Canton, SD, was a small town on the outskirts of Sioux Falls - an odd place for a Norse god to have stopped on his journey, but not a bad place to make contact, in Kristen's opinion. She'd scouted the few bars and places of entertainment, and decided on Noid's Gaming Parlor as a place that would entice a being who enjoyed chance and chaos. She charmed her way into ownership of one of the pool tables early in the evening, and there she stayed, taking on all comers. After all, what hunter doesn't know how to hustle pool"

There wasn't anything special about Canton, SD. It was just another small mid-western town without much to do on a Saturday night but hang out at the local watering hole, which in this case was Noid's. It was enough to bore even a demigod with its predictability, but this particular demigod wasn't there for the booze or the women or even the games of chance. He was there because he'd sensed someone was tracking him, and that someone was here. The big question was which illusion to wear tonight. He didn't want to draw too much unwanted attention, but he was too cocky to wear an illusion that would just blend in with the crowd. In the end, he chose one of his favorites - a tall blond man with ice blue eyes and a build that said "Don't mess with me." He looked like something of a cross between a biker, a bodybuilder, and a Viking, and though it wasn't his true form, he wore it with ease.

"Oh, come on!"

The complaint came from a young man by the pool table, throwing up his hands because his attractive opponent had just potted every ball on the table in front of him.

Kris straightened up, leaning on her cue, and grinned at him. "You're the one who said a woman couldn't do it," she pointed out. "Pay up."

She kissed his cheek as he grumbled, taking the little wad of notes from her now blushing vanquished opponent. Her eyes skimmed the bar, not even hesitating as they passed over the apparent Viking who was ever so slightly blurred around the edges, thanks to her pin. Loki.

"Anyone else?"

The big blond man came to a halt at the bar, drawing a few admiring gazes from a few female patrons and envious ones from the males. He ordered himself a beer, and took a lean on the bar, as he quietly surveyed the small crowd, which looked fairly typical for a Saturday night. The woman at the pool table drew his attention. There was something different about her, but for now, he was content to simply observe.

"Yeah, I'll play you," a hoarse voice said, belonging to an older man with shoulders like a minotaur. "All or nothin'?"

Kris considered him for a moment, and nodded. Loki was a trickster, he liked games; she had to take a risk or two to keep his attention. "Sure, all or nothing," she agreed. "I'm so nice, I'll let you break, too."

The big man casually sipped his beer, while he watched the crowd, his gaze lingering on the woman at the pool table and her challenger. For a moment, he almost forgot himself and straightened his own broad shoulders, as if sizing himself up against the older man.

"Does anyone care to wager?" he inquired, just as casually, in a baritone voice with a slight indecipherable accent.

"Depends who you're bettin' on, sweetcheeks," a bawdy female voice declared from behind the bar. "She's been rolling all comers since six."

Over at the pool table, Kris watched as her opponent broke, studying his form. This one might be a challenge. Possibly.

The big man flashed the woman behind the bar a smile, his ice blue eyes sparkling in amusement. "My money's on the girl," he said, dropping a Ben Franklin on the counter, which might or might not be real.

"Well, you know, that's just a real pretty smile you got there," the woman responded cheerfully, opening the till to lay another Franklin on top of his. "I'll take that bet. George, you better win that damned game!"

George scowled at her, turning back to concentrate on his shot.

"How about we raise the stakes?" the blond man queried. "If she doesn't win, everyone in the room gets free drinks on me, and I play the winner," he challenged further, just for the hell of it.

"Oh, and if she does win, free round on the house and you play her, huh?" The woman behind the bar was grinning again; it didn't look like she was going to back off on that one. "You're on, honey. What's your name?"

"That sounds fair," he agreed, pausing a moment to come up with a name. People didn't always ask him that. "You can call me Erik," he said, which sounded convincingly common enough to him, while still having Viking origins. It wasn't his real name, nor was he claiming it as his own, but it was good enough for his purposes. He very pointedly didn't ask for hers.

"Well, Erik, my name's Martha, and you're still payin' for your drinks until that game's over." She chuckled warmly. "Strangest way to get a woman's attention I seen this week, but whatever floats your boat, darlin'."

"Oh, it's not your attention I'm looking for, sweetcheeks. It's hers," he clarified with a nod of his head toward Kristen. He said no more, waiting for the woman to offer any information she liked, while he set another bill on the counter - this time bearing the face of Alexander Hamilton. He tapped a finger against the bill, as if to make his point.

