A/N: Hi, everyone. I'm sure this story is a departure for me. I had to have surgery recently and while I was recovering, I watched a lot of Netflix. One of the shows I watched was Supernatural, and this idea came to mind. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

It had been a quiet few weeks since their last case. Both Dean and Sam were grateful for the rest and down time in the bunker, but they both knew cabin fever would eventually set in. Neither one of them was looking forward to it, given that they'd spent weeks tracking and then killing an entire pack of shape-shifters that had terrorized an entire town.

The case had not been an easy one. The creatures were not only shape-shifters, but an odd type of creature that also fed on people. A prolonged encounter with one could drain you of all your energy and leave little more than a shell of a person behind. As far as they had been able to tell, they fed in order to gain the power to shift, and people who were strong and healthy had been those creatures' ideas of a succulent dish. Both Dean and Sam had spent two very uncomfortable days in their den, being savored by and fed on by those creatures every other hour. It was only a stroke of luck that had enabled them to take out the original shifter. Doing so had killed the rest.

It took them a week to return to the bunker since they had to keep stopping to sleep. Castiel found them after seven days, underweight and exhausted, and he got them back home safely. Once they were there, they spent another week in bed or lying on sofas, sleeping or resting and eating the meals that Cas brought them. Once he saw they were able to get up and walk around and prepare their own meals, he stopped hovering over them every moment.

At the present moment, they were enjoying breakfast and their newspapers while Cas was out, each brother content with his own thoughts.

"Huh. That's weird," Dean said, breaking the quiet of the morning.

Sam snapped to attention, his Spidey-senses tingling. "Stop right there."

Dean glanced up at his brother. "What?"

"Whatever you're going to say next, don't say it," Sam said firmly. "I know we're both still exhausted from our last case, we haven't recovered yet, and I'm not about to go haring off on some goose chase just because you think something's weird."

Dean gave his brother a long look and set his newspaper aside. "Do you know how many goose chases we've gone on for even less than my thinking that there was something weird?"

"Too many to count, which is why I don't want you to tell me what you think is weird. I'm going to finish my coffee, and then I'm going to my room to spend some quality time with the Internet. Okay?"

"Aw, come on, Sam," Dean complained. "Aren't you a little tired of just sitting around? We could be out there doing something!"

Sam's eyebrows rose as he stared at his brother in disbelief. Sometimes, he questioned Dean's sanity. This was definitely one of those moments. "Really?"

"Really...what?"

"You think we're in a condition to go hunt something?" Sam wanted to know. "We're both still exhausted, Dean. Those shifters did a number on us. We're grown men and we're taking both morning and afternoon naps as well as getting twelve hours of sleep a night."

"Yeah, I'll admit that's troubling," Dean said. "But it's like Cas said, all we need to do is rest and we'll feel better in no time."

"It's been three weeks," Sam reminded him. "One week traveling back, another week with Cas watching after us, another week watching after ourselves, and we're still not back to one-hundred percent. Whatever thought you have in your head, put it away. If we try to hunt anything now, we'll get killed, and ten to one, we'll stay dead."

"People are in trouble," Dean said, saying the one sentence he knew would get his brother to listen. "Four people in this town have disappeared under mysterious circumstances, Sam. Tell me that it's not a case dying to be investigated!"

Sam groaned and carried his breakfast dishes to the sink. "No is no, Dean. Got it?"

"How about if I just go?" Dean suggested.

Sam had heard enough. "Castiel, if you have your ears on, then you need to get here quick. Dean's about to attempt something that's going to get him killed."

A rustle of feathers and Castiel was there, looking at the two of them with concern. "What do you mean?"

"That's a really low blow," Dean muttered, glaring at his brother. He knew Sam could be stubborn, but Castiel took stubborn to a whole new level. He knew very well from experience that Castiel was willing to go as far as he had to in order to keep someone he cared about safe, even if it meant locking that person up.

"What is it you're planning to do?" Castiel asked, fixing both brothers with a stare.

"We haven't decided to do anything," Dean said in his I'm-oh-so-reasonable voice. "We were just talking about a possible job, that's all."

