaken."

"You lied to me."

"I lie to everybody, what makes you so special?"

"I am your brother!"

"Yes well that just makes you more gullible."

"Gabriel, you stole it from a drunk at the local casbah."

"Picked his pocket, actually, so I don't think it's a very good—"

"Stop being so ridiculous." Castiel turned to Zachariah, who was standing in front of a cage. "Now what exactly is this man in prison for?"

Zachariah nodded in a strange, diagonal manner, making him look like a bobble-head. "I didn't know, actually, so when I heard you were coming I asked him."

"And what did he say?"

"He said," Zachariah paused. "That he was just looking for a good time."

The door burst open and two guards shoved a struggling man into the cage, whipping him with a thick, knobbed stick. The man was thrown against the bars of the cage, growling at his attackers. He had a scraggly beard and wild hair, with intense green eyes that blazed with rage. He had to be at least six feet and his filthy clothes were so ragged that they hung on his frame, showing his taut muscles. He seemed to be more animal than man.

"This," Castiel paused, trying to get his bearings. "This is the man that you stole it from?"

"Yes, exactly." Gabriel grabbed Castiel's arm. "So why don't we just go sniff out a spot of tiffin—"

"Who are you?" An unusually deep voice asked.

The brothers froze and stared down. "What?" Gabriel asked.

"Who are you?" The man in the caged asked, baring his teeth. His gaze flicked over to Castiel, and his face shifted somewhat. It became, somehow, less fierce. "And who's the stuffed shirt?"

"Excuse me?" Castiel replied.

"I—I'm just a local sort of missionary chap, spreading the good word and all that," Gabriel said, thrusting Castiel forward. "But this is my brother Cassie."

"Castiel," Castiel corrected, glaring at Gabriel before turning back to the man in the cage. "How do you do?"

"Oh, well. Guess he's not a total loss."

"I beg your pardon!" Castiel replied, eyes blazing. Who exactly did this man think he was?

There was some shouting and arguing across the courtyard, and Zachariah tsked. "I'll be back in a moment."

The moment the warden had vanished, Gabriel elbowed his brother. "Ask him about the box."

Castiel cleared his throat. "Um, we have found—uh, hello." The man had apparently lost interest in them and was looking somewhere in the distance. "Excuse me."

The man turned back to Castiel, raising his eyebrows impatiently.

"We both found your, your puzzle box, and we've come to ask you about it."

"No."

Castiel frowned. "No?"

"No." The man's face was blank. "You've come to ask me about Hamunaptra."

"Shh!" Gabriel said, putting a finger to his lips.

"H-How do you know that the box pertains to Hamunaptra?" Castiel asked, astonished that a man such as this even knew about the lost city.

"Because that's where I was when I found it. I was there."

Gabriel stepped forward. "But how do we know that's not a load of pig's wallow?"

The man tilted his head. "Do I know you?"

Gabriel grew nervous. "No, no. I've just got one of those face—"

The man somehow managed to throw an effective punch despite his chains and the iron bars in his way, knocking Gabriel out cold. Castiel sighed and stepped over his brother. Gabe did have it coming.

"You were actually at Hamunaptra?" He asked, stepping closer to the man.

"Yeah, I was there." The guy smirked, his lips quirking upwards, and Castiel caught the slight twang in his voice.

"You swear."

"Every damn day."

"No, I didn't mean that—"

"I know what you meant." The man's smirk vanished. "I was there. Michael's place. City of the Dead."

Castiel's heart rate picked up. This man had actually been to the lost city—and survived. "Could you tell me how to get there? I mean, the exact location."

"You want to know?"

"Well, yes." He wouldn't be here if he didn't want to know. With part of the map missing this man was their only chance of finding the city.

"Do you really want to know?" The man asked again.

"Yes!"

The man quirked his fingers and Castiel bent down, their faces only inches apart. He held his breath, waiting for the information—

The man grabbed him by the chin, smashing their mouths together and planting a fierce, quick kiss on his lips. "Then get me the hell out of here!"

One of the guards struck the man with the stick and he went down, blows raining down on him as they dragged him away. "Do it!" He shouted at Castiel, just before being shoved back through the door.

Zachariah approached them again, and Castiel turned to him. "Where are they taking him?"

"To be hanged." The warden grinned. "Apparently, he had a very good time."

Castiel quickly followed Zachariah, leaving Gabriel still unconscious on the ground (that would show him not to pick people's pockets!) and hurrying after the warden. They made their way past the outer cells and into the center of the prison, where a large scaffold dominated the courtyard. Already the green-eyed man was being led up the steps, the back of his shirt stained red with new welts and cuts from the blows the guards had dealt him. If he died, there went their chance of getting to Hamunaptra—and, really, what could he have possibly done that deserved this? The other prisoners shouted in Arabic, spitting and cursing at both the guards and the condemned man, reveling in their only macabre form of entertainment. Zachariah seated himself on a comfortable chair at a balcony overlooking the proceedings. Castiel hastily sat himself in a chair next to him, perching on the edge. Gabriel had no money to speak of and Castiel's salary was meager, but his part of their inheritance was still intact. They'd have to budget carefully for the expedition but he should have enough to spare…

"I will give you one hundred pounds to save this man's life."

Zachariah snorted. "Good sir, I would pay one hundred pounds just to see him hang."

"Two!" Castiel replied. "Two hundred pounds!"

Zachariah waved at the executioner. "Proceed!"

"Three hundred pounds!"

Down at the scaffold, the executioner tightened the noose around Dean's neck. "Any last requests, pig?"

"Sure. Loosen the knot and let me go."

The man, surprised, looked up at Zachariah, repeating Dean's request.

"Yahemar! You idiot!" Zachariah snapped. "Of course we aren't going to let him go!"

The executioner smacked Dean in the back of the head. Well, it was worth a try.

"Five hundred pounds!" Castiel offered.

"Halt!" Zachariah called, turning to him. "And what else?" He placed his hand on Castiel's knee, smiling. "I'm a very lonely man."

Castiel smacked him in the face, fuming. The prisoners could see and started cat calling and laughing. Up on the scaffold, Dean smirked. He liked this guy.

Zachariah glared at Castiel, then shouted to the executioner. "Yalla tlak!"

"No!" Castiel darted out of his seat, clutching the edge of the balcony.

The executioner pulled the lever and released the trap door. Dean fell, the noose tightening painfully, jerking him. His feet fought instinctively to find ground, something to stand on, and his body twitched.

Zachariah chuckled. "His neck did not break!" He turned to Castiel. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Now we must watch him strangle to death."

Castiel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He hadn't wanted to do this but he didn't see another way. He had to get that man.

"He knows the location to Hamunaptra."

Zachariah froze. "You lie."

"I would never!"

"Are you telling me this filthy, godless son of a pig knows where to find the City of the Dead?"

"Yes!"

"Truly?"

"Yes! And if you cut him down, we will give you—" Castiel bit his lip, making his eyes wide and panicked. "Ten percent."

"Fifty percent."

"Twenty."

"Forty."

"Thirty."

"Twenty-five."

"Ah!" Castiel pointed, grinning. He'd got him. "Deal!"

Zachariah realized his mistake and his face twisted, growing a little purple. For a few agonizing seconds Castiel thought he'd made a misstep, but the warden's greed won out over his pride and he stood. "Cut him down!"

The executioner drew his sword and cut the rope, causing Dean to fall to the ground. He took deep breaths, getting feeling back into his fingers and toes, his vision clearing as oxygen rushed to his brain. He looked up, blinking at the bright sun, and saw the man he'd kissed, the one asking about Hamunaptra.

He was standing at the edge of the balcony, hair mussed, tie askew, blue eyes deeper than the sky above him.

And he was smiling triumphantly.

Giza Port – Cairo

"Do you really think he's going to show up?" Castiel asked, gazing around at the busy port. They were waiting at the gangplank of the ship, and he was beginning to have his doubts. After the warden had cut the man down, Castiel had fetched Gabriel (who was just beginning to come to) and they properly introduced themselves to the man. They'd learned that his name was Dean Winchester, and he'd been at Hamunaptra when he'd served with the French Foreign Legion during the Great War. They'd earned his promise to take them to Hamunaptra and back, and had given him some cash so he could get some supplies and clean himself up. At the time Castiel had been too elated to even think he was being duped, but now he began to worry that he'd just been had.

"Yes, undoubtedly, knowing my luck," Gabriel replied. "He may be a cowboy but I know the breed. His word is his word."

Castiel snorted. "Well, personally I think he's filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit."

"Anyone I know?"

Castiel turned at the sound of that deep voice and started, feeling his mouth drop open. "Oh. Um, hello."

Dean Winchester certainly cleaned up well. He was wearing clean clothes that properly fit now, with rolled-up sleeves that showed off his tanned, muscular arms. Now that they were standing close together Castiel could see that Dean had an inch or two on him, so that he had to stare up at those green eyes. They really were quite lovely, set in a gorgeous face with a full mouth and a smattering of freckles. He'd shaved and gotten a haircut as well, his dirty blonde hair looking soft and just long enough get a handful of and tug on…

Castiel cleared his throat, looking away. Judging by the smirk Dean gave, he knew where Castiel's thoughts had drifted.

"Smashing day for the start of an adventure, eh, Winchester?" Gabriel said, patting Dean on the chest and grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, smashing," Dean said, checking to make sure his wallet was still there.

"Oh, no, no," Gabriel said, holding his hands up to show how empty they were. "I'd never steal from a partner… partner."

"That reminds me. No hard feelings about the—" Dean mimed punching.

"Oh, no." Gabe waved it away. "Happens all the time."

It certainly did. Castiel had lost count of how many black eyes he'd treated for Gabe over the years.

"Mr. Winchester," he said. "Can you look me in the eye and guarantee me this isn't all some kind of a… a flimflam? Because if it is, I am warning you—"

"You're warning me?" Dean chuckled bitterly. "Let me put it this way: my whole damn garrison believed in this so much, that without orders, they marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city. And when we got there, all we found was sand and blood."

His tone was so dark and heavy that it made Castiel shiver. There was something pained in Dean's eyes, something dark and raw, like a wound that, although hidden, still festered.

But then Dean blinked and it was gone, replaced by a charming smile. "Let me get your bags."

He hefted Castiel's equipment bags as easily as if they were stuffed with feathers and began to make his way up the gangplank. Castiel turned to watch, unable to stop himself from admiring the display. He also noticed that Dean's pants fit very well, too.

"Yes, yes, you're right." Gabriel nudged Castiel, his tone smug. "Filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. Nothing to like there at all."

Castiel glared at him.

"A bright good morning to all!" Zachariah said cheerily, hefting his own bag.

"Oh, no," Castiel groaned. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to protect my investment, thank you very much," Zachariah replied, heading up the gangplank.

Castiel and Gabriel watching him go, letting out twin sighs of frustration. Dean Winchester was bad enough, but having the warden there as well? So much for a peaceful expedition.

Dean found the boat to be quite nice. He had a room with an actual bed, and a shower all to himself with great water pressure. He didn't have to fight anyone for the soap and he definitely didn't have to deal with the name calling and extra beatings because he wasn't Muslim or dark skinned. Not that he could really blame the other prisoners. The European invasion hadn't treated them kindly. Partially his fault, anyway, but trying to flirt with the wrong guy. He'd thought Victor was interested and instead he'd ended up in prison with a sodomy charge hanging over his head.

He really couldn't catch a break.

Still, he couldn't shake his sense of foreboding. He had a sixth sense about these things—had to, with the life he'd led—and as much as he wanted to dismiss it, he couldn't. He couldn't forget what he'd felt when he was at the lost city. He didn't know what it was, but it was ancient and terrible, and he wanted to avoid it at all costs. The last time he'd had such a feeling of impending danger was when Sammy—

No. It was best not to think about that.

Dean reminded himself that not only was he alive at the moment, but he had a good salary coming his way once he got the Novak brothers safely to Hamunaptra and back. Gabriel was annoying as hell, and Dean was pissed that Zachariah had decided to join them, but Castiel—now, that guy was something else. Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it, and it both annoyed and entranced him.

Dammit. This wasn't the time to let his dick do the thinking.

Dean hefted his weapons bag, intending to grab a bite to eat and make sure everything was in working order. Bobby was a good guy, kept all of Dean's stuff for him, but he wanted to make sure none of the powder had accidentally gotten wet or something. You never knew what went on in those museums.

Dean headed out onto the main deck and nearly tripped over the poker table. There were three men and one woman sitting at it, shuffling their cards. One of them, a scruffy blonde Brit, was rolling his eyes at the girl.

"Quit playing with your glasses and cut the deck, will you Anna?"

"Without my glasses," Anna replied, flipping her red hair, "I can't cut the deck to see it, can I Balthazar?"

"Winchester!" Gabriel said, turning to him with a smile. "Sit down, sit down. We could use another player."

Dean shook his head. "I only gamble with my life, never my money."

"Never?" Balthazar grinned, annoyingly smug. Dean already didn't like him. "What if I was to bet you five hundred dollars that says we get to Hamunaptra before you?"

Dean frowned. "You're looking for Hamunaptra?"

"Damn straight we are," growled the fourth member of the poker table. He was a bald, broad black man, with deep eyes and an unnerving smile.

"And who says we are?" Dean asked.

"Him," All three strangers said at once, pointing to Gabriel.

"Well—" Gabriel looked up at Dean and smiled sheepishly.

"Well, how 'bout it?" Balthazar asked. "Is it a bet?"

Dean shrugged. Wouldn't hurt to make a few extra bucks. "All right, you're on."

"What makes you so confident, sir?"

Dean turned to see a sultry woman lounging on a pile of cushions, reading some kind of book on hieroglyphs. She had hazel cat eyes and silky hair, with an arrogant air to match. Once upon a time Dean would have fucked her six ways to Sunday, but he'd grown wiser since then. "What makes you?" He asked.

"We have a man who's actually been there," the black man intoned.

"Oh, what a coincidence because Winchester—"

Dean smacked Gabriel with his bag, masking the move by shifting it onto his opposite shoulder.

"Uh, who's play is it?" Gabriel stuttered, trying to cover up. "Is it—is it my play? I thought—"

"Gentlemen, ladies, we got us a wager," Dean said, nodding to them. He squeezed Gabriel's shoulder until it cracked. "Good evening, Gabriel."

Gabriel winced. "Night."

Dean left them to their game, making a note to ask a waiter or room service about them. He'd thought he was the only one who'd made it out of the city in one piece, but there'd always been a part of him that suspected…

His thoughts ground to a halt as he spied a messy head of dark hair down the deck a ways. He grinned and headed over, throwing his bag down onto the table. Castiel jumped, blue eyes going wide as he looked up at Dean, nearly dropping the book in his hand.

"Sorry," Dean said. "Didn't mean to scare you." Just, you know, get his attention.

"The only thing that scares me, Mr. Winchester, are your manners," Castiel replied, going back to his book.

"Still angry about that kiss, huh?" Dean had to admit, it wasn't one of his best. Now, give him full use of his hands and a little more time…

"If you call that a kiss," Castiel said. He looked up as Dean opened his bag, frowning at the various weapons strapped inside of it. "Um, did I miss something? Are we—are we going into battle?"

"There's something out there," Dean said. "Something underneath that sand." He began checking and loading his guns.

"Yes, well, I'm hoping to find a certain artifact. A book, actually." Enthusiasm crept into Castiel's voice, although he struggled to sound casual. "My brother thinks there's treasure. What do you think is out there?"

"In a word?" Dean asked. "Evil." He set down his gun and checked the dynamite. "The Bedouin and the Tauregs believe that Hamunaptra is cursed."

Castiel set down his book, his voice growing more excited and his eyes lighting up as he spoke. "I don't believe in fairy tales and, and hokum, Mr. Winchester, but I do believe one of the most famous books in history is buried there: The Book of Amun-Ra. It contains with it all the secret incantations of the Old Kingdom. It's what first interested me in Egypt when I was a child. It's why I came out here—sort of a life's pursuit."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "And the fact that they say it's made out of pure gold makes no never mind to you, right?"

Castiel grinned, and Dean's stomach did a flip. "You know your history!"

Technically, it was Sam who knew his history. Dean shut his mind away from such thoughts. "I know my treasure."

Castiel seemed to sense that they had somehow touched upon a raw nerve, because he bit his lip and looked down at his lap. After a moment, he spoke again. His voice was hesitant and graveling. "By the way… why did you kiss me?"

Dean shrugged, focused on the weapons. "I don't know. I was about to be hanged, seemed like a good idea at the time."

Castiel made a growl of frustration and stood up, snatching his book and stalking off. Dean turned, watching him go. "What?" What'd I say?"

There was a thump and a muffled laugh—smoky and bubbling, like boiling water. Dean turned, saw a silhouette framed against the light from the dining hall—and his suspicions were confirmed.

Dean stalked over and reached back, grabbing the person by the collar and hauling them out, slamming them against the wall.

Meg grinned at him. "Surprise! My good friend, you're alive!" She pouted. "I was so very, very worried."

Dean grinned wolfishly. "Well, if it ain't my little buddy Meg." He cocked his gun and pointed it at her head. "I think I'll kill you."

"Think of my children."

Dean paused. "You don't have any children."

"Someday I might."

"Shut up!" Dean growled. He was in no mood for Meg's games. "So you're the one who's leading the rat pack. I might have known. So what's the scam? You take them out into the middle of the desert and then you leave 'em to rot?"

"Unfortunately, no," Meg replied. "These guys are smart. They pay me only half now, half when I get them back to Cairo, so this time I have to go all the way."

"Them's the breaks, huh?"

Meg's eyes sparked and narrowed. "You never believed in Hamunaptra, Dean. Why are you going back?"

There was the sound of a camel lowing, and both Dean and Meg turned to look. Castiel was patting one of the camels corralled for the excursion, smiling and soothing it with his dry whiskey voice.

"See that man?" Dean nodded at Castiel. "He saved my neck."

Castiel looked up, as if he could sense Dean's gaze. His expression was unfathomable, but his eyes shone in the lamplight and for a moment all Dean could think was blue, before Castiel turned and walked away.

Meg had her eyes on Dean, a sly look on her face. "You always did have more balls than brains," she noted, chuckling.

Dean chuckled along with her, grabbing two fistfuls of her shirt. "Goodbye, Meg."

He hoisted her over the edge and dumped her into the cold waters of the Nile before. Meg cried out, spluttering and flailing. "Dean!" She shouted. "Winchester!"

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away, but then froze.

The deck was littered with wet footprints.

Castiel tried to focus, reading aloud to himself as he got ready for bed. "George Bembridge, in eighteen sixty… hmm… 1865 was—was—" He blinked and glared at himself in the mirror. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, it wasn't that good of a kiss, anyway."

He set the book onto the edge of the sink and reached for the soap to wash his face. In doing so his elbow jostled the book and it fell to the floor. With a sigh, he bent down to pick it up.

When he looked in the mirror again, there was someone behind him. A tall, dark man wearing black and blue robes and holding a silver blade in one hand glared at Castiel, grabbing him.

"Who are you?" Castiel stuttered.

"I am Raphael, and that is all you need know," the man replied, shoving Castiel against the wall and pressing the point of his blade against his neck. "Where is the map?"

"It's—it's there."

"And the key? Where is the key?"

"Key?" Castiel frowned. "What key?"

"Cas!"

Dean burst into the room, a gun in each hand, but Raphael spun Castiel around so that he was using Castiel as a shield. He pressed his blade back into Castiel's neck, his warning clear. Dean faltered, and Castiel could see his eyes go wide as he considered his options. It occurred to Castiel that he was only wearing his oversized nightshirt, which although it reached all the way down to his knees was still, well, a thin white nightshirt.

The bedroom window burst open and another man, in robes the same as Raphael's, began shooting. Dean returned fire, hitting the man but blasting the wall to bits at the same time. Castiel spied the candle he'd left burning on the table next to the map. If he just—

He snatched the candle and jabbed it behind him, managing to stab Raphael in the eye with it. The man howled in pain, releasing Castiel and staggering backward. Dean seized the opportunity and grabbed Castiel by the elbow, yanking him out of the room and into the hallway. They only got a few feet before Castiel gasped. "The map! The map! I forgot the map!"

He turned to run back in but Dean grabbed him again, forcing him to stay. "Relax, I'm the map. It's all up here." He tapped his forehead.