"Oh, really?" Martha looked positively delighted with this information, swiping the Hamilton out from under his hand to ring up his change. "Gotta work fast then, honey - she's just passin' through." From the pool table came the sound of George swearing, drawing the eye just in time to see Kris bend to take a shot.

"Really. What else do you know about her?" he asked, lifting a hand to refuse the change. "Keep the change." The blond man tilted his head just a little to admire the view the female pool player was giving him as she bent over to take her shot. It wasn't often he found himself attracted to a human female, but there was something about this one. It was too bad he was probably going to have to kill her.

"She's foreign, got some kind of accent goin' on there," Martha told him, dropping the change into her tip jar. She kept talking even as she served her regulars. "Good English, good manners. If she's cheatin', no one's called her on it."

"Just passing through, you say' Where's she going?" he asked, though the barmaid might not know that. He had a funny feeling the pool player just might be the one who'd been tracking him. Shame, but this might prove fun for a little while anyway.

"Oh, I don't ask that, honey," Martha told him with a shrug. "Anyone's welcome, so long as they don't cause trouble. She's kept my regulars entertained so far - seems like none of them ever expected to get out done by a woman."

"No, they wouldn't, would they?" he remarked, with just the hint of a smirk that somehow didn't look right on his chiseled, handsome face. "Refill, please. You can keep them coming," he told her, repeating what he'd heard said a hundred times before in a hundred different bars.

"I am tracking you because you surfaced and contacted the King of Hell," she informed him. "He went underground very quickly after that meeting, but shared the information that you were looking for someone who pretended to be you. Artemis asked me to track you down and find out what you were doing. She does not want a war."

He actually rolled his eyes. "Olympians. They're so dramatic. They think everything is about them. They aren't the only ones who were once worshipped as Gods. What makes them think they're any better than us?" he asked, once again, not really answering her questions or explaining his motives.

"I notice you are not answering my questions," Kris pointed out. "I have answered yours, but then I suppose I am not worthy of honesty from a lord of Asgard, being just a mere mortal myself." Her dark eyes flickered teasingly, daring him to agree with her.

"There is no Asgard," Loki said, looking grim. "Asgard was destroyed, and despite my reputation, I had nothing to do with it. Or didn't Artemis tell you that?" he asked, sounding about as grim as he looked.

Kris stared at him, wishing she could see his real face, the real response to what he was saying. "I did not know," she said quietly, darling to touch her fingers to his arm lightly. "I am sorry. Has Ragnarok happened without our knowing it?"

He almost flinched as her fingers grazed his arm, as if that simple touch might hurt him somehow. Was it compassion or pity he heard in her voice, or was she just playing him' "In a manner of speaking, I suppose, but nothing can be done about it now, can it' Of course, I could snap my fingers and pretend this is Asgard, but it wouldn't be real, so what?s the point?"

Feeling him tense, she moved her hand away, unwilling to push this man too far. "Have you let yourself mourn, at all?" she asked, and yes, there was compassion in her voice. Pain, too; memories brought up by his grim sharing of a tragedy he couldn't have prevented. "Or are you seeking revenge" Or death?"

"Death?" he echoed, chuckling. "Death would be too easy. Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and degenerate. Think, therefore, on revenge and cease to weep," he said, quoting the Bard regarding revenge.

"So it is revenge," she murmured. "Against who?" A stray glance brought her attention to the fact that Martha was watching their suddenly very serious conversation from the bar with a worried frown.

"Against those who have wronged me, of course," he replied simply enough, without naming names. "Liars and traitors." Of which Gabriel was the first name on his list.

"And what will that achieve?" Kris asked him bluntly. "You intend to kill the new King of Heaven, yes" All that will do is start is a war. Zeus will kill you, or have you killed, and any Norse god remaining will be obligated to retaliate. You'll be threatening humanity with a war between the gods that is ultimately pointless."

"The new King of Heaven is a liar and a cheat. I have more scruples in my thumbnail than he does in his entire being. Whatever debt I owed him has been paid in full. Have you ever stopped to think that he might have planned this all along" Who has benefited most from this latest war" Lucifer and Michael are no more. Raphael is missing and presumed dead. There is no one left but Gabriel. Convenient, no?" Loki pointed out.

"And what will you do, take his place as King of Heaven?" she countered in a heated tone. "Throw away your life for revenge that is meaningless" I can't let you do it. But I would rather not fight you."