Castiel looked Dean up and down. "You are in no condition to hunt."

"That's what I just got done telling him, but then he suggested going hunting alone," Sam told him.

"You're in even less condition to do that," Castiel said, sounding disturbed at the very thought.

"Thank you, Florence Nightingale," Dean growled while fixing his brother with a look.

"If telling Cas keeps you from doing something stupid, then I'll tell him."

"Traitor."

"You must stay here and rest, not go out and hunt," Castiel stated. "I'll brick up the door out of here if that's what it takes, but neither of you can go on a hunt right now."

"Cas, come on," Dean groaned. "We're not stupid kids here, huh? We can go and just take a look around. I didn't say we should jump right in, guns and knives at the ready."

"I know you, Dean. You would do that."

"You don't know that for sure," Dean said he turned to face Castiel. A second later he took a step back. Maybe Cas did know. At any rate, the look in the angel's eyes was making him very nervous.

"We both know you well enough to know that that is exactly what you would do," Sam said. "If we went to that town, it would just be a matter of time."

"How long are we going to argue about this?" Dean said, dropping back into his chair. "I'm getting tired of it already."

"If you agree that going hunting right now is a bad idea, then we'll drop the subject," Cas said pleasantly. "If you don't, I'll put you to sleep and keep you that way until I feel you've forgotten about it."

Dean's head whipped up to stare at his friend. "Don't you dare!"

"Don't give me a reason to do it," Cas said at his most implacable, his pleasant tone gone.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out. "Fine."

"This is your fault, you know," Dean said a week later.

Sam didn't look up from his book. "What's my fault?"

"Cas and his...hovering."

"You mentioned doing something stupid, and I told him about it. That doesn't mean that I'm the one who made him think that he had to hover over us again. He came to that conclusion on his own."

"You knew he would get hyper-vigilant," Dean complained. "He's got a real Florence Nightingale complex, you know."

"Yeah, I've come to realize that. Especially after last night."

Last night had been difficult. For some reason, both of them had had nightmares, awful ones where they'd woken up screaming, and that had led to a lot of fussing on Cas' part. He was there with hot drinks, extra blankets, and two listening ears. Somehow, he'd managed to calm them both and settle them so that they could get some more rest, but they knew that their nightmares had unsettled Castiel as much as they had unsettled them. Even now he was in the bunker's kitchen, preparing their lunch while they followed "doctor's orders" and relaxed in the sitting room.

"How long do you think he's going to hover? I thought he'd gotten it out of his system," Dean said thoughtfully.

"Well, we're both staying awake longer," Sam offered. "We only have a short afternoon nap now instead of one in the morning and the afternoon, and we sleep eight hours instead of twelve at night, so I'd say we're improving in that regard. We've also put back on some of the weight we've lost."

"That's because Cas keeps feeding us," Dean reminded him.

Sam felt a smile twitch the corners of his mouth. "I'm still curious how he learned to cook. Did he read a book, watch a show, or did someone teach him?"

"Even if we asked, I don't think he'd tell us," Dean said, stretching out on the couch.

Castiel arrived with their lunch a few minutes later, a creamy vegetable soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. He seemed very pleased when they both asked for seconds.

"I'm glad to see that your appetite is returning," Castiel said as he served up their next helpings. "How are you both feeling?"

"Pretty good, compared to how we felt when we first got back," Dean confessed, but then Cas' tone sank in. "Something wrong?"

Cas handed Dean a newspaper. "I think that your suspicions were correct, Dean. The disappearances you wanted to investigate have increased. Ten people are missing."

Dean gave Sam a look that said, See? I told you so.

"Oh, no," Sam groaned. "Please don't tell me that we're going to do this."

"The situation has become bad enough to be concerning and I feel that it should be checked," Castiel told them calmly. "Besides, I'll be with you."

That made them both pause. Dean blinked several times and looked at the angel. "You will?"

"Of course I will," Castiel said with a little smile. "I'll be watching over you for the entire trip. I think if we left tomorrow morning we'd be there by the evening, and we can start investigating the following morning. Leaving tomorrow morning will give you a chance to rest up before the trip." With that, he turned and left, carrying the lunch dishes toward the kitchen.

