Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Nightmares had a way of rooting into your being and staying with you forever. Castiel Novak had been running from the source of his for eight years now, and still they gripped at him, haunted him through the night. He saw coal-black eyes paired with tormenting smiles and human beings strung up in caves, half their flesh stripped clean from their bones, the other half torn and mangled. During his sleep, Castiel saw all this and more. There was the gentle stream of blood trickling down from the chest cavity of a werewolf victim, no heart in sight. Castiel hadn’t seen any of these things since he’d left for college, but nightmares never let you go. Good dreams were so much more fleeting, slipping away the second you tried to remember them. Castiel supposed that was the great price of having them. They fluttered away as soon as you started looking too hard, holding on too tight.

Unfortunately, the world did not stop because Castiel was having a bad day after a sleepless night, so he shoved his nightmares into a locked trunk far, far away and got ready for work. He was making an honest living, unlike his father, at a flower shop in New York called Roses Are Red. Castiel liked it. His co workers were pleasant and his manager, Stacy, was chalk-full of random flower facts that Castiel was always interested to hear.

As Castiel cut stems and rearranged bouquets, he began to think of his father. When was the last time they had talked? Almost a month, surely. Castiel usually checked in on him more often, considering the dangerous and often deadly work he did. Castiel was always the one Daniel Novak had come running to after being hurt on a hunt, navigating the confusing subway system of New York City to reach his son. Castiel figured the bloodstains on his couch were worth the lives that had doubtlessly been saved. His father was one of the best hunters in the business, known and liked throughout the community. He knew his refusal to follow in his footsteps was an insult to his family’s pride, but Castiel couldn’t help but wish for something more. There was a story, a future in every person he met, and hunting ripped most if not all possibilities of friendship and romance away from him. Castiel couldn’t bear that violent life all alone, so he packed up and went to college, his father supporting him in the small ways he was able, despite Castiel’s failures to continue the noble work he’d always done. He supposed it was all for nothing; he was more alone than ever now, away from his father and the strange comforts finding and killing the rot of the Earth brought.

Castiel was so deep in his thoughts that he did not notice the bell on the door chime, nor did he pay attention to the woman that came through it. In his mind, there were only his thoughts and the flowers surrounding him.  

“I’m looking for a Castiel Novak?”

There was a police officer standing in the doorway. Castiel was certain he hadn’t done anything illegal lately, so he knew this meant one of two things. They had caught his father, or his apartment was robbed. Stacy shoved him forward sharply, rudely.

The officer raised her eyebrows.

“You Castiel Novak?”

Castiel nodded mutely.

“Good. Mr. Novak, my name is Officer Jenny Morrison, I’m terribly sorry, but we believe your father is dead and need you to come identify the body.”

Not caught. Dead. Castiel’s knees went out from under him and he reached out blindly for support. He felt like the world under his feet was spinning too fast. His stomach twisted violently and bile rose in his throat. The officer- Jenny- reached out and planted it on his shoulder, steadying him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled through his teeth.

She laughed.

“You act like this is the worst reaction I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes turned down pityingly. “I’ve had to pull children out of school to tell them that one of their parents are dead. It’s the worst thing in the world. Are you okay?”

Castiel nodded and looked up, blinking away tears. He would be. It wasn’t like this possibility hadn’t always sat at the back of his mind.

He stepped outside and Castiel winced at the extra light of the sun. He still felt dizzy. He distracted himself by watching the back of Officer Morrison’s platinum-blonde hair swish, leading him the two blocks to the police station.

“Can I ask what happened to him?” he asked softly.

Jenny turned, blonde hair flashing in the sunlight, and began to walk backwards. There was virtually no one else on the sidewalk, so Castiel didn’t worry about her bumping into anyone.

“They found him at about 11 o’clock this morning in a motel in Scarsdale, evident signs of torture. We believe he died of blood loss.”

This was no ordinary death. Jenny knew it, and Castiel knew it like the back of his hand. Now he knew for sure that his father was dead. He practically didn’t even need to go to the station. It was very unlikely that someone who happened to look very much like his father had somehow been tangled in supernatural affairs, especially so close to Castiel himself. He didn’t believe in coincidences, couldn’t afford to.

He tried to hide the despair on his face but failed, and Jenny reached out for him once more, planting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, kid. Were you two close?”

Castiel wasn’t sure how to answer that.

When he was born, his birth mother had called Daniel Novak to break the news to him that he had a son. When she refused to raise him, Daniel took him and raised him away from hunting for a few years, in a small house that Castiel’s great-grandfather had built and used as a homebase for keeping weapons and hunting books. Daniel returned to the life after Castiel proved to be able to take care of himself well enough, but his father was home every night, to feed him dinner and tuck him into bed. He was never left alone for more than two days, and that was only in extreme circumstances.

Perhaps it was lonely, but Castiel had never felt terribly sorry for himself. He had had everything he’d truly needed. He knew he had been luckier than most, to have had a home and been taken care of fairly regularly. Quite honestly, he would have chosen his own position as the homebound child over his father’s as the nomadic killer.

Castiel himself had started actually hunting when he was 13 years old, and he didn’t see much of his childhood home after that. His first kill was a werewolf with red hair (and fur) and brown eyes, on a killing spree, specifically targeting Native Americans. Castiel would never forget the look in his eyes when he was shot by a 14-year-old, like he would be back and Castiel was his next target. But Castiel would also never forget the way the tiny little girl he had saved launched herself into his arms, singing his praises. Although he quickly learned that hardly anyone said thank you. He was under no illusions that hunting was simple, but he knew if it weren’t for Castiel’s help, his father would have been long gone.

The first time Castiel saved his father’s life was six months into his hunting career, when the older man had been taken, dragged away by a wendigo in the heart of the Sierra Nevada. Castiel followed the trail of his father’s blood and destroyed the beast with flames. Unfortunately, they were too late to save any of its other recent victims, but at least they had cut it off before anyone else could be hurt.

Daniel Novak had lived by a code of conduct, so to speak, and he expected Castiel to follow it as well. They hunted because it was right, not for glory or revenge. Saving the victims always came before eliminating the the monster. If there was ever an option to spare the monster, take it.

When Castiel left for college, his father was proud and accepting, despite the fact that he was breaking this code. They stayed in touch, and Castiel gave his father help where it was needed, but were they close? Neither of them had had anyone else, so if they weren’t, Castiel would indeed be living a very sad life.

He thought, then, of all their good times, the times unmarred by blood or gore or nightmares. His father had never abandoned him, though he could have easily given him up to child services. He hung his childhood art on the fridge. He read him stories and listened to his small-minded rants. His father taught him how to walk, to read, to fight, to hunt. There was never a moment Castiel hadn’t been able to count on his father, even if it was his father who needed to count on Castiel.

“Yes,” he choked out. “I- yes. We were.”

Jenny nodded. Castiel looked at the ground, counting the cracks he stepped on. 1, 2, 3, 4...

“You were listed as next-of-kin, but was he married? Is there anyone else we need to call?”

Castiel just shook his head. If Daniel’s death was what he suspected, then he wouldn’t get the police involved any more than they already were. He would contact other hunters, see what they knew.

But couldn’t he do the job just as well? Sure, he was out of practice, but once upon a time he and his father had been extremely successful hunters. He could solve the case of his father’s murder on his own.

As he would be doing everything from now on.

They arrived at the police station and Jenny led him into the morgue. Just before they entered the room with the all-too familiar wall of silver, Jenny stopped him. “This is pretty traumatic for most people. Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

Castiel nodded wordlessly. Despair was coursing through his veins, pushing at his heart. He was a child again, alone in the woods because his father had been taken from him. ‘Okay’ was relative.

Jenny’s eyes flicked over his face briefly, then pushed open the glass door. Castiel felt as if he were going to be sick to his stomach. He’d been inside a great number of morgues, but this, of course, was entirely different. Today he was Castiel, and the victim his father.

“Come on in, then.”

Castiel breathed deeply and followed her in. He tried to assimilate to the hunting mindset, but his breaths came too quickly and tears swam in his eyes.

When the body was revealed, it was all Castiel could no not to fall to the floor, screaming. There were scars criss-crossing his father’s face like a checkerboard, his arms engraved with words in Latin that Castiel recognized as if they were his own name. Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus…

Demons. Only demons would have the gall to do this, mark their victim with their own weakness. Only a demon could be this cruel, this torturous. Ice flooded Castiel’s body, replacing his blood, freezing all rational thought. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry at the unfairness of this, the very hellbeasts his father had held at bay, not just for his own sake but for the world’s, had cut him down. The exorcism swam before Castiel’s eyes. Those words could have been his father’s salvation, and they were mocking him, mocking every victim who had had something to say but couldn’t because-

“I’m guessing his tongue was cut out,” he managed, his voice deadpan.

Jenny looked concerned. Castiel realized too late that this reaction to seeing one’s dead father was atypical. “Yes. How did you know?”

Because otherwise he would have exorcised the demon, Castiel thought, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he shrugged.

Castiel let his eyes travel over the rest of the markings: on his thighs, his arms, his stomach, his chest. Suddenly he saw something so large and obvious that it was embarrassing Castiel had missed it. His blood ran cold once more and his knees began to buckle, but he took a deep breath and a step back.

Jenny nodded slowly, as if in understanding, as if she had been waiting for Castiel to see what he had missed.

“Okay, then. We have a few questions to ask you.”

Castiel heard himself agree, but he was mainly focused on the largest cuts into his father’s skin, etched across his chest - seven letters.

C-A-S-T-I-E-L.

+++*+++

“What did your father do for a living?” Castiel was seated in the uncomfortable chairs of the interrogation room, Jenny and her partner, Mason, across from him. He was staring blankly at the table, digging into the rubbery side of it with his fingernails.

Castiel shrugged, staring blankly at the table, his hands. His voice shook when he spoke. “Many things. Illegal things. Credit card fraud, stealing, tax evasion.”

Jenny nodded like she wasn’t all that surprised, but Mason looked affronted.

“He was a criminal?”

Castiel looked up to see Mason’s face had turned beet red with anger.

“Yes.”

“And you never reported him? That’s-”

It was Castiel’s turn to be angry.

“He was my father. Forgive me if I wasn’t keen on betraying him to law enforcement of any kind, but it hardly matters now. Also, considering the fact that he has a police record longer than my forearm, I hardly deemed it necessary to tell them something they already knew.”

Mason’s face turned a wonderful shade of crimson before Jenny coughed to bring his attention back to the interrogation. “Where did he live?”

Castiel hesitated on that one. They couldn’t take away his house, could they?

“We travelled a lot, but we had a house where we lived full-time until I was 13, and then we were almost permanently on the road. The house was built by his grandfather and has been in the family ever since, but it’s been empty for years, as far as I know.”

“Okay. That brings me to my next question: Did he have a will?”

Daniel had mailed his will to his son when he was in his second year of college, after a near-death experience. Castiel had never looked at it or read it, but he knew that most if not all of his father’s possessions would go to him.

“Yes. I have it in my apartment.”

“If you would bring that to the police station within three days, we will certainly verify that. Did your father have any enemies?”

At that, Castiel actually laughed, bitterly. “Too many to count.”

Again, Jenny was unsurprised.

“Anyone that would be capable of… this?”

Castiel sighed. “Yes, many, but I can’t name them. I don’t even know for sure what they look like.” It was, technically, the truth.

Jenny and Mason traded a look, like they suspected that Castiel was holding something back.

“Are you sure? If you're afraid of them, it’s okay Castiel, they won’t get to you. We won’t let them.”

Castiel was almost certain there was absolutely nothing they could do against demons, but he didn’t say that.

“He was in many fights, against men that were worse criminals than he was.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes but didn’t press the question further. “Anything else you would like to add?”

There were a million things Castiel could say about his father, but these people would never listen to the good things he had done. They wouldn’t care, either. He was dead. But Castiel said something anyway. “He was not a bad person, despite his crimes.”

Jenny reached out and patted him on the hand and even Mason looked sympathetic. Castiel took a deep breath and left the building, his only real human connection staying behind, rotting in a mortuary.

+++*+++

Castiel stared at his hands, no real thoughts in his mind. The wind howled around him, the storm tearing at the trees in Central Park and leaving his hair a tangled mess. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though, even as the rain started to pour heavily, soaking him immediately.

His father was dead.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected this at some point or another. There was always the nagging fear when Daniel called to tell him about a hunt, every time Castiel had to take care of his injuries, but the reality of it was so intense and suffocating that at 3am, unable to sleep, he had hiked to Central Park with a storm brewing overhead.

It wasn’t much better than his apartment. He was cold, and tired, and the air was moving much too quickly for him to take any deep breaths. Castiel sighed, tipping his head back against the bench he had chosen, right under large oak, to let the rainwater run into his mouth, pound against his eyes, plaster his hair to his forehead. The skies seemed to echo Castiel’s pain, his despair, and for the first time since Officer Morrison had told him his father was dead, Castiel truly cried. He drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in them, letting the sobs wrack his body. He felt so completely alone that he began to wonder for what he was even living.

Except.

Demons were no small matter, and if his father had been killed by one, it meant that it was still on the loose, senselessly murdering other people, other hunters. The demon had to be stopped, Daniel Novak’s murder avenged.

Who better than his own son to do it? It was a decision driven by grief and fear and lack of sleep, but Castiel knew he would never regret it, somewhere deep in his bones.

Choice made, Castiel stood up from his bench, ready to go home and dry off. The rain had seeped into every article of Castiel’s clothing, and his socks were very uncomfortable. He took shuddering breaths as his tears stopped flowing, his chest heaving.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel whirled, almost knocking over a young girl, around college age. Her hazel eyes were wide and her red hair was frizzy and curled under her umbrella. For a moment, he considered questioning why she was walking in the rain at such an early hour before he remembered that, he, too, was wandering around the park at 3 a.m. Castiel took a step back, playing at nonchalant.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

The girl raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Because you're walking around Central Park in the middle of a thunderstorm, crying. I wouldn’t do that if I was okay. Bad breakup?”

When Castiel started walking, the girl followed him, twirling her umbrella handle through her fingers. He sighed.

“My father just died.”

The girl winced slightly, and her hazel eyes turned mournful. “Damn. I’m sorry. My folks died about 9 years ago. Car crash.”

The girl looked incredibly sad and incredibly guilty before trading it for her earlier mask of concern.

“What happened to him?”

Castiel gritted his teeth.

“He was murdered. ”

The girl gasped.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

And Castiel was truly grateful for her presence; it felt good to talk to someone, tell someone the truth about something.

“My name is Charlie, by the way. Charlie Bradbury.”

“Castiel.”

Charlie looked hesitant for a moment before plucking up the courage to ask, “Hey, I know this is random and probably really creepy, but I bet I live closer to here than you do, and I totally get if you don’t want to be alone right now.” The girl’s eyes widened as Castiel opened his mouth to answer. “Shit! I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

Castiel frowned.

“Like what? I don’t understand.”

Charlie looked at him blankly for a moment before blushing furiously and looking away.

“Nevermind.”

The conversation died out awkwardly before Castiel muttered, barely loud enough to be heard above the storm, “I don’t wish to return home tonight.”

Charlie nodded slowly at him, like she totally got that, too.

“Then you don’t have to.”

+++*+++

Charlie’s apartment was small but welcoming, and not a place to where one invited strangers for murdering purposes. Not that the small girl could overtake Castiel’s hunting instincts or skills, but still, it was nice to feel like he could relax, for a minute. Charlie brought him a towel to sit on and another one to dry his hair.

“And, um, I might be able to find some clothes for you to change into.” When Castiel gave her a confused look, she quickly amended, “Not mine, of course, ‘cuz you're like a foot taller than me, but I used to steal my old roommate’s clothes and people have left stuff here and I’m gonna go look for that, be right back.”

Castiel smiled slightly at Charlie’s blushing and stammering. He got the feeling that she wasn’t used to finding crying strangers in Central Park, and even less used to inviting them home at 4 o’clock in the morning. She came back with sweatpants that were too tight and a hoodie that was way too big. Charlie draped a blanket around his shoulders and brought him a cup of hot chocolate.

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so nice for him.

Charlie settled next to him on the couch, changed into her pajamas but still sporting a tangled, wet, mess on her head. They didn’t talk, but the silence wasn’t awkward. After both had finished their hot chocolate, Charlie turned to her guest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Castiel’s immediate reaction was no, but something about the genuine concern on Charlie’s face stopped him from answering right away. Did he need to talk about it, maybe? His father had always told him that you could never make something stop hurting by putting it in a cage. Still, he hesitated. He knew, obviously, that he couldn’t give Charlie the truth, but it wasn’t like his entire relationship with his father had revolved around hunting. How much could he reveal?

“I… do you find talking about things that hurt you helps?”

Charlie shrugged. “I mean, I’m no shrink, but most people say that, right? Talking about it helps?”

Castiel frowned. “I suppose.”

Charlie nudged him with her foot. “C’mon, spill. You’ve got a sob story somewhere in there.”

Castiel sighed, and he ‘spilled.’

“My father was the only person I had in my life, for my entire life. My mother didn’t want me, so she after I was born she found my father and he left his job to raise me for the first few years of my life. When I started school, he went back to work, but he was home every night and got me to the school bus every morning. When I was 13, we started travelling for his work; I still went to school, but my attendance was abysmal. Then I went to college, at NYU. We stayed in touch, even though I knew my father had always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, carry on the family business. If he ever needed help, I was there for him, and he for me.”

Castiel paused, his eyes glued to the rather offensive pink and yellow carpet. The sun was creeping in through the windows, streaking Charlie’s hair gold and beaming into Castiel’s eyes. The events of the day turned over in his mind, and he once again felt sick remembering Stacy shoving him forward, Jenny telling him he had to identify a body, his father, scars littering his body and leaving a message, for Castiel, for Daniel, for hunters everywhere. He took a shuddering breath. He tried to believe that if he got through his story, he would feel better, but halfway through his recount of the day and seeing his father, mangled and broken, tears were once more streaming down his face. Charlie placed a comforting hand on his knee, her skin warm, and the touch shocked Castiel. Many, if not most people, believed the worst of the entire human race, but even if there were murderers and demons in the world, the act of kindness to a stranger was one thing that kept Castiel’s metaphorical glass half-full.

“I’m so sorry, Castiel. That- that’s awful. I can’t even imagine seeing my father like that.” Charlie looked away, pain written across her face. Castiel suddenly remembered that Charlie, too, was a young orphan.

He cleared his throat.

“How did you get over your parents’ deaths?”

The redhead looked up in shock and Castiel worried he had overstepped his bounds when she sighed, shoulders sagging.

“In no healthy way. I’m technically a felon, but I don’t let that hold me back.” She tried for a smile but failed. “I know it’s cliche, but time was the real healer, to be honest. If you let something like that bother you for more than a few years, you’ve got issues. Everyone loses people, it’s just a fact. I miss them a lot, but I can’t live life angry and sorry for myself, now can I?”

Charlie’s smile was real now, and Castiel couldn’t help but return it. Charlie was such a bubbly, happy, nice person that her mood couldn’t help but spread.

He left Charlie’s apartment around 10, when the rain let up. He didn’t suspect he would ever see her again, but it would be a long time before he forgot the girl who made him smile when all he felt was pain.

+++*+++

Castiel’s apartment was stripped of anything that could lead the authorities to hunting or Castiel himself. He had sold most everything he owned but several pairs of clothes, his wallet, some blankets and pillows, and his phone, but even that he would be throwing away as soon as he found another. He would take no chances. As soon as he received his last paycheck, Castiel was on the first plane out of New York, with no intentions of going back anytime soon. His father had died there, been cremated there, and he knew that the demon who had murdered him was long gone by now.

But where Castiel was going, he had no idea. Somewhere. Anywhere. He would sit and wait, watch for any and all signs of demonic activity. Research, watch, wait, cry, maybe sleep, those were Castiel’s plans, but he didn’t know where to carry them out, which maybe he should have thought of before taking off to any random place in the country. He didn’t really know where this plane was headed, as he had paid very little attention to himself or his surroundings lately. He was sure he looked abysmal.

When the plane landed, Castiel could see the mountains, and recognized them immediately. They were the Colorado mountains, the Rockies, one of his favorite places on the planet. He had not returned to Denver since he had left, 13 years ago, but it still felt like he fit, like the city was his and he was its. He had not thought of going to his childhood home, but it seemed fate was telling him something, and he was inclined to listen to it.

Stepping through the door of what had been his home for half his life was like walking forward in time and backward at the same time. Everything looked exactly the same; the pictures on the wall, the couch, the table, the logs by the fire, yet everything was covered in layer upon layer of dust. Castiel couldn’t take two steps without coughing. Looking around the room, his chest ached with memories, his earliest being watching his father field strip his guns. He was properly taught how to do it himself when he was 10 years old, but when he was very young he just sat and watched. Once, when he was around 7, he had come home from school and realized that there was no meal prepared for him that he could just heat in the microwave, so he had tried his hand at macaroni and cheese, which had ended disastrously. His father had come home to find Castiel covered in cheese dust with macaroni in his hair and stuck to his cheeks, crying. Daniel had just laughed and cleaned him up. They’d ordered pizza that night, and Castiel had been eating the leftovers for days.

Castiel ran his finger along the top of the couch, revealing even more dust. He sighed, and even that sent dust swirling. Something would have to be done about this.

Castiel spent the next week cleaning - he threw himself into it, working to the point of exhaustion so he would have no distractions, no lonely and depressed thoughts. It was simple and easy and he didn’t have to think about anything serious, anything real.

Soon enough, Castiel’s childhood home was looking next to new. Even his father’s old room, which Castiel supposed was his now, as was everything else in the house. His old bedroom was empty, the bed stripped down and the bookshelves empty. Castiel would leave it for… the future. He didn’t have any immediate plans for a family, but anything could happen.

Castiel wasn’t stupid, though. More often than not, hunters lived alone and died alone. Exhausted, Castiel collapsed into bed and was asleep instantly for the 7th night in a row, his cleaning having taken a lot out of him. This time, though, this night, exhaustion could not keep the nightmares away.

+++*+++

The world was painted black, smoke swirling through the air, and Castiel walked alone. Buildings, grand cathedrals, loomed over him, and the angels in the stained glass windows seemed to sneer at him, their glorious wings twisted and gruesome. When he looked behind him, his path was marked with bloody footprints and ruined pavement that had been whole when Castiel had stepped on it. What little he could see of the sky was thick clouds tinted red. Trees, completely devoid of any color but the oozing darkness that suffocated everything lunged at him, missing his feet by mere inches. The whispers started when Castiel passed a church made entirely out of black-stained bones. He didn’t recognize the voices, nor could he make out what they were saying, but they were talking to him, he knew.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel was sure he kept seeing something, a shadow, a feather, a flash of hair. He found he couldn’t turn to look at it, only what was before him and the ground beneath his feet.

Finally something in the landscape changed. A giant, spiraling staircase wound into the sky, like a more convenient version of Jack’s beanstalk. Castiel didn’t even hesitate, just started making his way up. Eventually the whispers stopped reaching him and he reached the top of the staircase and stepped out onto a stormy ink-colored cloud. It rumbled and rolled beneath his feet. Castiel tried to walk forward but stumbled, and tried to go back to the staircase but found it had disappeared. Eventually his feet gave out and he crashed to the ground, through the cloud, screaming, grabbing at the air.

Finally he heard what the whispers were saying through the wind whistling in his ears.

Fly, little angel.

Fly.

+++*+++

Not for the first time in his life, Castiel woke in a cold sweat. The memory of the dream was already fading fast, but certain details, the staircase, falling, remained prominent in his mind. He groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stumbling into the kitchen for coffee. There was no possible way he would be able to sleep now. He trudged toward the ancient coffee maker and started brewing, cheek propped up on his hand, elbow digging into the counter. The sun had not yet risen.

Castiel never liked to look into those dreams too much - he was afraid of what they meant. Normal people, healthy people - they didn’t have nightmares like that. Then again, Castiel supposed healthy people didn’t really have nightmares at all, but even regular people whose lives were potentially as much a mess as his was didn’t have nightmares like that. If they fell, they fell, no whispers, no painted angels sneering down at him in hatred, disappointment, fear. There was no black ooze dripping, spreading across the ground, not quite falling from the sky as much as pouring from it at the sides.

People didn’t have dreams like that, because people were rarely like Castiel.

His coffee finished brewing and he drained half his 20 oz mug immediately, not caring about the temperature, though it burned his mouth and throat and he practically breathed steam for a few moments. But like all pain, it faded and Castiel was able to curl up on his couch with a book - on demons - and watch the blood-red sunrise. It was almost peaceful, if not for the fact that what he was reading currently described in vivid detail how demons usually ripped out one’s entrails and what they did with them. It wasn’t like he was going to read anything else. Now that he could walk in his own home without sending up clouds of dust, it was time to begin researching anything and everything on how to avenge his father, however long it took.

