“We’ve looked all over downtown for the right door,” Sam said.

“It’s not something you find if you’re looking for it,” the Trickster said, exasperated. “You know how there are some things you can only see out of the corner of your eye? It’s like that.”

“So how do we find it?”

“Fortunately for you guys, I know where to look.” He paused. “Do you have it with you? The Cup?”

“It’s back at the motel,” Dean said.

The Trickster reached over and rapped his knuckles on the top of Dean’s head. “No!” he said like he was scolding a naughty puppy. “You don’t leave the cup unattended, even for breakfast.” There was a faint thumping sound and Dean felt the briefcase between his feet. “That’s better,” the Trickster said and grinned at the waitress when she returned with their coffee. Dean reached down and touched the top of the briefcase.

“How do you know about this?” Sam said. “You’re not even — I mean, I always thought you were Loki or something.”

“My stories are long gone,” the Trickster said, waving his hand. “Doesn’t matter — I still have a good time. I know because we all know. There’s a whole world, you know, that you only see when it intersects with yours. We have our own concerns and our own hierarchy –”

“Like the person you won’t say no to,” Dean said. “Is it Castiel?”

The Trickster looked annoyed. “Like I’d follow the orders of an angel. Please. There are older and more powerful beings. And the cup and the Apocalypse, it affects all of us, even the ones who’ve been around longer than Jesus. The rules change, the new boss moves in, you know how it goes.”

“So you care about the Apocalypse,” Sam said.

“Of course I do. Do you think they have a place in Hell for people like me? The answer to that, by the way, is no. Hell has no sense of humor and it’s nothing but pompous pricks wrestling for domination. Boring. I’d rather keep the Earth nice and normal and full of suckers.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “That’s almost selfless.”

The Trickster shrugged, smiling, and drank some coffee. “I like the world,” he said simply. “There’s plenty of things worth saving, like pancakes and Hershey’s Kisses and hot girls in lingerie. You know what Hell’s got?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s got pain and fire and smoke. And the screaming.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not crazy about the screaming.” He saw Dean’s expression and muttered, “Sorry. Yeah, of course you know.”

“‘s okay,” Dean said. Sam was looking at him with the compassionate expression he usually used on witnesses, and Dean scowled at him. “I’m okay.”

“So,” the Trickster said, “we eat, and then we’re going for a walk. You boys ever been to the art museum?”

***

Dean had to pay for the Trickster’s admission to the museum as well, and the Winchesters followed him up the stairs. “Seriously?” Sam said. “The door’s in a museum?”

“A door is in the museum,” the Trickster said. “The simplest one to find is.” He led them through the galleries, and paused in front of a small wing with a huge Georges Seurat at the end.

“Is it here?” Dean said, peering into the gallery.

“No. I just really like that picture. This way.” He hurried on.

Dean tucked the briefcase under his arm and strode after him, wondering if they weren’t being tricked somehow after all. He exchanged a look with Sam, who just shrugged and kept up with the Trickster easily with his long legs.

The Trickster led them to the textiles wing and stopped in front of a large tapestry. “This is six hundred years old,” he said quietly. “Just a blink, in the grand scheme of things.”

“This is our door,” Sam said, speaking softly too. The tapestry portrayed a similar scene to the dish — the Green Knight at King Arthur’s court, holding his decapitated head as other knights looked on. Dean held the briefcase a little closer to him and felt the warmth of the cup through the leather.

“This is the door.” The Trickster looked as serious as they’d ever seen him. “Now. When we go through the door we will be in the marketplace. Stay with me. Got that? Stay. With. Me. No matter how tempting or shiny things look, do not stop, do not bargain, do not pick up anything even to look at it. The merchants will eat you alive if they think they can. It’s not far to the Hanging Man but that doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.”

“Why is it dangerous?” Sam said.

“Because it’s the other side, dumbass,” the Trickster said. “And you’re mortals. Mostly,” he added, eyeing Sam, and Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You know it as well as I do. Now, when we reach the Hanging Man, let me do the talking. Don’t touch anything, speak when spoken to, and don’t eat anything or you’ll never be allowed to leave. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sam said and Dean echoed, “Got it.”