"King of Heaven?" he echoed, laughing again. "Don't be daft. The angels would never accept me as their sovereign." He turned serious again, eyes narrowed as he continued. "I have no desire to be king of anything. That is not my goal or my purpose," he said.

"Tell me your goal," she urged him. "Please. I cannot go against my goddess, and she has ordered me to stop you if what you intend threatens the peace hard won. If you will not tell me what you intend, then I have to assume that you do threaten the peace, and that ..." She closed her eyes for a moment, looking down at her hands. "And that I am going to die very soon."

"You're a hunter and a mortal," Loki said. "Mortals are fickle beings. One day they worship you, the next they forget you, though none of them has ever worshiped me." He paused a moment to study her, as if he was trying to determine whether she was trying to manipulate him or being truthful. "Tell me what it is that the Huntress proposes instead. I assume she has no love for angels. Even God has abandoned them. What will she give me in exchange for sparing Gabriel's pathetic life?"

"What do you want in exchange for sparing his pathetic life?" Kris didn't really have the authority to negotiate like this, but she could at least find out what he would take as a bribe and pass that on. "And not all mortals are fickle, thank you very much."

He blinked, not really expecting her to agree with his proposal. "I shall have to think on that," he told her, unable to think of anything he might want more than Gabriel's demise at that moment. "For now, I would welcome the company. I believe you owe me a game of pool."

It might not have been the answer she hoped for, but it was at least a delay in his plans. Kris found herself smiling as she nodded, taking up her glass as she rose. "Well then," she said mischievously. "You are on. Ladies first, I think."

"After you," the big man said, with a wave of his hand toward the pool table as he, too, rose to his feet. He wasn't too worried about losing, since he was notorious for cheating, and there were no stakes at risk anyway ....yet.

It didn't take much more than a smile to claim the table once again. Kris eyed her companion as she stacked the balls, considering him for a long moment. "So," she said, lowering her cue to aim, "are there stakes, or are you simply desperate for my winning company?"

Though he might very well be desperate for company, he wasn't about to admit it. "You're the one who lured me here. Maybe you're desperate for company," he said, conversely, as he watched her rack the balls and take aim.

"I did not set a trap or bait," she pointed out in amusement, drawing the cue back. "You are the one who walked in and took an interest in me, as I recall." There was a clack as she hit the cue ball and the rack broke. She frowned; usually she could pot at least one at the break.

He said nothing about the break, but there was the slightest hint of a smirk around his lips. "You are the one who tracked me and lured me here, huntress. Tell me, did my son give you some sad story about missing his father?" he asked, as he stepped up to the table to line up his shot.

She snorted with laughter. "Well, when he finished licking his genitals, he did have quite a lot to say about you," she said, leaning on her cue to watch him. "I did not believe most of it - he really is very loyal to you."

"Is he?" Loki said, not really expecting any proof of that fact. He took his shot, easily sinking two balls in two separate pockets - or at least, that's what it looked like he'd done. He moved around the table to line up his next shot. "What's he doing with himself these days" Hunting and rutting?"

"Baldur dreamed of his own death. That much of the story is true," he said, not acknowledging or reacting to her touch, whether he felt it or not. "But I did not kill him. Lucifer did that," he told her, though it seemed she knew that already. He took his shot, a couple of balls dropping into pockets.

"Who wrote the story?" she asked curiously, leaning against the table as her hand slid up along his spine. The body under her palm felt less bulky than the one she could see; toned, certainly, but more wiry than muscled. More appropriate to a rogue than a fighter.

"What is it you are doing, woman?" he asked, as he turned in time to catch her wrist in his hand. He did not look angry, so much as curious. There were very few who could see through his illusions, and he assumed she was not doing so of her own accord.

She let him catch her wrist, not even trying to pull away, meeting his gaze as calmly as she could. Hoping he couldn't see the flare of not quite fear that rose at the prospect of pushing him past tolerance and into annoyance. "Seeing you, the only way I can."

"Why is it so important that you see me?" he asked, eyes narrowed. Was it merely curiosity or was it something more" Most women found the form he was wearing alluring, but this woman seemed different.

"Why is it so important to you that I do not?" she countered, taking a leaf out of his book when it came to eluding an answer. "You know my face, my eyes, my form. You could pick me out of a crowd. How do I know if this form I am talking to is even you? How do I know this is real and not a deception?"