Dean fixed his brother with another glare. "Oh, this is SO totally your fault, Sam."

Nothing eventful happened on the trip except for Castiel insisting that Dean let him drive in the afternoon so both of the brothers could have their usual afternoon nap.

"I don't need a frickin' nap!" Dean snapped, his temper fraying.

Castiel's expression didn't change. "Ahh, is oo cwanky?"

That led to Dean pulling the car over and chasing Cas around it, shouting that he was a grown man and he most certainly was NOT cranky and that Cas really had to stop studying human popular culture. When Dean had to stop mid-chase and sit down for a moment, he confessed that he might need some rest after all.

"You've shown me how to drive, and I promise to be careful," Castiel said once Dean was calmer. "I'll obey the speed limits and traffic laws and I will use the appropriate gasoline if I need to refuel."

"I'm shotgun," Dean said, daring both his brother and the angel to object.

"Me being in the back means I get to stretch out," Sam said with a shrug. "You'll get no objections from me."

Dean settled into the passenger's seat, feeling as if he'd won the argument too easily, but oh well. Morpheus was calling.

They pulled into the town of Gray Falls that evening around six. There was only one hotel in town, a bed and breakfast with reasonable prices that served a pretty good buffet dinner as well. Sam and Dean both ate and retired to their room around eight-thirty, worn out beyond description.

"I still can't believe we're this tired," Dean complained as he sank down on his bed and flopped over to lie on his back.

"Neither can I," Sam agreed. "Do you think it was the traveling that made us this tired today?"

"Most likely," Dean said. "That, and everybody in this place wanting to say hi to us. The owner, her husband, their kids, the maids, the cook and kitchen staff..."

"They're pretty friendly people," Sam observed. "Do you think it's just small-town atmosphere?"

"Or something in the water."

They were almost both asleep when Cas arrived to report on the reconnaissance he'd done around town. Seeing that they were in no condition to take in anything he was saying, he encouraged them both to go to bed and pretty much helped them both under the covers. They both fell asleep as soon as they were prone.

The next morning was bright and sunny, and they headed downstairs to the dining room to dig into the house breakfast that was served up by people who were far too cheery at that hour.

"Wow," Dean breathed as soon as he saw the spread. There were eggs prepared three ways, crispy hashbrowns, toast, sausage links and patties, ham steaks, biscuits with gravy, bagels and muffins, and enough fruit to open a produce shop. There was coffee, coffee, and more coffee, as well as hot chocolate with whipped cream and tea.

"Okay, now I'm hungry," Sam said as he stared at the feast in front of him.

The owner overheard them. "Well, go ahead and eat, boys. Don't stand on ceremony!"

They needed no further invitation than that, and they joined Cas outside an hour later, full to the top and both very, very happy men.

"How was breakfast?" Cas asked with a knowing little smile.

"Of epic portions," Dean said as he slid into the driver's seat. "Half of it was probably a mistake. You guys ready to go?"

They spent the entire morning interviewing the families of those who'd disappeared and going over case files at the local police department, and one thing clearly stood out: everyone who had disappeared had all had something to do with a man called James Elder.

"That's interesting," Dean said after he'd gone over the case files again. "That's real interesting. They all meet with this rich guy and then within forty-eight hours they disappear."

"Rich guy in question has an estate outside of town," Sam continued. "Known as a model citizen, donated tons of money for the town's infrastructure and public institutions, like the schools, library, and hospital. The hospital, it turns out, would have had to close without that oh-so-generous donation, and since it's the biggest employer in the area, people in town really like this guy."

"He saves everybody's jobs, infuses a lot of money into the town, and lately, people have been disappearing when they cross his path...what's not to like?" Dean asked, closing the latest file.

Cas, who had been looking through the files next to Dean, glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's two o'clock."

"Yep," Dean said, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "And?"

"It's time for your afternoon rest."

"And Florence Nightingale returns," Dean muttered. "Cas, we're working a case. We can't just stop in the middle for a nap."