"Oh, that's comforting," Castiel snapped.

Gabriel tore down the hallway, dodging frightened people and avoiding the flames. Somehow the ship had caught on fire, and if the smoke was any indication, it had started in Castiel's room, the klutz.

"Cassie?" He called, entering the room. He nearly tripped over a half-crazed man with a silver blade, stumbling backward in shock. The man fell into the burning couch and screamed, catching fire immediately. Gabriel saw the metal puzzle box and reached for it, but the other man got his hands on it first, coming after Gabriel. He yelped and ran out of the room.

Dean burst onto the deck, still holding onto Castiel with one arm. It was insanity out there, with horses breaking free, men running and shouting, guests panicking, and several firefights going on. They were definitely under attack—by whom, he didn't know, but he didn't want to stop and find out.

"Hold onto this," he said, throwing his bag at Castiel, who caught it with an oomph of surprise. He needed to reload and pressed up against the wall, quickly inserting new bullets. A bullet hit the wall a few feet from his head. Then another one, a foot closer. Then another one. Then—

Castiel grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt and yanked him out of the way just as a bullet embedded itself in the wall, right where Dean's head had been. Dean's heart skipped a beat and he grabbed Castiel's hand, trying to remember how to breathe. That was the second time the guy had saved his life.

"Get behind me!"

Dean moved across the deck, using his body as a shield for Castiel as they moved across the deck toward the edge of the boat. Dean fired repeatedly, managing to hit two of their attackers. "Can you swim?"

"Well of curse I can swim, if the occasion calls for it!" Castiel replied, sounding scandalized.

"Trust me," Dean told him. "It calls for it!"

He scooped Castiel up, bridal style, and flung him over the side of the boat. Castiel let out a yelp of surprise, and Dean spared himself a moment to lean over the side and make sure he'd landed safely in the water before turning away.

"Winchester!" Zachariah appeared, breathing hard. "Winchester. What are we going to do?"

"Wait here!" Dean told him. "I'll go get help!"

"Right."

Dean leaped over the side, joining Castiel in the water. After a moment he heard Zachariah's dawning shout of frustration, and the warden tumbled over the side after them. Dean treaded water, winking at the spluttering Castiel. The dark haired man tried to glare at him, but failed.

Gabriel stumbled out onto the deck and nearly ran into the other group. Dr. Bela Talbot, the Egyptologist and apparently the leader, from what Gabriel could gather, was calmly firing off rounds, hitting her target every time. Her three companions were not so measured. Anna Milton, Balthazar, and Uriel were very different in temperament but united in their love of treasure—and, apparently, gunfights. They were whooping and laughing, shouting out insults as they fired off their guns. Gabriel shook his head. "Idiots."

The door burst open and the man with the blade appeared again, a burning pillar of fire, aiming straight for Gabriel. He lunged at him and Gabriel reared back, stumbling, trying not to be caught by the hook or the flames. Anna saw Gabriel's situation and yelped to the others, all three hitting the burning man. Gabriel dove out of the way as the man finally died, careening over the edge into the water.

"I say," he crowed, grinning at the trio. "Great show! And did I panic?" He held up the puzzle box that he'd swiped from the burning man. "I think not!"

And that was the moment that half of the boat exploded.

"Get out of here!" Anna shouted. Everyone dove for the water, swimming for their lives as the boat began to sink beneath the deep waters of the Nile. Gabriel swam for Dean and Castiel, who he could see on the opposite bank. Dean helped Castiel get out of the water, trying not to laugh at the dark haired man's bedraggled state. Castiel was shivering and if Dean had any dry clothes, he'd have offered them. Instead he put his hands on Castiel's shoulders, rubbing to try and warm him up a little.

"T-thank you," Castiel said, teeth chattering.

"Don't mention it." Dean hoped the darkness hid his blush.

Zachariah also reached the shore, unfortunately, coughing and spluttering and cursing. Castiel scanned the water, searching for his brother. "Gabriel!" He called.

"Coming!"

A moment later Gabriel stumbled onto shore, shaking his head like a dog to get the water off. "Baby bro, you're safe!"

"Thanks to Dean," Castiel replied.

Gabriel eyed Dean, and he realized that he still had his arms around Castiel. He stepped back, clearing his throat. Across the river he could hear the shouts of the other group as they tried to get everything under control.

"Get 'em out of the water!" Uriel shouted. "Come on, doggies. Give 'em a smack, wouldja?"

"This is a messed up country," Balthazar told Anna.

"We've lost everything," Castiel moaned. "All of our tools, all the equipment. All my clothes…"

Dean didn't think that last one was such a loss.

"Winchester!" Meg bellowed from across the river. "Hey, Winchester! It looks to me like I've got all the horses!"

"Hey, Meg!" Dean shouted back. "Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!"

"Yeah, right," Meg snorted. Then she looked around her and realized he was right. "Why that stinking little fucker!"

Dean just grinned and waved at her.

"Friend of yours?" Castiel asked.

"In a manner of speaking." Dean didn't want to think about that little rat right now. Castiel was still shivering, and both Gabriel and Zachariah looked worse for wear. He knew how temperatures dropped in the desert at night—they needed to find shelter and warmth, and quickly.

"Come on," Dean said, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of his wet clothes clinging to his skin. "Let's find somewhere to bed down."

"What, here?" Zachariah gestured around them. "In the middle of nowhere?"

"I'll find us a Bedouin tribe tomorrow morning. They move up and down the Nile, there can't be one far from here. But it's dark, and too dangerous to move around right now. So yeah, we're going to sleep where we can. You got a problem with that?"

Zachariah fumed silently but didn't contradict Dean again. Dean nodded toward the horizon. "This way."

They trooped tiredly through the desert until they reached an oasis. Dean showed Castiel how to build a fire, and then they draped their clothes over a branch nearby to let the fire dry them out. Zachariah grumbled but fell asleep with his back against a tree, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Gabriel curled right up on his side, declaring he'd slept in the nude plenty of times and at least he was still wearing underwear this time, and promptly went to sleep. Dean stayed up to keep watch.

Castiel stayed up to watch him.

He'd seen Dean's back as he'd come back from taking a piss and he'd seen the bruises and cuts that were slowly healing. He could hardly imagine what Dean had gone through in the prison. He sat back down next to him, careful not to sit too close. He tried, but failed, to hold in his shiver.

"Here."

Something thin but warm was draped over his shoulders, and Castiel recognized it as Dean's shirt. He looked over at the blonde, but Dean was stubbornly staring into the fire. He shrugged under the weight of Castiel's gaze, still not looking at him. "Your nightshirt isn't dry yet."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Silence fell for a few minutes.

"You can go to sleep if you want," Dean said. "I'll keep watch."

"You need to sleep, too."

Dean shook his head. "I can't sleep in the desert."

Castiel frowned. "Why not?"

Dean poked the fire with a stick, stirring up embers. "Last time I was here weird things happened."

"Like what?"

Dean kept silent. Castiel sighed. "Dean Winchester, if you and I are to get through this expedition as friends, the least we can do is learn a bit about each other."

"Friends?" Dean snorted. "Is that what you want?" Before Castiel could comment, he went on. "You have to promise not to think I'm crazy."

"I won't," Castiel said, his voice deep and solemn.

Dean glanced at him, and then sighed, turning back to the fire. "I had a brother."

"Had?"

Dean's eyes darkened and he clenched his jaw. "His name was Sam. We lost our parents when I was four and Sam—he was just a baby. Our house burned down. We stayed in an orphanage for a while, run by this woman named Missouri. Then our parents' best friend Bobby showed up and took us to live with him here, in Cairo. I kind of puttered around but Sammy, he was gonna do great things. Smart as a whip, you know? And he loved books. Devoured every book that Bobby owned. He had universities fighting over him, got a full ride to Oxford. But while he was there the Great War started."

Castiel sucked in a breath. "The—the bombs?"

"Didn't get him. But it got his girl. Jessica Moore, real sweet, and a real spitfire, too. Sam decided that he was going to sign up. We're U.S. citizens by birth and America hadn't entered the war yet, so he had to enter the French Foreign Legion. I wasn't about to let my baby brother go off to fight alone, so I signed up too.

"Everything was fine for a while. Even when our garrison started that march through Hell to get to Hamunaptra, I was fine. As long as Sammy was good, I was good. But he started having these weird… visions, I guess. At night, while we were asleep. We shared a tent with Meg."

"But she's a woman. How did she get into the legion?"

"Snuck in. Pretended to be a man. Seduced someone. Who knows? But she was assigned a tent with us, anyway. She'd sell her own mother to save her skin but she was the closest thing to a friend I had. And she was the only one…"

Dean paused, swallowing. Castiel tilted his head, blue eyes shining the firelight. He could see that Dean's eyes were wet.

"Meg and I would be asleep, and Sam claimed that he was visited by a woman. Not Bedouin or anything else. He said she was gorgeous, and her name was Ruby. She had strange tattoos on her cheeks and forehead. He said she spoke of the legends he'd read about, of Hamunaptra and the curse that lay over it. He said that he felt called to a higher purpose, to protect the world from this threat.

"I thought he was hallucinating, and I told him so. We got into a big fight about it. And then one morning, I woke up and… and he was gone."

Dean quickly passed his hand over his face, wiping away the tears before they fell in a vain attempt to hide them. "I looked everywhere, but I never saw him again."

"Dean," Castiel said softly. Dean turned and looked at him, raw pain in his eyes and etched in the lines of his face.

"When I was in Hamunaptra, I was the last one alive. Meg sealed herself in what little bit of the building we'd dug out, but I was the only other one to make it. And you know why? 'Cause the Tauregs panicked. Something spooked their horses and they fled, fast as they could.

"There is evil out there, Cas. I've seen it. I've felt it. It took my brother. And if we're not careful, it'll take us, too."

He was cold, so cold… he could feel his body shivering… He twisted, trying to get comfortable, but everywhere was hard and cold.

Suddenly he felt warmth wrap itself around him, cocooning him, keeping him safe. Little by little his body relaxed, stress and chill slowly seeping out of him. He sank back against a solid chest, giving a contended sigh.

Wait—a chest?

"Dean?" Cas murmured, his tongue heavy with sleep.

"Shh. Sleep, Cas. I gotcha." Dean's voice was low and warm in his ear, soothing him.

Lulled by the warmth of Dean's arms around him, Castiel slipped back into sleep.

It took Dean a while to realize just how gone he was.

In his defense, show him a man who gets gone on someone in two days and he'll show you a trashy romance novel.

He actually slept, which was surprising, although it was only for a couple of hours. Cas had started shivering in his sleep and Dean had wrapped himself around him, seeing no other way to keep the guy warm. Cas—and the nickname alone should have been a clue—felt a little too good in his arms. Dean had gotten an eyeful of that taut, lithe body, all wiry muscle and smooth skin, and he'd had to think of Bobby naked and dead kittens to calm himself down. It didn't help that Cas had sunk right into him, purring like a contended cat as he relaxed against Dean. He'd woken up to find that sometime in the night one of them had laced their fingers together, and he was still cradling Cas against his chest.

Dean carefully extracted himself from Cas and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes they and their clothes were dry but now they were covered in sand. They'd need to take a bath as well as get new supplies when they found a Bedouin camp.

"Sleep well?"

Gabriel grinned cheekily up at Dean, who glared at him. "He was cold."

"Uh-huh. I won't lie, Castiel could do with a good lay," Gabriel pointed at him. "But if you touch him—"

"He was cold, okay? For fuck's sake."

Gabriel shrugged. "I'm just saying."

Dean got up and dusted himself off as best we could. "Wake up your brother. We need to set out before it gets too hot."

They got some weird looks when they entered the Bedouin camp, but between Dean's familiarity with their culture, Castiel's flawless Arabic and innocent smile, and Gabriel's wallet, they were able to get the things they needed. No archeological equipment, to Cas's dismay, but a chance to bathe, food, and camels for the journey. Zachariah vanished off somewhere and a gaggle of women swept Castiel off to pick out clothes for him, clucking over the state of his nightshirt, which left Gabriel to get the camels.

Or, well, for Dean to watch Gabriel argue about the camels.

"I only want four! Four! I only want four, not a whole bloody herd!" Gabriel shouted. "Winchester, help me—can you believe the cheek?"

"Would you just pay the man?" Dean growled. His head hurt from all the arguing.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Can't believe the price of these fleabags." Gabriel got his wallet out and counted out the bills for the man. "Yes, happy. Very good." He snatched the reins and stalked of.

"You probably could've got 'em for free," Dean noted, remembering Castiel's popularity with the camp. "All you had to do was give him your brother."

The group of women that had absconded with Castiel returned and parted, making Dean choke on his tongue.

They'd given Cas a pair of black pants and a black shirt with white gold embroidery running along the edges of the collar and sleeves. The collar itself was open with a slit that ran down, showing off Cas's collarbones and a tantalizing strip of his chest. Cas offered up a small, shy smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

"Yes. Awfully tempting, wasn't it?" Gabriel said.

"Awfully," Dean replied, staring.

Gabriel didn't get on well with the camels or Zachariah, calling them filthy and grumbling all day. Cas called them adorable, petting his camel. Dean spent most of the day listening to Cas explain the Egyptian gods and tell him myths, like that of Isis and Osiris.

"Wait, so you're telling me that Set killed his own brother?"

"Yes. Chopped him up into little pieces and scattered them all over the Nile. Isis had to find every piece and put her husband back together. In doing so she created the first mummy."

"Oh come on, Cassie. The poor man doesn't want to hear about all this."

Castiel glared at his brother, but Dean saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "No, I think it's interesting." He grinned. "It was the sort of stuff Sammy was always blabbering about. I wish I'd listened then."

Castiel offered him a blinding smile, and Dean ignored the flip in his stomach.

They rode all day and even into the night, Dean keeping awake to make sure they stayed on the right path. Zachariah snored again, but Dean was able to tune it out pretty well. He found it harder to ignore Castiel, who tended to lean toward Dean in his sleep, at one point resting his head on his shoulder. Reluctantly, Dean pushed Cas away, gently settling him upright on his camel.

A distant whinny sounded and Dean looked up toward the hills. It was dark but he thought he could make out a set of riders up on the ridge. The last time he'd seen them had been as he was leaving Hamunaptra. Were they the ones responsible for Sam's disappearance? Were they the source of evil?

Up on the hill, the lead rider with soft brown eyes watched with the woman at his side. "This one is strong," she noted.

"Yes," the man replied. "He always was."

They reached the plain across from Hamunaptra the next morning. The sky was red, making it look like a lake of fire. Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones there. Meg and the other group were there as well, with their Arab diggers and horses loaded with equipment.

"Good morning, my friend," Meg called to them sarcastically.

"What the hell are we doing?" Balthazar asked.

"Patience, my good barat'm," Meg told him. "Patience."

"Remember our bet, Winchester," Uriel said. "First one to the city, five hundred cash bucks."

"One hundred of those are yours if you help us win that bet," Balthazar told Meg.

"Oh, my pleasure," Meg said sweetly. "Hey, Dean! Nice camel!"

Dean ignored her and turned to Cas. "Get ready for it."

"For what?"

Dean nodded toward the horizon. "We're about to be shown the way."

As they watched, a shimmering city appeared in the sky. It danced across the air, shining in the early morning sun before slowly settling down into the sand, turning from a mirage into a solid, tangible thing.

"Will you look at that?" Uriel breathed.

"Can you believe it," Balthazar said.

"Hamunaptra," Anna whispered, smiling.

"Here we go again," Dean muttered.

"Hyah!" Meg cried, whipping her camel into gear.

"Hyah!" Dean cried, taking off. Like hell he was going to let Meg of all people beat him.

Everyone started taking off, with Castiel alone using the proper "teek-teek-teek" call the camels responded to. Dean and Meg were in the lead, neck and neck, and they soon outstripped the others. Meg leaned over and started hitting Dean with her whip, beating at his arms.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Dean dodged her blows, reaching over and grabbing Meg by the shoulder, yanking her off her seat and sending her sprawling into the dirt. "So long, Meg!"

"That serves you right!" Castiel called over his shoulder, catching up with Dean.

For a moment they were tied, and Castiel gave him a brilliant grin, teeth and all. Dean grinned back, sure he looked like an idiot but not really caring, not when Cas was grinning at him with shining eyes.

And then Cas was ahead of him, racing across the desert, his loyal camel galloping across the sand and making him the first to enter the city.

"Woo-hoo!" Gabriel cheered. "Go, Cassie, go!"

"Don't call me Cassie!" Castiel called back.

Gabriel grinned. "That's my baby bro!"

Castiel was first into the city, with Dean right behind him. Uriel handed over the five hundred dollars with a scowl, which Dean promptly handed over to Cas. "You earned it," he said, holding his hands up when Cas tried to hand it back. "You were the first in, so you won the bet."

"Yes, but I wasn't even in on the bet," Cas argued.

"Rules are rules," Dean grinned. "Now, where do you want to dig?"

Dr. Talbot had her men excavating the entrance that Meg had hidden in, and Dean would have assumed that's where Cas wanted to dig, but instead Cas marched them all to the immense jackal-headed statue. It made Dean a little nervous, remembering what had happened the last time he'd been near the statue, but Cas was ecstatic.

Uriel looked back at the tiny expedition at the statue. "Do they know something we don't?" He asked.

"They are led by a librarian," Bela replied. "What could he possibly know?"

"That's a statue of Anubis," Cas explained. "Its legs go deep underground. According to Bembridge scholars, that's where we'll find a secret compartment containing the golden Book of Amun-Ra." He caught sight of Gabriel and sighed. "Gabriel, you're meant to catch the sun with that."

Dean looked over at the mirror Gabriel was struggling with, and then the mirror that Cas was polishing. "So, uh, what are all these old mirrors for?"

"Ancient mirrors," Castiel corrected gently. "It's an ancient Egyptian trick. You'll see."

Dean reached up and handed Cas the toolkit he'd had tucked under the crook in his arm. He'd swiped it from Anna when he'd flirted with her as they'd set up their dig sites. "Uh, here, this is for, uh, for you. Go ahead. It's something I borrowed off our American brethren. I thought you might like it—" He quickly corrected himself. "You might need it. For when you're, uh—uh, yeah." He cleared his throat, nodding and turning away, only to see Zachariah staring at him. "What are you lookin' at?"

Castiel unwrapped the package that Dean had given him and saw that it was an archeologist's toolkit, complete with brushes, tiny chisels, and all the rest. Something warm fluttered in his chest and he smiled, carefully wrapping the tools back up again. Dean was already tied to the rope, ready to swing down.

"Hey, look for bugs," Zachariah told him. "I hate bugs."

The chamber they entered was long and dark, the floor covered in a thick layer of sand. Castiel was down first after Dean, then Gabriel, then Zachariah.

"Do you realize we're standing inside a room that no one has entered in over three thousand years?" Castiel asked, his voice filled with awe and excitement.

"It'd be more impressive if I could see a damn thing," Gabriel said.

Castiel made his way over to the side, and Dean saw that there was a mirror exactly like the ones they'd set up above. Cas adjusted the mirror so that it caught the light angling down from the mirrors above. "And there was…"

The mirror caught the mirror across from it, and soon the beam of light was zigzagging all across the room, filling the area with light.

"…light."

Cas grinned with pride as Dean gaped. "Son of a bitch." He looked over at Cas, who shrugged as if it were no big deal. "That is a neat trick."

Cas blushed, looking down at his feet, and gasped. "Oh, my God." He bent down and picked something up out of the sand. "It's a sah-net jar."

"Huh?"

"A preparation room," Cas breathed, gazing around them with new enthusiasm.

"Preparation for what?" Dean asked.

"For entering the afterlife," Cas replied.

Dean drew his gun and Gabe chuckled. "Mummies, Dean-o. This is where they made the mummies."

Dean still kept his gun out. Just in case.

They made their way out of the empty preparation room and down a narrow hallway. They were about halfway down when a massive skittering sound filled the room, echoing around them. Dean swiveled around, gun at the ready, but he didn't see anything. It seemed like the sound was coming from within the walls.

He didn't like it.

"What the—" Zachariah started and spluttered.

"What was that?" Gabriel asked.

Dean grinned and nudged Cas. "Sounds like… bugs."