+++*+++

It took a very long time. Castiel left the house once every two weeks to go grocery shopping, but for the most part stayed home. He was becoming restless after nearly two months of non-stop dead-end research, and decided that if he was going to be in shape to track and kill a demon, he would have to either start working out or hunting again.

And seeing as hunting was much less of a waste of time, Castiel soon found himself in St. Louis, crawling through the disgusting sewer system. His shoes felt soaked through and he was shivering, but he gritted his teeth and trudged on, adjusting his grip on his gun every few minutes. He had been in the sewers for hours, searching for anything even sort of resembling a lair, to no avail. He couldn’t hear anything other than his own shoes splashing through something he didn’t want to think about and his harsh breathing. It was unsettling.

Castiel had never actually hunted a shapeshifter before, but his father had come home complaining about them enough times for him to dread everything about his decision to hunt alongside his research. Though he did probably have a better chance of finding his father’s murderer outside of the comfort and protection of his home, he was completely in the dark on how he was to kill the demon. Exorcism wasn’t enough to sate Castiel’s need for revenge; if the demon was as powerful as he suspected, it would emerge from Hell possibly at a late point in Castiel’s lifetime. He wanted it gone, he wanted it to suffer, and he wanted it to understand why it was being killed.

He had ended the lives of many monsters in his life, and on the journey he had learned that most hunters did not come into the life through generations of family members raised to be warriors. Most hunters were ripped out of their regular, mundane lives by pain and blood and, most likely, death. The people that Castiel and his father couldn’t save were the people that dragged their families into hunting. With his father’s death, Castiel had become one of them, a hunter driven by revenge and anger rather than a sense of justice and doing what was right for the common good. He felt, somehow, that having a cause would make him do his job better and keep him alive.

Finally, there was something moving in the darkness. Another pair of shoes kicking ‘water’ around and cursing and grunting. Castiel froze, listening, and recognized the distinct sounds of someone very frustrated with the hospitality of the St. Louis sewer system. Could they have already heard him? Who were they? Were they coming his way?

The answer to his third question was yes. Castiel cursed under his breath as he heard the sloshing come closer and he raised his gun, fully prepared to face a shapeshifter, but also prepared to scare the living hell out of a civilian sewer worker. He hated shapeshifters. One could never know who was themselves and who was a shapeshifter until tested with silver, and often by that time one was close enough to be attacked by said shifter.

The first thing Castiel thought when the man fell into the beam of light emanating from Castiel’s flashlight, was that he looked like a hunter. He was wearing jeans and logger boots and a canvas jacket over flannel and an undershirt. It was very similar to what Castiel himself was wearing. He relaxed infinitesimally, but kept both gun and flashlight up and trained on the man.

“Woah!” He held his hands up to shield his eyes, taking a step back. “Jesus, man, that’s fucking bright!” The man blinked and squinted at Castiel suspiciously. “Are you a hunter?”

Castiel grunted out a yes.

“I’m assuming you are also a hunter?”

The man plastered a grin on his face, one that Castiel could peg as fake from a mile away.

“Yep. So, shapeshifters, right? They sure are a bitch.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“They are indeed. Hard to tell who is and who isn’t a fake. Forgive me if I don’t quite trust you.” He pulled out a silver knife from his back pocket and approached the hunter carefully. The other man’s smile faltered, but only for a second.

“Nah, man. I get it. Probably a good idea to check everyone, especially when they’re shapeshifters.”

Castiel frowned, confused, but the shifter’s monstrous eyes and wicked grin were the last things he saw before he fell into darkness.

+++*+++

Castiel came to slightly when the shapeshifter was tying his wrists behind his back, to a chair. He felt someone else’s heat, heard someone speak, but couldn’t tell if it was the shifter or another one of his victims. He was too tired to figure it out.

+++*+++

Castiel woke completely when he felt someone gently tapping his cheek.

“Hey. Hey! Man, you gotta wake up.”

Castiel tensed. The voice was undoubtedly the shifter’s and his legs jerked forward instinctively, but he found they were bound, too, and felt like crying. He heard the person standing in front of him take a step back. He hated shapeshifters. He struggled against his bonds.

“Woah, hey man. Sammy, what’s his problem?”

“Dude, I told you, the shifter’s wearing your face. He’s probably more than a little spooked.”

The second voice sounded vaguely familiar.

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

A face appeared before him, cautious and concerned. It was the shapeshifter’s face, but he figured that this was the original, not a carbon copy, if the state of his face was anything to go by. The bride of his nose and the tops of his cheeks were dotted with freckles, and even by the dim candlelight Castiel could see that his eyes were green and gold. They reminded him of caramel apples and the peridot from his grandmother’s precious stone collection.

“Hey, uh, dude? I’m gonna- is this loaded with silver?” The man held up Castiel’s gun. Castiel nodded. “Right. Well, here.” The man released the magazine and held a single silver bullet flat on his palm for Castiel to see. “See? Not a shifter. Can I untie you now?”

Castiel nodded wordlessly.

“Awesome.”

As soon as Castiel was free, the man handed him his gun and everything of his the shifter had left behind.

“You're hunters?” he asked his rescuers.

“Yep. I’m Dean Winchester, this is my little brother Sam. You?”

The green-eyed man spoke, grinning with the same smile the shapeshifter had given him, but softer, more real and more kind.

“Castiel Novak. Are you John Winchester’s sons?” Castiel’s father had worked with the man enough times for Castiel to have heard of him.

“Yeah. You know him?”

“Not personally.”

Dean nodded absently and looked around the eerie setting of the sewers, tugging on the ends of his shirt sleeves nervously. “We should leave. Sammy, you remember the way?”

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. Come on, he’s probably at Rebecca’s already.”

Sam was tall, taller than both his older brother and Castiel, neither of whom were particularly short. Castiel had never felt short in his life until he met Sam Winchester.

Sam led them through the complex sewer system, and for a few minutes, none of them said anything. Eventually the awkward silence seemed to get to Dean, because he cleared his throat and began to speak to Castiel.

“So, how did you get into hunting?”

“My family have all been hunters since America’s foundings. Along the way, I’m afraid we’ve forgotten exactly why we started in the first place. My father raised me to follow in countless footsteps.” Castiel frowned at his shoes. Except he did have a reason for hunting, now. He had someone to avenge. “But I left, and tried to live a normal life.”

“Let me guess. Something happen to papa?” Dean sounded bitter, and Sam turned his head to consider his brother, his expression unreadable to Castiel.

“He was killed. I was taken to identify his body for the police, and I knew immediately that his death was nothing they could solve, so I went… home.”

Castiel didn’t have to look at Dean to feel his bitter expression shift into a pitying look.

“I’m sorry man. Our dad kinda just… disappeared.”

Castiel nodded but offered no response.

They eventually made it to an exit, one that Dean and Castiel barely fit through, let alone the giant that was Sam. One he squeezed out, he urged the other two men along.

“Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police.”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, you're gonna put an APB out on me!” Dean protested.

Castiel personally thought when dealing with shapeshifters and other such creatures it would be wise to take extra precaution to stay away from law enforcement, as their rapidly changing identities could get many people in trouble and cause a lot of overall confusion. Castiel didn’t say anything though, because the monster was wearing the face of a Winchester, and he felt like the fate of it should be in their hands.

Sam just shrugged.

“Sorry.”

Dean huffed and tugged Castiel’s elbow, evidently trusting his brother to follow.

“Come on, this way.”

The three of them took off running down the alleyway, presumably to reach Rebecca’s house. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure why he was still there, but he followed anyway.

They were too late. By the time they skidded to a stop, Dean dragging Castiel back by the sleeve of his shirt, the house was swarming with police cars - and even a S.W.A.T. car. Sam swore and turned back around.

“Haul ass!” He hissed.

“What? Why? We should make sure everything’s okay-”

This time it was Castiel dragging Dean forward by the sleeve. Dean let out a startled yelp and stumbled after him.

“What?”

“Dean, I fear you’ve forgotten that the man the police are either holding in custody or in pursuit of looks like you. It would not bode well for any of us if you were caught.”

Dean was running on his own now and Castiel wasn’t sure as to why he was still clutching to the man’s jacket. He quickly let go.

“Oh, shit, right. I kinda forgot. Where to now, Sammy?”

“Nowhere where everyone can see your face.”

So, naturally, they ended up charging onto main street, which was teeming with people. By some stroke of dumb luck, no one paid attention to the sweaty, smelly, bloody group of large men that had just charged out of the scary, dark, alleyway. They wandered tentatively, but no one seemed to care about them.

Not even when Castiel spotted a TV display in a window, plastering a fairly accurate portrayal of Dean’s face over each TV. Dean groaned when they got close enough to see it.

“Man, that’s not even a good picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Sam pointed out, still suspiciously scanning the area.

Dean followed him, grumbling under his breath. They fell into step side by side each other, all of them jumping at sudden noises and their eyes forever roaming.

“Seriously, what the hell. I’ve passed seven crappy pictures of my face, and not one person has recognized me. What the hell?”

Dean was far more put out by this than Castiel thought he probably should have been.

“My guess would be that most people probably don’t care, and if they do, the police said nothing about accomplices in your crimes against humanity.” Castiel pointed out as he made awkward eye contact and smiled weakly at someone who had been staring at them for a bit too long.

“I haven’t committed any crimes against humanity!” Dean protested loudly, spreading his arms wide enough that he nearly hit Castiel in the face.

Sam swatted him.

“I don’t believe that for one second.”

“Wow. Just wow. I hate you guys.”

“I hate you too, big brother.”

“Wow. Do you hate me, Cas?”

Castiel frowned at the nickname but said nothing of it; many people had referred to him as that because his full name was difficult to pronounce.

“I just met you. I have no feelings for you either way.”

“Wow.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

They rounded into an alleyway as an uneasy silence fell, save for Dean stepping in a puddle and nearly tripping. Today was just not a good day for him, Castiel remarked. The silence, so different from the teasing amusement of just a few moments ago, was making Castiel nervous.

Sam finally spoke.

“It said attempted murder, at least we know that you-”

“I didn’t kill her!” Dean protested. The silence fell again.

Sam sighed.

“I’ll check on Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s alright.”

“Okay, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap outta him. Cas, you game?”

Castiel was startled to be included in the conversation.

“Oh. Um. Yes. But I only have one gun.”

“The hell kind of hunter only carries one gun?”

“This was kind of a spur of the moment hunt.”

Sam interrupted. “Dean, we have no weapons. No silver bullets. You can’t just go in with one gun, although I’m sure you're a very good shot, Cas.”

Surely his name wasn’t that hard to pronounce. Why was he Cas to everyone now?

“Sam, the guy’s walking around with my face, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him.”

Sam just nodded, though when he met Castiel’s eyes he could see the fear and the wearing-thin tolerance for stupidity in them.

“Okay. Where do we look?”

“Well, we could start with going back to the sewers.”

“We have no weapons, besides Cas’ gun. You really wanna walk in there naked? He stole our guns, we need more.”

The silence was back, thick and heavy with thought. Dean looked supremely pissed off, and Sam tired. Castiel was wary of the both of them.

“The car?”

This made Dean turn back to face the group.

“I’m betting he drove over to Rebecca’s.”
“I believe the television said he fled on foot,” Castiel interjected.

“I bet he’s still parked there,” Sam finished.

Dean held up a hand and waved it back and forth before clenching it into a fist.

“Oh, the thought of him driving my car.”

“Alright, come on.”
“It’s killin’ me.”

“Let it go.”

Not for the first time, Castiel wished he had a sibling.

---*---

Castiel had always considered St. Louis as a smaller city, but that, of course, was before he found himself running across it with the Winchesters. It wasn’t even as if Rebecca’s house was terribly far from the street they had been on, but without a car everything seemed a million miles away from everything else. They finally reached the street they had been on not too long ago, but now everything was still. There were no officers guarding what Sam pointed out as Rebecca’s house, which Castiel found irresponsible, even if they would be of little to no use.

It quickly became evident that the shapeshifter had not parked at Rebecca’s house, or anywhere near it. They found themselves wandering another mile or so when they finally rounded a corner to find a sleek black car that Castiel somehow vaguely recognized. It was entirely possible that he had seen it around town during the brief time that he had been in the area. In fact, there was a high chance that he and the Winchesters were staying at the same motel, and that’s where he had seen it. They did lead the same lifestyle, after all.

Dean laughed triumphantly.

“There she is.” The Winchesters huffed and Dean let his chin hit his chest in clear relief. “Finally something went right tonight.”

That, of course, was when everything went wrong. Police sirens sounded far too close, alerting the hunters to the guards on Rebecca’s house that Castiel had previously been curious about.

“Aw, crap,” Dean muttered, making to turn around, only to see another police car parked at the end of the street they had come running down. They scrambled around, each man trying to go a different way until Dean called out for them to go one way, which happened to be over a fence.

“Wait, Dean, you go, we’ll hold them off.”

“What are you talking about, they’ll catch you!”

“Look, they can’t hold us! Just go, keep out of sight, meet us at Rebecca’s!”

Dean was about to jump the very tall fence when he turned back to Castiel.

“Cas you gotta come with, you have a gun on you.”

Sam and Castiel both cursed under their breath before Castiel was following Dean over the fence.

“Dean!” The younger Winchester called just after Castiel had dropped to the ground on the other side of the fence and Dean was straddling the top of it. “Stay out of the sewers alone! Stick to Cas like glue.”

Dean said nothing as he swung gracefully over the fence and he and Castiel ran like hell was chasing them, which wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“I mean it,” were Sam’s final words to them before they were out of earshot. Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand, heeding his brother’s words, and it felt like fire. Dean’s hands were warm, and the dirt on them matched Castiel’s.

They ran all the way back to the motel, neither saying anything. Castiel was right in assuming that he had shared a motel with the Winchesters.

“D’you think they found my motel room? I used a fake name but - fuck, I should’ve thought this through better. Now we gotta run around and look for another motel-”

“There’s no need. Come on.” Still holding Dean’s hand, Castiel tugged the other hunter towards his own hotel room, which was arguably safer. As soon as they entered the room, Dean dropped Castiel’s hand.

“Nice. What are the odds?” Dean grinned cockily at him and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Extremely high, if you think about it.”

Dean snorted.

“Don’t go all nerdy on me, man. Are you gonna shower first?”

“You can, if you want, though you don’t have any clothes to change into.” Cas pulled his gun out of the waistband of his jeans and tossed it onto the bed. When he looked back, Dean was studying him, his eyes- which looked even greener in the light- moving slowly up and down Castiel’s body slowly. They then snapped up to look Castiel in the eye.

“Do you have anything that fits a little big, maybe? You're not that much smaller than me.”

Castiel huffed, trying to ignore his burning cheeks as he went through his duffel bag. He most certainly did not have time for anything to do with Dean Winchester’s eyes or his face or his stupid grin. He had a demon to hunt, a demon to trap, a demon to kill. He managed to locate a pair of sweatpants that he always tripped over the hems of and-

Oh.

One of Castiel’s father’s shirts that he hadn’t even really realized he had packed, let alone owned. Daniel had been a bit taller and broader than Castiel, so the shirt would probably fit Dean.

Castiel stared down at the black material for far too long. Thankfully, Dean held his tongue and made no sound or movement during Castiel’s moment of solitude. Castiel held out the clothing to Dean, who took it without a word and disappeared into the bathroom to take his shower. Castiel sat on the floor and picked at the carpet.

He wondered what Daniel would think to know that Castiel was hunting again. Would he be proud, or maybe sad that Castiel was once again in danger? Would he be angry, maybe, that it had taken his father’s death to draw Castiel back into the fight? Castiel imagined he would be reprimanded for hunting for revenge.

Maybe Daniel blamed his son for his death. After all, if Castiel had stayed with his father, been with him when he was attacked by a demon, maybe it would have gone differently. Maybe Daniel Novak would still be alive.

Dean’s shower was quick, and his reentry into the room tore Castiel out of train of thought. He slipped into the bathroom still without a word to Dean, and relished in the feeling of hot water on his head, easing his muscles and distracting him. When he emerged, clad in a different pair of jeans and a lucky brand t-shirt with a navy hoodie, Dean was sitting cross-legged on Castiel’s bed, eyes downcast. As Castiel closed the door behind him, Dean looked up sharply.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean. What do we do next?” Castiel picked up his pistol from where it now rested on the nightstand and checked the magazine. He assumed that the most efficient option would be to leave immediately to get Dean’s car so they could either go to the sewers or retrieve Sam. It was already 3:30.

“Uh, we don’t have to go right now, Cas. We can chill for a bit.”

Castiel slipped the magazine back into the handle of the gun and put it down. He eyed Dean suspiciously. The man looked nervous.

Castiel just nodded and sat back on the floor, pulling his duffel bag back towards him for his book. He had barely opened it when Dean coughed a little. Castiel looked up to find him sitting normally on the bed, leaning forward with his hands clasped over his knees so that his entire body looked nearly folded in two.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Uh. Sorry if this is a dick question, but when, uh. When did your dad die?”

Castiel looked back at the floor.

“A little over two months ago.”

“Was it,” Dean gestured at the air, “on the job?”

Castiel nodded.

“I’m almost certain it was a demon.”

“Oh.” Dean nodded. “Well, that’s farther than my dad’s gotten searching for the thing that killed our mom, and he’s been working on it for 22 years.” Castiel nodded a little sadly, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Hey, what about your mom, anyway? You haven’t said anything about her.”

“I don’t know her. When I was born she didn’t want a child and so she tracked my father down and handed me over.” Castiel frowned. “Sometimes I’m glad she did so, but other times I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like not only to have grown up with a feminine figure instead of a masculine one, but where I would be if I had lived a normal life with her.”

It was true. While Castiel loved his father and loved having a true, righteous purpose, it would have undoubtedly been easier for him to have been raised by his mother.

“Yikes. I’m sorry, man. It must suck to know one of your parents didn’t want you.”

Dean looked genuinely upset that he had broached the subject, but Castiel just smiled a little and stood.

“It would be in our best interests to reach the car while the police force is preoccupied, and as he said, they can’t hold him for long so we should leave now.”

“Right.”

They began pulling their shoes and socks on, and Castiel returned his silver-loaded pistol to the waistband of his jeans.

And then they were walking back through the city of St. Louis, this time at a leisurely pace, as no one was currently after them. The silence was less stifling and more contemplative, comfortable. Dean walked with his hands in the pockets of Castiel’s sweatshirt, and Castiel with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Dean was humming an unrecognizable tune, but Castiel didn’t mind. It was kind of nice. They reached the car as the sun peeked over the sky, and this time there were no police cars, but still, they moved quickly, Dean gathering what he needed from the back of the car, snagging a flashlight for Castiel. They made their way to the sewers, despite having showered so recently. Such was the life.

Dean led the way into the strange candle-lit lair of the shapeshifters. There appeared to be no monsters there, and both hunters relaxed their grip on their guns and let their arms fall to their side. Dean moved his flashlight over the tables that housed many strange possessions of the shifter’s, including a weird clump of what appeared to be human flesh.

There was a sound farther back in the cave, that made both boys’ heads turn. Castiel tightened his hold on his pistol and followed Dean back to the entrance of another tunnel, where a human form crouched under a tarp. Dean pulled it away to reveal an incredibly bloody blonde woman who looked scared beyond belief.

“Rebecca?” Dean said in surprise.

Ah, so this was the woman who seemed to be the center of this hunt. Naturally she would find herself in these sewers. Dean immediately knelt down and began to untie the thick ropes binding Rebecca.

“What happened?” he and Castiel asked together.

Rebecca spared him a glance before turning her attention back to Dean.

“I was walking home and everything just went white, someone hit me over the head and then I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me.” So the shapeshifter had taken Rebecca’s form. Her voice was shaky and Castiel could tell she was about to start bawling. “How is that even possible?”

Dean finished untying her.

“Okay, it’s okay, can you walk?” Rebecca nodded. “Okay, we gotta hurry. Sam said he was going to see you.”

Dean grabbed Rebecca’s hand and led her out of the sewers, Castiel in the back to make sure the shifter didn’t suddenly appear and attack them. On the way out, Dean grabbed his and Sam’s weapons. They raced through the sewers, blessedly coming up very near Rebecca’s house.

Dean took a breath and turned to Rebecca. “Rebecca, are you gonna be okay?” She nodded again. “Alright, then go sit in my car and stay there. Me and Cas, we’ll go in and gank this motherfucker.”

Rebecca nodded once more and made her way to the Impala. Dean patted Castiel on the shoulder and led the way into the house, where they could hear sounds of a struggle. So Sam was here, then. They followed the source of the noise to a mostly destroyed room. Sam was being pinned to the ground by - Dean. The shapeshifter had melted his imitation of Rebecca, leaving more clumps of flesh all over the place.

“Hey!” Dean called.

The monster immediately flipped off Sam. It crouched, ready to attack, until it noticed the guns trained on it.

Dean and Cas shot it at exactly the same time. The monster collapsed onto its back. Rebecca rushed in behind Castiel a moment later, horror written all over her face. Sam was struggling to stand, looking sick at the sight of his dead brother, even though it wasn’t his brother at all. Rebecca recovered first, moving to Sam. Dean knelt by his doppelganger and yanked the necklace from its body, then removing the ring it wore.

They all went back to the motel, planning to sleep for a year. Castiel woke first, trying to maneuver between the sleeping Winchesters to get to their clothes. He felt some laundry was in order. When he returned, he found that Sam and Dean had collected all their things and were packing up, still reluctant to spend much time in their own room. Castiel understood that. They were, after all, still being hunted. Castiel sorted out their freshly washed out their clothes from the large pile of laundry and Dean went to change into his own belongings.

“Cas, you heading out?” he asked when he emerged.

Castiel nodded. The hunt was over, it was time for him to go home. He had work to do.

“Yes, I must return to Denver to continue researching the circumstances of my father’s death.”

“Alright, well hey,” Dean picked up Castiel’s phone from the table and started typing something, “call us if you need anything.” He tossed the phone to Castiel, who caught it easily. “We’re going over to Rebecca’s. See ya later, Cas.”

The Winchester brothers left, leaving Castiel with a hint of a smile on his face. He remembered Daniel being frustrated with their father, but it seemed Sam and Dean were kind, humorous. He hoped to run into them again.

But for now Castiel was returning home, to focus on the demon who had murdered his father. That was, after all, the whole reason he had returned to hunting in the first place. Not to make friends with other hunters, albeit attractive ones. He would undoubtedly be going on more hunts but he did not plan to make any calls to Dean Winchester.

---*---

Castiel had never liked Boston. The only reason he was there was for the library, which was apparently famous for its books on demonology, at least in the hunter world. His reading, however, was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. A girl with cropped blonde hair and brown eyes grinned devilishly down at him. “You into demons?”

“You could say that,” Castiel grumbled. He already knew this girl was going to be an annoyance.

“Cool. Whatcha readin’?” Castiel showed her the cover of his book, and she nodded. Somehow, it irked Castiel. “Looks interesting. I’m Meg, by the way. Meg Masters.”

“Castiel Novak.” The girl’s grin somehow became even more feral.

“Interesting name.” She wasn’t the first to point that out, and she wouldn’t be the last.

“Yes. My mother named me after an angel.” And therein was the extent of his knowledge of his mother. She was religious, she was unwilling to raise a child, and her eyes were blue, like Castiel’s. Daniel’s eyes had been brown, as had his grandparents’ been. It wasn’t exactly a lot to go on; he didn’t even know her name.

“Fitting, too.” Meg purred, resting a hand on his shoulder gently.

Castiel tensed. “Ah…”

Meg leaned over to whisper in his ear. “What’s the matter, Castiel? Not into pretty girls?”

“No, actually.”

Med laughed softly, her mouth still right by his ear. “Shame.” She disappeared from Castiel’s side, and he instantly felt warmer. She seated herself across from him at his table. Great. “So, you from Boston, angel?”

“No.”

“Strong, silent type. I like it. Where you from, then?”

“Colorado.” Castiel figured it was best to keep it as vague as possible. He was very sure that she could stalk him.

“Ooh, a mountain man, even better.” Meg purred, leaning forward on the table.

“Never once have I been to the mountains.” He kept his voice completely flat and continued reading his book so she’d go away. His phone buzzed, but he chose to ignore it so as not to further attract Meg’s attention.

“Tell me, Castiel, you're named after an angel, and you look like an angel… but you're reading about demons. Why don’t you read about angels?”

“Because angels aren’t real.” Castiel grumbled. If they were, they would probably be trying to kill people too.

“O ye of little faith.” Meg sing-songed. Castiel looked up, mouth open, but the girl was gone. He sighed and quickly checked his phone.

One missed call from Dean Winchester .

---*---

Dean Winchester was a strange individual, Castiel thought as he was making his way to Indiana. Who calls a person- a person that lives in Denver- and asks them if they ‘could please haul ass to Indiana.’ Castiel had been in Boston, a 14-hour drive from Dean. Suffice to say he was not entirely pleased with the situation.