Castiel gave Dean a very, very long look. "You can't see yourselves the way I see you," he said at last. "I can see every change in you since your last case. I can see the exhaustion that is in every cell of your bodies. Now, you need to rest. That was why I came with you on this job. You can either agree to rest and I'll wake you in a few hours, or I fly with you back to the bunker and keep you both asleep until you've recovered completely. It's your choice."

"You're not really giving us a choice," Sam said, setting aside the file he'd been studying. "But, since I'm really tired, I'm not going to argue."

"How about we keep working until the case is solved and then we'll take a vacation?" Dean suggested.

"Either you rest, or the Impala disappears," Castiel threatened.

"You wouldn't!" Dean said, his voice rising a bit. "You wouldn't dare! Cas, I swear, I'll never speak to you again!"

"Either you rest, or the Impala disappears, and I can promise that you'll never find it." He stopped and appeared to think. "Well, you might find a piece or two, but as for the rest..."

Sam was trying very hard not to laugh at the horrified expression on his brother's face.

"What the heck happened to you, Cas?" Dean asked, sounding completely lost. "You never used to threaten a man's wheels before."

"You were never so sick before," Cas answered. "When I first found you, you were closer to death than you knew. It...frightened me."

Just like that, Cas' hovering and sudden Florence Nightingale complex were explained.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, a bit shaken by Cas' confession. "We'll rest, as long as you promise to wake us up by five. How's that?"

Cas gave them both a smile. "That would be fine."

Five o'clock came, and it took them half an hour to wake up and get dressed for their visit to James Elder. They were going to be FBI agents again, Cas included, and they were hoping that Cas would be able to "hear" or "see" something out of the ordinary that would let them know that they were on the right track.

It took them a half-hour to find the Elder estate outside of town, and as they pulled up to the gate Dean let out a whistle. "Wow."

"We've seen a lot of houses, but I think this thing is big enough to qualify as a castle."

"All that's missing is the dragon," Dean said as he stared up at the stone exterior. Then, he realized just what he'd said. "On second thought, never mind. Dragons are more trouble than they're worth. The house is fine the way it is."

"That last dragon we faced off against was definitely enough," Sam agreed.

"That's odd," Castiel said after a moment. "You would think that the gates would be locked."

Dean and Sam both looked. Sure enough, they were open.

"Int'rusting," Dean drawled. "What do you guys think?"

"It could be an invitation," Castiel stated. "He might know that we were coming."

"Oh, boy," Dean sighed. "Sam?"

"Either it's really bad security employees, or it's what Cas said."

"Okay, let's go see what we can see."

Dean drove the Impala through the gates and up the drive to the front door. They parked, left the car, and headed up the marble stairs to the front door. Sam looked around the door. "Anyone see a doorbell?"

A click and then the door opened, spilling warm light onto the three of them. A butler stood there, smiling. "Good evening, gentlemen. You are expected."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, surprised.

"Mr. Elder is expecting you," the butler repeated calmly. "He said that two Misters Winchester and their friend would be coming. If you'll follow me, please."

Sam, Dean, and Castiel all exchanged looks. This was the last thing they'd expected. Dean stepped inside and followed the butler. "Hang on, what makes you think that we're these two Winchesters you expected?"

"The master showed me a photograph."

That answer made Dean stop in his tracks. "Okay, that explains it." It was an unsettling explanation. How did this guy have a photo of them?

"Indeed," the butler said. "Please follow me."

Cas and Sam both followed Dean, and Dean followed the butler across a huge foyer that went up for two stories, culminating in a bronze and crystal chandelier that looked at least a century old. Sam glanced up at the chandelier as they passed under and let out a low whistle. Swarovsky crystal, no less. This man was obscenely rich.

The butler turned to the right and slid back two French pocket doors. "The Misters Winchester and companion, sir."

"Thank you, Williams," they heard as the butler ushered all of them in. "How are preparations for dinner coming?"

"Just a few moments more, sir. Please excuse me." With that, the butler strode out of the room, sliding the doors closed behind him. That left the two Winchesters and Castiel alone, facing James Elder.

