From the moment Castiel had decided to be a hunter, cases were easier to find, and easier to take care of. Dean had to admit that working with an angel had its perks. They seemed to be helping people at a record pace. What Cas lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm. The angel was slowly becoming a better hunter, and also improving his 'people skills'. Dean couldn't help but feel proud of his friend.

"I've found another case." Cas appeared in the middle of the motel room, not bothering to start with a greeting.

"Already?" Sam asked incredulously. "We just wrapped up the last one."

"Yes. This one is only a two hour drive. Although, time wouldn't be an issue if you would let me-"

"Zap us everywhere? No thanks." Dean sighed. "Dude, we gotta slow down or we'll burn out. You do realize that we need sleep, right?"

"Right...I'm sorry." Cas looked down sheepishly.

"It's okay, just give us a few hours. Why don't you go check on Kevin, see how he's doing with the Demon Tablet?"

"Of course."

The next morning, Dean awoke to a shadow standing over his bed. The adrenaline quickly overcame his sleepiness, and he instinctively reached for the gun under his pillow.

"It's just me." Cas spoke, sounding amused.

"Dammit, Cas." Dean grumbled. "I could have shot you."

"Even if you had managed it, you know bullets can't harm me."

"Still."

At this point, Sam was awake too. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, and Dean resisted the urge to call his brother a hippie and tell him to get a haircut.

They were on the road within an hour. While they were driving, Cas filled them in.

"The town has had four homicides in the last week."

"Let me guess-no leads?"

"Actually, they caught the killer in every case. One man killed the boy who got his daughter pregnant. A wife murdered her cheating husband's lover. A businessman shot his coworker who got a promotion instead of him. And the last one, a 13 year old boy killed the bully who'd been tormenting him for months."

"Are you sure this is our kind of thing? Those all sound like typical motives for murder."

"Yeah, but four in a week? That's way above average for a town this size." Sam pointed out.

"Sam is right. Besides, there is something unnatural involved, I can feel its energy." Cas said.

"Alright, well can you get to the source of that 'energy'?"

"I could feel it on each of the killers, but I don't know where it's coming from or what it is." Cas said apologetically.

"That's okay. We'll do what we do best, and get to the bottom of this."

They interviewed all four killers, and got a surprisingly similar answer from each of them. They'd all been thinking about committing the murder, but never actually intended to act on those thoughts. They simply woke up that morning, and decided that these people did in fact need to die. After the act, they were suddenly overcome by guilt and shock, and had turned themselves in.

After discussing multiple theories, their best lead seemed to be a cursed object. Now they just needed to figure out where all the victims/murderers had come in contact with it.

It wasn't easy, but they finally found a lead. They talked to the friends and family of the victims turned killers, and discovered that all of them had attended a yard sale a few blocks away. Unfortunately, none of them knew what they'd bought there.

Naturally, they went to check it out. They stood outside the sketchy looking house and wondered how the guy had gotten anyone to come for a yard sale. It looked like a crack house.

"Don't touch anything until we determine what the cursed object is." Cas reminded them.

"Uh, yeah. Wasn't planning on it." Sam said.

"You know, we're already trying to kill the people we want dead. Maybe it'd give us a run of luck and help us actually find that son of a bitch Crowley." Dean muttered.

Just then, a short man answered the door, looking as if he'd just woken up. He was in his early forties, and morbidly obese. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. We need to search your house." Cas stated simply.

Dean sighed. Cas could definitely work on a couple things.

"What? Why? What's going on?" The man demanded to know, alarmed.

"I think you know." Cas squinted at him, and the man gulped.

"Listen, I told Marco I'd pay him back..."

"Cas, he doesn't know." Sam realized.

"Know what?"

"Could we come in for a minute?"

The inside of the house was worse than the outside, with empty beer cans and other trash strewn around. "Sorry about the mess." The man apologized. "I'm Hector. And you are?"

"No one of import."

Geez, Cas...he's gonna think we're the mafia or something. Dean thought. They had originally planned to let Cas do all the talking so he could practice, but it was clear that Hector was getting suspicious.

"We're from the FBI." Dean forced a smile. "Now, we need to know exactly what you sold at the yard sale you hosted a few days ago."

"The FBI? Why is the Federal Government interested in my yard sale?"

"Please just answer the question."

"Okay...umm, my grandma passed away about a month ago, and I needed money. I was selling her stuff. I sold some furniture, jewelry, and her old coin collection. I think they were Ancient Greek or something. I sold them to like four different people."

"The coins...do you have any left?" Cas frowned.

"No. There were only four. What's this about?"

"Did they come in a red and gold box?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Hector was looking at Cas as if he had a third eye.

"It's not the first time I've encountered these. There used to be twelve of them, but some were lost over the years. I always wondered what happened to the remaining four. We need that box."

"How much will you give me for it?" The man asked hopefully.

Dean reached into his pocket to see how much cash he had, but Cas had other ideas. He grabbed Hector by the front of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. "We are the Government. We take what we need, and you will give it to us."

"Actually that's not how the Constitution works-"

"NOW." Cas growled.

"Yikes, okay, okay..." Hector scrambled off to find it.

"You could have been a little more gentle with the guy, Cas." Sam glared.

"These coins are nothing to fool around with. They've been around for centuries, causing murderous rage in those who touch them. They cause the person to immediately begin planning the demise of the person they hate the most."

"Still. The poor bastard doesn't know what he's gotten into."

Cas ignored this comment, and took the empty box from Hector's hands once he returned. Dean felt bad for the guy, and slipped him a $50 bill on the way out.

Now to find the coins.

They assumed the coins would be locked up in Evidence, so they went to the station. Cas made their lives easy, and simply popped into the Evidence room to take the them. He returned within minutes, all four coins safely tucked away in the box.

Back at the motel room, Dean couldn't stop thinking about his earlier idea. All the murderers had succeeded in killing the person they hated the most. What if this was their break? What if the coins would help them catch Crowley and finish the bastard?

He knew Cas would never consent to him trying, so he came up with a plan.

"Hey, Cas."

"Yes, Dean?" The angel stared at him curiously.

"Could you go check on Kevin? I have a bad feeling about him. I just wanna make sure everything is okay."

Cas frowned. "Of course." In an instant, he was gone.

Sam was taking the first shower, so Dean was all alone with the coins. He quickly opened the box and took one of them out. He held it in his hand, feeling the weight of the ancient bronze. It was heavy for something so small, and it was remarkably well-preserved for being thousands of years old.

At first, he didn't think it was working. He attributed this to the fact that they were already trying to kill Crowley. He was about to put the coin back in the box, when it hit him.

You know who you hate the most.

Just like that, he realized that it wasn't Crowley.

It was himself.