Cas grinned back at him and then turned to Zachariah. "He says bugs."

"What do you mean, bugs? I hate bugs!"

Dean, still grinning, bumped his shoulder against Cas, who blushed again.

At the end of the hallway was another, smaller chamber. Cas hurried forward. "The legs of Anubis. The secret compartment should be hidden somewhere inside here."

A low moaning noise came from somewhere, and Dean tensed. Castiel and the others heard it as well, and looked around trying to find the source of the strange whispers and echoes. Dean gently grabbed Cas's arm and pulled him back against the base of the statue, handing him the torch so that Dean could have a gun in both hands. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gabriel draw his own gun, while Zachariah stepped back, clearly ready to run. Dean held up his gun, signaling Gabriel, and they whirled around the corner with a yell…

And found themselves face to face with Meg and the other expedition.

"You scared the bejeezus out of us, Winchester," Balthazar said.

"Likewise," Dean admitted.

Nobody lowered their guns.

"Hey," Anna said, seeing the package in Castiel's arms. "That's my toolkit."

"No, I don't think so," Dean replied.

Everyone quickly raised their guns again, arguments on their lips, and Anna raised her hands. "Okay. Perhaps I was mistaken."

"Well," Castiel said, trying to be polite. "Have a nice day, everyone. We have a lot of work to be getting along with."

"Push off," Dr. Talbot said, stepping forward, her eyes glowing like a cat. "This is our dig site."

"We got here first," Cas replied, refusing to be intimidated.

The other expedition raised their guns again and Dean and Gabriel raised theirs, ready to defend their right to the sight—and Castiel.

"This here's our statue, friend," Balthazar drawled.

"I don't see your name written on it, pal," Dean replied.

"Yes, well," Meg said, "There's only four of you, and fifteen of me. Your odds aren't great, Winchester."

"I've had worse," Dean shot back.

"Yeah, me too," Gabriel declared.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Gabriel incredulously. Back behind them, Cas noticed something: a crack, in between the stone floor. He could feel air coming up between it, and when he pushed a pebble in between it fell down, down, down.

There was another chamber underneath this one.

"Oh, look," Castiel said, stepping forward. His voice sounded deep and authoritative, and Dean's eyes went wide. "Let's be nice, children. If we're going to play together, we must learn to share."

Cowed by his gaze, the other expedition lowered their guns slightly. Cas put his hand on Dean's arm, his fingers wrapping around and pressing. "There are other places to dig," he said, his voice low and only for Dean.

Slowly, Dean released the hammer of the gun, clicking the safety back into place. "You win this round," he told the others.

Meg just smirked.

Cas, apparently, had gotten Dean to stand down because he'd realized there was another chamber underneath the one they'd been in, and used his knowledge of hieroglyphs to follow the directions on the walls to find it.

To say Dean was impressed would be an understatement. The guy read hieroglyphs like they were reading primers.

Castiel pointed out a section of the ceiling that they needed to take out, and Gabriel managed to find a rock they could drag over. Gabriel was, conveniently, too short to reach even with the rock, but between Cas and Dean they would probably manage to get through.

"According to these hieroglyphics, we're underneath the statue," Cas explained. "We should come up right between his legs."

"And when those damn idiots go to sleep," Gabriel said, "We'll dig our way up and steal that book right out from under them."

"Are you sure we can find this secret compartment?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas said, nodding firmly and nearly getting a mouthful of sand. "If those idiots haven't beaten us to it."

Another stream of sand came down and got caught in his hair. Cas spluttered, trying to shake the grains out, and Dean found himself smiling. Dean never thought he'd say this about a man but Cas was pretty damn adorable.

"Say…" Gabriel said, frowning. "Where'd our greedy little bureaucrat get to?"

Zachariah scoffed to himself as he explored the various chambers. It was clear to him that the silly boy—Castiel—was one of those head in the cloud types. He'd talked of nothing but books and artifacts the entire trip. At least he was smart. His brother was nothing but a nuisance. And that Winchester—Zachariah did wish he'd have hanged.

In other words, if he was going to make good on his investment and get any treasure, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

His luck got a change for the better at the end of a large hallway. There was a massive carved hieroglyph that showed a man with his arms raised, his head thrown back and his knees buckling. His mouth was open and his eyes started out of his head. Was he giving a war chant? Screaming in agony? Exalting the gods?

Zachariah stopped caring when he saw the pieces embedded in the man's body. They were shining blue beetles. The warden grinned. "What have we here?"

He took a closer look, peering at the beetles. "Blue gold."

These would fetch a might fine price at the market. He had some connections, created from selling the possessions of prisoners. Crowley would salivate when he saw these little beauties.

Pulling out his penknife, Zachariah began prying them off the wall and dropping them into his saddlebag. One missed and fell onto the sandy floor with a soft thunk. The shell of the beetle began to crack like an eggshell, revealing a real, live beetle inside. It had a black, iridescent shell and made a high-pitched chirping noise.

Oblivious, Zachariah went on.

Uriel hefted up an iron crowbar, inserting the tip into the base of the statue. "Time to get our reward."

"Careful!" Bela shouted, darting forward. "Michael was no fool." She nodded at the hired natives. "I think perhaps we should let the diggers open it, hmm?"

Anna laid a hand on Uriel's arm. "I think we should listen to the good doctor, Uriel."

Uriel looked at her, then back at Bela, and removed the crowbar. "All right. We shall let them open it."

Bela beckoned a few diggers forward. The men cautiously took up the crowbars and began prying open the section of rock.

"Zee-da!" Bela instructed. "Zee-da!"

The section of rock fell away from the statue—or, rather, was blasted away as pressurized acid sprayed itself all over the diggers. They screamed, their skin boiling and melting away. Anna yelped and clutched at her companions, Balthazar looked sick, and even the impassive Uriel looked shaken.

Only Bela was unaffected, nodding grimly. "No fool at all," she murmured.

"Let me get this straight," Dean said. "They ripped out your guts and stuffed them in jars?"

"Well, cut out is more accurate. They were quite precise," Cas said.

They had taken a break from their excavating and were resting on the rock they'd moved over. Gabriel had taken their crowbar and was using it as a golf club, hitting rocks and shouting, "Fore!" at the top of his lungs. Dean actually didn't care all that much, not when he could sit next to Cas and listen to the guy talk. He had to admit, Cas's voice did things to him. The best part was that as Cas got more excited, he inched closer, illustrating his point with his slender fingers.

"And then they'd take out your heart as well. They believed that you did all of your thinking with your heart. Oh, and you know how they took out your brains?"

"Cassie, I don't think we need to know this."

"Don't call me Cassie," Castiel said, addressing Gabriel before returning his focus to Dean. "They'd take a sharp, red-hot poker, stick it up your nose, scramble things about a bit and then rip it all out through your nostrils."

Dean instinctively grabbed his nose. "That's gotta hurt."

"It's called mummification. You'll be dead when they do this."

Dean turned to Gabriel. "For the record, if I don't make it out of here, don't put me down for mummification."

"Likewise," Gabriel said, hitting another rock.

There was a massive crashing noise as something immense fell out of the ceiling. Dean jumped up, yanking Cas out of the way as a huge slab of rock slammed into the ground, sending dust and sand flying. Gabriel turned around slowly, eyes wide, as Dean and Cas coughed and waved the dust out of their faces.

"Oh my God," Cas breathed. "It's a—it's a sarcophagus. Buried at the base of Anubis." He looked up, staring at the hidden space the massive coffin had been hidden in. "He must have been someone of great importance."

Another thought occurred to him. "Or he did something very naughty."

The beetle made its high pitched chirping noise again, rubbing its wings together to make a buzzing noise as it scurried over the sand, quickly eating through Zachariah's shoe. The warden froze in pain, and then began to scream. The bug ate its way up his leg as Zachariah smacked at his own skin, trying to hit it, before he ripped his shirt apart. The creature stood out as a bulge making its way under his skin, the sounds of crunching meat horribly audible. Zachariah screamed as the creature made its way up his neck and vanished at his temple, burrowing into his brain.

"Well, who is it?" Gabriel asked as Cas bent over the sarcophagus. Dean found he was quickly becoming enamored with how Cas read hieroglyphs, running his finger along the bottom of the symbols as he translated silently to himself.

"She That Shall Not Be Named," Castiel said slowly. He blinked. That didn't sound good.

Dean peered down at a strange sun-shaped depression. "This looks like some sort of a lock."

"Well, whoever's in here sure wasn't getting out," Gabe replied.

"Yeah, no kidding." Dean felt along the seam where the lid met the base. "It'd take us a month to crack into this thing without a key."

"A key?" Cas asked, standing straight up. "A key! A key! That's what he was talking about?"

"Who was talking about what?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"Raphael! The man on the barge! He had the blade—he was looking for a key!"

Castiel took Gabriel's puzzle box, ignoring his brother's indignant, "Hey, that's mine!" and opened it, setting it into the lock.

It fit perfectly.

Suddenly horrible screaming filled the air, and all three turned as Zachariah burst into the room, clutching his head. He ran past them, still screaming, down the corridor until he ran smack into the wall and collapsed, dead.

Dean and Castiel carried the warden out, with Gabriel scurrying up the rope to set up a pulley system to haul him out of the buried temple.

"We'll have to bury him," Cas said.

Dean agreed. They couldn't just leave the guy to rot.

They picked a spot away from the main part of the temple, back at the base of the hill where the dirt was firm, so the sand wouldn't quickly refill any hole they tried to dig up. They had to borrow some shovels from the other expedition, which was when Dean found out they'd had misfortunes of their own. He decided not to tell the others until later. Gabriel tried to play it off and Cas kept silent about it, but he knew they were shaken up. He didn't want to add another shock.

Dean dug quickly, but Cas quickly developed blisters, his hands unused to physical labor. He didn't complain, but Dean could see him wincing.

"You okay there, Cas?"

Castiel nodded. "Perfectly."

Dean set down his shovel and strode over, plucking Cas's shovel from his hands and taking Cas's hands in his own, turning them palms up. "Geez, Cas, why didn't you say something?"

Castiel had several blisters, two of which had burst open and started bleeding, as well as a splinter. "I—I wanted to help," Castiel replied.

"Not when it's causing you pain," Dean replied. "Let's get this out."

They didn't have tweezers, so Dean bent down and sucked the splinter out. He could feel Cas's pulse flutter against his lips and hear the other man's swift intake of breath. Getting the splinter was relatively easy, and Dean spit it out.

"There you go." He grinned up at Cas, his smile faltering as he saw how dilated Cas's pupils were. His throat went dry and he tried to swallow, realizing how close they were standing and how he was still holding Cas's hands, his thumb making slow, soothing circles into the center of Cas's palm.

And that's when it all clicked. The night around the fire, spilling his guts and then curling up with the guy—without even any sex beforehand—the camel ride, the toolkit…

He was gone.

He was gone on this curious, intelligent whirlwind of a man with eyes bluer than the sky.

"What do you suppose killed him?" Cas asked.

They were seated around their campfire for the night, and Dean had just come back from returning the shovels. Cas was curled up near the fire, with Gabriel sitting next to him.

"Did you ever see him eat?" Gabriel asked.

"Seems that the other expedition had a little misfortune of their own today," Dean said, sitting down on Cas's other side. 'Three of their diggers were, uh… melted."

"What?" Cas breathed.

"How?" Gabe asked, leaning in.

"Salt acid. Pressurized salt acid. Some kind of ancient booby trap."

Gabe shrugged. "Maybe this place really is cursed."

A fierce breeze blew through, making the fire spit and sputter. Everyone stared, disconcerted, before Castiel shook himself.

"For goodness' sake, you two," he growled.

"You don't believe in curses?" Dean asked.

"No, I don't. I believe if I can see it and touch it, it's real. That's what I believe."

Dean grinned. Cas was adorable when he was stubborn, which was a lot.

And there he went with the 'adorable' stuff again.

"I believe in being prepared," he replied, pulling out his shotgun.

"Let's see what Zachariah believed in," Gabriel said, pulling the warden's bag into his lap and digging through it. "Ouch!"

Cas jumped. "What is it?"

"A broken bottle," Gabe said, pulling out said bottle and squinting at it. "Glenlivet. Twelve years old." He grinned. "He may have been a slimy snake but he had good taste."

Several horses whinnied over by the main excavation team, and Dean stood. He knew what panicked horses sounded like. "Take this," he said, handing Cas the gun. "Stay here."

"No, wait!" Cas called, running after him. "Wait for me!"

"Cassie!" Gabriel replied. "Excuse me, but didn't the man just say, 'stay here'? Cassie!"

"Don't call me Cassie!"

Dean ran down into something out of a nightmare. Hooded riders, like those on the boat, were charging through the camp whooping and ululating. Anna, Uriel, and Balthazar had all emerged from their tents—Uriel with shaving cream still on his face—and were firing rapidly. Dean was just in time to see Balthazar go down, hit in the left shoulder. Anna helped him up again, pressing his jacket against the wound. Dean suddenly wondered which one of the men Anna was sleeping with—pretty sure he could start a running bet with Meg—when he heard Gabriel cry out.

Dean turned and saw Gabriel sprinting for his life as a rider bore down on him, curved sword glinting in the firelight. Dean took a running leap and tackled the man, sending them both sprawling. They hurried to their feet, backing up and out of the way to get into a fighting pose. A light scarf covered the man's face but he was tall—tall as Sammy had been. He brandished his sword and Dean fired his pistol, knocking the man's blade out of his hand. Another rider came down the path, but Cas hoisted the gun up and fired. He hit the rider, but was smacked hard by the recoil and sent sprawling, his feet actually leaving the ground before he slammed back into it, dazing him. Dean saw Cas go flying, the movement just enough of a distraction for the tall rider, who drew a second sword and knocked Dean's gun out of his hand. The man swiped again but Dean dove, somersaulting and whipping out a stick of dynamite, plunging it into the fire to light the fuse, brandishing it.

The tall man froze, his brown eyes widening as they flickered from Dean's hand to his face. He slowly drew up to his full height and raised his hand. Instantly, all fighting ceased.

"Enough!" The man said. His voice was deep but unusually so, as if he were making it deeper than was natural. It was also, Dean thought, familiar. "Yallah!"

The other riders quickly mounted their horses and set off as the expedition watched, dazed. The tall man mounted his own steed, still staring at Dean. "We will shed no more blood, but you must leave. Leave this place or die." He wheeled his horse around. "You have one day. Yallah!" He called to the others. "Nimshi!"

Dean quickly pulled the fuse out of the dynamite before the damn thing could go off and kill them all. Cas gave a low moan from nearby and Dean ran over to him, helping the man to his feet.

"Cas, hey. Are you all right?"

He wrapped an arm around Cas's lower back, letting Cas rest his hands on Dean's chest as he used his other hand to cup Cas's chin, turning his face gently to check for bruising.

"I'm fine," Cas graveled.

"You sure?" Dean said, remembering how Cas had kept his mouth shut about the blisters.

"Yes, thank you."

"See, that proves it!" Balthazar said, excited despite his bloody shoulder. Dean released Cas's chin, moving his hand down to Cas's waist.

"Old Mike's fortune has to be under this sand," Balthazar went on. "For them to protect it like this, you just know there's treasure down there."

"No," Dean replied, growing heated. He felt Cas put his hand on Dean's left shoulder, gripping it tightly. The touch grounded him, calming him down, and he slightly tightened his grip on Cas, pulling the man flush against him. "These men are desert people. They value water, not gold."

"You know," Anna said, clearing her throat. "Uh, maybe just at night, we could, uh, combine forces?"

Dean looked over at Cas. Castiel was the leader of their expedition. It was ultimately his decision.

"That sounds like a wise decision," Cas replied. "Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Milton."

Dean, Cas and Gabriel moved their meager belongings into the main camp, where Gabriel proceeded to down most of the Glenlivet. Anna patched up Balthazar's shoulder with Dean's help, and then she, Balthazar and Uriel all went to bed. Dr. Talbot stayed up a little longer, ordering the men about and checking her notes, but eventually she, too, turned in. Meg hadn't been seen for most of the night.

Gabriel realized that it was probably polite to share, and offered a sip to Dean and Cas. One sip turned into two, then three, and soon Gabriel had drunk himself into a stupor, snoozing away using his jacket as a pillow. Dean stopped himself after two sips, knowing that someone had to keep alert in case their attackers returned, but Cas was obviously a lightweight because only three gulps in and he was already unsteady on his feet. Dean had been trying to teach the guy how to defend himself, just in case Dean couldn't be there next time something happened, but the alcohol threw off Cas's sense of balance.

"Okay, tough stuff," Dean said. "Try a right hook." He shifted Cas's fighting stance and adjusted his arms. "Ball up your fist and put it—put it up like that."

"Mm-hmm," Cas hummed, turning his face so that Dean's mouth brushed against his cheek.

Dean stepped back quickly, trying to keep himself under control. Cas was drunk. He wasn't capable of making responsible decisions. Dean was not going to take advantage of him.

"Hit it right here," Dean said, slapping his palm. "And then mean it."

"I mean it," Cas growled, striking out. He overextended and lost his balance, twisting and falling. Dean caught him just before he hit the ground and Cas laughed, tilting his head back and baring his throat, his teeth flashing. Dean liked that laugh. It was unexpected, and he wished it wasn't the alcohol that was causing it.

"Okay," he said, helping Cas to sit down. "Okay, it's time for another drink."

"Unlike my brother, sir," Cas slurred, picking up the bottle and taking a swig, "I know when to say no."

"Uh-huh," Dean replied. "And unlike your brother, angel… you, I just don't get."

"I know." Cas grinned, his eyes a little glazed. "You're wondering, what is a place like me doing in a man like this?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Cas nodded earnestly. "Egypt is in my blood. You see, my—my father was a very, very famous explorer, and he loved Egypt so much, he married my mother, who was an Egyptian, and quite an adventurer herself."

"Yeah? And what do they think of your little trip out here?"

Cas's smile faltered. "They died, five years ago. They were out in the desert… they said it was malaria."

Dean winced, finding himself tongue-tied. He didn't want to offer up empty platitudes, but he felt like he should say something. "I get your father, and I get your mother," he pointed at Gabriel, "and I get him. But what are you doing here?"

Somehow, that pissed Cas off, because he stumbled to his feet and set his shoulders. "Look, I may not be an explorer, or—or an adventurer or a treasure seeker or a gunfighter, Dean Winchester, but I am proud of what I am."

"And what is that?" Dean asked.

"I… am a librarian!" Castiel declared, smiling with pride. He sank down onto his knees, his face only a couple inches from Dean's. "And I am going to kiss you, Dean Winchester."

"Just Dean'll do," Dean replied, trying to keep his heart from hammering right out of his chest.

For some inexplicable reason, this made Cas smile dreamily. "Dean," he repeated, the word like a prayer.

He slowly leaned forward, his eyes sliding closed, and Dean didn't even dare breathe. Sure, it wouldn't be the best kiss, seeing how drunk Cas was, but it would be better than nothing. He let his eyes fall closed.

But instead of warm lips all he got was a mouthful of hair as Cas pitched forward into his lap, passed out.

Dean sighed, kissing the air, and set about getting Cas comfortable.

Dean's dreams were filled with screams and moans and blood—the twisted bodies of comrades he couldn't save, his parents' burnt bodies in their inferno of a house, Sammy's pained, tearstained face as he cried for Jess…

He twisted and turned, trying to escape them, but they were everywhere, overwhelming him.

Something soft and warm slipped up beside him, against him, wrapping its arms around him and holding him tight. Dean fought at first, distrustful of this offered sanctuary, but a familiar voice filled his head and the arms only tightened.

"Shh, Dean. It's all right. It's all right."

Fingers carded through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, as another hand tightened at his left shoulder and warm, dry lips pressed against his forehead. Dean sank into the warm embrace, wrapping his arms around it and burying his face into it, breathing the salty-sweet scent and letting the warmth pull him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he next awoke, it was to find dawn was breaking—and Cas was in his arms again. He remembered the moment his nightmares had abated and he realized the soothing warmth had been Cas. They were currently intertwined, arms wrapped around each other, legs and feet tangled. Dean's face was buried in the crook of Cas's neck and his fingers dug into Cas's back, clutching at him and keeping him close. In the pale, misty light of dawn Cas's face looked incredibly peaceful, almost angelic, with its lines smoothed away and his long lashes brushing against his pale cheeks. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen anyone this beautiful.