When Castiel arrived in Burkittsville, he parked his car in front of a diner and looked across the street to find the Winchester’s Impala parked close by. Castiel approached and saw Dean sitting in the driver’s seat, staring intently at his cell phone.

Castiel knocked on the window. Dean looked up in surprise but then grinned at him, gesturing for him to get in on the other side. “Heya, Cas. Sorry for the short notice and all, but-”

Castiel cut him off with a glare.

Dean nodded. “Good to see you're in a good mood. I wouldn’t have called you, because I usually have Sam, but that bitch took off to California even though people are dying because he’s a little-picture brat.”

Castiel was shocked at the awful language Dean was using the describe the little brother he had previously been so well in tune with. “Why did he go to California?”

Dean sighed, trailing a hand down his face. “You know how I told you our dad disappeared on me? Well, he called last night, and Sammy traced the number to Cali. He’s hitchhiking now, I guess, because Dad told us to come here to do our job and not let people die , and I mean obviously if Dad’s calling us he’s fine, but Sammy wouldn't listen and left me all alone to work this case.” Dean looked back over to Castiel appreciatively. “Good thing you were in close.”

Castiel glared again, though he was glad Dean had called. It was never a good idea to hunt alone, even if he had been guilty of that himself. “What is the case?”

“Right.” Dean pulled out two sheets of paper from his pocket, handing them to Castiel. “So, there’s these three couple, all from different states, but they all took a cross-country trip, and none of them arrived at their destination. They’re missing. Each route took them to the same part of Indiana, here. They always showed up and went missing the second week of April.”

“This week.”

“Yup. Happens every year. Those missing papers are the most recent couple that went missing. Now, way I see it, this is a really small town. I bet we’ll be able to notice an outsider couple, and I think our best bet would be to tail ‘em and make sure they make it wherever they’re going okay.”

Castiel nodded. “That sounds deceptively simple but doable. We should talk to the townspeople.”

“Look at you, man with the plan. Alright, let’s go, but I’m doing the talking. I doubt many of these people speak your language.” Dean grinned at him and hopped out of the car.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I speak English better than you do!” Castiel protested.

“Exactly!” Castiel rolled his eyes but followed Dean up to the man sitting outside a restaurant entitled ‘Scotty’s Cafe.’ “Let me guess. Scotty?” Castiel didn’t know why he would assume that. This man could be literally anyone.

But apparently Dean’s observational skills were much  better than his own, because the man glanced up at the sign and then back at Dean. “Yup.”

“Hi, my name is John Bonham-”

“Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?”

Dean frowned for a moment but then grinned. “Wow. Good, classic rock fan.” He laughed a little, fake. “This is my friend, uh, Jimmy.”

“Let me guess. Paige?”

Dean quirked a smile, but Castiel interrupted before he could say something stupid like ‘yes.’ “Smith, actually.”

Scotty’s facial expression remained bored. “What can I do for you, boys?”

Dean cleared his throat and checked his pockets before remembering something and turned to pluck the papers out of Castiel’s hand. “We were wondering if you’ve seen these people, by chance.”

Scotty glanced at the pictures, an ugly frown on his face. Castiel did not like this man. “Nope. Who are they?”

Dean hesitated a bit before answering. “Friends of ours. They went missing about a year ago. They passed through around here, and we already asked around Scottsburg and Salem, so-”

“Sorry.” Scotty handed the papers back. “We don’t get many strangers around here.” His eyes flicked from Dean to Castiel.

Dean nodded. “Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?”

Castiel frowned. “He hasn’t-” Dean elbowed him in the ribs, the universal sign for ‘shut up’ that even Castiel understood. He shut up. Scotty just stared at them, still frowning.

“Heh. Nevermind. I’ll see you around.” Dean stepped off the porch, dragging Cas with him.

They went to the gas station next, Dean grilling the owners to no avail, until a young girl emerged from some other room, asking if the guy had a tattoo.

“Yes.” Castiel answered, and she smiled a little at him.

The girl took the papers from Dean and studied them before looking up at the man and woman Castiel thought must be her parents. “You remember? They were just married.”

The girl’s father took the papers from her and looked at them again, bringing a fist to his mouth. “You're right. They did stop here for gas, weren’t here for more than 10 minutes.”

Now. Castiel was an awful liar, always had been. But that did not mean that he couldn’t tell when someone else was lying, and this man was. About what, he wasn’t sure, but something just didn’t seem right to him.

Dean, however, didn’t seem to pick up on that. “Do you remember anything else?”

“I told how them to get back to the interstate, and they left town.”

Dean looked excited about this new information. “Could you point me in the same direction?”

As soon as Dean started driving away, Castiel voiced his concerns. “That man was lying about something.”

Dean glanced over at him. “What? About what?”

“I don’t know, it’s just- it’s odd that he kept saying he didn’t remember anything and then as soon as someone else does remember them suddenly he remembers all about them, too. I don’t know.”

Dean shrugged. “You think he killed them?”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know, but there is something strange about him, about everyone here.”

“Wouldn’t be a hunt if there wasn’t, Cas.”

Behind them somewhere, they heard the distinct sound of an EMF meter going off. Dean looked at him curiously. “The hell?”

Cas sighed and twisted in his seat, rooting through the bag of stuff behind him to locate the source of the noise. He handed the gadget to Dean, who stared at it in confusion.

“Phone lines?” Castiel suggested. If they were too close to one it could make the device go off, but there wasn’t one in sight.

“Nah. Come on, let’s see what’s here.” Dean pulled over on the side of the road and climbed out of the car, Castiel clambering after. They were pulled over by an orchard, one that Castiel was certain he would be running from screaming had it not been daytime. Dean scanned the orchard with his eyes and Castiel did the same, searching for obvious threats. Finding none, Dean and Castiel traded looks and walked in, stepping carefully. The place had an almost tangible air of danger, and it made Castiel’s shoulders hunch.

They reached a clearing where Castiel stopped walking, instinctively. Dean scanned the area in a circle, eyes coming to rest on a rather creepy scarecrow. When Castiel saw it he flinched back from it, but Dean approached warily. He seemed to have a staring contest with the scarecrow, before letting out a breath of laughter. “Dude, you fugly.” Castiel swatted him in the arm. “What? Look at that thing and tell me it’s not the fucking grossest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t want to look at it any longer than is absolutely necessary.” Castiel folded his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture.

“What, scared?”

Castiel glared.

Dean laughed and turned back to the figure. Castiel could pinpoint the moment Dean saw something relevant because his body tensed and he rushed forward, towards the scarecrow, naturally. Castiel reluctantly followed. Dean grabbed the metal ladder that was sitting nearby and set it up in front of the scarecrow, climbing up. Castiel remained with his feet firmly on the ground. Dean got right in the scarecrow’s face, and Castiel circled so that he could see Dean’s face and what he was doing. The hunter studied the leather that made up the face of the thing before directing his attention to its arm, the one with a scythe for a hand. He lifted its sleeve up, and Castiel shuddered again. Dean reached in his pocket for the papers, and looked back and forth between them and the scarecrow’s arm.

“What is it?” Castiel asked, because he had no idea what Dean was getting at. The man jumped a little, seemingly startled by Castiel’s voice.

“Jesus! I forgot you were here, you're much quieter than Sammy. Uh, yeah, you see this tattoo on the guy’s arm?” Dean held out the missing papers towards him and Castiel stepped forward cautiously to peer at them.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, I found the same tattoo on this thing’s arm.”

Castiel groaned hugely, tipping his head back to the sky. “I do not like this.”

Dean grinned at his displeasure. “I know. Come on, let’s investigate more of the orchard.”

They found nothing of consequence in the entire orchard, and eventually decided to go back into town and talk to the locals. They pulled into the gas station owned by the suspicious couple and their daughter.

“You're back.”

Dean shrugged. “Never left.”

“Still looking for your friends?” The girl was leaning against a pole, hands in her pockets. Dean and Castiel both nodded.

“You mind filling her up there, uh, Emily?” Castiel frowned. He didn’t remember her telling them her name, but she was wearing a necklace that said it for her. Emily turned to the gas pump and began to work. “So, did you grow up here?” Castiel was quickly learning that Dean was a very social person where Castiel was rather introverted.

Emily stood. “I came here when I was around 13. I lost my parents in a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” Castiel realized that was the liar couple, her aunt and uncle.

“Are they kind to you?” Castiel asked.

“Everybody’s nice here.”

“That’s fortunate.” Castiel tried not to sound suspicious or negative, but unfortunately, negativity was a natural undertone of his voice.

Dean made a face at him. “So, it’s a perfect little town?”

Emily shrugged. “Well, you know, it’s the Boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here,” Emily shrugged looking around, “it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

Dean just nodded, smirking a little, but Castiel could see the layers of thought in his eyes. Emily’s words had cemented his suspicious about this town. He seemed to struggle with his next words, biting his bottom lip before blurting, “Hey, have you been down to the orchard? Seen that-that scarecrow?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah, it creeps me out.”

Dean full on laughed and jabbed a thumb back at Castiel. “Yeah, he wouldn’t even go near it. He was about to piss himself.”

Castiel swatted him in the shoulder. “I was not. And I don’t understand why I would have to go near the scarecrow. It’s not as if it holds all the answers.”

Dean shrugged and gave him a look that easily read it might. “Anyway, whose is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.”

Dean contemplated this for a moment, as did Castiel. Suspicious, everlasting, creepy, unowned orchards never meant anything good, though the specifics were still hidden. “Is that yours?” Dean was looking at a large red truck parked in front of the garage.

“Customer’s. Had some car troubles.”

Dean and Castiel traded looks. “I don’t suppose it belongs to a couple, a man and a woman?” Castiel inquired.

Emily nodded and Dean and Castiel shared another look. They would have to keep a close watch on this couple, to see how exactly they would be targeted, and by what.

After their conversation with Emily, Dean and Castiel split up, with Dean searching the town for the endangered couple, and Castiel headed for the orchard to investigate further. He parked his car closer to the orchard than they had pulled over before, for safety reasons. If the scarecrow came to life and started chasing him, the car would be close by. Upon closer inspection of the area, Castiel did manage to find a few interesting things around. An old, rusted necklace. Bloodstained shoelaces. Car keys, buried in the dirt. All things that easily pointed to people being murdered there. When the place started to give Castiel chills, he made a completely objective decision to get the fuck out forever. There was no doubt in his mind that the victims were being led to the orchard, and were being killed. On his way back into town, he received a call.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas! Hey, are you still at the orchard?”

“No, I just left.”

“Okay, well, you can’t go back into town. Something is seriously messed up there man, and they know we’re onto them. Told me to get the hell out of dodge and if they saw either of us ever again, we’d get the pleasure of meeting their pistols. I’m headed for the next town over, meet me there?”

“Of course. Which direction?”

“East. We’ll hide out there until nightfall, and then we’ll go back to the orchard.”

“Dean, there isn’t a town to the east close enough that we would get there and back in time.”

“No? Well, there’s nothing wrong with stopping by on the side of the road. We’ll see who sees who first, okay?”

“Alright. Goodbye, Dean.”

“How do you manage to make that sound like I’m headed to my doom? You gotta lighten up, man, seriously. I’ll see you in a bit.” Castiel dropped the phone and turned the car around, heading east. It wasn’t long before he spotted Dean, leaning against his car leisurely, leather jacket off for the moment and laid over the hood of the car. Castiel parked in front of him and they sat, Castiel on the trunk of his car and Dean on the hood of his, passing the one beer they had managed to find between them and talking about nothing in particular.

“Dean, why didn’t you go with your brother to find your father? I thought that was your goal, your mission.” Castiel handed the bottle back to Dean, who took a long swig and stared at the ground for a few moments, then sighed and rubbed at his jaw.

“I don’t know, Cas. Just- sometimes I don’t even wanna find him, you know? I mean, he left me, no explanation, no warning, he was just… gone. And it’s not like it’s the first time he’s been missing, but this feels a lot less like a long hunt and a lot more like abandonment. He’s never just left without an explanation. So why should we waste all this time and energy looking for him? He clearly doesn’t wanna be found. Plus… me and Sam got a good thing goin’, and as soon as this is all over, he’s gone again. I missed him for four years, and it was miserable. I don’t… I don’t want things to go back to they way they’ve been.” Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration and grinned at Cas sheepishly. “Sorry. It feels good to get that off my chest. Sammy just won’t listen, you know?”

Castiel nodded. “I understand, Dean. Thank you for telling me.” And he meant it. He’s always felt special, important, useful when someone shared their problems with him.

Dean grinned shyly again. “So, uh, what was it like with you and your old man?”

Castiel cleared his throat and turned his eyes to the sky, looking for shapes in the clouds. “My father was… stern. He never expected a child, but he was glad to have me, if only to pass on the family name. I had to be… perfect. It was my duty to my family to act, talk, walk, be a certain way. And it isn’t a bad way, so I won’t complain, but when I got things wrong… I have just always felt that he was disappointed in me, my entire life.” Castiel came back to earth. “Don’t misunderstand me, he was an excellent father who was very accepting of however I wanted to live, as long as I did it with honor and justice. As long as I never forgot my purpose, which was to help people.”

Dean chuckled, passing the almost empty bottle over. “Wow. Sounds like you guys are a hell of a lot more righteous than us. So, uh, you left the life, right? Stopped hunting? What did you do?”

“I went to college, and after I finished I had a job in a flower shop and I volunteered at homeless shelters and soup kitchens. It was…”

“Lonely?” Dean ventured. Castiel met his eyes and nodded. “Well, I would say the same’s true about hunting, but here you are and here I am and… I don’t know, Cas, but hangin’ out with you ‘s kinda nice.” Castiel looked down in an attempt to hide his smile, which only made Dean grin wider. “Alright, come on, let’s get this show on the road. It’s probably best if we just take my car.” Castiel nodded in agreement, tossing the glass bottle aside and circling to the passenger side of the Impala.

“Okay, so if I was a psycho, couple-sacrificing maniac, and a couple just happens to stroll into my gas station, why would I point out their non-existent car troubles? To mess with their car, right Cas?” Dean was trying to understand what could draw the couples out of their car and into the orchard. Castiel’s father had never been so forthcoming with his thoughts as Dean, which was refreshing. He felt more like an equal, a partner, with Dean.

“I would assume so.”

“Right. So, their deal is, like, drawing people to the orchard, so, the guy messes with their cars, they drive away, and I’ll bet he can fix it to get just close enough to the orchard and then it breaks down, they get out of the car, assume there’s someone living near the orchard that’ll help, and then boom , Ray Bolger hops down and skins ‘em or something.”

Castiel frowned. “Who is Ray Bolger?”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “Seriously? Didn’t you ever see The Wizard of Oz ?”

“I read the book.”

Dean sighed, exasperated. “Of course you did.”

“I’m assuming that Ray Bolger has some connection to the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz ?”

“Yeah, Cas. He was the actor in the movie. Cas, I’m gonna ask you a question, and you gotta be honest with me. What movies have you seen?” Dean glanced at him, gnawing on his bottom lip and Castiel feels his stomach lurch at his wide green eyes and amusingly terrified expression.

“My boss turned on The Lion King once when we were snowed in.”

Silence.
“Are you telling me,” Dean started slowly, “that the only movie you have ever seen, ever… is The Lion King?”

“Um… yes?” Castiel isn’t sure why this was such a big deal to Dean. Maybe if he had, in fact, immersed himself in more television he would understand.

Dean stared at Castiel, jaw agape. “Cas, who the hell are you?”

“I’m Castiel. Hunter, former florist.”

Dean stared at him for a few more seconds, before chuckling heartily. “Man, you crack me up. ‘Former florist’, Jesus Christ. ”

“I don’t understand what amuses you. I am a former florist.”

Dean continued to laugh, dropping his head to the steering wheel briefly. “I’m kinda glad you're my backup here, Cas.”

Cas smiled at him, barely, and Dean smiled back, hugely.

---*---

After a daring rescue in the orchard, Dean was tapping his fingers restlessly against the couple’s car, staring down at the engine while Castiel held the flashlight for him. The couple themselves were sitting far away from the orchard, cuddled up in a blanket. Dean was attempting to fix their car, but he looked worried.

“Alright, Cas. So, it’s not a spirit.”

“Because the rock salt had no effect on it.” They had fired round after round to no avail.

“Yeah. Also, I don’t think it can leave the orchard.”

“Which is a distinctly spirit-like trait, but maybe it draws its power from a tree in the orchard.” Castiel rotated the flashlight in his sweaty palm.

“Okay, we can work with that. But I can’t work with this. We’ll give these two a ride to the next town and they can call a tow truck or something when they get there.” Dean slammed the hood of their car shut and goes to deliver the news to the couple. Castiel sighed and turned the flashlight off, relying instead on the light of the thousands of stars above his head. It was a rare sight, this many stars, one Castiel had always wanted to experience.

Before he knew it, Dean was jostling his elbow in an attempt to get his attention. “Hey, Cas, let’s rock ‘n’ roll.” Dean looked expectant, but Castiel just reached out and pushed his chin upwards and watched the stars reflecting in Dean’s eyes, mirrored on his freckles. Castiel smiled softly and his chest felt warm.

“It’s hard to believe there can be this many stars yet still be dark.” Castiel commented.

Dean tore his gaze away from the sky to look at Castiel. “Come on. We’ve got people to save, Cas.”

“Right.” Castiel spared the stars one last glance before following Dean to the Impala, where the couple, Nathan and Julia, Castiel thinks their names are, are huddled in the backseat. When they make it to the town, Nathan and Julia thank them without being sure exactly what they are thanking them for, and then the hunters find a motel for the night.

“So, I found a local college and there’s a professor there who’s supposedly an expert in pagan crap. I figure we could ask him about any local lore.” Dean was working the case from his laptop while Castiel pored over one of the many books he never left home without, a catalog of lesser known pagan gods. So far, nothing was ringing any bells.

“That might be wise. I wonder, how many college professors have hunters contacted about creatures more obscure and complex than a traditional ghost or werewolf?” Castiel shut his book and looked up at Dean who was staring at him over the top of his laptop, jaw open. Castiel was beginning to think of this as surprise at something he’s said, though why anything Castiel would say could surprise the hunter is beyond him.

“Well, you know, Sam is pretty good at research and stuff, he knows how to use the internet better than me. Plus I don’t really have much patience for it.”

Castiel smirked a little to himself. “I am not typically skilled with computers either, which is why I have so many books, both with me and at home.”

“Wait a minute. What if you need a book on a hunt but you didn’t bring it? Would you drive all the way home for it?” Dean shuts the laptop and folds his arms over it.

A low chuckle rose out of Castiel, something he had not expected. Dean was always managing to surprise him. “Well, my father was even worse with technology than I was, and he insisted on staying within 6 hours of home unless we knew for absolute certain what it was we were facing. Even then, there were times we were caught off guard and had to call for help.”

Dean nods slowly. “Yeah, we never had a home base. We moved around every few months, sometimes every few weeks.”

“That must have been difficult for you. When did your father begin hunting?”

Dean tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Uhh, well, we stayed in Lawrence for a couple months after my mom died, and then my we just… moved. I’m not really sure when he started, but he started teaching me about hunting when I was, like, six. He’d been leaving Sam with me for a while before that though, so I’m really not sure. Between four and six.”

Castiel frowns. “He left Sam with you when you were so young?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, he did. It was fine, though, the kid turned out to be a genius, even though it was me raising him. It’s a natural thing, I just made sure that he didn’t do anything I did, and that he did do the things I didn’t, like studying and homework.”

Castiel chewed on his lip for a few moment before speaking again, carefully. “But, Dean, your father should’ve been there to raise you.”

Dean didn’t say anything, just looked away from Castiel and shoved the laptop away. “I’m really tired. Do you mind if I turn the light off?”

Castiel sighed and shook his head, burrowing under his own covers.

---*---

All Castiel could hear of Sam Winchester was muffled garbling from Dean’s phone, but he was still glad to know that the boy was alright. Dean was explaining their case and Castiel’s presence to him.

“Yeah, I’m telling ya, Burkittsville, Indiana, fun town.”

Castiel frowned. “I would have to disagree.” Dean offers no response aside from rolling his eyes at him. He was beginning to feel very familiar with the gesture.

“No, no, Sam, we aren’t helpless children here.” A pause. “No, Cas figured it was probably some sort of pagan god, ‘cuz rock salt didn’t work. ...Man, I don’t know, what other proof do you need?” Dean listened for a second and then sighs. “Fine, you're on speaker. Say hi to Cas.”

“Hi, Cas.” Sam’s voice was amplified and Dean was now holding it towards Castiel so he could hear.

“Hello, Sam. How has your journey been?”

“Fine. So, explain to me how you know it’s a god and not a spirit, aside from the rock salt.”

Castiel huffs, having already explained the evidence to Dean three times. He hopes Sam catches on quicker, as Dean proclaimed him a genius. “Most spirits aren’t known to have such a specific cycle of killings. Also, the routine murders of a man and a woman is seen as a fertility rite in some cultures.”

“Yeah, and the townspeople were treating this couple really weird, too. Giving them free food, fattening them up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean added.

“The last meal, given to sacrificial victims.” Sam sounded very subdued, as if trying to make an effort to be quiet.

“So we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice, to appease some pagan god.” Dean twiddled his thumbs on the steering wheel. Castiel was beginning to notice that he sounded slightly different as well. He figured there was still some residual anger between the two of them.

“So, a god possesses a scarecrow…”

“The scarecrow takes its sacrifice.” Dean and Castiel finished together. An awkward look was exchanged, but nothing was said of it.

“For another year, the town prospers. Their crops thrive and disease doesn’t spread.” Castiel explained what they gathered from their conversation with Emily.

“That’s hardly worth two lives.” Dean grumbled. Castiel sighed in agreement.

“So, do you know which god you're dealing with?” Sam inquired.

“Nope, not yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Cas made sure to comment, just so Sam is aware.

“Well, if you find out what it is, you can find a way to kill it.”

“I know. We’re actually on our way to a local community college, we’ve got an appointment with the professor. You know, because Cas doesn’t know how to use a computer-”

“That is not what I said.”

“-and I don’t have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research. Not that you're not a good sidekick, Cas.”

“I am not your sidekick.”

Sam laughed, quietly still. “You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything. We got this, right Cas?”

“I suppose that depends on how this appointment goes, but even so, we always have the option of burning the orchard.”

“Let’s not go there.” Dean shook his head at Cas and looked down at the phone. “Actually… uh, Sammy, I want you to know- I mean, don’t think-”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Dean looked infinitely grateful that Sam apologized first and glanced at Castiel nervously, but Castiel pretended to not be paying attention, looking out the window.

“Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.”

“Are you serious?” Castiel was still ‘not paying attention.’

“Yeah… you’ve always known what you want, and you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I-” Castiel looked up at this and studied Dean’s face before turning slowly back to the window. “Anyway. I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Castiel felt awe in Sam’s voice, amazement. Castiel wondered how often it was that Dean expresses his feelings.

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Sam promises.

Dean nodded. “Call me when you find Dad.”

“Okay. Bye Dean, bye Cas.”

“Goodbye Sam” Dean flipped his phone shut without responding and they rode for a few minutes in silence until Castiel turned to his companions and asked, “Did he seem quiet to you?”

Dean snorted “Who knows what kinda people you pick up, hitchhiking. Who knows where he spent the night.” Castiel shuddered at the thought.

“Remind me to never hitchhike.”

Dean laughed. “If I ever develop a sixth sense that tells me when you're about to hitchhike, I will make sure to stop you.”

“Thank you.”

They arrived at the community college, blaring music from a band Castiel was not familiar with, but Dean claimed “rules.” Castiel cannot entirely disagree. The professor met them at the door, and Dean asked most of the questions while Castiel admired their surroundings. The paintings were rather unique and overall, it wasn’t a bad campus, for a community college.

After determining with the help of the professor that the god was a Vanir, and how to defeat it, Dean and Castiel prepared to leave. Dean thanked the professor and opened the door, where he was promptly hit in the face with the butt of a shotgun. Castiel reached for his own gun, but the man- a sheriff- was quicker than he, and before he knew it, he, too, was out cold on the ground.

---*---

Castiel regained his consciousness in total darkness with a throbbing headache. He felt warmth under his head, but the rest of his body is cold and aching. He groaned, sitting up.

“Cas? Are you okay?” Dean asked from behind him and Castiel realizes that he must have been laying on Dean. Oh well. If he hadn’t been okay with it, then he would have moved him.

“I’m fine, Dean, how are you?”

“Fine. Well, this is a plot twist.”

“I can’t imagine the people of the town are too happy with us, considering we are potentially ruining their crops. What awful people we are.” Castiel laid back down on the floor and not Dean, folding his hands over his stomach. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he noticed that there were tiny beams of light coming in from slats of the roof of… wherever they were.