He was a man about forty or so, green eyes and sandy-haired, and his face was filled with character. He did, however, have a smile that suddenly made all three of them nervous. It was some subtle shift of the head or in the eyes that made such a pleasant-looking person suddenly seem very dangerous.

"He's not human," Castiel said very quietly to Dean.

"Somehow, I gathered that," Dean answered. "Can you smite him if things get hairy?"

Castiel shook his head, surprising both Winchesters. "He's very, very powerful. He's fully capable of killing me if he wished."

"Seriously?" Sam whispered. "That's..."

"Very troubling," Castiel said, finishing Sam's sentence.

"Hello, boys," Mr. Elder said warmly. "Have you had a good trip?"

"Great, thanks," Sam said. Belatedly he realized that Castiel had shifted his position so that he stood in front of him and Dean. Oddly enough, he felt much safer. It was no small thing to have an angel on your side.

"How do you know who we are?" Dean asked in his no-bullshit tone. "You showed your butler a photo of us."

"Why shouldn't I know you two?" Mr. Elder countered.

"Because…we've never seen you before, I don't think we've ever met, and the name 'James Elder' isn't one that we remember," Dean said. "So, how do you know us?"

James Elder smiled, and this time, it was a very warm and happy smile. All trace of danger vanished. "Would it surprise you to hear that we're family?"

Sam's eyebrows shot toward his hair. "It would surprise me very much."

"Ditto," Dean added. "What do you mean 'family'?"

The doors opened, revealing the butler again. "Dinner is served, gentlemen."

"I hope you boys are hungry," Mr. Elder said, coming out from behind his desk and heading toward the door.

"Actually, we'd like to ask you a few questions," Castiel said, following him. "It won't take long."

Mr. Elder turned to face Castiel. "Actually, they need to eat, so you'll all join me at supper. They've not been well lately, so they shouldn't skip meals."

"How the hell did you know that?" Dean demanded, more than a little fed up with all the little mysteries they kept stumbling across.

Mr. Elder simply smiled and led the way into the dining room, leaving the Winchesters and Castiel to follow. Since they wouldn't get any answers standing around in the hall, they followed him.

"Williams is an excellent cook," Mr. Elder said as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Really, he's the best I've had."

"Yeah, that's great," Dean said, wanting to cut right to the chase. "How do you know who we are? How did you know we'd be coming, and what in the hell did you mean when you said we were family?"

"Dean, you're on my right, and Sam, you'll be on my left. Castiel, you sit to Dean's right," Mr. Elder directed, deftly ignoring the question. "Once you're seated, we can have supper and talk, and I'll answer your questions."

Dean gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped into his seat like a sack of bricks, leaning his elbows on the edge of the table and resting his chin on his hands, both eyebrows raised as if to say, Well? Sam and Castiel took their seats with a bit more grace and looked toward their host.

"So, are we going to talk or what?" Dean asked.

"Of course, dear boy. First of all, let me ask a question. How are you and Sam feeling?"

"Fine," Sam answered, feeling completely weirded out. Here they were, in a dining room that looked like it had been pulled from the pages of a Victorian novel (with full place settings, no less!), about to have dinner with someone who was not human and who claimed to be related to them. The situation just kept getting stranger.

"I'm glad to hear it. It's never any fun when you're ill."

The door opened, revealing Williams once again, carrying a covered silver tray that was giving off the most tempting aroma. Dean and Sam both felt their mouths water and their stomachs complain that they weren't eating what was making such incredible smells. Williams placed the tray on the sideboard, uncovered the steaming dishes, and placed a serving on each of the chargers. Then, with what seemed to be his usual butler efficiency, he departed.

Dean looked down at his plate as the aroma of bacon and scallops reached him. He wasn't sure if he should eat or not. This guy wasn't human...Could they trust any food he gave them?

"Do dig in," Mr. Elder invited them, placing his napkin in his lap and picking up his own fork for the appetizer. "Please don't be shy. I asked Williams to prepare a menu for young men, and he assured me that you would find it appealing."