He made to pull away, realizing the danger he—or more specifically, his heart—was in, but Cas stirred, his nose scrunching up before he relaxed, opening his eyes. He stared up at Dean, his eyes growing clearer as he became aware of his surroundings.

"Hello, Dean," he said, keeping his voice low.

"Morning." Dean glanced over at Gabriel, but the other Novak was thankfully still asleep. "You, uh, sleep well?"

"Yes. And you?" Cas searched his face. "Anymore nightmares?"

Dean cleared his throat and tried very hard to look at everywhere but Cas. It was hard when the other man filled his entire field of vision. "No."

Cas cocked his head. With his soft blue eyes and hair sticking up every which way, he gave the impression of a kitten. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Cas leaned in and the only thing Dean could think was blue before he felt the warm press of Cas's lips on his. His eyes slid closed and he became lost in the feel of Cas's mouth moving against his. Cas's fingers flexed against his skin and Dean gave into his desire to run his hand through Cas's hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. Cas gave a low moan, his mouth opening against Dean's, the sound reverberating through Dean's body and straight down. He pulled back, trying to get his bearings. Pink dusted Cas's cheeks and his pupils were blown up. It took every ounce of willpower Dean had not to just dive back in and see how many more of those moans he could draw out of him.

Under Dean's gaze Cas's blush deepened. "I said I was going to kiss you."

Dean chuckled, ducking his head down and pressing his face back into Cas's shoulder to muffle the sound. "You're damn good at it, too."

Gabriel muttered something and rolled over, making Dean freeze. Son of a bitch, he'd forgotten that they weren't alone.

"We should get going, before it heats up," he said, getting up.

"You're right," Cas replied, following suit.

"I'm going to, um—see a man about, well—you know." Dean waved his hand vaguely, walking backward and nearly tripping over their equipment.

He beat out a quick one away from the others, his mouth muffled in the crook of his elbow and his mind filled with images of dark hair, elegant hands, and impossibly blue eyes.

"Awem, awem!" Bela instructed. With the compartment opened, she'd seen no reason not to continue, and the diggers were now unloading a large chest from the statue's cavity. "Djaceb, djaceb."

The diggers set the chest down carefully, and the four members of the expedition crowded around it. "There is a curse upon this chest," Bela said, her eyes widening as she read the inscription.

"Curse, my ass," Balthazar retorted.

"Who cares?" Uriel asked.

"Have a care," Bela replied. She gazed around her, as if someone might be watching them. "In these hallowed grounds, that which was set forth in ancient times is as strong now as it was then."

"We understand," Uriel said. "What does it say?"

Bela peered at the text and read in an imperious voice, "Il mode, mak tul, al el gamir. 'Death will come on swift wings to whomsoever opens this chest.'"

"We shouldn't be here," Meg said, hovering near the exit. "This is not good."

"It says," Bela went on, "'There is one, the undead, who, if brought back to life, is bound by sacred law to consummate this curse.'"

"Let's make sure we don't bring anyone back from the dead, then," Balthazar quipped.

"'He will kill all who open this chest and assimilate their organs and fluids. And in doing so, he will regenerate and no longer be the undead, but a plague upon this earth.'"

Upon hearing this, the Arab diggers panicked and fled the room. Balthazar rolled his eyes.

"Well," Uriel interjected, "We did not come all this way for nothing."

"That's right," Anna added.

"It's the curse," Meg breathed, her eyes going wide. "Beware of the curse. Beware!" She backed out of the room as she spoke, until by the time she was finished she was gone.

"Stupid superstitious bitch," Balthazar grumbled. As one, he, Uriel, and Anna opened the chest.

A huge plume of dust exploded with a hiss, making them cough and drop the lid onto the floor, obscuring their vision.

"I've dreamt about this since I was a young boy," Cas said ecstatically as Dean and Gabe stood up the sarcophagus.

"You dream about dead guys?" Dean teased.

Cas ignored him in favor of gazing perplexedly at the front of the sarcophagus. "The sacred spells have been chiseled off. This woman must have been condemned not only in this life but in the next."

"Tough break," Dean said.

"Yeah, I'm all tears," Gabe quipped. "Now, let's see who's inside, shall we?"

Cas inserted the puzzle box key and rotated it, turning it one hundred eighty degrees. The lid popped open with a hiss and fell away—and the mummy inside popped out!

All three of them yelped, jumping back, only to feel foolish when they saw that the mummy wasn't alive.

"I hate it when these things do that," Cas growled.

"Is she supposed to look like that?" Dean asked. He hadn't seen any mummies in person, but he was pretty sure they were supposed to be wrapped up in bandages and be dried out and skeletal.

"No," Cas said, tilting his head. "I've never seen a mummy look like this before. She's still… still…"

"Juicy," Dean and Gabe said at once.

"Yes," Cas confirmed, nodding. It really was the best description for the thing. Muscle and tissue still clung to the skeleton, its jaw open in a silent scream, and it had an unhealthy shine to it, like it was frozen in the process of melting away. "She must be more than three thousand years old, and it looks as though she's still decomposing."

Dean shuddered and looked down, spying the inside of the coffin lid. "Hey, look at that," he said, crouching down. Several scratches ran down the inside of the lid, all in groups of four. "What do you make of this?"

Cas crouched down as well, peering at them for a moment before stiffening. "These marks were made with…" He reached his hand in and mimed clawing at the inside of the lid. His nails matched the marks perfectly. "Fingernails." He swallowed. "This woman was buried alive."

Dean looked up at the oddly juicy mummy. The thing's eyes were empty sockets but it looked like it was staring down at them. He didn't like it.

"And she left a message," Cas said. He pointed to some hieroglyphs carved into the lid. They were rough, painstakingly carved with bloodied and chipping nails, but they were readable. "'Death is only the beginning.'"

When the dust cleared, everyone peered down into the chest. "Oh my God," Bela breathed. She carefully reached down, pulling out the large, black book that sat nestled in the chest. "It does exist." Her eyes practically glowed. "The Book of the Dead."

"A book?" Balthazar snorted. "Who cares about a book? Where the bloody hell's the treasure?"

"This, my good man," Bela replied. "This is treasure."

Uriel angrily kicked at the side of the chest. "I wouldn't trade you for a brass—"

The side of the chest fell open, and everyone stared. "Look at that," Anna said.

Hidden in a side compartment of the chest were five canopic jars. One was broken but the other four were still intact—and inlaid with jewels and gold.

"There's your treasure," Bela said dismissively.

Anna grinned and nudged her companions. "Now we're onto something."

Castiel passed by Dr. Talbot's tent on his way to join the campfire that night, pausing as he heard grunts of frustration. He turned and saw Dr. Talbot struggling to open a large, black book. It was locked, with the familiar sun lock that was the same as the one on the sarcophagus.

Castiel struggled to hide his grin. "I believe you need a key to open that," he told the Egyptologist.

Dr. Talbot gave him a searching look as he went on his way.

Over at the campfire, Dean sat on one side with Meg on his left and Gabriel on her left. Across from them, in order, sat Balthazar, Uriel, and Anna. Uriel held up his canopic jar, smiling. "Say, Winchester? What do you think these will fetch back home?"

"We hear you boys found yourselves a nice, gooey mummy," Anna said.

"You know," Balthazar said with mock seriousness, "If you dry that fellow out, you might be able to sell him for firewood."

Dean was saved from doing something stupid, like punching the smarmy Brit, by Castiel. "Look what I found!" He called as he approached the fire.

"You're in his seat," Dean told Meg. Meg just chuckled. "Now!" Dean barked.

"Yup!" Meg said, hopping out of her seat and scurrying out of the way.

Cas, oblivious, plopped himself down in between Dean and Gabe. He held out his hands, showing the tiny petrified shells cupped in his palms. "Scarab skeletons. Flesh eaters. I found them inside our friend's coffin. They can stay alive for years feasting on the flesh of a corpse." Cas paused. "Unfortunately for our friend, she was still alive when they started eating her."

Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar all made faces. Uriel didn't appear to be listening.

Dean frowned down at the little skeletons, poking at one. "So somebody threw these in with our girl, and then they slowly ate her alive?"

"Very slowly," Cas said with relish.

"She certainly wasn't popular when they planted her, was she?" Gabe joked.

"She probably got a little too frisky with the pharaoh's son," Dean added.

"Or his brother," Gabriel said, shooting Dean a loaded look.

Dean tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Well, according to my readings," Cas said, "Our friend suffered the Hom-Dai, the worst of all ancient Egyptian curses, one reserved only for the most evil of blasphemers. In all my research I've never heard of this curse having actually been performed."

"That bad, huh?" Dean asked. Everyone was listening to Cas now, even Meg.

"Yes, well, they—they never used it because they feared it so. It's written that if a victim of the Hom-Dai should ever arise he would bring with him the Ten Plagues of Egypt."

Dean blinked. "Huh?"

"You know…" Cas held up his fingers, counting them off. "Water into blood, frogs, lice, wild animals or flies—nobody can decide on the proper interpretation—diseased livestock, boils and sores, storms of fire, locusts, darkness, and death of the firstborn."

"It really doesn't disturb you that he can rattle those off like that?" Gabe asked Dean.

Dean shrugged. It didn't matter one way or another to him. He liked how bookish Cas was.

"How would you bring someone back to life anyway?" Anna asked.

Castiel blinked. "That, I don't know."

"That's a first," Gabriel grumbled.

After that goodnights were exchanged, people bedded down for the night, and Dean curled up in front of the fire. Castiel stayed awake, writing in his notebook and sketching pictures of the sarcophagus, mummy, and scarab skeletons. "You're good at that," Dean noted.

"Thank you." Cas blushed. "I've had a lot of practice. It helps to give people illustrations—it makes everything come alive for them."

Dean didn't know when he'd dozed off, but he knew the moment Cas left the campfire. He waited, keeping his eyes closed, alert for danger. A few minutes later Cas snuck back, tiptoeing carefully so as not to make any noise. Dean opened his eyes a crack and saw that the librarian was carrying the large black book that Dr. Talbot had found that day.

"That's called stealing, you know," Dean said.

To his credit, Cas didn't jump upon discovering Dean was awake. Perhaps he'd known the whole time. "According to you and my brother, it's called borrowing."

Dean remembered the toolkit and propped himself up on his elbow. "Touché."

Cas sat down and Dean moved over to sit next to him, peering at the strange book. "I thought the Book of Amun-Ra was made out of gold."

"It is made out of gold. This isn't the Book of Amun-Ra. This is something else." Cas turned the book over reverently. "I think it may be the Book of the Dead."

"The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you want to be playing around with this thing?"

"It's just a book," Cas replied. "No harm ever came out of reading a book."

A breeze sprung out of nowhere, blowing through the fire and making it sputter. Dean stared at it, unnerved. "That happens a lot around here."

Cas inserted the puzzle key and turned it. The locks on the book sprung open and he opened it to a random page. "So, what's it say?" Dean asked.

Cas ran his finger along the text to show what hieroglyphs he was reading. "Amun Ra. Amun Dei. Its speaks of the night and of the day. Su wei ah, imes ibt iewa, ya towei, ya towei, ya towei…"

Down in the crypt, the mummy in the open sarcophagus sprang to life, giving an awful roar.

"No!" Dr. Talbot sprung from her chaise, running toward them. "You must not read from the book!"

Thunder suddenly crackled in the sky, and a strange buzzing filled the air. Gabe jerked awake, blinking. "Huh?"

Dean stood and turned toward the entrance to Hamunaptra, squinting. What was…

They came like a great thundercloud, buzzing and moving as one, a wave made not out of individual drops of water, but individual locusts.

"Run!" Dean yelled.

Everybody booked it for the temple. Dean grabbed Cas's hand and his gun and ran for it. He heard some screams behind them and looked back just in time to see the cloud swallow up some of the diggers. He didn't even want to think about what happened to them. He kept a tight grip on Cas's hand and pulled him along, running down, down, down into the darkness.

Dr. Bela Talbot clutched the Book of the Dead, the locusts paying her no mind, the sacred text granting her immunity. She gazed up at the heavens, her eyes wet. "What have we done?" She whispered.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Uriel demanded as they all sprinted down a dark hallway.

"I'm not waiting around to find out!" Balthazar bellowed.

One of the diggers knocked into Anna and she tumbled to the ground, her glasses knocked off. "My glasses!" She cried out. "My glasses!"

"Leave me!" Meg shouted at the locusts, beating at her clothing. "Get the fuck off of me!"

"Hey!" Anna shouted. "Hey! Could you help me find my glass—"

There was a crunching sound as Meg stepped on the redhead's glasses. Meg paid her no mind, continuing to run down the corridor, shouting for the others to wait for her.

"Oh," Anna said softly.

She picked up her broken glasses and stood up, trying to see through them. It was no good. She squinted about in the darkness. She might be going crazy, but she thought she saw a shape at the end of the corridor.

"Who's there?"

She blinked, and the shape was gone.

"Who's there?" She called out again.

She couldn't see anyone, but she had the distinct impression that someone—or something—was there with her.

"Baz?" She called. "Uriel? Is this some kind of a joke?" She felt herself growing panicked. "It's not funny!"

And then she felt it.

There was something. Right. Behind her.

Anna slowly pivoted, not even daring to breathe.

Next moment, the corridor was filled with her screams.

"Come on!" Dean yelled, tugging on Cas. He could hear Gabriel right behind him, all three of them still running, not even thinking about where they were going.

The floor shook.

All three of them froze, Gabriel nearly crashing into Dean. They watched as the sand in front of them bubbled up, rising in a pile like a tiny mountain.

"What the—"

Bright, shining beetles burst out of the sand, chittering and screeching, heading straight for them.

"Scarabs!" Castiel shouted. "Gabriel! Scarabs!"

"Run!" Gabriel shouted. "Run, Cassie, run!"

"Go!" Dean grabbed Cas and whirled them around, shoving at him. "Run, go!"

They tore down the hallway and veered to the right, up a stone ramp across a vast, bottomless cavern.

"They're gaining on us!" Cas yelled.

Dean saw a large pillar of stone to his left, and a ledge against the wall to his right. "Jump!" He instructed, shoving Cas to the right.

Cas jumped across, landing on the ledge. Dean leapt onto the stone pillar at his left, Gabriel landing next to him a second later. The scarab beetles flowed up the ramp, through the doorway, and into the next room. Dean watched them go, breathing hard.

Castiel pressed himself against the wall, running his hands along it for purchase. As he did so, he felt his finger press down on something. "Wha—oh!"

The section of wall at his back gave way and spun him around, closing and effectively making him vanish from sight.

The scarabs gone, Dean looked around for Cas.

The guy had vanished.

"Cas?" Dean called.

Gabe looked around as well. "Cassie?"

"Cas!"

"Castiel!"

Castiel found himself in a dark corridor. His eyes darted around, but he saw no more scarabs. He breathed a sigh of relief.

A gurgling noise sounded from his right, and he turned. Anna was standing there, apparently gazing at the opposite wall. Castiel grinned.

"Oh, Miss Milton, thank goodness. I was just starting to get scared. I've lost the others, I—"

Anna turned around and Castiel honest-to-God screamed.

The redhead's eyes were gone, popped right out of their sockets, leaving nothing but empty holes behind. Her mouth drooled and gaped, and she reached for Castiel blindly.

"My eyes," she gurgled, her voice choked and almost incoherent. "My eyes!"

Castiel reached forward to grab onto her and help her, when an inhuman growl sounded out from the darkness. A figure stepped forward and Castiel gasped.

It was the mummy—the mummy. Now that she was moving it was more obvious that she was female, with the sway of her hips and the rotted mounds at her chest, but it didn't really distract from the fact that this was a walking, talking, live mummy.

As Castiel backed against the wall, he noticed two other horrifying changes.

The mummy now had eyes and a tongue.

Eyes exactly the same color as Anna's.

The mummy advanced on him, her eyes glinting evilly, that low growl emanating from her chest. Castiel looked over the creature's shoulder at Anna. "Please help me," he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Anna tried to take a step backwards and fell, her sense of balance completely thrown off. She crawled along the floor, moaning, "My tongue! My tongue!"

"Please don't leave me," Castiel asked. His back hit the wall.

The mummy reached for him—and then froze. "Lucifer?" She whispered.

Castiel blinked. "What?"

"Damn it!" Dean growled, hitting the rock wall. "It's a trap door. There's gotta be a switch or something around here someplace."

Uriel, Balthazar, Meg and the diggers suddenly burst into the cavern. "Run, you idiotic buggers!" Balthazar yelled. "Run!"

Dean heard the tell-tale chittering of the scarabs and yanked at Gabriel. "Go. Go! Go!"

They tore down the ramp, out of the room, and down the hallway.

The mummy extended her hand. "Come with me, my Prince, my Lucifer."

Castiel gaped.

"There you are!" Dean said. He ran over and grabbed Cas's hand. "Will you quit playing hide-and-seek?"

Castiel's eyes stayed fixed on the mummy, and Dean followed his gaze, yelping when he saw the creature. "Son of a bitch!"

"Cassie?" Gabriel called.

The mummy gave a massive, inhuman roar.

Dean staggered back, and then roared back at it, firing his gun right into the creature's chest. The creature was blasted to the floor, and Dean seized his opportunity, yanking at Castiel. "Move!"

"Did you see that?" Uriel said.

"It was walking!" Balthazar said, his voice rising a couple of octaves. "It was walking!"

They all burst out of the temple and into the open air, Dean and Cas at the lead, only to skid to a halt and all bump into each other when they found what was awaiting them.

The mysterious riders were back.

They had Dr. Talbot, who shivered, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. They all had their weapons drawn, and they stood like a solid wall. Dean suspected he was about to meet his maker.

The tall one, the leader, stepped forward. "I told you to leave this place or die," he said. "You refused. Now you may have killed us all."

Dean froze. A familiar voice was one thing, but he knew that phrase. One person he knew had used it all the time, back when they were in the legion together and Dean was prone to reckless, spur-of-the-moment plans during battle.

"For you have unleashed the creature we have feared for more than three thousand years."

Dean let go of Cas and strode forward, yanking the scarf from the man's face. To the shock of the expedition, despite the tanned skin, the man was Caucasian. "Sam!?" Dean demanded.

Sam Winchester took a step back, his brown eyes widening.

"Sam?" Castiel said, looking from one to the other. "The Sam?"

Everyone froze, knowing that something out of the ordinary—something private and painful—was taking place.

"You were dead," Dean breathed, anguish lacing every word. "You were dead!"

"That's what you thought," Sam replied.

Dean punched him right in the face. Sam staggered back.

"You were dead!" Dean shouted, his face screwing up as he tried to hold in tears. "You vanished! I searched for you everywhere, for days! I mourned you! I mourned you for years!"

"Dean." Cas hurried forward, gripping Dean by the shoulders and holding him back.

"I'm sorry," Sam replied. "I—I had to cut all ties."

"All ties?" Dean tried to surge forward and hit him again, but Cas held him back. "I'm your brother, you son of a bitch!"

"Dean, please," Cas said, his mouth right at Dean's ear. "This won't solve anything."

Sam gazed at his brother mournfully. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Dean spat.

"So, evil mummy walking around?" Gabriel said loudly. Everyone slowly turned to stare at him, and he shrugged. "What?"

"Where's Anna?" Balthazar asked.

Two of Sam's men came forward, carrying Anna. Balthazar and Uriel took her, lying her down. "You bastards," Balthazar growled, cradling Anna's face.

"What did you do to her?" Uriel demanded.

"We saved her," Sam replied. "Saved her before the creature could finish her work. Leave, all of you, quickly, before she finishes you all." He drew his weapon. "We must now go on the hunt and try and find a way to kill her."

"I got her," Dean said, glaring.

"No mortal weapon can kill this creature. She is not of this world."

"I already told you," Dean growled. "I got her."

Sam stepped in. "Know this: this creature is the bringer of death. She will never eat, she will never sleep, and she will never stop."

Meg whirled around the darkened room, trying to listen for any sign of the others. They'd gotten separated at some point while running from the scarabs, and now the screams and shouts had died to make way for horrid, suffocating silence.

She backed slowly out of the room, hardly even daring to breathe—and bumped into something.