Dean snorted. “Someone’s a little mad about being knocked out and then stashed in a tornado shelter, probably to starve to death.”

“I apologize, I’m being completely unreasonable.” Castiel could have seen Dean’s smile if the sun had gone out.

“Completely.” Dean’s smile faded as he looked up. “I tried, Cas, but I don’t think we’re getting out of here.”

“I highly doubt they’re just going to leave us. They will more than likely use one of us for the ritual.” Castiel knew that it should be him that was sacrificed. After all, Dean still had a brother, a father. Castiel had no one that would miss him.

Dean said nothing for several minutes. “Cas, I know what you're thinking.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. You're thinking that you should be sacrificed because you don’t have any family and I have Sam and Dad.”

“It’s true.”

“Do you really think they’re just going to let me go if that happens?”

“I doubt they’ll kill you, just send you to prison. I’m assuming they can find something to arrest you for, I’ve yet to meet a hunter without a criminal record. I’m also assuming you can get yourself out of prison.”

“Cas, it’s my fault you're here at all-”

“I refuse to be the one to tell your brother that you died.”

Suddenly, the roof opened to reveal Emily, her aunt and uncle, and the sheriff that had accosted the hunters at the college earlier. Dean and Castiel both stood quickly, watching Emily plead with her aunt and uncle as they lead her down the stairs to join Dean and Castiel. As the door closed on them and Emily burst into tears, Castiel met Dean’s eyes in a silent challenge. Her arrival confirmed their musings, and their argument was not over.

As Castiel explained the situation to Emily, Dean tried again to break the door open, to no avail.

“I don’t understand. They’re going to kill us?” Emily asked, once she stopped crying.

“They’re going to sacrifice us. It’s different, they don’t actively kill us themselves.” Castiel explained.

“Still murder.” Dean added.

“It is most definitely still murder.” Castiel agreed.

“Are they going to sacrifice all three of us? I thought it was all just couples.” Emily looked between the two boys, and they look at each other.

“It has to be a man and a woman,” Castiel affirmed, “so just one of us.”

“One of us that isn’t Cas.”

“Dean, just think about Sam. Imagine how he is going to feel.” Castiel crossed his arms as Dean redoubled his efforts on the door.

“Cas, I told you, it’s my fault you're even here,” Dean repeated.

“I could have very easily told you to fuck off and continued home.”

Dean paused for a moment and turned to stare at him. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“Guys! It doesn’t matter right now, I don’t think they’re gonna let you choose. If it’s a sacrifice, they’ll probably choose whoever’s biggest.” Emily pointed out.

“I’m taller than you, Cas.”

“Why don’t we focus on everyone not dying, Dean.”

Dean gave up on the door and came down the stairs. “Awesome. So, we can destroy the god by destroying its tree, right?” Dean turned to Emily. “It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, y’know, like it was sacred.”

Emily thought for a minute. When she spoke, her voice was considerably calmer. “There’s this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”

“Is it still in the orchard? Have you seen it?” Castiel asked, unfolding his arms and letting them hang loosely at his sides.

“Yeah. But I don’t remember where.”

They heard a latch click open above them, and Castiel immediately shoved Dean backwards, hoping that if they see him first, they’ll take him first. Emily clutched at her shoulders, looking as if she was about to cry again. The men had shotguns pointed at them, looking somber. Emily’s aunt announced, “It’s time.”

They all took deep breaths. Dean clutched Castiel’s elbow. Emily took several steps back. “Come on. All of ya.”

“I thought the ritual only called for two people.” Castiel protested.

“Well, thanks to you two, we’re late on our payment. It’s angry at us. We decided a little extra portion would help appease it. And if it doesn’t take one of you, I’m sure we’ll find something to blame you for. The murders of my niece and your friend, maybe.” The hunters glanced at each other.

“That settles that, I guess.” Dean muttered and Castiel would have smacked him but suddenly they were all being dragged to the surface and led to be tied to the trees.

Castiel was tied to the same tree as Dean. “More chance it’ll take you both,” the sheriff explained.

“How many people have you killed, sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?” Castiel resisted the urge to kick Dean.

“We don’t kill people.” The sheriff defended.

“No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?” Castiel does kick him now, a sharp knock on his leg, as they are right next to each other.

The sheriff just walked away and pointed another gun at them. Castiel can vaguely hear Emily pleading with her aunt and uncle. He just stared at the sky and took in his surroundings, probably the last things he will see, feel. He felt leaves under his legs, the tree bark chafing against his back, and Dean’s arm was warm, even through the leather. It’s not terrible. As their captors and murders walked away, Dean called out, “I hope your apple pie is freakin’ worth it!”

“At those prices…” Castiel mumbled, and Dean could barely smile at him.

“So what’s the plan?” Emily asked.

Dean and Castiel looked at each other. “We’re working on it,” Dean grumbled.

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Castiel muttered back. Dean glared and kicked him.

Night fell. They were all still tied to trees, Dean was still squirming, Emily was still trying not to cry, and Castiel was still trying to catch a glimpse of the stars. They were all starting to panic.

Castiel could see Emily shake her head out of the corner of his eye. “Neither of you have a plan, do you?”

“I’m working on it!” Dean insisted, still. So far his plan was trying to magically make his hands smaller so he could slip through the rope.

Castiel sighed, exasperated. He attempted to twist around and determine if the scarecrow had moved, but he couldn’t quite find it. He turned to Emily. “Can you see the scarecrow? Has it moved?”

Emily twisted, and then sighed. “I can’t see.”

Then they heard footsteps. Castiel looked back up briefly, and then gave up on the stars. He turned to Dean, who was now trying more frantically than ever to free himself. He was about to say something, anything, a last will and testament in case the scarecrow was only interested in one male and one female, but then-

“Dean?” Castiel recognized the voice as Sam’s and he and Dean sighed in unison, slumping in their ropes.

Sam came into view and Dean sighed again. “Oh, I take everything back I said, I’m so happy to see you.” Sam crouched down and began cutting his brother loose. “How’d you get here?”

“I- uh. I stole a car.”

Both Dean and Castiel laughed at the guilt in his voice. “That’s my boy!” Dean exclaimed. “Keep an eye on that scarecrow, it could come alive at any minute.” The ropes fell away from Dean’s wrists and he stood.

“What scarecrow?” Castiel whipped his head around to stare at Sam, and Emily does the same.

“Shit. Quick, cut her loose, we gotta get outta here.” Dean spun on his heel to face Castiel again and crouched, pulling a small knife out of his boot. He made quick work of Castiel’s ropes and helped him to his feet. Sam and Emily were ready to go in the same moment, and they all began to navigate their way out of the orchard.

“Alright. So, the sacred tree you were talking about.” Sam prompted.

“It’s the source of it’s power.” Dean informed him.

“So let’s find it and burn it!”

“Oh dear, why didn’t we think of that?” Castiel growled. Sam huffed.

“Sorry about him, he got hit in the head, apparently it shook quite a bit of sarcasm loose.” Castiel could tell he was rolling his eyes. “We’ll do that in the morning, let’s just shag ass before leatherface catches up.”

They almost made it to the road, but were stopped by the townspeople, back with their shotguns and flashlights. They slowed to a stop, completely surrounded. The opposing groups regarded each other for a few moments, until they heard a growling noise somewhere in the trees. Castiel unconsciously pressed closer to Dean.

“Please,” Emily bargained, “just let us go.”

“It’ll be over quickly, I promise.” Castiel wondered how anyone can send a girl that they  raised since she was a child to her death, simply for good crops and less disease.

“Please!”

“Emily, you have to let him take you, you have to-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, due to the stick in his stomach. His wife screamed along with Emily, who buried her face in Dean’s chest. Castiel felt sick. Gore was to be expected as a hunter, but that didn’t mean Castiel had to like it. When he fell, the scarecrow was behind him, terrifying as when Castiel first saw him, probably more so. The Vanir took the couple, Emily’s aunt and uncle, and Scotty and the sheriff bolted. The hunters ran the other way, pulling Emily along with them.

They reached the road and Castiel sighed, leaning against the fence. They heard the Vanir growl, but they doubted it would be coming back for them. Castiel looked up. He could see the stars.

---*---

They returned the following day with gasoline and a lighter. None of them had slept that night, so they’d all sat, sipping coffee around the table while Sam and Dean traded stories of their time apart and Emily learned the truth about the horrors of the world. Castiel told everyone about the scarecrow he had made with his class in the third grade, and they all speculated as to how many killer scarecrows there could be in the world.

They wandered the orchard for a while in the direction the Vanir had dragged Emily’s aunt and uncle until Emily started to recognize her surroundings as near the First Tree. There were strange markings on the trunk that Castiel took pictures of. Sam stepped forward and doused the tree in gasoline. None of them said anything. Dean lifted a branch from the ground and lit the end of it on fire. Once the fire caught, Emily reached for the stick.

“Let me,” she commanded, her voice steel.

“You know the whole town’s gonna die,” Dean reminded her.

“Good.” Certain things in life changed a person, forever, and Castiel would be surprised if Emily was ever the same after being offered up for sacrifice by her aunt and uncle before watching them die.

Emily threw the stick down and they all stood back and watched the flames devour the ancient tree. If Castiel felt bad about ruining the town, driving people out of their homes because they just couldn’t find income, all he had to do to tamper that guilt was glance at the rope burn on his wrists, on Emily’s, on Dean’s. People could find new homes, and everyone else got sick. Death could not be reversed.

They drove Emily to a bus station. She couldn’t stay in that town, in the state, even. She said she was going to start over. Castiel remembered being a lot like her. He told her to call him if she ever needed anything, and hinted that there may be a florist shop in New York looking to hire. She thanked him and the Winchesters and was on her way.

“Think she’s gonna be alright?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean shrugged. “Both of you left home and made it on your own, younger than her.”

“That’s different, Dean. Sam and I both grew up as hunters, which requires a certain level of resourcefulness and-”

“Cas. She’ll be fine.” Dean rolled his eyes at him, again.

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just- get away with it?” Sam looked over their heads, towards Burkittsville.

“What’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean turned and started walking back to the car. “Cas, are you still parked by the side of the road? That probably isn’t good.”

“It’s been there for two days, Dean, in a fairly secluded area. I’m sure it’s fine. And if it’s not, guess who’s driving me to Denver.” Castiel strolled ahead of him to lean against the back door of the car. He understood Sam’s shotgun right. It had been very clearly established. Dean, of course, just rolled his eyes.

“So, I’m taking Cas to his car, and then maybe Denver, what about you, Sammy? Can I drop you off somewhere?” Sam couldn’t see Dean’s face but Castiel could, and it was so brokenly hopeful that Castiel was ready to hit Sam if he said yes.

Sam smiled a little and shook his head. “No, I think you're stuck with me.”

Dean stopped and turned to his brother. “What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass. But, Jess, and Mom,” Sam shook his head, “they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where… You and me. We’re all that’s left of our family. So, uh, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

Dean’s eyes flicked briefly to Castiel, who was once again pretending to not be listening. He was far away enough to get away with it, he thought. “Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Sam shoved him, and Castiel stopped pretending.

“You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat dude, both of you.”

Dean circled around the car. “Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d’ve gotten out.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at him this time. “We’re very grateful to you, Sam.”

“Thank you. And thanks for looking out for my brother.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job.”

“Hey man. You were there.” Sam patted him on the shoulder and got in the car. Castiel smiled a little to himself and joins them.

“So, Cas, what’ll it be, Zeppelin or Metallica?” Dean grinned at him from the front seat.

“What? You're letting him choose the music?” Sam protests.

Castiel just stretches out in the back and drapes an arm over his eyes. “Slow songs. I have a head injury.”

“Now you're just milking it.”

“Slow.”

“Zeppelin it is, then. Sammy, this is why I let Cas choose. You would have said something dumb.”

Sammy ‘pffs’ but doesn’t argue the point further. When they reached Castiel’s very intact car, he was almost sad to see the Winchesters go.

But he didn’t doubt that he’d see them again soon.

---*---

Castiel slammed his book closed, then brought it up to his face to repeatedly slam it against his forehead. What good did scouring books do him? Books told nothing of the present, only things that had already come to pass, and this demon was in the present. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for anymore. Castiel collapsed on the table, cheek to his poor book. Maybe he should just give up.

Except.

What would his father say to that? Castiel had nightmares, every night about his cold body, CASTIEL etched into his chest. He often had to remind himself that John Winchester had been looking for his wife’s killer for 22 years.

But he did not want to be John Winchester.

Castiel was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing. Sam Winchester. He answered immediately. “Hello?”

“Cas, hey. Um. Do you know anything about miracle healing?” He sounded distressed.

Castiel frowned. “Um. No? Sam, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, but uh… Dean. He got hurt on a hunt, and... they say he, uh, he only has a month to live.”

Castiel felt like he’s been punched in the gut and straightened. He hadn’t known Dean for very long, sure, but he couldn’t help but consider the other man a friend. “Oh…” He was aware of how small his voice sounds, but hoped Sam doesn’t comment on it. “My question stands.”

“I’m in a steady state of denial. He’s in the hospital, and I’m here, calling anyone I think can help. We’re in Colorado Springs, actually.”

“Oh. I- I’ll look into it, Sam. If you want, you could come out here and look through the books I have, it’s no more than an hour’s drive.” Castiel bit his lip, worried that that was a ridiculous offer.

“Actually… do you have an extra bedroom? If I know Dean, he’s gonna be checking himself out any time now, and you know how motel beds are.”

“Of course. As long as you're comfortable with sleeping on the couch. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just keep him in he hospital?”

“There’s nothing they can do for him.” Sam said softly. “Could you just text me the address? We’ll be there in a while.”

“I can do that. Goodbye, Sam. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Bye Cas.”

Castiel hung up the phone and glanced around his absolute mess of a house. He sighed and began reshelving his books, which took longer than one would think. Since he could not let Dean or Sam in his childhood bedroom under any circumstances, he cleaned the master bedroom for Dean to sleep in and located extra blankets for Sam. Then he realized that his fridge was severely understocked and rushed to the grocery store. His house still looked like a disaster, but in a clean way. It was still devoid of any and all personal touches, or a working TV, and it was still overflowing with books, but it looked like a home. Half a home, at least.

Sam knocked on the door just as Castiel put the last dish in the dishwasher. He opened the door with his hands still wet, and flinched at the sight of Dean, with bags under his eyes and looking extremely sickly. Dean, however, grinned. “Nice pjs, Cas.”

Castiel looked down at himself. He was wearing an oversize bee shirt and yellow and black plaid flannel pajama pants under his trenchcoat. He’d completely forgotten that he was wearing it. Oh dear Lord, that’s what all the stares in the grocery store had been about. He blushed furiously and tried to stammer a response, but Dean just laughed and heaved himself through the doorway. He appeared unsteady, so Castiel reached out and placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders to stabilize him. Sam followed, closing the door behind him. Dean lurched forward at the sound, right into Castiel. Castiel looped an arm around his waist in an effort to keep Dean standing, but still ended up holding most of the other man’s body weight.

“And to think,” Dean muttered as Castiel rights him, still with one hand on his shoulder. “I used to have the grace of a swan.”

“You face planted into a table last week.” Sam argue, standing behind Dean in case he toppled backwards.

“Okay, that’s because someone left their clothes in the middle of the floor.” Dean turned and glared at Sam, who just rolled his eyes and muttered something Castiel couldn’t hear. “Cas, do you seriously live here?”

“Um. Yes? Why?” Castiel had a feeling he knew why Dean was asking, but can’t imagine that if Dean had a “home base”, as he called it, it would look much different.

“I don’t know, it looks kinda… impersonal.” Castiel led Dean to the couch, and he sunk into it, making himself look very small.

“I’m not one for decoration,” Castiel stated, obviously.

Dean glanced at him from his slouching position and raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Sam shrugged. “I don't know, it has a certain… charm.” Dean and Castiel each directed a skeptical stare at him.

“Sam, you don't have to attempt to spare my feelings. I am well aware of the lack of appeal my home holds, and I happen to not care.” Dean snickered at his comment, while Sam blushed furiously.

“No, really, it’s-”

“Are either of you hungry?” Castiel interrupted, making Sam blush even more.

“I’m  starved,” Dean announced, then attempted to stand, and immediately stumbled. Sam managed to catch him before he hits the floor.

“Dean, remember that you gotta take it easy. Just- sit here and rest, the food isn’t going anywhere.” Sam patted his grumbling brother on the shoulder and followed Castiel into the kitchen. “What do you have?”

“Well, I have frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, and, uh… toaster strudels. I’m not sure what those are.” Castiel listed, pulling various food items out of his freezer.

“Do you have anything… healthier?” Sam opened the pantry and scanned the selection there, which was still very unimpressive.

“Healthy food isn’t gonna make me healthier at this point, Sam.” Dean pointed out from the living room, and as much as Castiel wished he wasn’t, Dean was right.

“I mean for me, asshat, but sorry for trying to help you live longer.” Sam snarked. Castiel rolled his eyes at the both of them and suggested some frozen berries to Sam. Sam accepted, and he stained his fingers purple while the pizza was cooking. Castiel sat with Dean as he explained what exactly had happened to him to cause his premature death.

“I mean, this is all just a risk of the job, you know? I mean, Cas, how long do you think you're gonna live?” Dean’s flippancy about his own mortality unnerved Castiel, but he swallowed his pain and answers.

“I have no clue. Some hunters die very young, and others live long enough to be seniors. I suppose it depends on the hunt as well as the person.”

Dean nodded. “I guess. Hey, Cas, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Make sure Sammy’s in the second group for me?”

“Dean, you're going to live. Sam will find something that can save you.”

“Maybe, but- if he doesn’t?”

Castiel met Dean’s earnest, pleading eyes and found himself unable to resist him, for some reason. He sighs. “Very well.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Sam emerged from the kitchen, pizza in hand. “Cas, you need oven mitts. I had to use, like, 20 paper towels to get this out.” He set the steaming, uncut pie between the two of them on the sofa. Castiel sighed and retrieved the pizza cutter while Sam sat on the floor to eat more of his berries. Cutting a pizza on a cushion was harder than it seemed and Castiel nearly gave up several times, but eventually he got the pizza into 8 equal slices, of which he and Dean each had four.

When Dean started to nod off on the couch, Castiel gently woke him and guided the hunter into the master bedroom.

“Wait, wait, Cas, where’re you gonna sleep?” Dean mumbled, leaning against Castiel for support.

“It’s fine Dean, I’ll sleep in my own room.” Castiel assured him. “Would you like some pajamas?”

Dean fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking slightly less tired. “Nah, I’m good… hey, Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I- um- you can stay in here, with me, if you want. It is your room, after all, and I don’t-”

Castiel stopped the boy’s rambling by touching his shoulder lightly. “I understand. I will go prepare the couch for Sam to sleep on and then return here.”

Dean nodded, relieved. “Right, I’ll just- right.”

Castiel helped Dean sit on the bed and then departed to set up Sam’s sleeping place, heart thumping. Why did Dean want him to sleep with him? Perhaps he was afraid of something happening while he slept… but if that were the case, wouldn’t he ask Sam? Or did he truly feel guilty about taking Castiel’s bed? Whatever the reason, it was certainly nothing that should be making Castiel panic like this. Dean was his friend, and friends could share a bed, especially if one of them were dying. Castiel paused before entering the living room and decided not to mention anything to Sam. It wasn’t really worth mentioning, after all.

Castiel assembled the pullout bed quickly and bid Sam goodnight, not knowing that Sam, of course, was not going to sleep, instead choosing to spend every moment he had finding a way to save his brother.

When Castiel returned to his room, Dean was in bed, under the covers, staring at the ceiling. Castiel, already in pajamas, joined him.

They were silent for several heartbeats, and then Dean sighed. “I never did find my Dad. Or the thing that murdered my mom. Those were literally the only goals I ever had in my life, and I couldn’t finish either of them.”

Castiel reached across the bed and found Dean’s hand. “Someone will. It might even be you.”

Dean smiled and squeezed Castiel’s hand before exhaustion overtook them both and they fell asleep…

---*---

In Castiel’s dream, Dean was still dying. He lay in a hospital bed, various tubes attached to various parts of his body. His hospital gown was drenched in blood, as were the blankets on his bed. When Castiel looked down at himself, he was shocked to discover that the blood was coming from him, as there was a jagged piece of glass lodged in chest. He thinks it might be in his heart, and with the realization that he is injured comes the pain. He sinks to his knees, gasping for air, trying to scream for help, but the only other person around is Dean, who is somewhere Castiel cannot reach him.

He falls straight through the floor, into a pitch black pit that seems to go on forever, ending in a lake of lava. Castiel falls and falls, and then quite suddenly he is burning away, lost to drown in a sea of fire…

---*---

Dean Winchester did not have nightmares, not yet. It would take a lot more than almost weekly gruesome battles with monsters and near death experiences to disturb his sleep. Castiel, however, did have nightmares, nightmares that often woke him from his sleep, which did end up disturbing Dean from his.

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?” he asked groggily, trying to sit up but ultimately realizing that remaining where he was would be best.

“Nothing, Dean, I’m fine.” Castiel answered shakily, a clear indicator that he was not fine.

“Bullshit,” the room was quiet for a moment, as Castiel had no response to that. “Did you have a nightmare? Sammy has ‘em too, except they were rarer before…”

“Before what?”

Dean sighed, slightly uncomfortable with having to explain his brother’s probably private woes to someone who was… well, Castiel. Who Sam, at least, barely knew, even if Dean considered him a friend. However, if there was anyone Dean trusted to handle this new information with tact, it was Cas. “He had this girlfriend… Jessica. She died, and Sam… well, he’s pretty beat up about it. He pretends not to be, but he has these nightmares, and he barely sleeps.”

Cas was quiet for a second before falling back into his pillows. “Oh. How did she die?”

Dean sighed. “The same way our mom did. Burned to death on the ceiling.” Dean glanced at Cas to gauge his reaction, but Castiel just frowned.

“That sounds… oddly specific. And eerily familiar.”

“What?” Dean sat straight up, screw his heart problems.

Castiel sat up too, only he pushed Dean back down lightly. “I went to Boston, not too terribly long ago, they have a rather famous section of books on demons, and I believe that was how one particularly powerful demon was believed to attack its victims.”

“What? When? What demon? Why?”

“Sometime in the 14th century, and in the 20th and 21st, apparently. I don’t recall the demon’s name, and as to the why… in the 14th century, demons tended to take and sacrifice children to spread fear and misery. If the mother would happen to be checking on the baby at the time, she would be killed in that manner. The baby, however, would be left there as well, and sometimes they were saved,” Castiel explained, looking more and more awake with each word he spoke.

“Well then… do you think it’s happening again? Except Sam and Jess didn’t have a baby. I mean, if that’s true, the way our mom died makes sense, because she was in Sammy’s nursery, but-”

“I don’t think this is the same thing, Dean. I think this demon may have something personal against your family, or perhaps just against Sam.”

Dean lay awake in the dark long after Cas had gone to sleep. Why would demons be after his brother? Sure, he was able to predict the future, sort of, but not for just anything , and he hadn’t had that ability growing up.

Dean decided he would tell Sam about this tomorrow, leaving out the part where the demons were after him, specifically. He considered calling his father- then he decided not to bother.

---*---

The Winchesters left the next morning, and if he had to be honest with himself, Castiel was sad to see them go. Sam had apparently stayed up all night looking for any way to cure Dean and had found something, so they packed up early and were off to Nebraska, he believed. Castiel was glad that Dean may yet live, obviously, but he knew that their absence just meant that his days would be filled with books upon books of dead ends and a silent house and too much food.

He missed them, near strangers as they were.

Castiel attempted to shake off his melancholy and trudged into his pitiful backyard with a book he actually enjoyed reading, A Tale of Two Cities . His paperback was wrinkled and bent, but he had never considered buying a new copy, as it was a gift from Jim Murphy, a priest/hunter who had taken care of Castiel as a child despite it undoubtedly being inconvenient. Certain things could just never be replaced.

Castiel didn’t receive an update from the Winchesters until the next day. He was in the kitchen, eating microwaved chicken nuggets as his dinner, still in his pajamas from days before, when his phone buzzed unfamiliarly. Apparently it was his text alert. Castiel couldn’t remember ever receiving a text message in his life.

Dean:

all better:)

Castiel sighed in relief and attempted to type a response. However, he was puzzled by the keys. They only had numbers on them. How was he supposed to reply with words?

It took an embarrassing amount of time for him to figure it out, but eventually he was able to formulate a reply without any sort of trouble. He was proud of himself.

Cas:

That’s a relief.

Dean smiled down at his phone, despite the queasy feeling in his gut. Sam rolled his eyes. “Dude, stop texting your boyfriend. I’m trying to work a case here.”

Dean scoffed at him. “It’s Cas, man. Not my boyfriend.”

“You shared a bed other night.”

“Oh, whatever. Besides, I only texted him once, like yesterday. He just now happened to respond.”