"I do not look like Gabriel, I will tell you that," he said, turning back to line up the next shot. "Gabriel has been wearing that face for eons. He has become rather fond of it, but it is not my face," he told her, contradicting what Gabriel had once claimed. He took the shot, just barely missing the corner pocket with a sigh. Normally, he would have made sure he made the shot, or at least, appeared to have.

"He is an angel," she reminded him. "That face belongs to the human he wears." Her fingertips trailed down his forearm, still mapping him physically if he would let her, before she moved to study the table. "Why do you have so much trouble with the truth?"

He didn't pull away from her touch, amused, perhaps, by her attempt to sort out what he looked like beneath the illusion. "What is the truth' Is your truth my truth' Truth is subjective. It is a matter of perspective," he pointed out, studying her in return as she moved away to study the table.

She looked him dead in the eye. "I have never knowingly told a lie," she informed him. "I may have ommitted detail, but never created a falsehood. The face I wear is my own. I don't hide from the world." Bending, she lined up her shot and took it in one movement.

He said nothing in his own defense, but watched as she took her shot. The game had soured for him, and he no longer cared if he won or lost. "You ask that I not start a war. That is the only reason you are here."

"Yes, it is the reason I am here," she agreed, turning to face him once again. "But it is not the reason I am still here. If I truly wanted just to prevent a war, there are any number of things I could have done to you. And all you have done is deny me an answer to the one question I have asked with honest certainty." She reached out, laying her hand against his chest as she lowered her voice. "What do you want, Loki?"

He paused a moment, as he studied her, not yet saying a word. She might read his answer in the ice blue of his eyes; in the pain and loneliness reflected there. There were so many ways to answer her question, all of them honest, but not entirely true. "There are so many things that I want, I do not know how to answer your question," he replied, as honestly as he could.

"What can I give you, that you want?" she then said, hoping he would give her the same honesty in answering that question that he had used in answering the one before. Artemis must have had a reason for sending her to do this, after all.

He seemed at a loss as to how to answer that question, too, stammering an answer. "I-I do not know," he told her. He considered quietly a moment, the face he was wearing looking troubled. "Do you really wish to know what I look like?" he asked her.

Kris' expression softened at the sound of his unexpected stammer. "I would not ask if I did not wish to see you," she assured him quietly. "But I think that changing your face in the middle of a public bar, when we are already the focus of a good deal of curiosity, might not be the wisest course."

"Are you certain that is where we are?" he asked, that hint of mischief flickering like fire in his ice blue eyes. Could she be certain of anything so long as he was near"

That hint of mischief brought her smile back onto her face. "With you, I am not certain of anything," was her quiet answer. "But I am not afraid to find out."

"Very well," he said, admiring her bravery, as well as her honesty. He turned, nodding toward a dark corner of the bar where a shadowy figure was sitting alone. "Go there, and you will find what you seek," he told her.

Kris half-turned in the direction he indicated, her smile deepening for just a moment as a vague suspicion was confirmed. "Thank you." This was offered, not to the surprisingly solid illusion she had been spending time with, but to the figure sitting in the shadows. She patted the blond Viking's cheek, collecting her glass, and slipped into the shadows herself. "May I join you?"

As she moved forward, her surroundings seemed to shimmer and ripple, changing slightly as the illusion that had surrounded her gave way to reality or reality gave way to illusion. The pool table was still there, but the people seemed to fade away, the tall, blond Viking disappearing altogether, as though he had never been there at all. Within the shadows, there was nothing but a single table with two chairs and a tall, dark-haired man with ice blue eyes facing her.

"Yes, of course. You need not ask," he told her, his voice different from that of the Viking - not quite as deep but with that same indistinct accent.

"Thank you." Dropping into a seat, she crossed one leg over the other, resting her chin on her hand as she studied her companion. "Was anything real?" she asked softly. "Anything about the bar at all?"

"The bar is real enough, but while we are here in the shadows, we cannot be seen or heard. We are here, but we are cloaked in shadow. As far as the mortals are concerned, you excused yourself to visit the privy. They will be none the wiser," the dark-haired man who looked almost like the exact opposite of the Viking explained.

"And should I choose to leave with you, and not your ..." She glanced over to the pool table, though she saw no one there. "Your Captain America look-alike" What will they see, then, I wonder?"

"I'm sorry, who?" the dark-haired man who was presumably Loki asked, looking a little confused. "They will see whatever I want them to see," he replied in answer to her question.