Sam examined the bacon-wrapped scallops and sighed. "Okay. Could we have your word that you haven't done anything to the food?"

"Such as?" Mr. Elder prompted. He seemed vastly amused by the question.

"Well, like what happened with Persephone in the underworld. If we eat anything you give us, will we be able to leave? Or, like with the Sidhe. Mortals who ate food in their realm were unable to leave for twenty years or a century. Will that happen to us? Will our free will be taken away?"

Mr. Elder threw his head back and laughed. "Goodness, no!" he managed after a minute or so. "No, this is perfectly normal food, nothing nefarious about it. Even if you eat everything placed before you tonight at my table and on every other night, nothing will change. I won't try to enchant you or trap you using food. All three of you have my word on it."

"And whose word would we have?" Castiel asked. "You're not human, but you're not a shifter, not a vampire...what are you, and what is your name?"

Mr. Elder smiled before taking a sip of water. "It's a mark of how little I fear you, Castiel, that I'll tell you my name. Belenus."

Castiel sat back in his chair. "I see. I wasn't able to sense that about you. You're very good at hiding your true nature."

"After so many years living on this earth, hiding my true nature has become a refined skill."

"Belenus?" repeated Dean.

"A pagan god," Sam told him. "Celtic god of fire and the sun, science, healing, success and prosperity, purification, crops and vegetation, and fertility."

"That's quite a list," Dean said. "And you say that we're family?"

Belenus nodded. "Yes."

Seeing that no further explanation was coming, Sam cleared his throat. "How?"

Belenus looked at their still-full plates. "How about we make a bargain? You eat, and I'll talk. All right?"

Dean picked up his fork and stabbed a scallop, put it in his mouth, and chewed. Sam took one as well, and Castiel seemed stymied. As an angel, he didn't eat. Well, he was sure that Belenus would understand.

"Imagine that you're a young god," Belenus said as Sam and Dean started on their second scallops. "Thousands of people worship you. You're praised each Beltane, and maidens flock to you. Of course, those maidens will eventually become mothers, and some of the children they bear will be yours. Over the years you sire many children, and they grow and have children of their own, their children have children, and so on. Each child is a mark of your bloodline. Time passes, and a new god comes in. You're forgotten, and you're left to live your life without anyone knowing your true name or nature. You still delight in your descendants, but imagine your shock one day when you realize that your descendants are gone. Each bloodline you sired has ended. You despair, thinking of all the children you had and how not one of their bloodlines survived."

By this point, the scallops were finished and Williams returned with his tray, which held a tureen and soup bowls. He dished up and served them all mushroom and wild rice soup and winked out of sight so quickly that Dean was reminded of the bird in a cuckoo clock.

"And what happened after that?" Dean asked, ignoring his soup. "How do we come into it?"

Belenus glanced at his setting. "You've stopped eating."

"How about we quit playing this game and you just give us a straight answer, huh?"

Belenus' eyes hardened, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Sam nearly had a heart attack from shock when his hand moved on its own, picked up the soup spoon, dipped it into the soup, and lifted it to his mouth. A moment later his mouth opened, the spoon went in, and he swallowed the mouthful of soup.

"What the hell!" Dean yelled as soon as he'd swallowed his own spoonful of soup.

"My sentiments exactly," Castiel said as his hand lowered his spoon back into the soup. "Belenus, I have to tell you..." He swallowed another spoonful. "...I don't need to eat. It isn't necessary."

"Once Dean agrees to eat on his own, then I'll stop."

"Dean, if you would, please," Castiel said just before his spoon went into his mouth. He chewed the soft bits in the soup and swallowed. "This could be...unpleasant...later."

"Dean!" Sam said when it looked like his brother was about to be stubborn. "I REALLLY don't like this!"

Dean was trying with might and main to resist the compulsion that was gripping him, forcing him to eat, but it was useless. "Fine! Fine! Just...stop this!"

A snap of the fingers, and the compulsion fled. Castiel dropped his spoon and it landed with a splat in his soup as he sagged in his chair in relief. Dark murder burned in his eyes as he looked up at Belenus. "Never...do...that...again."