“Well if he responded after a whole day, then you shouldn’t text him back right away. Makes you seem too desperate.” Sam grinned over the top of his laptop and Dean chucked his phone at him.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

---*---

Dean did not end up texting Castiel back, which made him wonder if he was supposed to text back in the first place. He suspected that that would be the last he heard of either Winchester, unless they ran into each other on another hunt, which looked unlikely as Castiel was determined to buckle down and find this demon.

He decided that his research was too general. He considered the carvings that had adorned his father’s body. The exorcism, which had been Castiel’s first clue that the culprit was a demon. The inverted pentagrams on his thighs. The crude depiction of wings on his stomach. The seemingly random cuts across his face. The name written across his chest. Castiel’s name.

What could it mean? Why would a demon care in the least about Castiel? The fact that it was his supposedly angelic name over a pair of wings was not lost on him. Perhaps the demons mistakenly believed that Castiel was, in fact, an angel, barring the fact that there was no such thing. Surely demons would be wary of an angel in their midst. But if that were the case, it would have been much easier to find Castiel than his father.

Maybe his name didn’t mean anything. Perhaps it was just another of the demon’s torture techniques, reminding Daniel of the son he would never see again.

Castiel stood. It was so much easier to just research demons without thinking about the personal aspect of his case. He needed to get his mind off the morbid topic.

In a split-second decision, Castiel grabbed his wallet and drove to the closest dollar store. He located a sketchpad and a box of colored pencils, and returned home. As a child, his teachers had always praised his art abilities, and he supposed now was the time to test whether or not they held true. Castiel sat on the floor of his living room, back against the front of his couch and his teeth sunk into an apple, he opened his sketchpad and began to draw.

His first attempt was horrid. He tried to draw a tree, but it ended up looking more like a guitar. His second attempt was better, but still not anything to be proud of.

Castiel sighed and glanced out the window. The children across the street were playing tag, or so it appeared. When Castiel was growing up, a grouchy old couple with older kids had lived there. It was nice to see children playing and laughing with each other. Castiel so often missed the true value of life, living alone with few friends and even fewer loved ones. In fact, the ratio on that was 2 to 0. He didn’t laugh as easily or as often as he perhaps had once.

It made him sad.

Castiel turned back to his sketchpad and started drawing. The concept was rather simple, but the hunter poured his heart and soul into it. When he was done, he opened his colored pencils and began to bring his creation to life.

It was a bee. Not a complex bee, a cartoon bee, but Castiel thought his bee was much cuter than any bee that could be made to look like a real, living bee. It was round and fat, obviously, with teeny tiny wings and teeny tiny legs. It wore a smiley face, and a pink cowboy hat. It made Castiel happy. He decided to hang it on the wall, so he would see it every day and maybe be a little happier. Vaguely, he wondered what Dean would think of it, if and when he ever saw it. Certainly he would be happy that Castiel had personalized his house.

Castiel taped his bee picture smack in the middle of the wall directly in the line of sight of the doorway. He planted his hands on his hips, admiring his work, the happy little bee, ready to bring cheer to all.

---*---

As it turned out, Castiel didn’t have to wait long for Dean to see his bee. Several days later, he had fallen asleep at the table on one of his books when he was rudely awoken by a knock at the door. He immediately sat bolt upright, and realized that he was wearing more bee pajamas, a completely different pair than the ones he had last answered the door in.

He sincerely hoped Dean Winchester was not behind that door. But life wasn’t that kind.

Dean didn’t say anything as Castiel opened the door, just stared at his clothes. He looked up and met Castiel’s eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, Cas, I really just can’t ignore this. What’s up with the bees?”

Castiel shrugged. “I like bees.”

“Everyone likes bees, Cas, they make, like, honey and shit, but- how many pairs of bee pajamas do you have?”
“Um. I prefer not to answer that question.”

“Jesus Christ- is that a picture of a bee? Hanging on your wall, all by itself, just- Jesus Christ, Cas.”

Castiel coughed and hastily changed the subject. “It’s good to see that you're well, Dean. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just wanted to check up on you, and… stuff. See what the bees are up to.”

Castiel blushed. “Do you want to come inside or…?”

Dean hesitated and glanced back at the car before shrugging. “Sure. Sammy’s asleep in the car, or he would come in too.” Castiel stepped aside to let the other man enter, and Dean made a bit of a show of looking around. “So no other decoration, just the one bee picture. Huh. You're a little strange, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. How exactly were you healed?”

Dean flopped onto the couch with a sigh.“Oh, man, that’s a sucky story. There was this preacher guy, and his wife was controlling a reaper, so whoever he chose to heal would live, and then someone else would die of what they had. It sucked. We didn’t realize until after the guy fixed me and then this other guy up and dies of my heart problems.”

“That sounds awful.” Castiel handed him a cup of coffee, despite it being 8 o’clock at night. He had a feeling that if Sam was asleep, Dean had a bit of driving ahead of him.

“It sucked. Especially because while we were hanging around Roy’s- the preacher- place, I got to know this girl who had brain cancer. And she was going to be saved.”

“But you had to stop the reaper before she could.” Castiel seated himself on the couch next to Dean and sipped his own cup of coffee.

“Exactly. I’m still not sure we did the right thing. I mean, I know it’s really not people’s place to mess with who lives and who dies and the supernatural and stuff, but I mean, they weren’t necessarily killing people, just… making people trade places.”

Castiel sat back and thought on that for a moment. Dean just stared off into space. “Well… you felt terrible when you discovered you lived only because someone else died. And no one deserves to live more than anyone else, but it’s not fair to force someone into a death that shouldn’t have been theirs.”

Dean turned and smiled at him. “That’s pretty wise, there, Cas.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Too bad it’s really hard to keep a depressing mood going with that bee picture there.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “That is the purpose of it.”

Dean grinned. “Well, I really should be going now. Call if you need anything, got it?”

“And the same to you, Dean.” Dean patted Castiel awkwardly on the shoulder and then he was gone, leaving Castiel to marvel at how quickly he finished an entire mug of coffee.

---*---

Castiel stopped sleeping. During the day, he sprawled himself out on his lawn and read and reread every book he could get his hands on.

He was going nowhere.

During the nights, he brought his books inside and mostly forgot to sleep. He had very little contact with the Winchesters, other than the occasional call asking for help, never with the hunt itself, but if Sam failed in his research and they needed information that Castiel was likely to have or be able to acquire. Nothing truly exciting happened, and Castiel was getting bored.

He was beginning to consider abandoning his research yet again to chase a hunt, just to do something, when his neighbor, a woman about his age, parent of twin baby girls, approached him on his lawn. Castiel was forced to stand at her arrival.

“Hi! Me and my husband live next door, and we couldn't help but notice that you seem to be living here, and I'm so pleased because I grew up just down the street and this house was always empty. It's funny though, I didn't see any sale signs and I've tried to find it on the market a million times, but never found anything.” All this time she wore a big, only slightly genuine, smile.

Castiel struggled not to groan. “Actually, I've lived here my entire life. My family owns the house. I lived here until I was thirteen and then we moved away.”

“Wow, really? Wait a minute, what year did you graduate?”

“1997.” Castiel’s father believed he could have graduated much earlier, but Castiel refused to let him lie on the registration forms.

“Oh my gosh, me too! We must’ve been in class together when we were kids then, right?”

“I suppose.” Castiel was vaguely aware that he was being rude, but he was tired and not a fan of the conversation.

“Wait, hang on I'm trying to place you. Thirteen? Oh jeez. I think I remember you. It's something really unique, right? I know this.”

“Castiel,” he supplied.

The woman snapped. “Right! Castiel Novak. I remember now. In P.E. class you beat everyone at, like, everything, but you never played any sports and you were always reading.”

That was due to near daily training and late nights with his father and a practice dummy. Hunting was a dangerous profession, and the preparation was not to be taken lightly. “Yes, that was me.”

“Well, I'm Judy Gillan, you probably don't remember me.” Castiel did, actually. She had been placed next to him in every class, without fail, and he told her so. She laughed a weird fake laugh. “So, Castiel, are you married?”

“No.”

“Well, we're still young. I have a husband, Todd, and twin baby girls. They're a handful. And identical! I'm gonna have my work cut out for me in a couple years.”

Castiel nodded, and was about to spout some excuse about having to go inside, but his phone started ringing. It was Dean, obviously. “One moment, Judy. Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. Are you busy?”

“Not terribly so,” he responded, with a quick glance at Judy.

“Great! Alright, so we’re on our way to Mississippi, and Sam is saying that the fucking prequel Star Wars movies have a better storyline. Tell him he's wrong.”

“…Is this what you called me for?”

“We need a third vote.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes at Judy, who smiled softly. “Dean, I fear you're forgetting that I’ve only seen The Lion King .”

“Just say Sam’s wrong.”

“But what if I watch the movies and decide I agree with him?”

“Trust me, Cas, you won’t.”

“I refuse to make this decision..”

“Asshole. You know, we really don’t know anyone else who can vote...”

Castiel sighed and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Judy, have you seen Star Wars ?”

“Um. Yes? Is that what you're arguing about?”

“Do you prefer the prequels or the originals?”

“Uh. Originals? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Judy says she prefers the originals.” Castiel informs Dean.

“Who the hell is Judy?”

“My neighbor. And former classmate. Is that all?”

“Yeah, Cas. You know what though-” Castiel hung up. He was already being rude enough to Judy, and listening to Sam and Dean get along and be brothers and have stupid arguments like that… it hurt his heart, made him jealous of the things he’d never had.

“Who was that?” Judy asked.

“A friend of mine,” Castiel responded simply.

“Boyfriend?” Castiel blushed and ended the conversation quickly.

Briefly, as he was preparing to sleep (in his bed for once), he wondered what Dean had been about to say.

---*---

“Yeah, Cas. You know what though, you should come-” Dean pulled the phone away from his ear with a frown. “He hung up on me.”

Sam gasped mockingly. “Without an “I love you”? Are you okay?”

“Shut up. He has a girlfriend, apparently.” Dean grumbled.

His little brother rolled his eyes. “You're such a girl.”

“Says Rapunzel over there.”

“Okay, seriously though dude, what is it with- with Cas? Do you like him? Is there anything there? I honestly can't tell.”

“Shut up.” Dean fixed his gaze firmly on the road and Sam glanced at him and decided that there was definitely something there.

---*---

In retrospect, Castiel should have just stayed home.

Then he wouldn’t be where he was now: locked in a metal cage, stripped to just one shirt, his shoes and various weapons nowhere to be found, Sam Winchester passed out beside him and a grumpy man trapped in the cage next door.

He was having a swell time.

Once again, Castiel had found himself afflicted with cabin fever and decided to take a break to hunt. However, naturally, he’d run into the Winchesters at a bar, and when he and Sam left the building to return to their motel (because they’d chosen the same one again), they’d ended up knocked out and-

here. They could only wish Dean would be coming for them.

Finally Sam woke up, groaning. Castiel stopped pretending to be asleep (so he wouldn’t have to listen to Jenkins ranting to him, as he’d already done that for about an hour) and sat up. “Sam.”

“Cas? Where the hell are we?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

“Oh, well look who’s awake!” Jenkins jeered. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Sam, that’s Albert Jenkins, the man who went missing.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he chuckled a bit. “We were looking for you.”

“Oh yeah? Well no offense, but this is a-”

“A piss-poor rescue, yes you’ve already said. Sam, are you okay?”

The younger boy sighed, scrubbing at his hair. “I think so. Have you tried to figure out a way out? What these things are?”

“No, Sam, I’ve been sitting here in my cage this whole time, making my grocery list.”

Sam glared at him. “I think Mr. Sunshine is rubbing off on you,” he grumbled. “Have you seen these things yet?”

“I’ve only been awake a few hours more than you, Sam. Everything but him has been quiet. I suggest you ask him things.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I have avoided it for three hours and it’d look incredibly suspicious at this point.”

Sam gave Castiel a look that he was fairly certain could be coined as a ‘bitch face’, as his father had called it. “Hey, Jenkins, you know where we are?”

Jenkins shrugged. “Smells like the country to me.”

Sam nodded a bit. “Have you seen these things?”

“What are you talking about?” The doors started to open and Castiel rolled into a crouching position.

“The things that grabbed us, what did they look like?”

“See for yourself!” Castiel and Sam pressed closer to the bars to catch a glimpse of these monsters, but when they entered, the hunters found themselves perhaps even more disgusted than they had been initially.

The humans opened the door to Jenkins’ cage, slid a plate of food inside, and relocked it. When passing Sam and Castiel’s cage, they simply banged on the bars and the hunters jumped back.

“I’ll be damned. They’re just people,” Sam whispered.

“I suppose that’s bound to happen,” Castiel responded.

“Yeah. What’d you expect?” Jenkins spoke condescendingly whilst shoving enemy sausages in his face. Castiel wasn’t sure he was in a place to judge.

“How often are you fed?” Castiel asked.

“Once a day. They use that thing over there to open the cage.”

“And that’s the only time you see them?” Sam questioned.

“So far, yeah. But I’m waitin’”

Castiel flinched at the implication, but Sam just sent them confused glances. “Waiting for what?”
“Sam, people don’t kidnap random people to keep them in cages for the rest of their lives. They usually have… ulterior motives.” Castiel tried to explain as delicately as he could. Jenkins had a different approach.

“Ned Beatty time, man,” Castiel, of course, did not understand the reference, but Sam must have because he, too, flinched, but carried on like he was unbothered.

“I think that’s the least of your worries right now, man.”

“Sam, I believe that sitting in this cage means we have two worries: getting out of the cage and ‘Ned Beatty time’, truthfully.” Castiel insisted.

“Okay, we don’t know that’s what they want.”

“What do you think they want?” Jenkins asked. He sounded genuinely afraid, finally.

Sam, meanwhile, had spotted a loose piece of the contraption in the mechanics of the cage and was tugging on it. “Depends on who they are.”

“They’re a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, is you ask me, looking for love in all the wrong places.” Jenkins insisted.

Sam didn’t bother answering. “That is the most probable answer, Sam.”

Sam still said nothing and all three were silent for several minutes as Sam tugged on the tube-like thing he had gotten ahold of.

“Why don’t you give it up there, Sammy, there’s no way out.” Jenkins jeered.

Sam scowled. “Don’t… call me… Sammy!” The contraption came loose and a metal bracket fell to the ground.

Sam announced this to Jenkins, who, true to form, rolled his eyes and sarcastically stated, “Oh, thank God, a bracket, now we got ‘em, huh?” Seconds after he had finished, the door to his cage sprung open. Castiel didn’t know much about mechanics and didn’t believe much in luck, so this put him on edge immediately. Sam, too, became instantly tense. “Must have been a short. Maybe you knocked something loose.” Jenkins made to climb out of the cage, and Sam warned him not to, but he just continued, reassuring them that he would find help and come save them, and both hunters tried to call him back, but he was already gone.

Sam sighed and slumped against the bars. “Dean would know how to get out of here.”

“How?”

“He’s good with this kind of stuff. He would know what fucking thing to pull on.”

Jenkins’ door shut and locked on its own and Sam slapped the bars. Castiel sighed and put his head in his hands. “Do you think your brother is looking for us?”

“If he’s not, he’s either in another secret cage room or he’s dead. Which I doubt, so he’s looking for us. And he’ll find us.” Sam assured him.

“What if he doesn’t get here in time?”

“I’m pretty positive we can take a couple of humans. We’ve been fighting things three times their skill for forever. We’ll be fine.”

“Jenkins won’t.”

Sam had no answer.

---*---

Dean was getting antsy. This car ride was far too long, had been even before the awkward silences after the cop had realized she was riding with a felon. Sam and Cas were out there somewhere, dead or dying or hurt and Dean was going into this blind. He had no idea what type of creature could have taken them, and he was afraid. He didn’t think he could bear to lose Sam forever, and he was beginning to think of Cas as someone he could trust, like a close friend. Plus, he’d meant it when he’d told Sam he couldn’t find his father alone.

“So,” the officer started. “I know Sam’s your cousin and all, but who’s this Castiel?”

“Cas? Cas is just a friend. We actually almost never meet him on purpose, it’s kinda uncanny how we all show up in the same town sometimes.”

“Mmm. So you're close?”

“I don’t know. I would say he’s the only friend I have.”

“Okay. So you know about his father?” She was acting weird, and it worried Dean.

“I know he died. What do you know?”

Kathleen hesitated. “I really shouldn’t tell you.”

“Please.”

She sighed. “Well, I could’ve sworn I’d heard the name ‘Novak,’ before, and I have a friend, Jenny, who was on his dad’s case. She brought Castiel in to identify his body, but it was just awful, because Daniel Novak was tortured to death, and he had all sorts of awful things carved into his skin, including the name Castiel, right on his chest, and the poor kid had to see that. Can you imagine?”

She said it all so casually, but Dean felt like he was about to throw up. He couldn’t imagine, actually. That sounded like absolute hell. No wonder Cas had nightmares. “I had no idea.”

“Jenny told me she couldn’t get ahold of Castiel, and maybe you can tell him this, but they got a lead on a girl who was seen leaving the crime scene on traffic cameras. They tracked her all over the country, but always seemed to be a few steps behind her. The really interesting thing is, they found her in Boston heading into the library-”

“Cas went to Boston for the library,” Dean realized. He was suddenly gripped with the fear that maybe the elder Novak had been killed to get to Castiel.

Maybe they already got him.

“They spotted your Cas walking in on the same day. Spooky, huh? Walks into a library with his father’s murderer and has no idea.”

Dean hunches forward, reeling. “What was her name?”

“Uh, Meg, I think. Meg Masters.”

Dean thought of the help Castiel had given them on their search, and of the help he could now offer in Cas’, and an idea began to form in his mind.

---*---

What seemed like hours after Jenkins’ departure, the hooded men returned. They held two plates of food and when they opened the door to Sam and Castiel’s cage, one of them reached forward and yanked Castiel forward by the collar of his shirt and out of the cage. Sam shouted something incomprehensible, and for the first time since the kidnapping itself, Castiel was afraid. There were at least two guns on them and Sam was correct, they didn’t know what these people wanted. Luckily, though, all they did to him was force him into Jenkins’ old cage. Castiel took this to assume he wasn’t coming back. He was left with a plate of sausage that he didn’t even want to look at and a cup of water.

“Finally, I get my own room,” Sam deadpanned. Castiel found it in him to smirk a bit.

---*---

Dean tugged on his handcuffs furiously. Why did she have to figure out the truth? Better yet, why did these fucking monster kidnappers take his baby, his brother, Cas? He sighed and looked around for anything to use as a lock pick. He stood there uselessly. Why the fuck did she have to go alone? Finally, he spotted the radio antennae. It looked within reach, and if he could break it off, that might work. He began to reach for it when he heard footsteps, drawing nearer to him. They must’ve gotten Kathleen and were coming for her car. He reached with renewed effort and freed himself right in the nick of time. He crept to the other side of the car right as the monsters were coming towards it. And then he was gone, into the woods.

---*---

Castiel didn’t even flinch when their kidnappers shoved a woman into Sam’s cell. She was wearing a white shirt and her brown hair was matted with blood. When she came to about half an hour after her arrival, Sam helped her sit up. “Are you alright?” Castiel called.

“Are you Sam?” she asked immediately. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“No, but if you know who we are, then I’m Cas, which isn’t really my name, but it’s what they call me.”

“Dude, it’s a nickname. Castiel doesn’t really flow, but Cas is easy to say,” Sam explained.

“That does not make it my name. That, with you over there, is Sam Winchester. He’s very excited to be here.”

“Stoked.”

“Well, Sam, your, uh, your cousin’s looking for you.”

Both hunters sighed in relief at those words. There was hope, aside from the fact that the woman referred to Dean as Sam’s cousin. Perhaps she was an officer and he gave her a false identity, as Dean Winchester was legally dead.

“Thank God. Where is he?” Sam sat up in interest at the reassurance that his brother was, indeed, coming.

“I… I cuffed him to my car.” An officer.

Sam huffed and Castiel closed his eyes. He’s not sure if he’s relieved that Dean can’t get involved in this or-

“They take the cars, don’t they?” Castiel pointed out.

The officer slumped back against the bars. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Neither Sam or Castiel got the chance to reply because just then the door creaked open. It sounded like one person, so maybe they didn’t have Dean yet.

But then it was Dean, rounding the corner so the prisoners had a clear view of him. “Sam?” Dean rushed to his little brother. “Are you hurt? Where’s Cas?”

“I’m literally right behind you.” Castiel deadpanned. Dean whirled.

“Cas!”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Are either of you hurt?” Dean turned back to his brother.

“No.”

Dean slammed the top of the cage, making Castiel jump. “ Damn, it’s good to see you.”

Kathleen sat up, a bit dazed. Sam held a hand to the small of her back to steady her. “How did you get out of the cuffs?”

“I know a trick or two.” Castiel snorted and Dean stuck his tongue out at him. “All right.” Dean studied the locks and whistled low. “These locks look like they’re gonna be a bitch.”

“They pressed a button on that thing over there,” Castiel supplied helpfully, pointing at the thing in question.

“It’s some kind of automatic control,” Sam added.

Dean headed towards the controls. “Have you seen them?” he called back.

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah. Dude, they’re just people.”

“And they jumped you? Both of you? Jesus Christ, Kathleen, you're a police officer. You're all getting rusty.” The prisoners hung their heads in shame. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know. Cas thinks they have a sex torture dungeon.”

“It’s a very logical explanation, and I never said they did, I said they might. ”

“Anyway, they let Jenkins go, but I think that was some kind of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“It would if you would consider sex trafficking,” Castiel grumbled.

“We’re not even gonna go there, Cas. But you know, with-” Dean continued cautiously, with a glance at Kathleen, “with our usual playmates there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people… they’re just crazy.”

“I hate cases like these. It makes me question everything about… our line of work.” Castiel admitted.

“Makes you wonder what the line is,” Dean agreed.

“Exactly.”

Sam glanced at the two of them weirdly and continues speaking to his brother. “So, see anything else out there?”

Dean abandoned the box and examined the locks on the cages more. “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars out back, and Baby, of course. And… uh, Cas, I think your car is absolutely trashed. I would say sorry, but we all already knew it was trash to begin with, so…”

Castiel sighed, laid down on the floor, and screamed into his hands. “I think this qualifies as an ‘awful day,’” he grumbles. Dean laughed.

“Did you see a black Mustang out there, about 10 years old?” Kathleen’s voice was soft and scared, and Castiel peeked at her and Dean through his fingers.

Dean frowned. “Yeah, actually, I did.” Kathleen nodded, her face falling. “Your brother’s?” The officer’s silence was her answer. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of these bastards. You said it needs a key? Key?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“All right, I’d better go find it.”

“By yourself? Dean, as you said, these guys ‘got the drop’ on all three of us.” Castiel exclaimed.

“Yeah, see, but I’m better than you. Plus, I am expecting to be attacked right now, Cas. It’s fine.” Dean turned to leave again. Sam called for him to be careful, and then he was gone.

---*---

Dean crept through the house, slowly, trying hard not to make any noise, but with every passing step he took, he became less and less sure that these were people. As Cas had said, it made you question yourself and wonder what makes these people different than a monster. Clearly they had power and clearly they were evil, but what was it that made Dean pause when the thought of killing them arose? Of course, there were no jails for supernatural creatures. People could be stripped of their power and stopped, but they had nowhere to put monsters, no way to contain them. Dean wished sometimes that they didn’t have to kill the creatures they hunted, maybe put them in a prison. It wasn’t like he had any funds for that, though.

Dean wouldn’t kill these people because their existence, their evil, would be believed.

Dean encountered the first kidnapper as he was sneaking past what looked like the kitchen. He was wearing a blood stained apron and whistling to old music as he did something probably sick and twisted and cannibalistic. As he crept into the next room he picked up a stick with a nail spike in it. It was probably a murder weapon. He saw a tin full of keys and moved towards it, slowly, because it was dangerously close to the opening to the kitchen. Dean pocketed Cas’ keys first, even though his car was trashed, and then almost grabs his keys, but then, you know, there’s the jar of human teeth, and he has to check that out. As he studied it, he heard a faint creak behind him and whirled around, only to startle a little bedraggled girl. “Shhh,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The little shit grinned and flipped out a knife. “I know.” She threw it perfectly, pinning his coat to the wall. As he struggled to pull it free, she screamed for her father.

A man grabbed Dean from behind and Dean managed to kick the one running towards him before being thrown into several walls. The fight broke several things, but Dean was doing fairly well for a lone wolf. He was bleeding and his head hurt, but he managed to threaten them before being knocked out and falling to the ground.

---*---

He came to and heard them discussing hunting him. No, thank you. Suddenly, Dean saw things in perfect clarity. The cages, the murder, the spoils. This family treated people like human sport, and they liked it. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what this is about, you yahoos hunt people? ”

The creeps all grinned at him. The old man leaned forward. “You ever killed before?”

