046. mobs

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"So?" Dean asks, walking into the kitchen where the couple are sitting at the table.

"What?" Sam asks.

"You find anything on the Seal of Solomon?" Dean asks.

"Well, I've been digging through the lore, but so far, nothing." Sam says while Dean gets a box of cold pizza out.

"Great. So we got Cas in Syria dodging bullets, trying to find fruit from the Tree of Life. We don't know where Lucifer is, so we can't get grace from an archangel. And, uh, what's the last ingredient of this spell we're never gonna find?" Dean asks, sitting across from Sam with the pizza.

"Blood of a most holy man." Sam says.

"A most holy man. What-what-- what does that mean?"

"No idea. I've been thinking maybe, uh, blood of a saint?"

"A saint?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, should be easy to get."

"Well, actually, uh, turns out there's a huge market for religious relics. Hair of a martyr, um, nails from the True Cross."

"Okay, okay. One, ew. Two, where is this market?"

"Online."

"Ah. The internet. Not just for porn anymore." Dean takes a bite of pizza.

"That was never the intention." Miranda says.

"Anyway, a lot of this is fake, obviously, but I-I did find one dealer who seems to be legit -- Margaret Astor. Worth a shot?"

"Yeah. Good. Why not? I don't think I can take another one of these cold pieces of Papa Giovanni's." Dean drops the piece of pizza into the box and slides it away from him.

+++

They took the kids to Jody's before going to San Francisco.

They walk into the restaurant and over to where Margaret is sitting.

"Miss Astor?" Dean asks.

"Ms. will do." She smiles. Miranda doesn't miss how her gaze lingers on Sam.

"Of course. Great. Uh, may we sit?" Sam asks.

"Please." She says. "So, gentlemen, lady, what can I do for you?" She asks as they sit down.

"Okay, we, um, we're interested in obtaining a very rare religious artifact, and-- and we were told that maybe you'd be the person to help us out." Sam says.

"Really?" Margaret asks.

"Yeah." Sam says.

"Who told you that?" Margaret asks.

"The internet." Dean says, grinning.

"So... this is not a personal recommendation?" Margaret asks.

"No. Um, is-- is that a problem?" Sam asks.

"Personal relationships are very important to me." While she talks, she walks two fingers across the table and puts her hand on top of Sam's making him jump a little. His right hand is on top of his left so she doesn't see his wedding ring. Miranda's eyebrows raise to her hairline, looking between the two. She looks at Sam, waiting for his reaction.

"Right." Sam says as Margaret moves her hand away. "Well, um... I would personally appreciate any help you could give us." Sam says, putting his right hand on top of her left hand. Miranda's face scrunches up in utter disgust as she looks to her husband, planning his murder.

"What sort of help do you need?" Margaret asks.

"We need, um... the blood of a saint." Sam says, taking his hand away from Margaret's.

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