Probably just a wall. Had to be a wall.

Meg turned around.

Definitely not a wall.

The mummy growled at her, advancing slowly. Meg took steps back, swallowing hard, and pulled out her cross necklace.

"May the good Lord protect and watch over me, as a shepherd watches over his flock."

The mummy continued to advance. Meg pulled out the necklace with its scared Muslim prayer on it, chanting in Arabic. Still the mummy advanced. Meg tried Chinese next, holding up her Buddha necklace. No dice.

Her back hit the wall, her fingers shaking as she held up the Star of David. She quickly chanted in Hebrew, closing her eyes against the attack she knew would shortly come…

Lilith paused, recognizing the language. "The language of the slaves," she said. "I may have use for you."

Meg cracked open one eye to find the mummy staring at her, but no longer making a move to attack.

"And the rewards…" Lilith said, holding out a hand and showing off various pieces of gold jewelry, "Will be great."

Meg swallowed. "My queen," she said, bowing.

Lilith held up one of Lucifer's broken canopic jars. "Where are the other sacred jars?"

They made as much progress as they could that night, but everyone was exhausted after running around screaming their heads off for the better part of an hour. Once the adrenaline wore off, it was all anyone could do to stay awake. Dean led them to a nearby oasis and they set up camp. With the diggers all dead from either scarabs or locusts and Meg missing, they were down to only seven.

Dean recruited Uriel to help him build a fire. Dr. Talbot wasn't talking to anyone, trembling and holding the black book while muttering to herself.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anna—"

Dean looked up and saw Balthazar stop himself, take a deep breath and try to stay patient.

"Here, let me."

Castiel made his way over, sitting down next to Anna and taking her hands in his. Someone had ripped up their shirt or something and had bound the scrap of fabric around Anna's eyes, but blood stained the fabric and she kept drooling. Dean figured the only thing worse than the pain had to be knowing that no one could bear to look at her.

Except Cas.

"I found your book earlier," Castiel said, picking up said book as he settled himself next to the redhead. "King Solomon's Mines. Mr. Haggard is quite popular."

Anna tried to say something, gurgling for a moment. Dean couldn't make out what she said, but Castiel nodded. "That was very nice of your friend to recommend it. Would you like me to read some to you?"

Anna nodded. Cas wiped some drool from her lips and she swallowed, hanging her head, gurgling something quietly.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Castiel whispered. His eyes were wet. "If anyone should be ashamed, it's me."

Anna didn't seem to understand that comment, keeping silent. Castiel guided her head so that it rested on his shoulder, and opened the book to where the marker was. His voice was low and soothing, rising and falling with the action of the narrative. He used one hand to turn the pages of the book in his lap, but kept holding Anna's hand with the other. Every so often he would raise his hand and stroke the woman's hair soothingly, tucking it behind her ear and keeping it out of her way. Something in Dean's chest clenched as he watched them. Castiel didn't owe Anna anything, and here he was, taking care of her.

Castiel read to Anna until she fell asleep. He inserted the marker back into the book and closed it, calling softly to Uriel and Balthazar. The two men carefully lifted Anna up and carried her into the tent, getting her comfortable before going to sleep themselves. Gabriel had turned in almost immediately, the mood far too somber for his taste, and nobody had heard a peep out of Dr. Talbot in hours.

"That was real nice, what you did for her," Dean said, getting up and walking over to Cas.

Castiel's shoulders slumped. "It's the least I could do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I woke the mummy, Dean. I set her free. If it weren't for me, Anna would be safe and happy instead of—" Castiel broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

Dean took one of Cas's hands in his and gently pulled him to his feet. "Don't go there. You had no idea what the book would do."

Cas pressed his face into Dean's chest, breathing deeply. Dean held him, burying his nose in Cas's hair. "Cas…"

Castiel shook his head. "Don't. I can't hear empty platitudes." He looked up. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you?"

Dean thought of Sam and unconsciously tightened his grip on Cas. "I'll be fine. He obviously doesn't need me. I don't need him."

"Dean—"

Dean pulled back, cupping Cas's cheeks in his hands. "I don't. I got on fine without him for three years. I can keep on keepin' on."

Cas gave a bitter chuckle. "You don't seem to need much of anything, do you cowboy?"

Castiel's tone wrapped itself around Dean's heart and squeezed. "I…" He swallowed. "I need you."

Cas blinked. "What?"

"I think… I think I might really need you, Cas."

Cas tilted his head. "Do you mean that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we're out in the desert. You're saying it now, but when we get back to Cairo are you going to just…"

"Cas." Dean swallowed. "I don't know what this is. I don't know what happens next. But I promise—fuck, I'm messing this up."

"I think you're doing fine," Cas replied, brushing their lips together.

Dean couldn't help it. He kissed him.

It turned out that when it came to kissing Cas was, like with most things, enthusiastic. He seemed shy at first, waiting for Dean to deepen the kiss and tentatively opening his mouth, like he wasn't sure he was doing it right, but once they got going he kissed with ferocity. Dean had to finally pull back when he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop touching Cas. He nuzzled at his neck, kissing up the column of his throat.

"Dean," Cas pushed at him, and at first Dean thought he was being pushed away, but then Cas took a step forward, keeping them close together as he walked Dean backward. The other expedition had extra tents now that the diggers were all dead, so they'd offered them to Dean, Castiel and Gabriel. It was toward Dean's tent that Cas was now pushing him.

"Whoa, whoa." Dean grabbed Cas's wrists, stopping him. "You know what you're doing?"

Cas blinked at him, baby blue eyes looking owlish in the light of the campfire. "I'll admit I'm a virgin, Dean, but that doesn't mean I am uneducated—or an idiot."

Dean shook his head. "You're something else."

Cas slipped his wrists out of Dean's lax grip and slid a hand around to grip the back of his neck, holding him in place so that he could kiss him. "And you're wearing too many clothes."

Dean grinned at Cas's growling tone and took his hand, stepping back to lead him properly into the tent. The second the flap closed behind them Cas was on him, kissing him like he would die if he didn't. Dean stumbled and they fell onto the sleeping mat in a tangled mess of limbs, still kissing. Cas ended up on top, straddling Dean's lap, and he nearly lost it at just the feel of their bodies aligning. He groaned, trying to work a hand between them and get some of these damn clothes off, but Cas started rocking his hips and fuck if he'd been hard before…

"Cas, Cas, stop. Hold on." Dean yanked his head back, panting. He could feel Cas's erection against his, a delicious, hard line of friction to rut against, and his own erection twitched in response. Dean swallowed. "Unless you want this to be over in the next five minutes, we need to get some clothes off."

Cas nodded, looking a bit sheepish. Dean brushed their noses together and slid his hands up underneath Cas's black top, thumbs stroking along the outline of his ribs. Cas arched into the touch, making a purring noise. Dean grinned, helping pull the shirt up and over Cas's head. With clothes finally out of the way, Dean could see what kind of body Cas had—and he was far from disappointed. The guy was build like a runner or swimmer, all muscle and with a lean build. His pants perched on top of his hipbones, just begging to be slid down and off his legs.

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester could resist temptation.

Cas wiggled out of his pants, kicking them aside, and Dean's mouth watered. He flipped them, ignoring Cas's indignant yelp, and lowered his head to bite softly at one of those jutting hipbones. Cas pushed his hips up into Dean's mouth, a strangled moan twisting out of his throat. Dean grinned, licking at the bite mark, enjoying the thought of how it would bruise the next morning. Cas tugged at Dean's shoulders, pulling him back up and crashing their mouths together, digging a hand into Dean's hair to hold him there. Dean let his lower body pin Cas to the floor, stopping Cas from grinding them together. Cas writhed, trying to get some leverage, but failed—Dean's body was just too heavy. He focused his attentions then on getting Dean out of his clothes, pushing Dean's shoulder holsters off and unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as his fumbling fingers would allow. Dean sat up, shrugging off his shirt and divesting himself of his pants. Cas leaned back on his elbows, a small smile dancing around the corners of his lips.

"What?" Dean asked. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

"Just admiring the view," Cas replied, his smile growing. Dean was magnificent. Cas had known the face was something belonging to a Greek god, and he had known, idly in the back of his mind, that Dean had to be fit for all the physical work that he'd been doing. But he hadn't really put the two together until just now.

Dean cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious. Cas placed his hands on Dean's chest, slowly running them up the planes of his body. Dean had always been slightly self-conscious—he knew he was good looking, sure, but there was that softness in his belly that refused to go away, and his bowlegs that earned more than a few jokes… but when Cas looked at him, eyes shining and mouth open in reverence, Dean felt—he felt valued. Cas was so different from anyone else, curious and eager, without guile or hidden purpose. It was exhilarating, freeing even, but it was also terrifying.

But then, a three thousand year old mummy was on the loose, the world was ending, and his brother was back from the dead. If there was ever a time to risk his heart, it was now.

Cas's hands slid up to his shoulders, pulling him down. This time Dean kept the kiss slow, trying to turn this inferno of desire into something tempered, something slower burning. He wanted to make this last.

"How do you want this?" He asked, mouthing the words against Cas's lips.

"What?" Cas pulled back just an inch so that he could see Dean's eyes. It was hard, with the dim light of the tent, but he could just make out the lust and amusement shining in them.

"I mean…" Dean lowered his head, sucking at Cas's fluttering pulse. "Do you want me to ride you? Do you want to be inside me, working me, making me go crazy?" He danced his fingers down Cas's chest and stomach, wrapping them loosely around his erection. Cas whimpered. "Or do you want me to get inside you? Fuck you slow and deep until you scream, making sure you'll feel it the next day?" He moved his head down further, kissing his down Cas's chest.

Cas panted, his eyes glazing over with desire. "I want—I want you inside of me."

Dean grinned, flicking his tongue against one of Cas's nipples, circling it with his thumb. "Whatever you say."

He sat back on his knees, the sudden loss of heat and contact making Cas growl with frustration. Dean reached for his bag, rustling through it. Shaving cream wouldn't work… ah-ha! Dean grabbed the small bottle of petroleum jelly. He used it for chapped lips and cuts out in the desert, and he was ninety percent sure it would work in this situation, too. He uncapped the bottle and dipped his fingers in, coating them up before setting the bottle aside for later.

"I'll go as slow as I can," he said, crawling back so he was hovering over Cas, "but I need you to tell me if it hurts, okay?"

Cas nodded, pupils blown wide and a flush on his cheeks. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen anything so gorgeous.

He used his knee to nudge Cas's legs further apart, sliding the lotion-covered hand down between them. He leaned down as far as he could, kissing Cas softly, distracting him as he started to get to work. He tried to keep it slow, circling his finger around the hole, working up and down, leaving a messy trail and teasing Cas until he was begging into Dean's mouth, his pleads swallowed with the kisses. "What was that, Cas?" Dean asked. He was being a little shit, and he knew it. "I couldn't quite understand you."

Cas gripped at his shoulders, glaring. "I said, stop teasing and get inside of me, Winchester, before I change my mind."

"Feisty."

"You like it—oh." Cas's sentence ended in a gasp as Dean slid a finger inside.

"Relax," Dean murmured, running his lips along Cas's jaw. He moved slowly, waiting until Cas was pushing back onto him and clenching around him before adding another finger. Dean hadn't been the one taking it in a long time, but he remembered the burn, the stretch, and how it moved from pain to pleasure. He also knew how the pleasure could never come, and the pain could only grow greater, if it wasn't done properly.

By the time he was three fingers in, Cas was canting his hips, clawing at Dean's back for more. A part of him wanted to draw this out, to see if he could get Cas to come just from this, teasing and scissoring and seeking out that spot that would make Cas scream, but he knew that this wasn't the time. That could be for later, when they had a bed and a room all to themselves, not while they were in the middle of the desert with several people sleeping a few feet away. His stomach jolted at the thought of there being a later, but the initial shock bled away, turning into something warm that spread through his entire body, something glowing and hopeful.

He withdrew his fingers, kissing away the whine that worked its way out of Cas's throat. "Dean," Cas gasped. "Dean, please."

Dean nodded, brushing their lips together again. "Whatever you want."

Cas splayed his legs even farther apart, looking wanton and desperate, and Dean had to keep his hands from shaking as he coated himself with the jelly, stroking a few times for good measure. He didn't really need it, though—just looking at Cas like that was enough.

He hiked Cas's legs up and took himself in hand, nudging against Cas's entrance. He entered as slowly as he could, stroking along Cas's sides soothingly. He didn't know a lot about ancient Egypt, or archeology, or books in general, but he knew this. He could leave the rest to Cas—he could take care of him like this. With bullets and fire, with kisses and flushed skin, he could take care of him.

Cas's breath hitched as Dean pressed into him, a shudder working through Dean's body at the feel of being surrounded, engulfed, consumed. Cas clenched and fluttered around him at first, adjusting to the feel, and Dean continued to run soothing hands up and down his sides, peppering soft kisses along his chest. Cas thumped his heels against Dean's back. "I might be wrong," he hissed, "But I was under the impression that this involved you moving."

Dean grinned against Cas's skin. "That can be arranged."

He started thrusting, shallowly at first, but harder and deeper after Cas started rocking back into him. It was dizzying, the combination of feeling and seeing Cas, of making him come apart even as Dean fell to pieces himself, especially when he hit that sweet spot and Cas let out a hearty moan. He leaned forward, covering Cas's mouth with his hand, biting down hard on his lip when Cas licked at his fingers, sucking them into his mouth.

"Gotta keep quiet," Dean ground out.

Mischief sparked in Cas's eyes and he moaned around Dean's fingers, the little shit. Dean sped up a little, hitting that spot inside of Cas again and again, stars dancing along the edges of his vision. He could barely think anymore, everything narrowing down to Cas, Cas, Cas. With Cas's cries muffled by Dean's fingers and Dean's own groans held in and swallowed, the only sound was the of skin slapping against skin, exhilarating in its obscenity.

"C'mon," Dean whispered, wrapping a hand around Cas's erection, giving it a few pulls. "I want to see you." He wanted to see if Cas was as gorgeous as Dean imagined he'd be.

The black of Cas's pupils almost completely swallowed the blue and his hips stuttered, a choking sound emerging from his throat. Dean felt the erection in his hand stiffen and for a wild moment he considered squeezing the base of it, holding Cas off, but decided that was for another time, a time when he could take forever and make Cas beg. Instead he continued stroking, increasing his pace so that Cas came with a howl, biting down slightly on Dean's fingers to try and keep the sound inside. The sight of Cas completely losing it, his eyes rolling back into his head and his entire body flushing, did Dean in. His vision went white as he came, his entire body seizing up. In his mind, all he could see was the blue of Cas's eyes.

The first thing he became aware of was the taste of blood in his mouth. He ran his tongue over his lip and realized he had bitten it so hard he'd cut it open. He felt an ache running throughout his body and grinned. It had been a long time—too long—since sex had left him that mindless.

The next thing he became aware of was the body underneath his. It was warm and solid, arms wrapped around him and lying heavy and soothing on his back, one leg slotted between his. Dean cracked open one eye and was met with Cas's face, lines smoothed out in his sleep. He must have flopped down on top of Cas when they were finished and promptly passed out.

Smiling, Dean curled his arm a little tighter around Cas, indulging in a kiss to his shoulder. Judging by the lack of light seeping into the tent it was still night, or at least early in the morning. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Dean allowed himself ten minutes or so to just lie there, admiring the slight twitches and shifts in Cas's face as he dreamed.

As consciousness grew, so did his realization of the danger they were in. He turned them so that Cas was completely in his arms underneath him, sheltered from all harm. "I'm taking you away from here," he whispered into Cas's hair. "I'm keeping you safe."

Castiel woke slowly, awareness growing the longer he lay there. Dean was on top of him—actually, wrapped around him would be a more accurate term. The weight of Dean's body was warm and heavy, like a blanket and a heater all in one, and Castiel sighed contentedly. He nuzzled into Dean's collarbone, eager to close his eyes and forget about the world.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean murmured. "Or night, whatever it is. Too dark to tell."

Castiel hummed. He didn't ever want to move again.

"We should probably clean up, and you need to move back into your tent before your brother finds out and kills me."

"Gabriel wouldn't kill you," Castiel replied, nosing at Dean's clavicle. "He's too intimidated by you."

Castiel could feel as well as hear Dean's chuckle. "I'd rather not have the other expedition thinking less of you."

"Let them," Castiel yawned. He could sense Dean's reluctance, and he snuggled closer. "Just five more minutes."

Dean tightened his grip, rubbing circles into Castiel's back. Castiel was helpless against the purr that worked its way out of his chest.

"Five more minutes," Dean agreed.

Fort Brydon – Cairo

There weren't a lot of safe places for foreigners to stay in Cairo, so most of them either rented rooms by the month in upscale hotels or kept small apartments in forts run by Great Britain. Castiel had such an apartment, consisting of a bedroom with a four-poster bed and a desk area, plus a sitting room with a table, piano, and an entire wall lined with bookshelves—stuffed with books, of course. The room design was tasteful, an interesting mix of British and Egyptian styles. It was, in fact, an extension of Castiel's character. He had even been gracious enough to insist Anna stay there, leading her into a chair, getting some tea for her and putting some music on the gramophone.

Not that Dean really had time to admire such things as décor when he was busy trying to get them the hell out of there.

Dean grabbed a load of Castiel's clothes from the closet and threw them into the open suitcase. "I thought you said you didn't believe in that fairy tales and hokum stuff." He glared at Castiel's white cat, Cleo. "Shoo!"

Castiel scooped Cleo up into his arms, glaring at Dean. "Well having an encounter with a three thousand year old walking, talking corpse does tend to convert one!" He set Cleo down on the floor and grabbed his clothes out of the suitcase, putting them back in the closet.

"Forget it!" Dean rifled through a drawer, shoving Cas's underwear into the suitcase. "We're out the door, we're down the hall and we're gone."

"Oh, no, we are not," Cas sniped, snatching back his underwear.

"Oh, yes we are." Dean dumped a pile of books into the suitcase.

"Oh, no, we are not." Cas started picking up the books and stacking them back on the desk. "We woke him up and we are going to stop him."

"We? What we?" Dean demanded. "We didn't read that book. I told you not to play around with that thing. Didn't I tell you not to play around with that thing?"

"Yes, then, me, me, me, me, I, I, I, woke him up and I intend to stop him."

"Oh yeah? How?" Dean picked up Cas's typewriter. "You heard Sam—no mortal weapons can kill this guy."

"Well then we are just going to have to find some immortal ones!" Cas took the typewriter from Dean's hands and set it back on the desk.

"There goes that 'we' again," Dean noted.

"Will you listen to me?" Castiel asked, walking around to stand in front of Dean. "We have to do something! Once this creature has been reborn his curse is going to spread until the whole of the Earth is destroyed."

"Yeah? And how is that my problem?" Or yours, Dean wanted to add. Let Sam take care of it. He'd clearly been doing a fine job by himself all these years.

"It is everybody's problem," Castiel replied.

"Cas, I appreciate you saving my life and all, but when I signed on, I agreed to take you out there and to bring you back, and I have done that. End of job, end of story, contract terminated!"

"That's all I am to you?" The hurt in Cas's eyes was painful to look at. "A contract?"

Dean swallowed, trying to keep his tone even. "Look you can either tag along with me, or you can stay here and try to save the world. What's it gonna be?"

"I'm staying," Cas replied without hesitation.

"Fine!"

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Dean closed the door behind him with a little more force than necessary, leaving Cas red-faced and empty inside.

Dean made his way down to the bar in the lobby of the building. It was, ironically, one of his regular haunts, and he wondered at never running into Castiel there before. Then again, Cas didn't seem the type to spend time in a bar.

That damn librarian was the reason Dean needed a drink.

He was trying to keep the idiot safe! What, did the guy think Dean offered to take just anyone along with him? He was offering to take Cas with him, to be with him, and Cas simply refused to budge. Didn't he see that he was going to get himself killed if he tried to go up against this thing?

"I'm the last of the Royal Air Corps still stationed out here, you know—what? Some bloody idiot spilt his drink."

Dean sighed. The last thing he needed right now was Rufus. He knew, without even looking, that the elderly pilot had gotten himself sloshed and had stepped through the fountain in the center of the room again. He was probably accompanied by one of the former dancing girls as well, the ones that took sympathy on him and took it upon themselves to escort him from place to place so he didn't fall into a ditch and die somewhere.