Probably more than all of them put together, actually, but Dean wasn’t about to just say that. “What? Well, that depends on what you mean.”

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the old man bragged. Nothing Dean hasn’t heard before, to be honest, he’d met several hunters who were proud of the fact that they were born and raised a hunter. Most of them were annoying as hell, but then there was Cas, so. The old man continued, “Just like my father, and his before him.” Cool. “I’ve hunted deer and bear. I even got a cougar once, huh boys?” One time Dean took out a wendigo in close combat, if he wasn’t able to take out a cougar he’d have to retire. “But the best hunt… is human.” Dean had hunted humans, too, or monsters that seemed human, and it was the worst feeling in the world. But it was the job, he had to do it.

This was just fun and games for these people.

“Oh, there’s nothing like it. Holding your life in your hands, seeing the fear in their eyes before they go dark,” Dean wanted to puke, “makes you feel powerful alive.” Even killing monsters made Dean feel empty inside.

But what could he say to that but, “You're a sick puppy.”

The old man’s grin fell, and he stood, circling around Dean. “We give ‘em a weapon. We give him a fighting chance. It’s kind of like our tradition. Passed down father to son. ‘Course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down on us, we never been that sloppy.”

The biggest mess this family had ever made for themselves was taking people Dean loved. “Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy.”

The man leaned close into Dean’s face. “So, what, you with that pretty cop? Are you a cop?”

The man’s breath smelled awful. “If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?”

They all acted like that was the worst insult possible, and one of the hit men stepped up and smacked Dean across the face. “The only reason I don’t let my boys take you here and now is that there’s something I need to know.”

“Yeah, how about it’s not nice to marry your sister?”

“Tell me,” the old man held a burning fire poker up to Dean’s face, right by his eye, “any of the cops gonna come looking for you?”

“Oh, eat me. No, no, wait, you actually might.” One of the boys clamped his mouth shut and held his face still while the old man waved his poker stick dangerously close to Dean’s eye.

“You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family.”

“No, actually,” Dean grunted, because no. Dean was protecting his little brother, and his- Cas. “you brought it down on mine.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “All right. You want to play games? We’ll play some games. Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight, after all, boys,” the men grinned, and the grandpa turned back to Dean, “and you get to pick the animal. We got three of ‘em in there, the cop, the tall one, and blue eyes. Which one?”

Dean’s brain shut down. He stopped struggling and he froze. His only rational thought was: How could they see Cas’ eyes in the dark? They were ridiculously blue. Dean’s brain slowly came back to life, those eyes still at the front of his thoughts. “Okay, wait, wait, wait. Look, nobody’s coming for me, all right? It’s just us.” The only people that would care to look for him were in cages. His father didn’t know where he was, not that he would come anyway.

Maybe for Sam.

“If you don’t choose, I will,” he pressed the poker into Dean’s shoulder.

“Oh, you son of a bitch!”

Grandpa held the poker almost against Dean’s eyes. If he blinked, his eyelashes would burn off. “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

Blue eyes. Dean could only make one choice, but he hated himself for it, hated them for making him choose. He couldn’t send Kathleen out, because she couldn’t possibly be as trained as Sam or Cas. And there was no way he could risk Sam like that.

It had to be Cas. He could handle himself. He had to be able to handle himself.

Dean was never going to forgive himself for this.

“Blue eyes. Take him.”

He moved away with the poker, and the other dude let go of Dean’s face. “Lee, go do it. Don’t let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage.”

“What?” Nononononononononononononono. “I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance.” Sam would never be able to look at him again. Dean would never be able to look at himself again.

The old man called his son back. “Lee! When you're done with the boy, shoot the other two too!”

Dean balked. This was all his fault. He’d led Kathleen here, and if he hadn’t, they wouldn’t be scared of cops and Cas would have a chance. Sam would have a chance. Instead they were all going to die cornered and alone.

Like animals.

Dean didn’t listen to anything else they could possibly have to say.

---*---

After far too much insufferable silence, Kathleen spoke. “He’s dead.”

“Shut up,” Sam and Castiel demanded in unison.

“I’m sorry. But there’s no way.”

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to argue her.

The door creaked open once more, and all three prisoners straightened in hopes of Dean returning with their escape. But they were disappointed, and one of their kidnappers strolled in, shotgun propped against his shoulder. Castiel had a feeling he knew what was coming when the door to his cage popped open. He still had a good few seconds to escape the cage before he was shot in it. Castiel hopped out, ducking low to trip the kidnapper. He went sprawling, and Castiel took his gun, but then he is sent sprawling and finds himself with the shotgun on his chest.

“Least I got to have some fun with this,” the man sneered, but Castiel wasn’t done yet. He kicked both his legs upwards, one at the gun and the other straight up into his attacker’s crotch. While he was doubled over, Castiel stood and kicked him in the side until his foot was grabbed and twisted, pulling him to the floor. Neither man had the gun, but Castiel’s only concern was getting to the control thing to free Sam and Kathleen. He wrestled with the man until he was in a position to bring his knee down on the man’s face, which allowed Castiel to race to the button and let the others go. Sam picked up the gun, only to find it stuck. He threw it to the ground. The prisoners, now freed, dragged their warden into a cage, locked him in, and blew the fuses, something Dean had taught Sam when they were young. The real challenge now would be finding Dean, alive.

---*---

Every gunshot was someone dead because of Dean. He was ready to destroy the little girl, despite his earlier promise to himself. No one hurt Sammy and got away with it. Gramps called to his son, and when there was no answer, hope bloomed in Dean’s chest. Maybe he’d underestimated them. The other man and Gramps left, leaving the little girl with Dean.

---*---

They heard the other kidnappers come looking for the brother Castiel had taken out, but they didn’t stop moving. They separated and hid, Kathleen in the loft, Sam behind the hay, and Castiel in the stables, because they had quickly realized their prison had been a barn.

Hell broke loose quickly. Kathleen tried to tackle a man twice her size, and Castiel decided that was where he needed to help. When the man flung the officer off his back, Castiel was there to catch her and then engage in his second fight with these men today, while Sam faced off against the ringleader, or so he seemed.

Unfortunately, Castiel was not superior in this fight, and he was knocked into Kathleen, landing both of them on the ground. Their opponent trained his gun on them and grinned, thinking he had won.

But it was Sam to the rescue, running in calling and attention to himself only to immediately move out of the way so one enemy would take out the other. While the man was facing his fallen comrade, Castiel aimed a successful kick at the back of his kneecaps and he went down. Kathleen stomped on him. They dragged him into the second cage while Kathleen held a gun on the oldest of the three men. Castiel had somehow been cut during his fight, and was trying to stop the bleeding unsuccessfully. Sam decided it needed stitches.

Kathleen offered to watch the man while Sam and Castiel went to find Dean. Sam, of course, wanted Castiel to stay, but Castiel, of course, was having none of it, so he held his arm to his chest and followed Sam out. Once they were away from Kathleen, Sam sighed. “Dude, just take your whole shirt off and use it as a bandage, that thing is like as long as your entire forearm.”

Castiel complied quickly. “I feel very strange without a shirt on.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t think anyone will care, really.” Sam glanced at Castiel’s chest. “Hey, Cas, what’s that necklace?” Castiel had been given his father’s personal effects after his death as well as the house, and among them Castiel had found a ring. Daniel Novak had never taken it off. It now rested on a chain around his son’ neck.

Castiel took it in is hand and studied it fondly. “The ring was my father’s. His mother made it for him. It’s silver, and it has an anti possession symbol engraved in it, as well as our family crest. He wore it every day of my life, but my fingers are much slimmer than his were, so I put it on a necklace.”

Sam nodded. “Dean wears our mom’s ring. He had it resized right before I went to college.”

“I like it around my neck,” Castiel responded simply.

They stopped at the front door of the house. “You think he’s in there?” Sam asked. They heard vague yelling and screaming from the second floor.

“Yes, I would say so.”

They climbed the stairs in silence, and were shocked to find Dean, tied to a chair and held in line by a girl who couldn’t have been older than 12. Castiel found it hard not to laugh, even when Sam was shoving her in a closet.

Kathleen shot the head of the family, and Castiel couldn’t help but be a little glad. She called in all sorts of backup, and then she did something amazing, considering she knew Dean was a felon.

She let them go.

So the three of them made their way to the Impala, only to find it without any gas, whatsoever. In fact, none of the cars had gas.

“That’s it!” Dean exclaimed. “We’re pushing it!” And after a ten minute debate on whether or not Castiel should sit in the car and be pushed (which Castiel lost), they headed on their way. Once they were a good distance away, they broke out the first aid kit and Dean started to stitch Castiel up while Sam walked ahead to look for a gas station.

“Listen, Cas… on the way over here, Kathleen told me something.”

---*---

It would have been hard to do this even if Cas was wearing a shirt, but him not wearing one was kind of very distracting and just did not help. How the hell could he be so tan? And for some reason, the necklace that he wore just made the whole situation three times more uncomfortable for Dean.

There were reasons friends do not develop crushes on friends, and this was one of them. Not that Dean had a crush on Cas. He just had a really nice chest.

“What is it, Dean?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, she told me that New York couldn’t get a hold of you, but that she’s friends with one of the officers there and… they know who killed your dad.”

Cas whipped his head up and those blue eyes were so wide Dean was half afraid they would pop out of his head. “What?”

“A girl named Meg Masters. Either she’s possessed or she works for a demon, but she keeps avoiding them and they caught her on street cameras, firstly, on the night your dad died, but they also caught her walking in the Boston Library when you just so happened to also be there.” Dean said all this very fast.

“I met her,” Cas whispered, clearly horrified.

“You did?”

“Yes. She sat at my table and tried to flirt with me.”

“Is she a crazy ex?”

“I don’t have any ex girlfriends, Dean.” Cas flinched as the needle punctured his skin, but showed no other obvious signs of pain. Of course, he was criss crossed with old scars from old wounds. Dean wondered about them, like where did he get them, how old was he when he’d received them, what had done it.

“Well, it’s still a lead.” Both hunters were silent as Dean continued stitching Cas’ arm. It took 10 stitches, and it was still bleeding slightly, but at least Cas could put his completely blood soaked shirt back on. They sat on the hood of the car, waiting for Sam, and Dean felt that this was the time. He’d decided when he’d discovered this Meg character that it was too dangerous for Cas to continue whatever he was doing by himself. “So, listen Cas. I don’t think you should go home.”

Cas turned and tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“I mean, clearly whoever this is has got it out for you and… I just don’t think it’s safe for you to go it alone anymore.” Cas just looked at him quizzically, and Dean sighed heavily. “I mean, you should stay with me and Sam. I know you're busy with research or whatever, but I think it’d be better for all of us. I mean, there’s strength in numbers, and then you can get your revenge and we can find our dad.” Dean took a deep breath as he finished his speech and waited for Cas to respond.

“You want me,” he started slowly, “to stay with you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Dean frowned. “I already told you, Cas. I don’t think you're safe by yourself, and I think we accomplish a lot more if we all work together. Plus, in case you don’t remember, your car is trashed.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to take any turns driving,” he warned.

“No, you're not. I barely even let Sam drive, and I taught him how to,” Cas snorted at that and Dean nudged him lightly in the shoulder. “You know this means you give us permission to break into your house and eat your food.”

“I’m not convinced you wouldn’t end up doing that anyway.”

“You’ve probably got me there. Hey, look, Sam’s back… with no gas.” Sam flopped onto the car next to them, exhausted.

“Well, there’s nothing close that I could find. We’re just gonna have to keep pushing. Cas, you good?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Sam.”

“Hey, Sam, Cas is gonna stick with us from now on,” Dean told him, a grin slowly taking over his face.

“Really? For how long?” Sam sat up, crossed his legs underneath him. It occurred to Dean just then that he hadn’t run his plan by his brother and that he might not be okay with it, but Sam was grinning as well. Cas was just the kind of person that you couldn’t help but like, even if he was a little weird.

Dean shrugged. “Not really gonna put a time limit on it, Sam, that would be weird.”

“Alright. Welcome aboard, then, Cas. Please don’t kill us in our sleep.”

Cas looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”

“Because Sam’s gassy and will make you eat salad and other weird leaf combinations,” Dean said, struggling not to laugh.

“Yeah, and Dean sings really loud to his really loud music and will eat your food if it isn’t weird leaf combinations,” Sam countered.

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to regret this,” but he was laughing, and Dean felt like he belonged.

---*---

The three of them relaxed for a while longer on the hood of the Impala, drinking and eating and waiting for Castiel to stop bleeding. The sky eventually began to lighten and Dean decided it was time to go.

“Alright, boys, let’s hit the road. Get up, slackers.” Sam threw a Goldfish™ at him. They circled around to the back of the Impala and all bent over, hands braced on the trunk. “Start pushing on the count of three… 1… 2… 3! March, team, march!”

With three fairly large men pushing the car, it wasn’t terribly difficult. They were silent as they marched, but Castiel felt some deep connection with this team. He wasn’t their brother, not a Winchester, but he felt like he belonged.

---*---

“Cas, I will give you 100 dollars if you eat that,” Dean promised. Both Castiel and Sam gave him reproachful looks.

“Dean, there is absolutely no chance in any version of reality where I will eat that pickle,” Castiel stated.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s just got a little mustard on it. And ranch. And gravy. And… coke.”

“Don’t forget about the cookie dough,” Sam reminded.

They were sitting in a Dairy Queen, and Castiel felt bad for this pickle. Sam had ordered chicken strips, which came with ranch and gravy, and Dean, as a joke, had dipped the pickle in both, but his fingers were covered in mustard. Then, as he held the pickle up to examine it, it had slipped from his fingers into his soda, which did not, unfortunately, wash away the rest of the pickle’s toppings. Then Sam had thrown a cookie dough bit from his Blizzard at Dean, who caught it and smashed it together with the pickle. Then he dropped it back in the ranch and dared Castiel to eat it. An argument ensued.

“Dean, that is so gross. If you want it to be eaten so badly, why don’t you do it?” Sam challenged. Castiel grinned, excited at this turn of events.

“Um, because I dared Cas first?” Dean pointed out, looking disgusted with the both of them.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Well then, I double dare you. In fact, I triple dare you.”

Dean groaned. “Come on!” But he leaned forward anyway and ate the pickle. Sam and Castiel laughed at his face of disgust. “I hate both of you.”

Sam continued laughing. “Oh, man. I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Shut up, Sammy. Come on, losers, we gotta hightail it to Chicago. Death waits for no man.” Dean stood, threw several bills onto the table and walked out, obviously expecting Sam and Castiel to follow. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother but stood with Castiel to follow him out.

“Why are we going to Chicago again?” Sam asks once they’re in the car, the Winchesters in the front and Castiel stretched across the backseat.

Dean sighed. “Two murders, both locked in their apartment with no signs of forced entry, all the doors and windows locked. Plus, both people had alarm systems, and in both places the alarms were still on.”

“Maybe both victims knew their attackers, let them in and then enabled the alarm,” Castiel suggested, “Maybe it’s nothing suspicious.”

“Two people in the same city? I don’t know, Cas,” Dean argued.

“The city is Chicago,” Castiel pointed out. “Do you even look at crime ratings?”

“No, it depresses me.”

“Dean, you kill people for a living.”

“What living?”

Castiel sighed. “I’m just saying, Chicago is not known for peaceful encounters with strangers.”

Sam interrupted them. “Look guys, it might not be our thing, but we should check it out anyway, and besides that, I’ve never been to Chicago and I want some hot dogs.” Dean hummed in agreement.

“You both just ate.”

“Shhhh.”

---*---

At the apartment of the second victim, the Winchesters were talking, probably about important case things, but Castiel wasn’t listening. He was too intently focused on the blood splatters. They looked familiar…

“Hey, Cas,” Dean called, “You hear that? The girl’s heart was missing.”

Castiel snapped himself from his study and turned towards his friends. “Werewolf? She could have let it in, thinking it was friend.”

Dean shrugged. “You just want to be right about that, but the landlady did say it looked like an animal attack. That doesn’t explain the EMF, though.”

“The lunar cycle wasn’t right,” Sam pointed out, “Plus, if it was a creature, it would have left some kind of trace. It was probably a spirit, which would explain the EMF.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and returned to studying the blood patterns. They couldn’t possibly mean anything, but something about them bugged him.

Dean noticed and walked over to him. “Hmm. See if you can find any masking tape around.”

“I can’t place it, but this just… looks familiar,” Castiel admitted to Dean while Sam scoured the apartment.

“Some connect the dots might help.” Sam returned with the masking tape and Dean knelt down and started connecting certain blood stains together. Castiel watched him in awe. He never would have thought of that, for all his books and research. When Dean completed his work, he stood and Castiel began to recognize it as something he had seen fairly recently, in the Boston library, where he had met his father’s murderer.

“Ever seen that symbol before?” Sam questioned.

“Never,” Dean breathed.

“Me, neither.”

Castiel crouched beside it. “I have. It was in a book, surprise, about demons, surprise, and this sigil…” Castiel thought for a moment, “this sigil is for a Zoroastrian shadow demon, typically known as Daevas. They are invisible except for their shadows, and they have incredible strength, enough to tear a human apart in seconds. However, they aren’t really… sentient, I guess. Most demons have a thought process, a cause and some twisted pallet of emotions, mostly consisting of fear, arrogance, and hate. Daevas, in a way, are like animals. They can be bound to do the bidding of someone else through a spell, and they rarely attack on their own,” Castiel tapped the ground twice, “I think we would be very lucky if the Daevas were our biggest problem here.”

Castiel turned and stood to face the other hunters. Sam looked mildly impressed, with one eyebrow raised, but Dean was grinning. “Thank God you're such a nerd.”

“You're sure about this?” Sam asked worriedly.

Castiel glanced back down at the symbol. “I was reading about these demons when I had my encounter with Meg Masters. I’m certain.”

---*---

For some reason completely over Castiel’s head, they went to a bar that night. Dean insisted Castiel come with him to the bar to question the bartenders, only for him to flirt with one of them.

Castiel was very annoyed.

To make matters worse, Castiel was not feeling well. His stomach was in knots and he felt like he was made of ice. Sam returned at some point and Dean left Castiel to go speak with him, but Castiel chose to stay at the bar, resting his head on the cool counter. After a few minutes, Castiel heard someone say his name. He looked up. Dean was waving to him. Sam was standing next to him. And between them, sitting at the table, grinning ferally, was Meg Masters.

Castiel couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure if he should run or if he should just pretend that nothing was bothering him. He decided to go with the latter, as it seemed to be what Sam and Dean were doing. “Hello, Dean.”

“So, Cas, this is Sam’s… friend, who I think is about to attack me, so would it be okay if I used you as a human shield back to the bar? Thanks.”

“Wait, wait, Cas? As in Castiel? Angel boy!” Castiel wanted to die.

Dean snorted. “Angel boy?”

“Yeah! I’m not surprised your small brain doesn’t know about angels. Castiel is one of them. I mean, obviously not this guy, but hey, names have power,” Meg was still grinning and Castiel began to realize that she had no idea that he knew who she was.

“Wow, so you know Cas, too?” Sam marvelled. “It really is a small world! Where did you meet him?”

“At the Boston library,” Castiel blurted out quickly. His hand was suddenly met in a death grip by Dean, who was slowly edging Castiel away from Meg. He couldn’t see Dean’s face, but he could only hope he wouldn’t tip Meg off to anything.

“Yup,” Meg announced, bouncing on the balls of her feet, “your boy here was reading about demons, all depressed, and then I came and tried to cheer him up.”

Sam regained control of the conversation, and Meg gave him her number. “Meg, I never did get your last name.”

“Masters.”

“Masters?”

“Yup. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“I hope to see you around, Sam, angel boy,” she grinned at them and Castiel was about to throw up, but not before breaking every bone in Dean’s hand, he was squeezing so hard. They walked away casually after that, to the table where Sam had left their father’s journal and then out the door. Castiel fell to his knees, gulping in fresh air. Dean knelt beside him.

“Are you okay?” Castiel was not entirely sure which brother had asked,  but he couldn’t answer either way, as all he could do in the moment was hyperventilate.

Sam’s face came into view. “Cas, I swear, if I had thought that this Meg was Meg Masters, I would have told you immediately, I swear.” Castiel nodded to indicate that he knew. His breathing slowed to just regular deep breaths, and Castiel noticed Dean’s arm around his shoulder. He sighed stood shakily, and Dean stood with him and asked again, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Can we get far away from here, please?” Dean took his hand once more and led him to the Impala, allowing him the front seat for once. Sam climbed into the back and Dean drove well past the speed limit to get to their motel room.

“Alright, so, that happened.” Dean announced unnecessarily once Castiel was seated. Both he and Sam glared.

“Cas, do you think she knows that you know she’s a demon? Or that she killed your father?” Sam asked, sitting in a chair across from him.

“I doubt it, otherwise our encounter would have likely been much more unfriendly.”

“Do you think she’s the one controlling the shadow demons?”

“I believe that is a safe bet, yes.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “How did you meet her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too. I mean, what was she saying, that I treat you like luggage? Am I holding you guys against your wills here?”

“No,” Sam and Castiel answered together. Sam continued, “Look, it was when we had that huge fight when I was at that bus stop in Indiana.”

“Well, was there any truth to what she was saying?”

“No, now would you listen? Clearly she’s an issue here, even if she’s not behind the murders, because she’s probably stalking us,” Sam summarized.

“I thought she was only after Cas?”

“Well, the fact that I ran into her too doesn’t really look good for us, Dean. Alright, Cas, you just… you just take a minute, okay? That can’t have been easy for you.”

“I think she did something to me,” Castiel interrupted. “I was feeling sick before I knew she was there, and I didn’t have that type of reaction when I realized I’d met her, and I wasn’t feeling well the first time, either.”

“I mean, probably. What I don’t get is if she keeps running into us, but she’s after us, why doesn’t she just take us? We aren’t exactly prepared for demons at the moment,” Dean pointed out.

“Maybe she’s not a demon at all. Maybe she just works for one, does their bidding,” Sam theorized. “Cas, what do you think?”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know. I assumed a demon killed my father because they… because of the state the body was in, but I could have jumped to conclusions. Besides, my father would have been able to ward off a demon, he had holy water and salt on him at all times, so I suppose it’s possible.”

“Alright. Well, you guys just lay low here and try to gather what we’ve got on Meg and maybe try and find the connection between her and Cas’ dad,” Sam suggested, shrugging his coat back on.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked worriedly.

Sam sighed, obviously ready for an argument. “I’m gonna keep an eye on Meg,” Dean opened his mouth, about to yell at his little brother, but Sam continued talking. “No, listen, I know her better than you do, Dean, and we can’t send Cas after her because of whatever the hell she did to him, just- just let me do this, okay?”

Dean sighed. “If you're not back by morning-”

“I know.”

“Call if you run into trouble.”

“I know,” Sam turned to Cas. “We’re gonna get her, alright? We won’t let your dad go unavenged.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Dean took up Sam’s empty chair after the younger man left. “Alright, well, time to play twenty questions. What did Meg want in Boston?”

Castiel shivered at the memory. “She was flirting with me, I think.”

Dean grinned. “Oh, yeah, I imagine that went down well for her.”

Castiel glared at him. “She asked me if I was into demons, which makes much more sense now, knowing her identity as someone who is very much into demons.”

“Or if she is a demon and if she was flirting with you,” Dean pointed out.

“She also wanted to know where I was from, probably to kill me in my sleep.”

“Definitely.”

“She also asked me about angels. I told her they weren’t real.”

“Alright, angels. Well, you have an angelic name. Maybe she just wanted to find out if you were, actually an angel, you know? Because aren’t angels supposed to smite demons?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Do I have to tell you they’re not real, too? In what universe could I be an angel?”

“You are pretty goody-two-shoes.”

“I live off of credit card fraud.”

“True. But she doesn’t know that,” Dean drummed his fingers on the table and Castiel sighed, slumping forward in his chair.

“Yes, but other angelic names are Michael, Gabriel, Raphael. Plenty of people have those names, and demons aren’t after every single one of them,” Castiel argued.

“Alright, that’s true, but Castiel is the kind of name that people wouldn’t believe a parent would give someone, you know? Like, that’s obviously an angel name because no normal child gets a name like Castiel. No offense.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “None taken. It just seems like a waste of time, not to mention that killing my father would be pointless, as Meg found me without him, as he would never give up my location, and I was in Boston, where I don’t spend a lot of time.”

Dean spread his hands on the table. “Okay, picture this: you're a demon-”

“I’m not a demon.”

“Hush. I’m trying to create a scenario. Close your eyes,” Castiel does. “So pretend you're a demon for a second. And there’s this guy, who kills demons and other nasty things on a regular basis, who might also be an angel who could smite you, and even if he wasn’t he could probably still kill you the normal way. You don’t want to approach this maybe-angel and be like, ‘hey, I need to know if you have crazy smiting powers. It’s for a friend.’ They’d probably smite you. Or kill you the normal way, ‘cuz you're a demon. So you're like, hey, he has a dad-”

“If I was an angel, wouldn’t my father be God?”