"Your blonde-hair, blue-eyed puppet," she clarified, returning her gaze to him. "What I am asking is, what would you wish them to see in such a case?"

Loki narrowed his eyes, not quite trusting the Goddess, though he was secretly hoping she was telling the truth. "Is this some kind of trick?" he asked again, reluctant to do as she asked for fear she might be luring him into a trap.

Artemis sighed, gently removing her hand from Kristen's shoulder. She turned both her palms upward, lowering to one knee before Loki. "Test me," she told him. "I have no reason to lie. I have no love for Gabriel. But through her, I have good reason to want you to live."

He seemed to consider a moment, studying both women carefully. Too many years had passed and too much damage had been done for him to easily overcome his suspicions. He knew he was not perfect and that he had made his share of mistakes, but he did not believe he had earned the enmity to which he had been subjected.

"You are serious," he said, brows arching upwards at the Goddess' offer, almost incredulously.

"Where do you think she learned not to lie?" Artemis pointed out gently.

At the table, Kris suddenly spoke up, her face lined with thought. "This is why the Norse magic came so easily," she said in a soft tone. "Why Fenrir did not attack me."

"You did not know?" he asked, turning to look at Kris with a questioning expression on his face.

"How could I know?" she answered, a little wild around the eyes. "I barely remember my family. I was raised by Artemis and Apollo, I - " A thought occurred to her then, snapping her mouth shut as Artemis nodded.

"Yes, he wasn't very good at protecting you from his own prejudices," the goddess agreed softly, rising to her feet once again. To Loki, she added, "My brother could not understand why I would make alliance with the high priestess of another god."

"High priestess?" Loki echoed, still looking a little baffled, despite the Goddess' explanation. "So, why did you?" he asked, needing an answer to that question, as well, before he was going to start trusting her.

"Because I knew the angels' Apocalypse was coming," Artemis admitted. "And I knew we would be able to take our place. My father has little interest in the world; he would leave it without a guiding hand if he could. But our strength, the strength of the gods, has always been our diversity. The Norse should rise with us, as you did once before."

"Alas, there are so few of us left," Loki said. "And of those who are left, few care what becomes of Loki Laufeyson, save perhaps one, but I have not seen him in many years." He had not said just who that was, but among the Norse Gods, he had only called one of them "friend".

"I care." The words were out before Kristen could stop them, her head ducking as she realized she had interrupted two gods who had a claim on her soul.

Artemis bit down on a smile, bending to leave a kiss on Loki's cheek, hiding her whisper from the mortal woman. "She is yours. Try not to break her."

A dark brow ticked upwards as his gaze flickered to Kristen, more at her words than at the words of the Goddess. It was all so unbelievable, he was still waiting for the trap to snap shut. All he had to do was reach out and touch her to know whether it was true or not. His fingers twitched nervously as he considered, not wanting to admit that he was, indeed, a little afraid.

"Is it true, what she says?" he asked.

Kris was staring at him, torn between shock and awe. She'd had no idea that a birth bond could be taken over by another god, much less that it had happened to her. "I ....don't know," she confessed, pressing her palms flat on the table.

Artemis straightened from her bend, glancing slowly between them as she stepped back from the table. "There is only one way to be certain," she said calmly. "And the only way to protect your own is not to go looking for trouble."

His knee-jerk reaction was, of course, to get defensive, but to his credit, he bit his tongue and only frowned at the two of them, as if he was still debating what to do. There was an old mortal saying: Nothing ventured, nothing gained, but did he have the courage inside him to do what she was asking"

"I will consider your words, Goddess," he told her, making no promises. "I need time to think." And with that, he was gone, and the bar returned to normal, as if nothing had ever been amiss.

Kris sat silent for a long moment, alone at a shadowed table, abandoned by both her gods. Everyone there seemed to have completely forgotten her. Most of her life had been a preparation for a power play by Artemis, it seemed ....if the Huntress was telling the truth. Where was the vaunted love of mankind now" Clearly it could be set aside when ambition came to call. So where did that leave her" Between the goddess who had raised her, and the god her father had intended her for - between a lying teacher, and a forlorn stranger. And she would just have to wait until one or the other made a decision.

She sighed, rising to her feet as she pulled her phone from her pocket, already dialing Ayden's number. Whatever Artemis was up to, the Winchesters should know about this development.