"All the other laddies died in the sky and were buried in the sand. Good chaps, every one of them, too."

Dean sat down next to Gabriel, who was moodily downing shots. "Hey, Rufus," Dean said, nodding at the pilot.

"Ye—uh—you know, Winchester," Rufus said, turning his attention from his escort to Dean, "Ever sine the end of the Great War, there hasn't been a—a single challenge worthy of a man like me."

"Yeah?" Dean grumbled. "We all got our little problems today, don't we Rufus?"

"I just wish I could have chucked it in with the others and gone down in flame and glory instead of…" Rufus started.

"…sitting here rotting away from boredom and booze," Dean said, mumbling the rest of the sentence along with the pilot.

"Cheers," Rufus said, snagging a bottle of fine whiskey and clapping both Gabriel and Dean on the back. "Oh, well, back to the airfield."

As Rufus ambled off, Dean leaned into Gabriel. "Tell me, has your brother always been—"

"Oh, yes, always."

Uriel sat himself down on Gabriel's other side, Balthazar right behind him. "Well, we're all packed up, but the boat doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."

"Tail tucked firmly between your legs, I see," Gabriel said.

"You can talk," Uriel replied, eyes flashing. "You don't have a sacred walking corpse after you."

"So, uh, how's Anna?" Dean asked.

"She had her eyes and her tongue ripped out," Balthazar snapped, brooding. "How would you be?"

"I'm so pleased to meet you," Anna gurgled, reaching out as best she could to shake her visitor's hand.

Meg snatched her wrist, holding it in a vicelike grip. "High Priestess Lilith does not like to be touched. A silly Eastern superstition, I'm afraid."

"Please forgive me," Anna said, inclining her head toward her visitor. She turned to pick up the teapot and pour the tea, but she missed and sent a teacup clattering to the floor. Tears would have leaked out if she could still cry.

"Uh-oh. Whoops." Meg smiled, putting a hand on Anna's shoulder. "Miss Milton, Lilith thanks you for your hospitality."

Anna smiled as best she could.

"And for your eyes," Meg whispered.

Anna's mouth fell open.

"And for your tongue."

Anna began trembling, realizing who her visitor was.

"But I am afraid more is needed."

Anna reached for Meg, clawing at her, begging her please, no, please, but Meg stepped away, out of the woman's reach.

"The priestess must finish the job and consummate the curse, which you and your friends have brought down upon yourselves," Meg finished, smiling wickedly.

"Please," Anna whimpered. "Please no!"

Lilith lifted her hood, revealing her skeletal, dried-out face, and smiled.

"Good luck, boys," Balthazar said, raising his glass in a toast. Everyone took a gulp of alcohol—and spit it out. "Sweet Jesus. Tasted just like—"

"Blood," Dean whispered, voice hoarse. The glass slipped out of his hands and dropped to the floor, shattering. Dean paid it no mind, the sound not even registering as he stood, staring at the water fountain in the center of the room. The liquid pouring out of it was now a bright red.

"And the rivers and waters of Egypt ran red," Gabriel recited, "And were as blood."

"She's here," Dean breathed.

He dashed out of the room and into the courtyard. He saw Castiel, making his way down the walkway, book in hand, and tore after him. "Oh, Cas!"

"Oh," Cas looked up, a flash of something wonderful in his eyes before he tamped it down and assumed a look of indifference. "So you're still here."

Dean grinned sarcastically. "We've got problems."

Thunder clashed overhead, and a strange burning smell filled the air seconds before a literal fireball careened through the sky and crashed into the courtyard. People screamed, running without thought or direction, and Dean had a sinking feeling that the rain of fire was over the entire city.

He grabbed Cas by the forearm and hurried him along. He had to get Cas out of there and to someplace safe, Cas's stubbornness be damned. As they paused by the stairway, Dean heard a noise behind him and whirled in time to see Meg trying to sneak away from him.

"Hey!" He dashed up and grabbed her, pinning her to the wall. "Meg, you little stinkweed, where you been?"

An unholy roar resounded from upstairs and Meg twisted away, hurrying off. Dean and Cas stared at each other, green into blue, and both dashed up the stairs at the same time. They ran all the way up the stairs and into Castiel's rooms, where they froze.

"Oh no," Cas breathed.

"Damn. I actually liked her," Dean grumbled.

Anna's dried out husk of a body lay in her chair, her bandage still covering her empty eye sockets.

A strange cracking, ripping sound drew their eyes away from Anna's corpse to the farther side of the room.

Lilith twisted and arched her body as new muscles—Anna's muscles—wrapped themselves around her body, Anna's organs inserting themselves into and around the brittle bones, giving them new life.

"We are in serious trouble," Dean admitted.

Lilith turned and saw them, her eyes widening in surprise before narrowing in malice. She began advancing, taking great strides toward them, growling. Dean drew both his pistols and began firing, embedding all of his bullets right into Lilith's chest. The mummy roared in anger, grabbing Dean and shoving him across the room, sending him careening into Uriel, Balthazar, and Gabriel as they entered and landing all four of them in a tangled heap.

Grunting in satisfaction, Lilith turned toward Castiel and advanced. Cas backed slowly, stopping only when his back hit the bookshelf. Dean struggled to untangle himself from the other three men, trying to reach Cas in time.

"You saved me from the undead," Lilith told Castiel, speaking in ancient Egyptian. "I thank you."

The mummy leaned in, preparing to give Castiel a kiss…

The sound of a discordant piano drew everyone's attention, and Lilith saw Cleo, Castiel's cat, prancing along the piano. The mummy hissed in fear, eyes going wide, and whirled around the room. Her body shrank and then expanded, turning into a sandstorm, a miniature dervish that unleashed a hellish moan before swirling out the window.

While Balthazar and Uriel hurried over to Anna's body and Gabriel scraped himself off the floor (having landed on the bottom of the pile), Dean ran over and checked on Cas. He might have ran his hands over Cas's body even though he knew it was unnecessary, checking for damage.

"We are in very serious trouble," Dean admitted.

Castiel ordered them all to the Museum of Antiquities, leading the way through the halls. Dean and Gabriel were right behind him, with Uriel and Balthazar following a bit more reluctantly.

"He does seem to like Cassie," Gabriel noted.

"Yeah, what's that about?" Dean demanded.

"What's this bloke want anyhow?" Balthazar asked.

"There's only one person I know that can possibly give us any answers," Castiel said, leading them around the corner and stopping short. Dean and Gabriel nearly ran into him, surprised by his abrupt halt—and realized what Cas saw.

"You!" Everyone shouted at once.

Sam and Dr. Robert Singer turned, long suffering looks on their faces.

"Mr. Novak," Dr. Singer said. "Gentlemen."

"Bobby?" Dean asked, stepping forward. "Sam?"

"You know him?" Castiel asked.

"This—this is Bobby," Dean said, gesturing at the curator. "The man who raised me an' Sam after our parents die." He turned back to his family. "What is going on here?"

"Do you really want to know," Bobby asked, "Or would you rather just shoot us?"

Dean glared. "I figure a few explanations are in order."

Everyone got settled in. Gabriel opted to hop into a chariot, while Dean sat down in some kind of royal chair. Castiel was too jittery to sit, but opted to stand by Dean's chair. Dean had his arms dangling over the arms of the chair and Castiel placed his hand on one, feeling the muscle underneath twitch and then relax at his touch. Castiel saw that Sam had noticed, but other than a slightly arched eyebrow the younger Winchester didn't say anything.

"We are part of an ancient secret society," Bobby began. "For over three thousand years we have guarded the City of the Dead. We are sworn at manhood to do any and all in our power to stop the High Priestess Lilith from being reborn into this world."

"Now because of you, we have failed," Sam intoned, glancing at Castiel.

Dean glared and started to rise out of his chair, but Castiel tightened his hold. He knew things between the brothers were strained—he didn't want to be the cause of a fight.

"Why him?" Dean demanded. "Why not me? Why keep it a secret?"

"You never had any interest in it," Bobby replied. "And if one of us was going to live a normal life, boy, might as well be you. You've got enough of a hero complex without settin' you up for something like this."

"You still could have told me!" Dean replied, his voice rising to a shout.

"You never would have let me join, Dean!" Sam replied.

"And that excuses the lying?" Dean retorted.

"This is bigger than both of us, Dean."

"And you think this justifies the killing of innocent people?" Castiel snapped.

"To stop this creature?" Bobby said. "Let me think."

"Yes!" Bobby and Sam shouted together.

Castiel and Sam glared at each other.

"Question," Dean said, holding up a finger. "Why doesn't she like cats?"

"Cats are the guardians of the underworld," Bobby said gruffly. "She'll fear 'em until she is fully regenerated."

"And then she will fear nothing," Sam added.

"Yeah, and you know how he gets himself fully regenerated?" Balthazar asked.

"By killing everyone who opened that chest," Uriel said.

"And sucking them dry, that's how!" Balthazar added.

"Gabriel, will you stop playing with that?" Castiel chastised. Gabriel carefully set the bow and arrow back down, looking sheepish. Castiel turned back to Sam and Bobby. "When I saw her alive at Hamunaptra, she called me Lucifer."

Bobby and Sam stiffened.

"And then just now with Miss Milton… she tried to kiss me."

"It's because of her love for Lucifer that she was cursed," Bobby said, frowning. "Seems like even after three thousand years—"

"She is still in love with him," Sam finished.

"Yes, well, that is very romantic," Castiel said, "But what has it got to do with me?"

"Perhaps she will once again try to raise him from the dead," Sam said to Bobby, ignoring Castiel.

"And it appears that she has already chosen her human sacrifice," Bobby said. Both men turned to stare at Castiel.

Dean turned his arm over and gripped Cas's wrist painfully tightly.

Gabriel sighed, making a face. "Bad luck, old mum."

"On the other hand," Bobby said, "It may just give us the time we need to kill the creature."

"We'll need all the help we can get," Sam said, gazing upward. "Her powers are growing."

Everyone looked up, through the massive circular skylight, and saw the moon pass over the sun in a solar eclipse.

"And He stretched forth His hand towards the heavens," Gabriel recited, "And there was darkness throughout the land of Egypt."

Back at Castiel's apartment, the librarian paced up and down. "We must stop him from regenerating," he said. "Who opened that chest?"

"Well," Uriel said, "There was myself and Balthazar here. And Anna, of course."

"And Bela, the Egyptologist," Balthazar added.

"What about my buddy Meg?" Dean asked.

"No," Balthazar answered. "She scrammed out of there before we opened the damn thing."

"She was the smart one," Uriel noted wryly.

"Well, that sounds like Meg," Dean admitted.

"We must find Dr. Talbot and bring her back to the safety of the fort before the creature can get to her," Castiel said. Sam was out hunting the mummy, but he didn't trust the younger Winchester to kill her in time.

"Right." Dean nodded. "He stays here." He pointed at Castiel. "You three, come with me."

Balthazar, Uriel, and Gabriel all immediately began protesting as to why they should stay, while Castiel shouted indignantly that he should think not, now wait a minute you can't just leave me behind like some old carpet bag, I mean, who put you in charge—

Dean strode across the room, scooped the librarian up, hauled him over his shoulder like a caveman, and began carrying Castiel into his bedroom.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted. "What do you think you are doing? Gabriel! Dean!"

"Sorry," Gabriel called. "I'd try to stop him but he's a bit… tall."

"Gabriel, coward that you are!" Castiel shouted. "Dean you cannot leave me in here!"

Dean set Castiel down on the bed, pecked him on the lips, and strode back out of the bedroom, closing and locking the doors behind him. Castiel banged on the other side of the door, still shouting that Gabriel, if you don't open this door in one minute flat—

Dean yanked Balthazar over by the shirt and jabbed at his chest. "This door doesn't open," he said. "He doesn't come out, and no one goes in. Right?"

"Right," Balthazar said.

"Right?" Dean asked, looking over at Uriel.

"Right," Uriel said.

Dean released Balthazar and began heading out of the room. "Let's go, Gabriel."

"Oh, I thought I could just stay at the fort and, uh, reconnoiter…"

"Now!"

"Yeah, right." Gabriel stood up, glancing at Balthazar and Uriel. "We're just gonna rescue Dr. Talbot."

The sound of Castiel's banging and shouting followed them out the door.

Finding Dr. Talbot's office was easy enough—the Egyptologist had gotten herself quite a reputation with the locals. It was located in the bazaar, above a spice store owned and run by a family with three small kids and an apartment in the back on the first floor. Dean and Gabriel took the back stairs, pausing when they found the room to Dr. Talbot's place was slightly ajar.

Dean put a finger to his lips, drew his gun, and banged open the door.

Meg, who was in the process of frantically tossing papers about and dumping out drawers as she searched the place, jumped a mile.

"Well, well, well," Dean said. "Let me guess. Spring cleaning?"

Meg turned and sprinted for the window, but Dean picked up the office chair and threw it across the room. The chair smashed into Meg, sending her sprawling.

"Nice shot," Gabriel said.

"Oh, Meg, did you fall down?" Dean asked, striding across the room. "Let me help you up." He bent down and yanked her up, shoving her against the wall. "You came back from the desert with a new friend, didn't you, Meg?"

"What friend?" Meg asked, blinking innocently. "You are my only friend."

Dean rolled his eyes. Wrong answer. He turned and shoved Meg down onto the desk. "What the hell are you doing with this creep? What's in it for you?"

Meg smiled. "It's better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. As long as I serve Lilith, I am immune."

Dean thumped the table. "Immune from what?"

Meg cursed under her breath.

"What did you say?"

"I don't want to tell you," Meg said. "You'll just hurt me some more."

Dean growled. "What are you looking for? And try not to lie to me."

He hoisted her up so that Meg's head was just an inch below the swiftly spinning blades of the ceiling fan. His arms shook a little from the effort of holding her up there, but he planted his feet and kept her there. Cas's life depended on Meg's information.

Meg shrieked, trying to twist away from the fan blades. "The book!" She cried out. "The black book they found at Hamunaptra. She wants it back. She said to me it would be worth its weight in gold."

"What does she want the book for?" Gabriel asked.

Meg rolled her eyes at him. "Oh c'mon, I don't know."

Dean hoisted her even closer to the fan blades and Meg shrieked again. "Something about bringing her dead boyfriend back to life! But that's all. She just wants the book, I swear. Just the book, I swear." Meg paused. "Oh, and your brother." Dean growled. "But other than that—"

A chorus of shrieks filled the air and Dean lowered Meg to the floor and she kneed him in the groin, sprinting across the room and launching herself out of the window, landing in a heap on top of some sacks of grain. Dean and Gabriel ran to the window and peered out into the darkened street. The crowd parted, screaming and muttering protective blessings as they backed away, making a circle around the dried out body of Dr. Bela Talbot. The corpse still clutched the black Book of the Dead in its shriveled arms, and as Dean and Gabriel watched a tall figure bent down and picked it up, cradling it against its chest.

"Lilith," Dean growled.

The mummy turned, now looking like a zombie with her pale, half-rotted flesh. She caught sight of the two men in the window and let out an inhuman growl, stretching her jaw down unnaturally far as she let out a roar. A swarm of flies flew out of her mouth and headed straight for Dean and Gabriel. The two men reeled back and slammed the shutters closed on the window, escaping the flies, who swarmed around the people in the marketplace. The people shrieked and ran around blindly, trying to escape the swarm. Lilith walked through them calmly, book in hand.

"That's two down, two to go," Dean said.

Gabriel frowned. "And then he'll be coming after Castiel."

Uriel lounged in one of the chairs while Balthazar stood looking out the window, listening to the fort guards reporting all clear. It had been mind-numbingly boring the past couple of hours. Castiel had banged on the door for a good twenty minutes, and then attempted to pick the lock, before finally trying to bargain with them. But while the younger Novak brother could be terrifying in his own way, Dean had several loaded guns on his person, and both Balthazar and Uriel knew he wouldn't hesitate to use them should he discover Castiel had left the room and gotten himself into trouble—again.

"To hell with this," Balthazar said. "I'm going downstairs, get me a drink." He glanced over at his companion. "You want anything?"

"Get me a glass of bourbon."

"All right."

"And a shot of bourbon," Uriel added.

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"And a bourbon chaser!" Uriel called.

"I'll get your damn bourbon!" Balthazar shouted as he went down the hall, leaving the door open.

"Don't worry about the door," Uriel said sarcastically, closing the door after him.

The room was eerily silent now that Balthazar was gone, with his jokes and quips. About an hour ago Castiel had announced, very loudly, through the door that he was going to bed. It had taken Uriel and Balthazar a minute to realize that "going to bed" was actually "trying to escape through the bedroom window," but once they'd dragged him back into the apartment Castiel had told them that he really was going to bed this time. With him asleep and no one else in the room and the wind blowing the curtains like that…

Uriel got out his gun and twirled it around, pointing it at the chair. He grinned. Balthazar could grumble about it all he wanted, but Uriel had always been the fastest draw out of the three of them.

A fierce gust of wind blew into the room and Uriel jumped, pointing his gun at the open window.

No one was there.

Sighing, Uriel tucked his gun back into its holster. He was so wound up he was seeing ghosts out of the corner of his eye. He just needed to relax.

Sand blew into the room in a whirlwind, sweeping Uriel off his feet and buffeting him about. He writhed and screamed, helpless against an enemy that he couldn't see, couldn't feel, his wails dying into a strangled croak as his organs and bodily fluids were sucked out of him. He fell to the floor, a dried out-husk, and the sand began to compress itself, transforming into a human being.

Lilith.

She was almost completely regenerated now, with only a few patches of rotted skin showing. She turned toward the closed bedroom door and smiled. A scarab beetle crawled out of her robes and up her body, into her ragged, hollow cheek. Lilith crunched down on it, making the beetle squeal as she chewed on it, relishing the bitter taste. She stepped over Uriel's body and made her way toward the bedroom, smiling.

Castiel twitched slightly in bed. His dreams were filled with darkness and danger, a smothering sense of dread that he couldn't shake. He wandered, lost, reaching for something or someone.

Sand began to pour in through the keyhole of the closed bedroom door, piling up on the floor before rising up and transforming back into Lilith. She approached the bed carefully, perching on the edge of it.

"Lucifer," she whispered.

The mummy leaned down, deliberate but without hesitation, and pressed her lips to Castiel's. As she moved their mouths together her glowing skin morphed into rotting flesh, decaying at the touch of a truly living being.

In Castiel's dream he felt a hand grab him, anchoring him. A soft, familiar chuckle echoed in his ears and he felt warm lips press to his. Dean.

But—but now the lips were cold, so cold, and forceful in a way Dean's had not. And they felt odd, almost like rotted meat…

Castiel opened his eyes, realized who was kissing him, and gave a muffled scream.

Dean kicked the door down, Gabriel right behind him. "Hey!" Dean's face was a study in righteous fury. "Get your ugly face offa him!"

Lilith broke the kiss, turning to Dean and shouting in ancient Eyptian, the lower half of her face completely rotted. Dean just grinned. "Look what I got!"

He held up Cleo the cat, who hissed and spit at Lilith.

The mummy gave a howl of terror and turned into a whirl of sand, swirling out the window. The resulting wind knocked Castiel off the bed, where he landed in a heap. Cleo jumped out of Dean's arms and followed the sand, hissing at it, before trotting contentedly over to the bed and promptly curling up to sleep.

"You all right?" Dean asked, gazing at Cas.

"Well," Gabriel said, rubbing at his heart, "I'm not sure."

Dean turned and stared at Gabriel.

Balthazar entered the room, two drinks in hand, and froze, dropping them, as he saw Uriel's body. Dean grimaced. "Looks like she got him."

"Did—" Balthazar swallowed. "What about Bela?"

Gabriel shook his head, and Balthazar sank down into the chair. He was the only one left now.

Dean helped Castiel up, slipping an arm around his waist. "You all right?" He repeated, voice low.

Cas nodded. "Yes." He made a face. "Nasty taste, though."

Dean glanced over at Gabriel, making sure the guy was looking the other way before smashing their mouths together, his tongue slipping in before Castiel could do more than gasp. "How's that?"

Castiel felt a little lightheaded, but in a good way. "Better."