“Demons don’t think things like that through. They’re like, he has a guy who raised him, let’s go ask him what’s up. So then you're like, wait, this guy kills demons and nasty shit all the time, too. We should send one of our human minions in there to talk to them, and you pick a pretty one and send ‘em in. So she’s like, ‘hey, tell me about your son,’ and he’s like ‘hell no’ because hell no and so she’s like fine, we gotta do this the hard way, and then he won’t say anything, so she kills him, and you're like ‘shit,’ ‘cuz you still can’t just ask maybe-angel guy if he’s an angel, so you're like, alright, let’s make it really obvious that we were behind this, so he’ll go to this library, and we’ll send in our pretty human minion to seduce him into telling her, but it doesn’t work because he’s a gay nerd-”

“You don’t know that I’m gay,” Castiel interrupted, opening his eyes. He noticed that Dean was sitting like he was meditating and held back a snort.

He cracked one eye open. “Are you?”

Castiel blushed. “Yes, but you shouldn’t assume that.”

“Oh, trust me, I didn’t assume,” Dean closed his eyes again and Castiel did the same, though he saved his new questions he had for a later time. “Anyway, the hot chick doesn’t work because he’s a gay nerd, and so you, the demon, are like, ‘okay, so we just gotta see if we can mess with his guts and make him sick, ‘cuz that probably won’t affect angels,’ and then they do that and the maybe-angel guy doesn’t really show any signs of being sick, but he doesn’t look not-sick, either, so who the fuck knows.”

“So you think they’re still after me,” Castiel summarized.

“It’s a safe bet. I mean, they’re demons.”

“But I am not an angel, ” Castiel reminded him.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. It could be something else entirely, too. Like, maybe they’re just targeting hunters. Maybe your dad and my dad fucked them up at some point and now they’re on a revenge spree.”

“What hunts do you know our fathers went on together?” Castiel asked. Dean shrugged. Castiel folded his arms and rested his head atop them, sighing. “Well, I always knew when he had seen John Winchester because he always came home and ranted about him.”

Dean laughed. “Really? What’d he say? When was it?”

“Well, never after I started hunting with him, which was when I was 13, so think before then.”

“On your 13th birthday?”

“Yes. My birthday is March 20th, 1979.”

“Hah, I’m like two months older than you.”

“ Hush. The first time he talked about your father was in first grade, which I remember because he picked me up from aftercare, grumbling about how bossy John was.”

Dean snorted. “That sounds about right. Let me see, first grade? What part?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, wait a minute, didn’t you say your dad always hunted closeby when you were younger?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if he worked with my dad, we could’ve been going to the same school at some point.”

Castiel squinted. “Now is not the time to be figuring that out, Dean.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Focus.”

---*---

They carried on like that for hours, never getting any concrete answers or theories, eventually giving up with trying to connect the dots and turning to collecting information on Meg Masters, which also led nowhere useful. The only interesting things were her recent criminal record and the fact that she had dropped out of college almost a year ago, not long before Castiel’s father had died.

As the sun was coming up, Dean rocked his chair away from the computer. “None of this makes sense,” he sighed. “Come on, let’s get a couple hours of sleep before Sam gets back.”

Sam did come back, with significantly more information than Dean and Castiel were able to come up with. Once the two of them were up and caffeinated, Sam began to tell his story.

“Alright, so she left her apartment, and headed towards this condemned building. I followed her there.”

“I hope so, since that was your job,” Dean grumbled. Castiel learned quickly that he was not a morning person.

Sam just shot his brother a glare. “I had to climb the fucking elevator shaft to get to the level she was on. She had this altar, and it had the Daeva symbol on it. She walked over to it, and started talking into this goblet that was filled with blood, and she was talking about us, I think . She said that she didn’t know the hunters were in town and that whoever she was talking to shouldn’t come. She sounded afraid, definitely her boss on the phone, because she called him sir, and he’s coming. She said she’d be waiting there for him, and then she blew out the candles and left. After she left, I went up there to check everything out. I’m pretty sure she had Meredith’s heart on that altar. It was really freaky. She didn’t do anything weird after that, but she’s definitely the one who summoned the Daeva, and I think that altar controls it.”

“And she’s afraid of us,” Dean finished.

“Looks like it.”

“Well, after Cas went to bed I called my friend from the police department, Amy?” Castiel did not know any Amy. “Yeah, I got the complete records of both victims.”

“I was asleep for three hours! And I thought you were too!” Castiel protested.

“Hey, I couldn’t sleep, and you had like a panic attack earlier, you needed more than three hours. Anyway, we missed something. The first victim, the old man? He spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here, look where he was born.” Dean shoved the file towards Sam and Castiel who had very different reactions upon reading it.

Sam straightened immediately. “Lawrence, Kansas.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s where Sam and I were born,” Dean explained quickly. “And Meredith, the second victim? Turns out she was adopted, but guess where she’s from.”

“Lawrence,” Castiel guessed. “But why?”

“Well, I mean, that’s where the demon killed our mom,” Sam started. “That’s where everything started, for us, at least. You think Meg’s tied up with the Demon?”

“Which would mean that the Demon is also tied up with my family,” Castiel pronounced.

“I think it’s a definite possibility,” Dean said cautiously.

“But I don’t understand, what’s the significance of Lawrence? Why not wherever the hell Cas was born?” Sam asked. “And where do these Daeva things fit in?”

“I don’t even know where I was born,” Castiel admitted. “And something tells me that Meg knows more about your family than she does about mine. The Demon has been involved with your family for 22 years, but mine for only one. And again, I was reading about the Daevas when Meg approached me in the library.”

“How do you not know where you were born? Don’t you have a birth certificate?” Dean asked, temporarily abandoning the new information on this case.

“I do, but it says birthplace unknown on it. My mother abandoned me to my father with nothing but a name, and he took me and had me registered as a Novak. There are a lot of ‘unknowns’ on it.”

“Damn, that’s sad,” Castiel glared at him and Dean quickly cleared his throat. “Anyway, I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

“What would we do with her? I mean, she killed Cas’ dad,” Sam pointed out. “And if she’s human, we’re not going to kill her, right?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “The police are already looking for her. I’ll call them, saying she attacked me, and they’ll believe it. We won’t kill her if she’s human.”

“Or if she’s a demon,” Dean remarked. “Unless, of course, Cas, you actually are an angel with demon-smiting powers, which would be awesome.”

“I am sad to say that I’m not.”

“I don’t know, guys. We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve got to just stake out that warehouse, we’ve gotta see who… or what shows up to meet her.” Sam claimed.

Dean sighed. “I know one thing. We shouldn’t do this alone.”

“Your father?” Castiel guessed. The Winchesters nodded at him.

---*---

John Winchester did not show up at the warehouse, which surprised exactly no one. Castiel and the Winchesters stood outside it, shotguns on their shoulders and duffle bags filled with weapons over their arms.

Castiel blew out a breath. “I can’t imagine waiting 22 years for this.”

“No, you can’t,” Dean agreed. Then, as if on some unspoken agreement, they hunters stepped forward, into the building and then up the elevator shaft. It was nearly impossible, but then again, so were most things they managed to do.

They got to the floor Meg was on, and she was standing in front of her dark altar, chanting. Sam hiked himself up first before silently helping the other two up after him. They hid behind crates, unnoticed, while Meg was still chanting. Castiel felt mostly normal. They readied their guns, but then Meg spoke.

“Guys. Hiding is a little bit childish, don’t you think?”

“That didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean muttered.

“Nothing ever does,” Castiel hissed back.

Meg turned to face them. “Why don’t you come out?” Castiel felt as though he were being admonished for doing something wrong, and he stood with the Winchesters, pointing their guns at the woman in front of them. “Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Dean spoke to draw the attention away from his little brother. “So, where’s your little Daeva friend?”

“Around,” Meg answered vaguely. “And that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for them.” Castiel thought they would look awfully foolish if Meg did turn out to be a demon, but she didn’t correct them.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who’s coming?”

Meg ignored Sam in favor of Castiel. “Nothing to say, angel?”

“Not to you.”

“Who are you waiting for?” Sam demanded.

Meg smirked. “You.”

They heard a growling, and they were all knocked down. Castiel tried to get up, but his head was bashed one, two, three times into the ground before he passed out.

Castiel did not wake until later, later than the brothers had, apparently, because they were questioning Meg. Castiel’s head was resting on Dean’s shoulder, and everything was screaming at him. He definitely had a concussion, and while he wanted to listen to the conversation, he was too busy trying to concentrate on what was even in front of him. He felt Meg’s cold presence come and go, he felt Dean’s hand, but the screaming was too much for him. He whimpered in pain, and he heard Meg’s cold, clear laugh. The screaming stopped, but his head still hurt and his vision still swam. He couldn’t hear quite right.

“Sorry, Castiel, just wanted a little fun. How’s your head?” Her fingers grazed his temples, and he flinched.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. He’s extra special, this one. Wish I could tell you how, but we’re not quite sure. But see, you can see it in the eyes.” Meg grabbed Castiel’s jaw and forced him to look at her properly. “Something special.” Then she slammed his head back against whatever was behind him and he was out again.

He woke quicker this time, just in time to see Sam flip a table and Meg gasp in fear. The shadows are moving, he thought. He watched his father’s murderer be dragged across the floor and tossed out a window. Sam cut he and Dean loose quickly, and Dean helped him limp to the window, and they looked down on the street, where Meg’s body lay broken.

He was glad he hadn’t killed her himself. He didn’t want revenge. He wanted justice.

If this was justice, then so be it.

Castiel passed out, cracking his head on the window frame. He was going to have one hell of a concussion.

---*---

The only thing Castiel was aware of when they finally make it back to the motel room was Dean’s arms. One under his knees and one across his back, his shoulder supporting Castiel’s head. He felt very dizzy, and with every step Dean took, fireworks rocketed off behind his eyelids. He was fairly certain he had an awful concussion. He heard Dean hiss at his brother to get the door and Castiel rejoiced in the knowledge that he would get to sleep…

That joy was hindered almost immediately after they stepped in the door. Dean called out angrily and Castiel could hear Sam searching for his gun and then the lights were on and oh God his head, but he didn’t make a sound until Dean nearly drops him, at which he groaned and swatted at Dean’s chest half-heartedly. He felt Dean speak before he heard it. “Dad?”

That got Castiel’s attention. He cracked his eyes open and turned his head towards the rest of the room and got a blurry sight of a man with similar facial features to Dean’s and the same hair and eyes as Sam. John’s smile was sad and proud as he took in his sons. “Hey, boys.”

Dean move first, depositing Castiel on the bed and then- Castiel assumed- hugged his father. Maybe Sam hugged him too but he was not paying attention because he was so tired and maybe the bed wasn’t comfortable or warm and it smelled funny, but it didn’t move and it was soft, which were really Castiel’s only requirements so, despite knowing the dangers of going to sleep just after suffering a concussion, he did just that.

---*---

He was awoken mere minutes later by shouting and screaming and he moaned loudly before, once again, being jostled into Dean’s arms. Dean ducked his head to whisper in Castiel’s ear, “Hey, Cas, I know your head hurts but we’ve gotta get outta here. Shut your eyes, Cas. I promise we’ll be safe in a few minutes.” Castiel whimpered in pain and clenched his fist in Dean’s jacket but did as he was told, shielding his eyes from the blinding light . Cas nearly cried as Dean ran down the stairs and didn’t stop running until they were at the car. “Cas, you okay?”

Castiel finally opened his eyes in full. The lights of nighttime weren’t too awful and he breathed deeply, clearing his head as best he could. “I can stand, Dean.” Dean was just setting him on his feet when Sam and John appeared, John leaning heavily on his son as Castiel was now leaning on both Dean and the Impala.

“Come on,” Sam insisted. “We don’t have much time-”

“Wait!” Dean yelled, stopping his brother in his tracks and making Castiel wince. “Sam, wait.” He said, softer, turning to his father. Castiel held onto the sleeve of his jacket to stop himself from falling. “Dad, you can’t come with us.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Sam protested, looking very confused. Castiel was confused too. Hadn’t they done all this to find John?

John was clearly on Sam’s side, which was disconcerting, considering all the stories he’d heard about their fights. “Boys you're beat to hell. Especially this one.” Castiel assumed John was gesturing at him, but his vision had gone blurry. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Cas… Castiel... Dean, I think I forgot my name.” Sam winced in his periphery.

Castiel could feel Dean’s eye roll and hear it in his tone. “Oh Jesus. Dad, this is Castiel Novak, he’s a hunter.”

John nodded, smiling a little. “I knew your father.”

“He’s dead.” That he knew. He knew that. His father was dead.

“I’m sorry. He was a good man and a damn good hunter.” He sounded sincere, which Castiel appreciated.

“Not the time, guys! Dean, we need to stick together.” Sam turned the conversation back to Dean’s disinvitation towards John. “We’ll go after this demon together-” Castiel winced when Sam said the word ‘demon’, because demons brought death and death brought pain. Like his head.

“Sam!” Dean’s volume once again bothered Castiel. They were going to have an audience soon, if Dean didn’t be quiet. “Listen to me. We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand, they’re not gonna stop! They’re gonna try again, they’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right.” A horrifying thought. “Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He’s stronger without us around.”

Sam pleaded with his father, but John, like Castiel, saw the truth in Dean’s statement. “Sammy, this fight is just starting, and we are all going to have a part to play in it.” Even Castiel, though the words weren’t directed at him. Though he was fairly certain that the demon that killed Mary Winchester was not the same that had killed his father, something big was stirring. They were all part of it, not just because of those they had lost but also because now they were clear threats, targets to whoever Meg had worked for. “For now, you’ve got to trust me, son.” That seemed like a strange sentence, given that it was Dean’s realization and Dean’s realization that needed to be trusted, but still Castiel could say nothing. He felt like a hive of bees was sitting on his tongue. More words were exchanged, but Cas wasn’t paying attention until John yelled at them from a little ways away. “Y’all take care of each other, y’hear? Especially you, Novak.” Castiel wasn’t sure if that meant that he ought to be taking especial care of the Winchesters or if the Winchesters should be taking especial care of him. Probably the former, though he couldn’t do much in his current mind-mush state.

Dean took a shuddering breath and turned to Castiel, guiding him gently into the backseat of the car before sliding in next to him. Castiel whimpered every time the car bounced, and Dean held him tighter each time, whispering, “It’s okay, Cas, almost there, you're gonna be okay…”

---*---

At some point, Castiel made it to a hospital. Dean was there, sometimes, and Sam was there, sometimes, but he wasn’t really aware of much until two weeks after the encounter with Meg. Within another, he was as good as new.  

Except.

Dean burst into laughter. “You have to wear glasses? ”

Castiel frowned. “Only for reading.”

“Amazing.”

“Assbutt,” Castiel grumbled. Dean stopped laughing.

“What did you just call me?” There was genuine confusion on his face.

“ Assbutt, assbutt.”

Dean erupted into fresh laughter.

Castiel rolled his eyes and got in the car. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Cas. All better now? Ready to hit the road?”

“He’s almost all better, Sam. He has to get glasses and clearly has brain damage, as he thinks ‘assbutt’ is a real insult,” Dean explained as he got into the driver’s seat.

“I do not have brain damage.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, you're all better. Do you want to go home for a few days?”

Castiel nodded. “I haven’t been back in almost a month.”

“Here’s hoping the bee is still hanging.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Castiel’s home was much the same as when he had left it. Sam offered to run his eye prescription to the ophthalmologist’s office while Dean and Castiel cleaned, with the promise not to pick out ridiculous frames for him. Castiel trusted him much more than he did Dean.

“What did you and Sam do while I was recovering?” Castiel asked as Dean swept the kitchen floor.

“We went on a couple hunts. We met wanna-be Ghostbusters, which is another movie I have to show you, in Texas. There was a tulpa, you ever hunt one of those?”

“No, but I know about them.”

“Sons of bitches, I swear to God. We had to burn an entire house down to get rid of it. Then we went to Wisconsin, Dad’s orders, and killed a shtriga that was getting all the kids sick. And we just got back from New York where there was a possessed painting- get this, it was possessed by the spirit of the dad and his adopted daughter, who killed everyone in the family, including herself, and then he got blamed. Then she started icing everyone who bought the painting.” Dean finished sweeping as he finished his story.

“That’s… disturbing.”

“That’s the life, man. So, what did you get up to while you were going blind in the hospital?” Dean asked as he leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

Castiel chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

“Yeah, the doctors said you wouldn’t. They also said to make sure you drink lots of fluids, and we have to supervise your sleep for another two weeks.”

“That sounds fairly creepy,” said Castiel, smiling.

“Yup. You better watch your back, Cas. So, listen, I know you're out of the hospital-”

Castiel interrupted him. “You don’t think I should start hunting again.”

“Just for like, another week, okay? I don’t want to make any of this worse, and besides, I don’t think you really want us supervising your sleep,” Dean reasoned.

Castiel nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Dean sighed. “But if you're not, you’ll call, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Sam and I’ll leave tomorrow morning, there’s a thing nearby that we’re gonna check out.”

Castiel nodded. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“What did Meg say, in the warehouse, while I was knocked out?” It had been bothering Castiel that they did not mention it yet.

Dean rubbed at his eyes. “Lots of things. She knew Sam was watching her, set the whole thing up as a trap. I asked her why she went after your dad, she didn’t answer me. She said you were special for some reason. I don’t think she knew why, just that there was something. Oh, and, trapping us was just a trap for Dad. She said that she was collecting, and once Dad showed up she was gonna kill all of us. Maybe not you. She said she was doing this, killing people, out of loyalty, to the Demon, I guess. That was it, I think.”

Castiel sighed. “That still doesn’t explain why the Demon wants us dead. Or you, apparently.”

“Mmm. You're sure you're not an angel?”

“Positive.”

But he was something.

---*---

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas! So, we’re in Manning, Colorado, and I know it’s late, but we finally got back to where we’re staying, and guess who showed up?”

“Who?”

“Dad! Yup, he and Sam are arguing, already, about something dumb.”

Castiel sensed the sadness in Dean’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just- it’s always like this. I just wish they would get along.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with feuding. I never had any siblings, and my father never did anything I could question.”

“Oh, trust me, he’s done some questionable things, but it was always Sam who said something, not me. Your dad must have done something wrong at some point, right?”

“If he did, he listened to me when I suggested he rectify it.”

“That right there is the big difference between our fathers.”

“I suppose so. Have you figured out what it is you're hunting?”

“Oh my God, Cas, you're never gonna believe this, but it’s vampires. ”

“I thought they were extinct?”

“So did we, but apparently not. And to kill ‘em, you chop their heads off.”

“Gross. I’m glad I’m not there.”

“I bet you are. Anyway, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I’m actually wearing my glasses right now. I’m glad I trusted Sam with choosing them.”

“That’s never not gonna be funny. Anyway, I gotta go. You keep reading and drawing your bees, nerd.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

When Dean hung up the phone, his father was standing in front of him, arms crossed. “You seem awfully cosy with this Castiel.”

“Oh, lay off, Dad.” Sam interjected from across the room. John ignored him.

“Yeah. He’s a nice person Dad, and a really good hunter.”

“You sound like you're talking about your boyfriend, son.”

Sam snorted and Dean glared at him. “Just the facts, Dad.”

“He seems like a liability, Dean. Didn’t you say he and Sam were kidnapped? And then the nasty concussion at the warehouse. You sure he can handle himself?” John challenged.

“Yeah, but Sam was kidnapped too, so-”

“He also handed those freaks their asses, and we all got beat by the Daevas. He can handle himself as well as we can, okay? He’s not a liability, he’s our friend. Every time he got kidnapped, we did too, so just drop it. We’re all alive, and we always beat the thing,” Sam defended. Dean normally would have just left it there, but Cas was his friend, too, and he would feel wrong if he didn’t defend him as well. Before he could, though, his father spoke.

“I just don’t see why you carry him around. This thing, with this Demon… it’s not his fight.”

Dean stood. “Why the hell not? You think we’re the only ones the Demon’s ever hurt? Meg killed Cas’ dad on its orders, and then she went after him on its orders. Besides that, we need all the help we can get, and this is what hunters do. ”

John narrowed his eyes, and for a second, Dean was afraid he was going to get smacked. But then he just walked away, shaking his head, and Dean sat back down on the bed, ignoring Sam’s shocked look.

“Wow, Dean. I mean-”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

---*---

Castiel was napping when the Winchesters returned. They let themselves in, of course, and Castiel was awoken by Dean poking at his face. “Wakey, wakey, Cas.”

Castiel slapped his hand. “What do you want?”

“Wow. Okay, rude. Be nice, you have guests.”

“Not until I have coffee, I don’t,” Castiel clarified threateningly.

“I knew you were going to say that. Sam is making it right now, but you have to get up.” Castiel groaned. “Nope, come on.” Dean gripped Castiel’s upper arm and dragged him out of bed and onto his feet. Castiel pouted at him, which made Dean smile. Dean led him into the living room, where John Winchester was sitting on his couch. “Dad, this is Cas, sans concussion, although he just woke up, so he might act the same.”

“Ha-ha,” Castiel flopped onto the couch next to the Winchester patriarch, glaring at Dean as he did so. “Where’s my coffee?”

Dean ignored him. “Are these your glasses? Oh, man,” he placed them on Castiel’s nose and laughed. “It really completes the nerd look.”

Castiel frowned at him. “What nerd look?”

“Cas. Dude. You're wearing bee pajamas again. A different pair, which means you have at least three. ”

“Irrelevant.” Castiel perked up at just the sight of Sam with coffee and quickly drained his mug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s go time, man. We’re taking the fight to the Demon, together. We thought we’d all set up shop here, because you’ve got all these books and shit, and beds,” Dean explained.

“I only have the couch and my room.”

“I know about the bunkbeds, Cas. I also saw the teddy bear wallpaper,” Castiel blushed. He had last decorated his childhood bedroom when he was eight, and he had been in love with a teddy bear his aunt had given him. She had died later that year, and Castiel became very attached to the teddy bear in her place. He specifically remembered Aunt Claire’s terror of a son, Matthew, staying with them for several weeks until he was taken in by his father, a hunter on good terms with Castiel’s aunt.

“No comment. I suppose that would work,” Castiel turned to John. “I assume you also have a large amount of information we need?” John nodded.

“Well then, let’s get to work,” Sam suggested, clapping his hands together. They moved to Castiel’s office to get everything done. The walls were covered in corkboard, so John was able to pin everything he had up. Sam was tapping away at the computer, and Dean and Castiel were sorting through books for anything of relevance.

There was an old gun laying on the desk next to Sam, which Castiel noticed when he was putting a book down for Sam to use. “What’s this?”

“Oh, did Dean not tell you about this? Have you ever heard of Samuel Colt?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “I’m offended that you would think otherwise.”

“Yeah, well, did you ever hear of his demon-killing gun?”

“This is it? This is the gun that can kill anything?”

“Yup. We tested it out on one of the vampires, and it worked. This is how we’re going to kill the Demon,” Sam did not look happy about it.

“That doesn’t please you?”

“Of course it does, it’s just… once this is all over, I’m going back to law school, and Dean… he never stands up to our dad, he’s just gonna be tossed around until something happens to Dad, and then he’s going to be all alone,” Sam spoke quietly so his family members wouldn’t hear.

“Of course he won’t, Sam. Dean and your father were hunting separately before you left school, and I will be with him. I have no intentions of going back to New York,” Castiel promised.

“Yeah… thanks, Cas. That actually does make me feel better.”

John called the three of them to attention. “So, this is it. This is everything I know. Boys, our whole lives we’ve been searching for this Demon. Cas, it killed your father. There wasn’t a trace, nothing, until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail.”

“That’s when you took off,” Dean clarified.

“That’s when my father died,” Castiel said quietly. It was hard to believe that it had been a year. In some ways, it felt like a lifetime, but sometimes Castiel would walk into his kitchen, expecting his father to be there with coffee and an order of eggs.

“Yeah. The Demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation.”

Dean sighed. “Alright, so what’s this trail you found?”

“It starts in Arizona. Then New Jersey, New York, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It’s going after families, just like ours.”

“Families with infants?” Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t understand. My father was tortured to death, and his only family was me, and I was in the city. It doesn’t fit with everything else.”

John shrugged. “He probably had some different motive for going after you and your old man, which is why he sent the girl after you, because it was something else about you that made you worth killing. But yeah, Sam, on the night of the kid’s 6-month birthday.” Castiel was still trying to wrap his head around what could possibly be so different about him and his father.

“I was six months old that night?”

“Exactly six months.”

Sam folded his arms. “So, basically this Demon is going after these kids and Cas for whatever reason, same way it came for me?”