Belenus smiled, his eyes alight with amusement. "You're welcome to try preventing me, Castiel. How was your soup?"

Cas looked ready to gank Belenus with a fork.

Sam took another spoonful of soup, still feeling a bit shaky. He really didn't want to eat any more, but he didn't dare not to. He noticed with relief that Dean was eating as well. He looked as if he was having trouble swallowing, but he was eating.

"I'm glad you decided to be sensible, my boy," he told Dean.

"Let's not go into that right now," Dean said, controlling the tone and volume of his voice with herculean effort. "What I would like to know is how we come into all this. What makes you so sure that we're related to you? How on earth can you possibly tell that?"

"Blood always calls to blood," Belenus told him. "I was in Las Vegas several years ago, and I saw the two of you. I felt the call that I have not felt for centuries. You two, Dean and Sam, are of my blood, the only ones in the world."

Sam shrugged as Williams returned. "I haven't felt anything. Dean?"

"Nope," Dean said as Williams served them roast beef with roast potatoes and carrots. "Nothing."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Belenus said as he dug into his roast beef. "Mostly only gods can, you know."

"I had no idea," Dean muttered as he picked up his fork and stabbed the meat with it. He really looked as if he wanted to stab Belenus.

"I wanted to meet you two," Belenus told them, keeping up his side of the bargain. They were eating, so he talked. "I soon learned you were hunters, which meant I had to tread carefully. You could have killed me if I'd given you a reason, so I set up a little mystery for you to solve, and you came right to me. It took some serious planning, let me tell you, and not an insignificant amount of money, but I consider every cent well worth it."

"What happened to the people who disappeared?" Sam asked.

"They are downstairs, sleeping. One by one, they'll wake up and go about their business now that you two are here. They've served their purpose."

"And how are they going to explain their disappearances to the police?" Dean asked, taking a bite of potato before mashing the rest with his fork.

"I'll handle it," Belenus promised. "Everything will be explained, and the police will be satisfied. It's not my first time dealing with the authorities, you know. Nothing to worry about."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. They doubted it would be as simple as Belenus was saying.

"So you lured us here with a phony case just to have dinner?" Dean wanted to know.

"And to talk to you," Belenus added. "You wouldn't believe how much I've been looking forward to this. Are you finished with the roast beef? I believe Williams has made pie of some sort for dessert."

Dean froze. "Pie?"

"Don't you like pie?" Belenus asked, concerned.

"No, pie's great," Dean said, suddenly sounding happier.

Williams arrived then with his tray, and on it was a chocolate silk pie garnished with chocolate curls. Williams served them all with his usual efficiency and then he was gone, leaving them to talk.

Dean took a bite of his slice of pie and let out a little groan. "Oh, this is perfect."

Belenus gave Dean a fond smile. "I'm glad. Where are you boys staying?"

"In town," Sam answered, still surprised at Dean's reaction to pie. He supposed that there was pie and there was...well, pie.

"That's a good distance," Belenus said, glancing at the clock. "It will be time for you to get some rest soon."

Not before I finish my pie, Dean thought. It was too good to leave any on his plate.

Castiel sat up and looked at both Winchesters. "He's right."

Dean quickly put the last bite of pie in his mouth. "It's..." Dean stopped and stared at the clock. "How long have we been here? The clock says it's eight-thirty already, but we got here...when?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," Belenus told him. "After all, time flies when you're having fun. Why don't you boys stay here tonight? There's plenty of room, and I would be happy to have you here."

All three of them had alarm bells going off. He was too eager to have them stay.

"We can always come back tomorrow," Dean pointed out. "After all, we still have questions."

The mood in the room shifted, and the food they'd eaten turned leaden in their stomachs. It was as if the candles on the table were burning too brightly while the shadows in the corners of the room grew darker. At the same time, it got colder. Some shift in Belenus' face had all of them on their feet, backing away.

"I'm glad you still have questions, but why don't I save you the trip?" He raised his hand, they heard the fingers snap, and...

Blackness.