"According to legend," Castiel explained, leading everyone through the museum, "The black book that the other expedition found at Hamunaptra is supposed to bring people back from the dead. Until now it was a notion I was unwilling to believe."

"Believe it," Dean replied. "It's what brought Lilith back to life."

"Yes," Castiel nodded. "And I'm thinking that if the black book can bring dead people back to life, then—"

Dean grinned. "Then maybe the gold book can kill him."

"That's the myth. Now we just have to find out where the gold book is hidden."

A low chanting leaked in from outside, and everyone hurried to the upper window to look.

An immense mob, the entire population of Cairo, in fact, was marching through the streets and toward the museum. Their eyes were blank, staring straight ahead without seeming to actually take in what they were seeing, and their skin was covered in open, festering sores and great puss-filled boils and blisters. As they walked they chanted in unison:

"Lilith, Lilith, Lilith, Lilith, Lilith…"

"Last but not least," Gabriel said, "My favorite plague—boils and sores."

Dean frowned. "Wasn't there one more?"

Castiel's eyes widened. "Death of—"

Gabriel made a choking noise and fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, his eyes goggling. Dean sank down alongside him a second later, struggling to breathe. Castiel made a noise of anguish, looking from one to the other, unsure who to try and help first. Sam bent down and propped Dean up, while Balthazar tried to get Gabriel into a sitting position.

"What do we do?" Castiel asked, desperately trying to get Gabriel to breathe, one hand clutching at Dean's shoulder. Both men were turning purple and a strange blackness was coloring their blood veins, making them stand out against their clammy skin. "We have to do do something!"

Bobby whipped something out of his pocket and grabbed both Gabriel and Dean, yanking them over and dipping his fingers into the vial, painting a sign on their foreheads. The moment he finished the symbols, Dean and Gabriel began to be able to breathe again.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "What the hell, Bobby?"

"Goat's blood," Castiel breathed. "You're a genius."

He clutched at his brother, breathing a sigh of relief before helping Gabriel to his feet. Sam helped Dean up and Castiel turned to him, burying his face into Dean's chest, letting Dean wrap his arms around him. He had to fight to bring his breathing under control. He had nearly just lost his brother and his… his… whatever Dean was. He couldn't lose Gabriel—he was the only family he had left. And he couldn't lose Dean. He absolutely couldn't lose Dean.

As the realization dawned, something dark and consuming took root in Castiel's heart. Lilith had brought these plagues upon the land, and in doing so had nearly cost Castiel the two people he cared about most in the world. He tightened his grip on Dean.

He was going to kill Lilith, whatever it took.

"What?" Gabriel squawked. "You put goat's blood on our foreheads?"

"The last plague is death of all firstborn sons," Castiel explained. "But the houses that had a sign in goat's blood over the door were spared. Gabriel is the firstborn son in our family, and Dean is the firstborn in his."

"Your forehead should do to bypass the curse for you two," Bobby said.

"I have a few older brothers back home," Balthazar said. "Will they be safe?"

"So far Lilith's reach only seems to extend to Cairo, and perhaps the surrounding area," Sam said. "I think other countries are fine for now."

"Until she raises Lucifer from the dead, anyway," Bobby griped.

"What's up with them?" Gabriel asked, pointing out the window.

"They have become his slaves," Sam said. "The beginning of the end has begun."

"Not quite yet," Castiel said, drawing back from Dean. His eyes flashed with blue fire. "Come on."

He led them down the hall toward an immense black stone. It stood seven feet high and was the only known document with information on Hamunaptra.

"According to Bembridge scholars, the golden Book of Amun Ra is located inside the statue of Anubis."

"That's where we found the black book," Balthazar said.

"Exactly," Castiel replied, eyes shining.

"Looks like the old boys at Bembridge were mistaken," Gabriel noted.

"Yes, they mixed the books up," Castiel said, beginning to decipher the hieroglyphs. "Mixed up where they were buried. So if the black book is inside the statue of Anubis then the golden book must be inside—"

The front doors burst open and the mob rushed inside.

"Come on, Cassie, faster," Gabriel said nervously.

"Patience is a virtue," Castiel replied, fingers twitching nervously.

Dean peered down at the mob streaming through the museum. "Not right now it isn't!"

Gabriel started backing away. "Uh, I think I'll go and, uh, get the car started."

"I've got it!" Castiel cried in triumph. "The golden Book of Amun-Ra is at Hamunaptra inside the statue of Horus." He pumped his fist. "Take that, Bembridge scholars!"

Gabriel hurried outside, dashing for the car, only to run smack into the mob. Thinking quickly, he slowed down his pace and began to walk more stiffly, staring straight ahead.

"Lilith," he chanted. "Lilith, Lilith, Lilith…"

The mob calmed down and began to walk alongside him, chanting. Gabriel slowly backed away, waiting until the mob had outpaced him before turning and jumping into the car. He got it started and brought it around just as the others ran out.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Balthazar shouted, jumping into the car. "Get this thing in gear, let's get outta here!"

"Cassie!" Gabriel yelled. "Come on, Cassie, hurry up."

"Don't all me Cassie!" Castiel replied as Dean helped him up into the car. Dean leaped into the front seat along with Castiel and Gabriel while Sam, Bobby and Balthazar took the backseat.

Meg hurried outside along with the mob and saw them fleeing. "Lilith!" She shrieked. "Lilith!"

Lilith looked out the window and saw them fleeing. Her jaw unhinged, stretching downward as she screamed for the mob to chase after them. Gabriel hit the gas and the car took off down the street.

"You're gonna get yours, Meg!" Dean shouted. "You hear me? You're gonna get yours!"

"Oh!" Meg shouted after him. "Like I've never heard that before!"

The car careened through the narrow streets, nearly crashing several times as they were chased by the ever-growing mob. Soon the mob was thick enough that they were literally running over them, several people jumping and tugging at them, trying to yank them out of the car. Sam and Dean fought admirably, as could be expected, Dean standing up to block Castiel from the mob. Gabriel clutched the steering wheel, trying to work his way past the people and through the streets. Bobby landed a few good blows, but two men jumped from behind and grabbed Balthazar.

"Winchester!" Balthazar shouted. "Winchester!"

Sam turned to grab Balthazar but he was yanked out the back of the car. He fired at his assailants, killing them, but more men came. He fired, and fired, and fired, until his gun ran out.

The mob fell still.

They parted, slowly, as the sea must have once parted for Moses, making way for their mistress. Lilith moved through them, her eyes trained on Balthazar. Fingers trembling, the man offered up the canopic jar he had taken from the tomb.

Lilith accepted it with a small smile, and Balthazar began to hope that he would be spared.

Then Lilith roared, and the screams began.

Gabriel finally crashed the car when they reached, of all places, a dead end. Dean leaped out, extending a hand to Cas. "Okay, go, go!" He shouted, ushering everyone behind him. He picked up a torch and waved it at the mob. "Back! Back!"

The mob continued to chant but no longer attacked them, instead falling still. Through the crowd, Meg approached. Right behind her…

"It's the creature," Bobby said. "She's fully regenerated."

Sure enough, with the last of the expedition consumed, Lilith looked as she had thousands of years ago. Her skin glowed and her hair was silky, falling down her back in a cascade. She smiled at Castiel and held out her hand. "Keetah mi pharos, a ja nilo, isirian."

"Come with me, my prince," Meg said, translating into English. "It is time to make you mine, forever."

Castiel glared at Meg. "For all eternity, idiot."

Meg frowned, going over her translation.

"Koontash," Lilith said, "Dai na a ja nilo."

"Take my hand," Meg translated, "And I will spare your friends."

"Oh dear," Castiel whispered. He looked over at Dean. "Have you got any bright ideas?"

"I'm thinking," Dean said. "I'm thinking."

"You better think of something fast," Castiel told him. Dean turned, frowning. There was a strange look in Cas's eyes—one that he didn't like. "Because if she turns me into a mummy you're the first one I'm coming after."

Before Dean could react or even process what Cas had said, he was walking away from Dean and taking Lilith's hand.

"No!" Dean shouted, moving forward to stop him. Sam and Bobby grabbed at Dean's arms, dragging him backward and preventing him from taking Cas back.

"Don't!" Cas warned. "She still has to take me to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual."

"He's right," Sam told Dean. "Live today, fight tomorrow. That's what you always told me, Dean."

Dean stared at Cas. Castiel, so brave and foolish and curious and eager and clumsy and beautiful. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't.

Dean glared at Lilith, who just smirked. "I'll be seeing you again," he promised.

The mummy began leading Cas away, and Dean struggled against Sam and Bobby's hold. "Cas!" He shouted. He couldn't do this, he couldn't let that, that thing take him.

Meg sauntered over and plucked the puzzle box key from Gabriel's robes. "Hey!" Gabriel protested. "That's mine."

Meg smiled at him. "Thank you."

"Kill them all!" Lilith shouted to the mob.

"No!" Castiel shouted. He began to fight Lilith's supernatural grip. "Let go of me, let go of me!"

"Goodbye, my friend," Meg told Dean.

Dean growled. "C'mere you little—"

Meg leaped nimbly out of his reach, and the mob began advancing. As Dean stepped backward, he felt something, a shift in the ground. He looked down.

It was a manhole that led to the sewers.

Dean bent down and moved the cover out of the way, gesturing at the others. "Come on!" He grabbed Gabriel.

"What about my brother?" Gabriel asked.

"We're going to get her back," Dean promised. Death was in his eyes. "Now go!"

Gabriel disappeared down the manhole, and Dean reached up to grab Sam. "You're next!" Sam only had time to give a yelp before Dean had shoved him down the manhole.

Dean reached out for Bobby. "Come on!"

Bobby drew his sword instead.

"Give me your hand!" Dean shouted.

Bobby shook his head. "You done good, Dean. Both you and Sam."

Dean's heart stuttered. "Bobby…"

"Castiel's a good boy." Bobby said, nodding in approval. "Tends to make a mess, but you'll be good for each other."

"Bobby, don't!"

Bobby turned and began attacking the mob, drawing their attention away from Dean. "Go, you idjit! Save the world!"

"Come on!" Dean shouted, still holding out his hand. "Bobby, don't do this!"

"Go!" Bobby shouted, the mob closing around him. "Go!"

With a curse and wet eyes, Dean jumped down into the manhole. In the darkness, he could feel Sam and Gabriel staring at him.

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked.

A rough scream of pain echoed from above, and Sam gaped. Dean shook his head.

"It was his choice, Sammy."

Sam turned away, eyes burning, but Dean pulled his brother to him and let Sam cry into his shoulder. How long had it been since he'd hugged his brother?

Gabriel turned away from them and peered intently at his shoes, letting them have their moment.

"C'mon," Dean said, pulling back. "Let's go kill Lilith." For Anna, for Uriel, for Balthazar, for Bela, for Bobby, for the diggers Dean hadn't even known the names of, for the people in the mob that he'd had to kill because their minds were not their own.

And, he added grimly, for Cas.

In contrast to the mess that was currently Cairo, the Giza Airstrip was peaceful. A few young boys ran around, doing chores or simply playing, while Rufus relaxed on top of a small hill nearby, listening to music and sipping whiskey under the shade of an immense umbrella.

"Morning, Rufus," Dean called, leading Sam and Gabriel up the hill. "Uh, a word?"

As quickly as he could, Dean sketched out the situation. Rufus, to his credit, didn't call them crazy or clap them in irons, but then that might have been because he was a little tipsy.

"So what's your little problem got to do with His Majesty's Royal Air Corps?" Rufus asked once Dean had finished.

"Not a damn thing," Dean replied.

Rufus sat up straighter. "Do you really think so?"

"Well everybody else we've bumped into has died," Gabriel said. "Why not you?"

"What's the challenge then?"

"Rescue the damsel in distress," Dean said, internally wincing because Cas would kill him if he ever found out Dean had called him a damsel, "Kill the bad guy and save the world."

Rufus threw his head back and laughed, standing up. "Rufus Turner at your service, sir!" He said, snapping off a salute.

A couple hours later, Dean had a feeling that Gabriel was regretting their course of action—namely, letting Dean strap him to one of the wings of the plane and strapping Sam to the wing of the other. Dean whistled at him. "Are you all right?"

Gabriel twisted to look up at him and glared. "Do I fucking look all right?"

Dean rolled his eyes and looked over at Sam. "How are you doing?"

Sam gave him thumbs up. Dean thought, personally, that Sam looked like he was enjoying himself far too much.

Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he just might vomit. He'd always hated the idea of planes, and now that he was in one his opinion was not improving.

"See that?" Rufus yelled, pointing.

Dean craned his neck and was able to see an immense sand tornado.

"I've never seen one so big!" Rufus told him.

"Never?"

"No!"

Dean had a feeling that it wasn't a natural tornado, then.

The sand tornado spit out Castiel and Meg, who landed on top of one another in the sand.

"Get off of me!" Castiel said, hitting Meg. "Get off!"

"I need a new job," Meg mumbled.

The sand fell away and formed itself into Lilith, who began striding across the sand. Her robes had fallen open, revealing even more golden skin. As Castiel looked around, he saw Hamunaptra rising in the distance and he realized that they had somehow made a two or three day journey in a couple of hours.

"We're back," he whispered.

A buzzing sound cut through the silence of the desert and Castiel looked up to see a plane gliding through the air. Painted on its side was the symbol of the Royal Air Corps. Castiel grinned. "Dean."

Lilith saw the plane as well and glared at it, raising her arms. A wall of sand rose up into the sky, chasing the plane across the desert.

Facing backward on the plane, Dean was the first to see the danger. His stomach dropped out of his body. "Hey, Rufus! Pedal faster!"

"Hang on!" Rufus shouted.

The wall of sand swallowed them up.

"Stop it!" Castiel shouted. "You'll kill them!"

"That's the idea," Meg pointed out dryly.

The plane tumbled over and over, going upside down as Rufus tried to fly them out of the sand. "Here I come, laddies!" He shouted.

Dean was ninety percent certain he was going to vomit. Cas so owed him for this one.

Castiel looked from the wall of sand over to Lilith, who had her eyes closed as she manipulated the elements. Castiel shoved Meg out of the way and, after a second of hesitation, smashed his mouth against Lilith's. The mummy's eyes flew open in shock and she lost concentration, the wall of sand falling away and the plane flying out safely. Castiel broke the kiss and cheered.

Dean caught sight of Cas with Meg and Lilith down below and grinned. They'd made it.

And then the plane's engine gave a coughing sound.

Still clogged with sand, the engine spluttered and then seized up, coughing flames as it careened into the sand. Castiel's cheer turned into one of despair as he saw the plane crash, flame, smoke and sand rising up in its wake.

"I love the whole sand wall trick," Meg said. "It was beautiful." She paused. "Bastard."

Lilith ignored Meg's mutterings and Castiel's despair and walked on to Hamunaptra. Meg prodded Castiel with her gun, forcing him to follow, but Castiel kept looking back. Surely they had survived the crash. They had to.

But when no one emerged from the plane to chase after them, Castiel had to turn away and swallow down the lump in his throat.

"Looks like Dean's nine lives are up," Meg observed.

Castiel glared at her. "He's fine," he growled. "And if he isn't, I'll raise hell myself."

Dean stumbled out of the wreckage, tearing off his helmet. "I hate flying," he mumbled.

"Excuse me," Gabriel called, still strapped to the (broken off) wing of the plane. "Um, a little help would be useful, if it's not too much trouble!" He shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, all right."

Dean unstrapped Gabriel from the wing of the plane as Sam wrenched off the plane's Tommy gun.

"Rufus!" Dean called, seeing that Rufus was still in his seat. "Hey, Rufus!"

The pilot didn't stir. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, his face peaceful. Dean put two fingers to the man's neck, feeling his pulse. There was none. Dean sighed. It was the way Rufus had always wanted to go, and he knew that it had given the older man joy, but Dean still felt saddened. Rufus had been a good friend.

Dean, Sam and even Gabriel gave Rufus a salute before heading out to Hamunaptra.

Lilith led the way down deep into the temple, Meg prodding Castiel with the barrel of her gun.

"Keep moving," she ordered.

Castiel paused. "You know, nasty little worms like you always get what's coming to them."

Meg laughed, but sobered up under the intensity of Castiel's gaze. His eyes blazed and his entire body seemed to be comprised of rage. "They do?"

"Yes," Castiel growled. "Always."

He was going to find a way to destroy Lilith if it killed him.

Over at one of the other tunnels, Dean and Sam worked to move the stones out of the way. They hadn't discussed things, and Dean knew they should, but it still felt good just to be near Sam again, to do things with his brother, to know what Sam was safe and well.

Gabriel seemed to have decided that he was much more useful standing back and giving the brothers instructions.

"I'd take those bigger stones first. And take them from the top, otherwise the whole thing will cave in on us. Come on, put your backs into it." Dean and Sam turned to glare at him, and Gabriel gave them a hesitant smile. "Yes, well, you've got the idea. Chop-chop."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam but they kept moving the stones. They had to get to Cas before Lilith used him as the sacrifice for Lucifer. Gabriel wisely backed a few feet away to let them at it, his gaze wandering about the room. His eyes fell upon a carving of the sun, with blue-gold beetles flowing down with the sun's rays.

"Come have a look at this!" Gabriel said, prying one off the wall and holding it in the palm of his hand. Dean and Sam didn't pay him any attention, focusing on the rock wall. Gabriel shrugged and peered at the metal beetle.

A slight cracking sound filled the air, and the beetle began to burst open—or, rather, the shell that contained the real beetle, the scarab. The chittering bug burst out and immediately burrowed into Gabriel's hand. Gabriel screamed in pain.

"What?" Dean asked, whirling around.

"It's in my arm!" Gabriel shouted. "My arm!"

Sam came up behind Gabriel and quickly opened his shirt, pulling down the sleeve. All three could see the moving bulge just underneath the skin as the scarab made its way toward Gabriel's brain.

"Whoa!" Dean yelped. He was willing to bet that he now knew what had killed Zachariah Adler.

"Do something!" Gabriel begged.

"Hold him!" Dean instructed.

Sam pinned Gabriel's arms and Dean whipped out his knife. Gabriel continued to shout for them to "do something," until he saw Dean wielding the blade.

"Not that!" He shouted. "Not that!"

Dean quickly plunged the knife through Gabriel's skin and into the scarab, spearing it and yanking it out. The scarab went flying, landing on the sand, where it gave a pained buzzing noise and turned to race back to them. Dean drew his gun and fired, blowing the bug to oblivion.

Lower down in the temple, Castiel, Meg, and Lilith all heard the echo of the gun blast. Castiel couldn't help the grin that spread over his face as relief, cool and exhilarating, flooded him. "Dean," he whispered. Dean and Gabriel were alive.

Lilith turned toward one of the walls, which depicted two priests preparing a sacrifice to the gods.

"Shatay wapey ku ra eck!" The mummy chanted.

Meg instinctively clutched at Castiel's shoulders as the two priests burst their way out of the walls, revealing themselves to be horribly contorted mummies. Castiel realized they must have been two of Lucifer's priests, buried alive. "Bembridge scholars never wrote about this." Meg continued to use him as a human shield and he glared at her. "Get off me."

The priests approached Lilith and bowed as best they could in their twisted form. Lilith inclined her head respectfully, then gestured. "Kill them and wake the others."

Castiel made to stride over and hit her, but heard the cocking of Meg's gun and felt the muzzle press into his back. "Don't," Meg warned.

Castiel lowered his arm, his hand clenching into a fist. He had time. He could be patient. Meg was going to become distracted or slip up at some point, and then he'd get his chance.

And then the butt of Meg's gun came crashing down on his head and everything went black.

The next room they entered was huge and shrouded in darkness. Dean could tell by the feel of the open air around him and the sudden sense of vertigo that the room had to be immense, but there was no way they'd navigate it, not in this dusk. Sam nudged Dean with his elbow and jerked his chin up to the upper right-hand corner of the room. Dean followed his brother's gaze and saw an ornate, dusty mirror.

"It's an ancient Egyptian trick…"

"And then there was… light."

Dean raised his gun, took careful aim, and fired.

The bullet it the upper rim of the circular mirror, knocking it back so that it caught the rays of the sun filtering down from a small skylight. The light bounced off to hit another strategically placed mirror, then another, then another until the entire massive room was lit up just as the embalming chamber had been. Dean grinned. He'd have to tell Castiel about it once they got to him.