“If the Demon came for me, why aren’t I dead? It must have had plenty of different opportunities. Why kill my father and not me?”

“Meg said she wouldn’t hurt you,” Dean interjected. “She said you were too special.”

“Wait, so, since the Demon came for me, Mom and Jessica being dead- it’s ‘cause of me?” Sam mourned.

“My father is dead because I’m ‘special’?”

“We don’t know that guys, calm down,” Dean stated.

Sam and Castiel both started rambling at him and Dean held his hands up. “Sam, for the last time, this is not your fault, and Cas, for the first time, this is not your fault. It’s the fault of the damn Demon, okay?”

All three of them began arguing with each other, until finally John stood up. “Okay, enough,” he didn’t yell, but they all fell quiet.

Sam sighed. “So why is it doing it? The families, I mean, we don’t have time to figure out why Cas’ special, what does it want with the babies?”

“I wish I had more answers, I do. I’ve always been one step behind it. Look, I’ve never gotten there in time to save…” John fell quiet.

“Alright, then, Cas. If Meg didn’t want to kill you, it means the Demon wants you alive, which means that it probably wants you for something.”

“Still not an angel, Dean. I can’t think of anything special about me that would be of interest to any demon,” Castiel assured him for what felt like the millionth time.

Dean sighed. “Alright, how do we find it before it hits again?”

John turned to him. “There are signs. Look, it took me a while to see the pattern, but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area- cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms,” he paused for a moment, looking to the ground. “And then I went back and checked, and…”

“These things happened in Lawrence,” Dean finished.

“The week before your mother died,” John confirmed. He looked to Sam. “And in Palo Alto… before Jessica. And even if the Demon didn’t kill your father, Cas, he was there, because these things happened in Scarsdale, too. And these signs, they’re starting again.”

Sam nodded. “Where?”

“Salvation, Iowa.”

---*---

They didn’t speak on the way to Iowa. Dean played his music louder than usual, and for once, Sam didn’t complain. They followed John in his giant truck, and when they were almost there, he pulled over. They all emptied their cars.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Son of a bitch!” John explained, slapping his car.

“What is it?” The three younger men asked in unison.

John put his hands in his pockets. “I just got a call from Caleb.” Castiel had met Caleb once, briefly, when he was 16 and there was a ghost feud going on in a Seattle hospital.

“Is he okay?” Dean and Castiel asked together.

“He’s fine. Jim Murphy’s dead.” Castiel clenched his hands into fists. Pastor Jim had not lived nearby, but he used to bring Castiel food and the occasional book as a child when his father would be gone longer than expected.

“Pastor Jim?” Sam asked. John nodded. “How?”

“Throat was slashed. He bled out.” Both Sam and Dean seemed to be sharing in Castiel’s anger and sense of loss. “Caleb said they found traces of sulphur at Jim’s place.”

“A demon,” Dean said resentfully. “The Demon?”

“I don’t know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the Demon knows we’re getting close.”

“Now what do we do?” Dean beseeched.

“Now we act like every second counts. There’s two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records, I want a list of every infant that’s gonna be six months old in the next week,” John demanded.

“Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How the hell are we gonna know which one’s the right one?” Sam protested.

“We’ll check ‘em all, that’s how.” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Anyone got any better ideas?”

Sam looked afraid, and if he was being honest, Castiel was, too. “No, sir.”

Dean turned back to the car, but then he turned back to his father, who was still. “Dad?”

“Yeah,” John turned back to them. “It’s Jim. You know, I can’t…” John was silent, staring out over the distance for a moment before turning back to his sons and Castiel. “This ends now. I’m ending it. I don’t care what it takes.”

Then he turned away and they got back in their cars, and Castiel rested his head on the window. “Pastor Jim gave me my first copy of my favorite book,” he admitted. “He also taught me how to make green-bean casserole.”

Dean nodded. “He used to watch us sometimes, was our emergency contact.”

“I haven’t spoken to him in years,” Castiel admitted.

“Us either.”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t remember saying thank you enough.”

Dean didn’t respond.

---*---

Once they were in Salvation, they split up. John went to one hospital, Dean and Castiel to the other, and Sam to the health center. Once they arrived, Dean started to flirt with the receptionist until Castiel glared at him and they got back on task, although she did interrupt them several times. Castiel ignored her. Nothing particularly interesting happened until they returned to their motel room, where John was sitting on the bed and Sam was pacing. “What the hell took you guys so long? You each had to do half the work!”

“Jeez, Sam, maybe we went to a more popular hospital,” Dean defended.

“Or maybe, your brother was more focused on the receptionist than doing his work,” Castiel grumbled.

“Okay, in my defense-”

“Would you guys just shut up?” Sam shouted. “Sit down, I have something to tell you.” Dean and Castiel glared at each other and sat on the bed next to John, who just shook his head at them. “Okay, so I was leaving the medical center, and I had one of my… visions. In the vision, there was a woman with a baby, and I heard a train whistle, so I went to the street that’s near the train tracks, and I met a woman with a six month old baby, Rose.”

“A vision?” Castiel and John asked in unison. Dean looked unsurprised.

“Yes. I saw the Demon burning a woman on the ceiling.”

“And you think it’s going to happen to this woman you met because?” John asked skeptically.

“Because these things happen exactly the way I see them,” Sam insisted.

Dean stood. “It started out as nightmares, and then he started having them while he was awake.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “It’s like- I don’t know. It’s like the closer I get to anything involving the Demon, the stronger the visions get.”

“Alright, when were you going to tell me about this?” John turned to Castiel, who subconsciously leaned away. “Did you know?”

“I had no idea,” Castiel admitted. He met Dean’s eyes briefly, but the other man couldn’t hold his gaze. He turned to his father instead.

“We didn’t know what it meant.”

“Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me,” John demanded angrily.

They all stared at him, even Castiel, who had not been slighted by John’s absence. “Call you?” Dean clarified. “Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, alright? Sam called you when I was dying. Getting you on the phone, I got a better chance of winning the lottery.”

Castiel looked away. He felt awkward being there, but was glad Dean was standing up to his father. Maybe Sam had less to fear from going back to law school than he thought.

“You're right,” John admitted. “Though I’m not real crazy about this new tone of yours.” Castiel bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is, we know the Demon’s coming tonight. And this family’s gonna go through the same hell we went through.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Castiel contradicted. John nodded.

“No one is, ever again.”

Just then, Sam’s phone began to ring. “Hello?” Sam frowned. “Who is this?” Castiel couldn’t hear what the other end of the phone was saying, but Sam straightened. “Meg.”

Castiel stood. Dean crossed the room to him and gripped his bicep. Castiel hadn’t exactly thought about it, but he was about to rip the phone from and Sam and ask Meg a lot of questions. “Demon,” he hissed. How could they have been so naive?

“Last time I saw you, you fell out a window,” Sam continued. Castiel wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was thinking about every sign, every clue they missed. Could Meg be the Demon, the true boss of the operation? Castiel doubted it. That seemed too easy.

John stepped forward to take the phone, and Dean relaxed his grip on Castiel slightly. Sam claimed he didn’t know where his father was, but clearly Meg wasn’t buying it because he gave up the phone. Castiel ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Caleb?” John exclaimed after exchanging very few words with Meg. His voice turned dark, and Dean’s hand slipped away from Castiel entirely. “You listen to me. He’s got nothing to do with anything, you let him go.” Castiel bit back a sarcastic comment about how well that demand would work. He collapsed back onto the bed. He heard John threaten to kill Meg, and decided not to argue, though if Meg was to die, it would be by his hand this time. It was different when he thought she was a human, but demons never stopped. “I’ll give you the Colt,” John consented, and Castiel sat up.

He hung up. “Meg’s a demon,” Castiel immediately announced. John nodded in agreement.

“Or she’s possessed.”

“What’s the difference?” Castiel mumbled, making his way to the coffee machine.

“It doesn’t matter. She wants me to go to Lincoln to give her the Colt, or she’ll kill everyone, you guys, basically everyone I’ve ever come into contact with. I’m going.”

“What?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. If I don’t go, a lot of people die, our friends die,” John reasoned.

Sam disagreed. “Dad, the Demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family, that gun is all we got, you can’t just hand it over.”

“Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one’s really seen the gun, no one knows what it looks like,” John explained.

Dean seemed skeptical. “So what, you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?”

“Antique store.” Castiel folded his arms and stared at the ground, trying to think. Obviously, Meg would realize that the gun was a fake, and she would not be happy with John. He couldn’t go alone. He thought over what Dean had told him, and began to form a plan.

Dean was thinking along the same lines. “You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn’t notice?”

“Look, as long as it’s close, she shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but for how long, what happens when she figures it out?” Dean challenged.

“I just- I just need to buy a few hours, that’s all.”

Sam realized what he was saying. “You mean for us. Me and Dean and Cas. You want us to stay here and kill this Demon by ourselves.”

Castiel opened his mouth to tell them no, he was going to confront Meg, because apparently she wouldn’t kill him, but John beat him. “No, Sam, I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want- I want Dean to have a home, I want hunters to be able to do their jobs without these giant boss fights. I want Mary alive,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want this to be over.”

They all fell silent. Again, Castiel felt this was not a speech meant for him, but he took it to heart anyway. “Fine. But I’m going to Lincoln, too.”

John shook his head. “No, Meg’ll kill you on the spot.”

“No, she won’t, she wants Cas alive,” Sam realized.

“Yeah, she wants him, which means she’ll probably kidnap him on the spot, Sam. Cas, you're not going,” Dean ordered.

Castiel had a silent staring match with him. “You can’t stop me, none of you. I’m going. She won’t hurt me.”

“Cas, you’ll be taken, they’ll use you for something awful-”

“Dean, I’ll be alive- ”

“Yeah, but do you really think they want you for anything good? They’ll probably stick a demon in you-”

“No they won’t, I’ll be fine-”

“Yeah, because taken and probably tortured by demons is what I call fine-”

“Guys!” Sam interrupted. “I swear to God, you fight like an old married couple.” They glared at him.

John finally spoke up. “Look, Cas, you're right, I can’t stop you from coming, but we need to make a plan.”

Castiel nodded. “What do we have to do?”

---*---

The drive to Lincoln was awkward, simply because neither hunter knew what to say to the other. They got about halfway there before John cleared his throat and said something. “You know the first time I met your dad, we weren’t even hunting?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t?”

“Nah, there’s this bar, called the Roadhouse, it’s a hunter’s bar-”

“I know it.”

“Yeah? Anyway, we were both sitting there, and he and he and Ellen were talking about kids. She had a little baby girl, Jo, and he had you. Not many people in the life have kids, and I was pretty new at it, so I asked them how the hell they managed to balance being a parent and being a hunter, and your dad looked at me and said, ‘if you’ve got a good kid, you don’t have to.’ He told me all about how even though you were only six, you took care of yourself better than some twenty-year-olds. Of course, Dean was the same age at the time, and he was an absolute nightmare, although he did take care of Sammy. And when I told Daniel that, he said that the reason you were so well behaved was because you knew how important his job was and how important it was for him not to have to worry about you. When I got home to my boys, and the place was a mess, I sat Dean down and told him everything, and he never made a mess like that again. I never got a call from him unless it was a real emergency, like when Sam broke his arm, idiots jumped off a shed. I called them, when I had the chance, of course, but it was exactly like your old man said.”

Castiel smirked. “In his defense, I was an exceptional child even without knowing the family business.”

John laughed. “How far back was your family hunting again?”

“I don’t know. A long time, I suppose.”

“And, forgive me for asking, but Daniel never did say anything about your mother.” It wasn’t a question, but the need for an answer was implied.

Castiel sighed. “She’s no one. I don’t think even my father knew her name.”

“Ah. One of those. How did he end up with you, then?”

“She tracked him down. I don’t know why she went through the effort, but I’m glad,” Castiel never asked, actually.

John was quiet for a moment, as he clearly had something on his mind. Castiel didn’t care. He really ought be thinking more about the coming encounter, but John interrupted him. “He told me you went to college in New York. What’d you major in?”

“I double majored in psychology and forensics. Sam tells me he majored in pre-law?”

John chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t know. Did you get a nice job, in psychology?”

“Um. I was a florist.”

John snorted. “Big step down from hunting.”

“Yes. But here I am.”

“How’d you get back in?”

Castiel looked out the window. “I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

John sighs. “Every hunter needs their revenge.”

---*---

They arrived at the warehouse a little before midnight. They silently made their way to the water main through the piping system, and John blessed the water into holy water. Castiel jumped off the roof rather skillfully while John climbed down slowly. “You know, there was a time when I would’ve been able to do that too.”

“I’m sure. Let’s go.”

They stepped into the warehouse together, despite Dean’s insistence that Castiel remain hidden unless he was needed. Meg was there, and she grinned at them. “John, you made it. And you brought a friend. I would be mad, but it’s so nice of you to just deliver him up to me like this along with the Colt. I’ve gotta say, this is a real treat.”

“Castiel isn’t part of the deal,”

“Sure,” Meg tilted her head. “I can see where your boys get their good looks. And, of course, Castiel, I’ve already seen where you get yours.” Castiel didn’t respond. “You really do look an awful lot like Daddy.” Still, neither hunter spoke. “Well, aren’t you two chatty? You want to get to business? Fine. Why don’t you hand over the gun?”

“If I give you the gun, how do we get out of here?” John asked.

Meg grinned. “Well, since you’ve been so kind as to bring Castiel along, he’s how you get out. Give us the gun and the angel and you can just skip on home to your boys.”

“I’m not an angel,” Castiel clarified. Meg just winked.

“You're not getting Cas,” John objected firmly.

“Fine. Then if you're as good as you say you are, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe I’ll just shoot you.” John threatened.

“You want to shoot me, baby? Go ahead. It won’t end anything. There’s more where I came from.” Another demon stepped out from the shadows behind Meg. Castiel cursed under his breath.

“Who the hell is that?”

“He’s not nearly as much fun as I am,” Meg assured them. “This guy, Castiel, he would have just stabbed your father, but I made sure he knew why he was killed. Wrote it in big letters across his chest,” Castiel didn’t even move, but his head started to hurt. “Hmm. I suggest you give us the gun.”

John looked between the demons, and then at Castiel, who nodded. John reached into his pocket and pulled out the fake gun, handing it over to Meg. She held it up, inspecting it. “This is the Colt?” John nodded. She handed it to her friend. “What do you think?”

He held it up and pulled back the hammer. John moved away slightly, but the demon turned and shot Meg instead, who screamed in outrage.

“You shot me! I can’t believe you just shot me!”

“It’s a fake!” The other demon proclaimed, tossing it to the side. Castiel walked backwards slowly.

“You're dead, John. Your boys are dead, and Castiel, you're going to wish you were dead,” Meg threatened.

“I never used the gun,” John tried to excuse. “How could I know it wouldn’t work?”

“I’m so not in the mood for this, I’ve just been shot!” Castiel rolled his eyes. Like that was the worst thing in the world. Especially for a demon.

“Well then, I guess you're lucky the gun wasn’t real.” John also started backing away.

Meg laughed a little. “That’s funny, John. We’re gonna strip the skin from your bones, but that was funny.”

The demons turned at a sound, and that’s when the hunters turned and ran, locking the door behind them and down a trapdoor. They entered the hallway of pipes, and as the demons got close, John turned on the water, emitting a spray of holy water at the demons. Their shoes started to burn when they stepped in it, and since the water was only a temporary solution, they kept running.

They made it to the truck, only to discover that the tires were slashed. It was then that Castiel decided they were, as Dean would say, screwed. They ran another way, but without much hope. Just as John pulled out his phone to call his sons, they were thrown against a wall by some unseen force. Castiel tried to breakaway, but found it impossible. The other demon approached them, with a smirk on his face. They were dragged farther up the wall the closer he came. Meg was behind him. “Good work, Tom.” She walked in front of Castiel, tapping his shoes. “Don’t worry, Castiel. We’re gonna have lots of fun together, I promise.”

Castiel kicked her in the face. The rest of his body was still trapped, but he’d somehow been able to do that. He’d hardly even thought about it. Meg doubled over, but when she straightened, she was laughing. “I knew you could do it, Castiel.” And then the world went dark.

---*---

When Castiel woke, he was tied to a bed. John was lying on the bed next to him, also tied down. He tried to sit up, but to no avail. He didn’t know where he was, but clearly the demons had him.

A woman came in, not Meg. She had black eyes. “Whoops, you're not supposed to be up yet.” And then he was gone again.

---*---

The second time he woke, it was to a much more familiar and friendlier face. “Cas. Cas, Cas, wake up!”

“Sam…” he grumbled.

“Yeah, it’s me, come on, we gotta go. I don’t have any coffee for you, I’m sorry.”

Castiel groaned. Sam untied the ropes and helped Castiel up, slinging one arm around his shoulder. “Why is my face wet?”

“Ah. Sorry about that. Had to make sure you weren’t possessed.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dean was there, too, helping John stand. Castiel smiled weakly. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Let’s go, guys,” Sam said urgently. They filed out the door, just in time to see two people, who Castiel guessed we demons, come marching in. “Go, go, go, go!” Sam chanted. The turning made Castiel dizzy.

They slammed the door shut, but then an axe came through it, right by Sam’s head. Sam instructed Castiel to lean against the door, which he did, while Sam salted it. Dean was helping John onto the fire escape. Once he did that, Dean came back in and helped Castiel out. They all went down, and once they hit the ground, Sam and Dean still had to help John and Castiel walk. Castiel was pretty sure they had been drugged. Sam and Castiel were faster, and they got tackled to the ground for it. Castiel rolled away from Sam, but when he sat up he saw the demon Tom, as Meg had called him, beating Sam up. Dean came and kicked him in the face, but it did no good. Dean was tossed against a car, and Castiel struggled to even sit up. Suddenly, though, a gunshot rang out, and Tom fell to the ground, right next to Castiel. He was dead.

Castiel looked up, and there was Dean, still sitting on the windshield of the car, aiming the Colt at Tom. Dean helped both Sam and Castiel up, and then he was helping all three of his companions stand. He loaded them all into the Impala, and Castiel began to feel better on the way back. No one said a word, but they did stop for coffee on the way to wherever the brothers had set up shop, which was an abandoned cabin in the woods. Sam salted all the doors and windows while Castiel sat in the corner, willing his headache away, sort of sleeping. The brothers were talking, but Castiel wasn’t listening. He had a lot of questions, but those could wait.

Castiel only started paying attention when the lights started flickering. He stood shakily. “Fuck.”

“It found us, it’s here,” John stated.

“The Demon?” Sam’s voice shook.

John started barking out orders, but Castiel’s head started to hurt worse. He pressed his palms into his temples, groaning.

Dean was at his side, gun in hand, and the headache subsided, for a moment. He was arguing with his father and brother. “Cas, I really hope you're not possessed.”

“What? What are you-” then Castiel noticed that the gun in Dean’s hand was the Colt, and it was pointed at his father. John wasn’t even looking at him, but he seemed fine. Much more fine than Castiel. “John, why don’t you have a headache?”

“What?” Sam and John both asked.

“We were taken together, given the same drugs, why doesn’t my head hurt and yours doesn’t?”

John rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous, we don’t have time for this. Sam, if you want to kill this Demon, you have to trust me,” Sam said nothing. “Sam?” Sam looked to Dean, holding the gun, to Castiel, holding his head, and he told his father, “No.”

Sam moved behind Castiel, whose headache was becoming worse and worse with every second until he fell to his knees. He couldn’t hear anything but screaming, but he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

His headache went away completely when he was slammed against the wall. He opened his eyes, and John was grinning at the three of them, all pinned down. “Sorry about the headache, Castiel, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally do anything drastic.”

Castiel ground his teeth together. “I can’t do anything drastic.”

John winked. “Not yet,” He looked down at the ground, where the Colt lay. He crouched down and picked it up and sighed. “What a pain in the ass this thing’s been.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Sam challenged. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“Well, you found me,” the Demon said

“But the holy water?”

“You think something like that works on something like me?”

Sam grunted, trying to escape. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Ohh, that’d be a neat trick. In fact, here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.” Castiel sent Sam a questioning look, but he wasn’t paying attention to him. He was clearly trying and failing to move the gun with his mind. The Demon chuckled. “Well, this is fun. I could have killed you a hundred times today, but this…” he sighed, “this is worth the wait.” Castiel gave up trying to break free. The Demon turned to Dean. “You're dad, he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meatsuit. He says ‘hi,’ by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper, but he still managed to sound threatening. “Let him go, or I swear to God-”

“What? What are you and God gonna do?” The Demon grinned at Castiel, briefly, before turning back to Dean. “You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism you pulled? Sure, she killed Castiel’s father, but she was my daughter.”

“You exorcised Meg?” Castiel asked, unsure how to feel about it.

Dean’s eyes softened as they met Castiel’s. “I’m sorry you weren’t there. It was the only way we could find you.”

Castiel nodded, and the Demon continued speaking. “The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? You think you're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children! How would you feel if I killed your family?” The Demon grinned. “Oh. That’s right. I forgot. I did.” Dean’s expression was downright murderous. “Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Sam decided it was time to call attention to himself. “I want to know why. Why did you do it?”

“I’d like to know that as well,” Castiel’s voice was calmer than he thought it would be.

The Demon turned to Sam. “You mean why did I kill Mommy, and pretty little Jess, and Castiel’s Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

The Demon didn’t answer them, just turned back to Dean. “You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him.” Castiel glanced at the younger Winchester, whose gaze was turned to the floor. The Demon started to back away from Dean. “Been shopping for rings and everything.” He ended up in front of Sam, almost nose to nose. “You wanna know why? Because they got in the way.” He looked at Castiel. “We weren’t sure about you yet, so we asked your Daddy a few questions about you. They were very revealing, you know. He had no idea.”

“In the way of what?” Sam questioned.

“Weren’t sure about what?” Castiel demanded. The Demon ignored him. He huffed in exasperation.

“My plans for you, Sammy. You… and all the children like you.”

Dean spoke up. “Listen, you mind just getting this over with, I really can’t stand all the monologuing.”

Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated. Before, when Meg had him pinned to a wall in a similar way, he had been able to break free, just for a moment. The Demon was talking to Dean again, but Castiel blocked it out. He was almost free, when-

“Dean!”

Castiel’s eyes flew open, and he saw Dean, blood running down his chest. The Demon looked very unhappy. The hunter threw his head back in pain and Sam shouted again, struggling, but they could only watch. Castiel closed his eyes again and tried to focus.

He fell to the ground, and he threw the first thing he could reach at the Demon. The thing just so happened to be an end table. Dean’s head dropped to his chest, but then John Winchester regained control of his body for a split second, and Sam was freed. Sam raced to the Colt, pointing it at his father, who was the Demon once again. “You kill me, you kill Daddy. Before you make that decision, I’d like to thank Castiel, for confirming what I already knew.” Castiel glared at him, but the Demon just smiled. “Not just anyone gets themself free of that, kid.”

Sam took advantage the Demon’s temporary distraction and shot his father in the leg. Dean fell to the ground and Castiel dragged himself over to his friend. He was still bleeding, right over his heart and Castiel pressed his hand over his chest, trying to make it stop. Sam joined them. “Dean? Dean, hey. Oh God, you lost a lot of blood.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s right here, he’s right here, Dean.”

“Go check on him,” Dean demanded. “Cas’ll take care of me.” Sam propped Dean’s head on Castiel’s thigh and then returned to his father’s side.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Cas.”

John sat up, screaming his son’s name. Castiel’s head snapped towards them, and Dean sucked in a breath. “It’s still alive. It’s still inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me.” Dean made a soft noise of protest. “You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it, now!” Sam pulled the hammer and pointed the gun at his father.

“Cas…” Dean whispered. “Tell him no…”

Castiel complied. “Sam, don’t.”

“You’ve got to hurry.”

“Sam, you can’t.”

“I can’t hold onto it much longer.”

“Cas, stop him.”

“Sam, please, don’t,” Castiel pleaded, not just for Dean’s sake or John’s, but for Sam himself. He would never forgive himself.

“You shoot me, son you shoot me! Son, I’m begging you, we can end this here and now! Sammy, you kill me!”
“Sam!”

In the end, Sam couldn’t. Just as he lowered the gun, black smoke billowed out of John’s mouth. Dean sighed in relief.

They all just laid there while Sam gathered their things, John on the floor in regret, Dean on Castiel’s lap, and Castiel trying to stem Dean’s bleeding. When Sam came back in from loading the car, he helped his father up and into the front seat, and Castiel stood with Dean. Together, they limped into the back, where Dean fell half-asleep against Castiel’s shoulder, and Castiel fell half-asleep against Dean’s head. He needed more coffee.

Sam was in the middle of making a plan of action when the truck hit them. Somehow, none of them saw it coming, but it knocked them all out. Castiel woke when Sam called his name.

“Castiel!”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

“How’s Dean?”

“I don’t know… I can’t... and I’m… tired…”

“Cas!”