And then he took in the actual contents of the room, and he balked.

The place was absolutely stuffed with treasure. Most of it was gold, because the Egyptians had practically invented that cliché, but there were jewels and are wood statues and marble too, all of it glinting and glowing. It was like they were standing on the surface of the sun, surrounded by nothing but gold—everywhere, the glint of gold.

They descended the long, shallow steps in a daze, unable to tear their eyes away. Dean had never been much of a treasure hunter, but een he was impressed.

"Can you see—" Gabriel gasped.

"Yeah."

"Can you believe—" Gabriel said, voice stuttering out.

"Yeah."

"Can we just—" Gabriel reached out for a gold statue.

"No." Dean said firmly.

Gabriel looked defeated but didn't touch anything.

There was the sound of crumbling rock and then hands began to burst out of the floors, gray, bandage-wrapped hands that curled and stretched with stiff muscles, reaching and straining.

"Son of a bitch." Dean took a step back and looked at Sam. "Who the hell are these guys?"

"Priests," Sam replied, watching as the contorted mummies clawed their way out of the ground. "Lucifer's priests."

"All right then." Dean opened fire.

A few turned into a dozen as more mummies arrived from side tunnels and under their very feet, chasing them out of the treasure room. Behind them all, Meg carefully snuck in and grinned at the treasure.

"Come to Mama," she said, fingering the pretty gold trinkets.

Castiel's head felt quite heavy and a bit fuzzy. He blinked, wincing as he became aware of a dull, throbbing pain in the back of his skull. It must have been from where Meg had hit him. His back felt stiff as well, and when he shifted his body he realized it was because he was lying on a hard, cold surface—probably stone.

He made to move and see where he was, but when he made to sit up he found he couldn't move his arms or his legs. He tugged at them and felt cold metal at his wrists and ankles. He was shackled in place.

Twisting, trying to see around him, he turned his head to the left and nearly yelped. Lying next to him, dried out and shriveled with age, was the mummy of a man. Judging by the amulets that he wore and knowing what Lilith had planned, Castiel could well guess who he was: Lucifer.

He yanked at the shackles, but he couldn't get free. Trying to see and perhaps get a way out he twisted and bucked, but it was no use. Unfortunately, he now had to hope that Dean could get to him in time.

Castiel closed his eyes. Dean hadn't failed him yet. He had to trust that Dean wouldn't fail him now.

"There he is!" Gabriel shouted, hurrying into the room. He grinned up at the massive bird-headed statue. "Hello, Horus old boy!"

Dean and Sam followed behind him, firing their weapons. "Time to close the door!" Dean said, pulling out a stick of dynamite. He lit it on the stubble at Sam's jaw, making the younger Winchester yelp, and threw the stick through the passage at the mummies. It went off, sending decayed bits of human flying everywhere.

Meg, meanwhile, was discovering that camels don't really care that you're on a deadline and need to get the treasure now before your boss destroys everything. And once a camel decides not to like you, it really, really doesn't like you.

This was going to take more time than she'd anticipated.

Lilith recited chants from the Book of the Dead, her wailing voice rising and falling as she gave herself to the ceremony. Castiel might have found it interesting from an intellectual standpoint to see an actual ancient Egyptian ceremony being performed, if he weren't actually a part of said ceremony. His wrists were red and raw from his various escape attempts, and he could feel his shirt beginning to stick to him from the sweat of his exhertions. He was running out of time.

And then the pool of water next to the altar began moving.

Castiel froze, watching in shock as the water bubbled and shifted and began to rise up, taking on a strange, ghostly shape that writhed up through the air and glided swiftly to hover over Lucifer's wrapped corpse. There it paused, as if taking notice, and then sank down into the body. Lucifer stiffened, sucking in a great gulp of air before letting out a horrendous scream.

"Lucifer!" Lilith cried, eyes shining with ecstacy.

"Shit," Castiel said.

Dean fired again and again as Gabriel and Sam dug for the book, but the mummies just kept on coming. "Damn, these guys just don't quit, do they?"

"Keep digging," Sam said, standing up and grabbing his gun.

Dean reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. "And just where do you think you're going?"

Sam placed his hand over Dean's. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes soft and voice quiet. "I lied to you Dean. I hurt you, and I can't change that. I can't replace those years. But I can help you now. Cas—you like him."

"Sammy—"

"Let me do something for you, just once. You always took care of me. Now let me do something for you, let me be an adult."

Dean swallowed. He loved Sam, and he always would, but his brother was right. His entire life from the time he was four had been nothing but take care of Sammy, and he'd been a hovering parent, to say the least.

"You're my brother, Dean. That's never going to change."

"The Book of Amun-Ra!" Gabriel shouted, holding up the book triumphantly. Dean was no expert, but it looked like the legends were right—the thing was made out of solid gold.

"Save Castiel," Sam said. "And kill Lilith!"

He slipped out of Dean's grasp and ran toward the mummies, engaging them in hand-to-hand combat. "What are you waiting for?" He shouted, the undead surrounding him. "Get out! Get out!"

Dean blinked back the stinging in his eyes and pulled out his last stick of dynamite, lighting it using the stubble on his own jaw this time. He threw the stick at the mummies and yanked Gabriel out of the way, diving to the side to avoid the massive blast.

"Is that—Sam?" Gabriel asked, looking up at Dean concernedly.

Dean tried to shake it off. There would be time to mourn his brother later. "You all right?" He asked.

Gabriel nodded. "Are you?"

Dean didn't answer that. "Let's go."

Finally finished with her wild cavorting over her joy at bringing Lucifer back, Lilith turned her attention to Castiel.

"With your death," she said, holding up a ceremonial knife, "Lucifer shall live. And we shall be invincible!"

Castiel closed his eyes, waiting for the pain—and instead heard a familiar, obnoxious voice.

"The Book of Amun-Ra!" Gabriel shouted, hoisting the golden book up for all to see. "I found it, Cassie, I found it!"

"The Book of Amun-Ra?" Lilith repeated, glaring up at Gabriel from where he stood at the top of the stairs.

Gabriel gulped.

"Shut up and get me off here, you idiot!" Castiel shouted. "And don't call me Cassie!"

Lilith began advancing on Gabriel, her eyes hard and cold. Gabriel began backing up nervously, clutching the book to his chest.

"Open the book, Gabriel!" Castiel called. "It's the only way to kill her! You have to open the book and find the inscription!"

"Well, I can't open it!" Gabriel replied. "It's locked or something!" Understanding dawned and he jumped up and down. "We need the key, Cassie!"

"It's inside his robes!" Castiel called.

A clanging noise resounded just above his head and he felt a scrape of pain as suddenly one of his arms was cut free. His legs were next, and he whirled just in time to see Dean's winning smile and summer-grass eyes to come sliding into view.

"Dean," he breathed.

"Heya Cas," Dean said. He swooped down and kissed him with surprising gentleness, cupping his cheek with his free hand. "Didn't give up on me, did you?"

"Thought I was just a contract," Castiel managed, a little dizzy from the sudden rescue attempt and the kiss.

Dean kissed him again. "Never."

"Where'd you get the sword?"

"Stole it off a statue."

Lilith's distinct growl rang out and Castiel tilted his head to see. The mummy had spotted Dean freeing Castiel and was glaring at them as if trying to set them on fire with her gaze alone. "Im Yub Set Na!" She shouted.

Lucifer's priests returned with a vengeance, attacking Dean from all sides. It was everything that Dean could do to keep them at bay, but he managed to slice through most of them with only a few minor setbacks—like getting a skull stuck on his sword, for instance. Cas twisted and struggled with the final cuff, trying to get it off. Not that the kissing hadn't been nice, but couldn't it have waited until after he was free?

Finally Dean finished off the last mummified priest, kicking it into the water. He grinned at Castiel. "Mummies." He swung the sword down, cutting open the final cuff and freeing Castiel. "Time to run for it."

Castiel let Dean take him by the hand, wondering at how nicely their hands fit together and how suddenly warm and safe he felt. He hadn't paid much attention to Dean's habit of grabbing him by the hand or arm or elbow but now he could feel his panic ebbing away, replaced with a feeling of safety and certainty.

"Here's an inscription!" Gabriel yelled, reading off the cover of the book. Everyone, cursed mummies and humans alike, froze. "Rasheem—Rasheem oola… Rasheem oola Kashka!"

There was the sound of long-trapped air hissing free. Hidden panels in the walls slowly rose, with armored, weapon-wielding mummies emerged from whatever hidden chambers they'd been kept in. They marched in two straight rows, their weapons at the ready—and they were headed right for Dean and Castiel.

"Oh boy," Gabriel said, wincing.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Dean said. "Who even are these guys?"

"They must have been placed here by the Medjai, or perhaps other priests—incorrupt priests—to protect the temple from looters or those who tried to violate sacred laws," Castiel replied. He looked up at his brother, still at the top of the steps. "Do something, Gabriel!"

"Me?" Gabriel looked terrified, as he always did whenever the possibility of responsibility reared its head.

"You can command them."

"You have got to be joking."

"Finish the inscription on the cover, idiot!" Castiel said. "Then you can control them."

"Oh. Right."

Dean pushed Castiel behind him as the soldier mummies advanced, but someone else grabbed Castiel and yanked at him. Castiel whirled around just in time to avoid being stabbed with the ceremonial knife Lilith had dropped, and he gaped at his attacker.

It was the resurrected Lucifer.

He was still in his mummified body, but he was clearly sentient and determined to kill Castiel in order to assimilate his organs as Lilith had with Miss Milton and the others. He lunged again and again, and it was all Castiel could do to avoid him. He got in a few hits thanks to his rugby days at university but he'd never fought anyone who had a knife before, nevermind someone who was well versed in how to use it.

Dean turned to defend Castiel the second that Lucifer yanked him away, but it was a little difficult when eight soldier mummies suddenly attacked. He fought them off as best he could, but it was eight to one and his odds were not good.

"Hurry up, Gabriel!" Castiel shouted.

"I can't figure out this last symbol!" Gabriel shouted back.

"Seriously?" Dean said, dueling with one mummy while another tried to stab him in the back.

"What does it look like?" Castiel asked. Lucifer took him by surprise and grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against the wall. Castiel got his hand up in time to grab Lucifer's wrist, barely holding back the knife from plunging into him.

"It's a, uh, a bird," Gabriel said, making a flapping motion with his elbow. "A stork!"

The point of the blade was barely an inch from Castiel's face and he was going dizzy from lack of oxygen as Lucifer's hand clenched around his throat, but his brain still worked fine. He'd never forgotten a hieroglyph, and he wasn't about to forget one now, even with Gabriel's horrendous description. "Ahmenophus!"

Gabriel tilted the book to the side and peered at the heiroglpyh again. "Oh, yes, I see!"

Four soldier mummies were down, but there were still another four left, and they'd knocked Dean off his feet. His sword went skittering out of his grasp and he crawled backward, trying to dodge their blows. He was out of options and he knew it.

Gabriel cleared this throat. "Hootash im Ahmenophus!"

Dean closed his eyes as the blades swung downward, guilt sweeping through him at how he was failing Cas, but the deathblow never came. He waited. His heart pounded in his ears… once, twice, a third time… nothing.

Dean opened his eyes.

The soldier mummies were frozen, their blades a hair's breadth from Dean's face.

Lilith ran forward, furious. "Im Yub Set Na!" She ordered. "Im Yub Set Na!" The mummies did nothing. Lilith tried a third time. "Im Yub Set Na!"

Gabriel saw Castiel still struggling with Lucifer, and his eyes hardened. He pointed toward Lucifer and read off the cover of the book,

"Fa-Kooshka! Fa-Kooshka Lucifer!"

The soldier mummies pulled away from Dean, who lay panting on the ground, still a little disbelieving, and marched toward Lucifer. Sensing the danger Lucifer released Castiel, backing away as quickly as possible, but he wasn't fast enough.

"Lucifer!" Lilith screamed. She rounded on Gabriel. "Give me that book!" She demanded in ancient Egyptian.

"Lilith!" Lucifer's one spoken word in his second life rang out, both a shriek of pain and a cry for help. The mummies leapt upon him, stabbing over and over, their blades going so far into Lucifer's body that the points emerged out the other side.

"Lucifer!" Lilith screamed in anguish, watching as her lover died in front of her yet again. She picked Gabriel up by the throat, hoisting him high against the wall. "Now you die!"

That was when Dean sliced her arm off.

Gabriel collapsed onto the ground, getting his breathing back. Dean backed up a few feet, sword at the ready. To his surprise, Lilith picked up her arm—and screwed it back into her shoulder. The torn flesh wove back together, and Dean realized that when Bobby had said the creature would be immortal, he'd meant it in every sense of the word. Without further ado, Lilith picked Dean up by the shirt with one hand and flung him ten feet across the room to slam into a pillar.

"Cassie!" Gabriel called, triumphantly holding up the puzzle key he'd swiped from Lilith's robes, "I've got it!"

Castiel ran over, too busy to even object to the nickname. "Keep her busy!" He called over to Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No problem."

Castiel got the book open and began searching for the proper inscription. Lilith continued to throw Dean around for a minute or two before finally growing bored and simply wrapping a hand around his throat and hoisting him up int the air.

"Hurry, Cassie, hurry," Gabriel said.

"You're not helping," Castiel replied.

"Now it's your turn," Lilith told Dean, smiling wickedly before her jaw lowered, extending down as she prepared to suck him dry.

"Oh!" Castiel cried. "I've got it!" He grinned and looked over at Lilith. "Kadeesh mal. Kadeesh mal. Parad oos. Pared oos!"

Lilith released Dean and sank down to her knees, a ghostly chariot riding out from thin air and passing through her. A strange, glowing blue-white form was torn from Lilith, yanked onto the chariot as it rode through her body and floated rapidly up the steps before vanishing. Lilith screamed once, just once, her head flinging back, before falling silent.

Dean ran over to Cas, who immediately began checking for damage. "I thought you said it was going to kill her," Dean said.

"Guys…" Gabriel pointed.

Lilith had risen to her feet and was advancing. Dean swallowed. "Run for the exits," he told Cas. If not even the Book of Amun-Ra could stop Lilith, then he needed to buy Cas time to get out of there.

He ran his sword into Lilith's stomach as the creature walked toward him, impaling her and driving the blade in all the way to the hilt. To Dean's surprise the blade met with a strange sort of resistence, a natural tangle of flesh and bone that it hadn't before when he'd sliced through Lilith's arm, and he watched as the woman's eyes went wide with pain and shock.

"It made her mortal," Castiel explained, a tiny, triumphant smile dancing about the corners of his mouth.

Dean yanked the sword out of Lilith and she stumbled backward, blood seeping through her fingers as she pressed her hands to the wound, trying to stop the flow. She fell to her knees and crawled backward to the pool of water from which the spirit of Lucifer had risen, the strange liquid eating away at her body and making it rapidly decay. She glared hatefully at the trio, her teeth clenched. Her body sank slowly, her hateful gaze still fixed on them, until only her face could be seen. She whispered something, a chant that seemed to come not from her but from a thousand demonic voices deep within the earth, and her flesh finally fell away, reducing her to a skeleton that sank beneath the waters.

"'Death is only the beginning,'" Castiel said, repeating Lilith's final words.

That was when the ground began to shake.

Whether it was Lilith death or something else that caused Hamunaptra to collapse, they would never know, but in the meantime they did realize that they had to get out of there, and fast.

"Time to go!" Dean said, grabbing Castiel by the wrist.

They ran up the steps, past more pools of water, Dean in the lead with Castiel, and Gabriel a few steps behind. The older Novak brother tripped, the Book of Amun-Ra flying from his hands and into one of the pools of otherworldly water. Castiel skidded to a halt and snaked out of Dean's grip, running back to stare at where the book that fallen. "You've lost the book!" He shouted at Gabriel, full of disbelief and rage. "Gabriel I can't believe—"

"Come on!" Both his lover and brother shouted, each one grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him forward.

All went fairly well until they got to the treasure room, where they lost Gabriel to the glint of gold. "Oh, couldn't we just—"

"No, Gabriel!" Castiel replied, grabbing one arm while Dean grabbed the other and dragged Gabriel onward.

They had just reached one of the exits to the treasure room when they heard screaming.

"Winchester! Dean!"

It was Meg, running as fast as she could, a torch in hand. "Wait!"

The walls all around them were lowering, blocking off the exits. Dean shoved Cas ahead of him and ushered Gabriel through, turning and holding out his hand to Meg. She crawled toward him, trying to beat the lowering layers of stone. "Come on, come on!" Dean encouraged, still holding out his hand.

"Wait!" Meg crawled as fast as she could. "Please!"

"Come on! Come on! Meg!"

The wall lowered too far and Dean yanked his arm back just as it came crashing down, separating him from Meg—and sealing her in—forever. Dean sighed, feeling only slightly guilty as he said, "Goodbye, Meg."

Meg retreated away from the wall, whirling around looking for another exit. But all of the walls were lowering, sealing her in, no matter where she turned—and now the final one was going down, and crushing the mirror that reflected the sunlight from the hole in the roof, plunging her into darkness save for her torch…

A chittering noise sounded from behind and above her, and Meg spun on her heel to see a scarab beetle vibrating its wings from its perch on top of the head of a statue of Anubis. Anubis, the god who ushered the dead into the Underworld… Anubis, who weighed the person's soul against Maat, the Feather of Truth, and saw if it was wanting…

Meg thrust her torch at the bug. "Back. Back!"

And suddenly there were thousands of them, all chittering together in a maddening, high-pitched chorus, streaming down from every angle like sweat from the pores of the body, and her torch was flickering, and could only hold them back for so long—even now it was dimming, and they were so close, and maybe that Clarence was right, maybe nasty people did get their comeuppance…

Her torch went out.

Meg died screaming.

Dean refused to let go of Castiel's hand as they ran through the city. Pillars were falling down like ninepins, the entire metropolois sinking beneath the sand, and it was all that they could do to keep one step ahead of it. Dean could even feel the sand sinking, falling away beneath their feet even as they ran for it, and he just gripped Cas as tightly as he could, not stopping until they were past the crumbling city walls and out in the proper desert where the camels, smart things, had run out and stopped to sit and observe the strange screaming two-legged creatures.

They finally stopped to catch their breath, watching as Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, sank beneath the sand for good and all, taking its cursed inhabitant, its unlucky victims, and its vast treasure with it.

Dean was just starting to breath easy again when Gabriel felt a hand on his arm and screamed, jumping up at least a foot. Dean whirled around—and felt immediately dizzy.

It was Sam.

"Oh, thank you!" Gabriel said, rubbing his shoulder and glaring at the younger Winchester. "Thank you very much."

"Sammy!" Dean hugged his brother, who for once didn't object to the nickname. "I thought you were dead."

"Thought I was dead, for a bit there. But I made it." Sam grinned. "It's hard to kill us Winchesters."

"So I've noticed," Gabriel grumbled.

"What's next, then?" Dean asked, looking around him. He snaked an arm around Castiel's waist and pulled him in, grinning.

"I was hoping I could finally take you to meet the others," Sam said.

"Including this Ruby you've been telling me about?" Dean teased.

Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, that too."

"The museum will be in shambles," Castiel added. "We'll have to find a new curator, and I still haven't sorted out that mess in the library, and—"

"And we'll essentially go back empty handed," Gabriel added. "Again."

Dean looked at Cas, with his eyes as blue as the desert sky and his small, secretive smile. "I wouldn't say that."

And then Cas kissed him, sweet and deep and no, no he wasn't going back empty-handed at all, he thought. Not when he had his hands literally full of this curious, intelligent, damn incorrigible librarian who'd been sly enough to steal his heart.

"Oh, please," Gabriel snorted as Sam climbed onto his camel in silence. Gabriel glared at his own camel. "How 'bout you, darling? Would you like a little kissy-wissy?"

Dean and Castiel ignored them for another five minutes before Sam and Gabriel smacked them with the camel whips, calling them disgusting lovestruck idiots, and they all piled onto the camels (Dean and Cas shared one) and set off into the sunset.

Sam decided to tell them about the massive bag of treasure he'd found on the backs of one of the camels (he suspected Meg) in the morning. After Gabriel had done a bit more whining.

And once Dean and Cas could look somewhere other than into each other's eyes.