Reaching for the Ground: Chapter Three - Ghost

[carmexgirl]

Chapter Three - Ghost

It was a week later, and the diner was busier than usual. This, Castiel thought, was a good thing as it made it easier for him to blend in with the crowds. He sat in the same booth, hunched up against the corner, and looked at the rain outside. It was pouring down, and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was a sign of something, some kind of Devilish activity.

“Nah, that’s just normal rain,” said a voice suddenly beside him. He turned quickly, to find Sam sitting opposite.

“You’re reading my mind now?”

“Didn’t mean to. I try to control it most of the time, but sometimes people’s thoughts are so strong they tend to scream at me, you know?”

“So I was screaming thoughts about the weather?”

“Your thoughts are really loud, Cas.”

It had never struck Castiel before. Maybe it was because he spent so much time rattling around in his own head instead of talking to people. Before, he’d speak to Sam or Dean, but now, there wasn’t really anyone to confide in.

“So, how are things up in Heaven? Had to ream anyone’s ass lately?”

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “Not lately. The majority have all been behaving. Jophiel celebrated his birthday a little too enthusiastically and ended up desecrating the Tree of Life, but other than that, there’s been no major incident. What about Hell?”

“Nothing major. Ornias, who’s a huge pain in the ass, decided to break down every single stoplight in Manhattan.”

“I heard about that. Chaos. I had an inkling it was one of yours.”

“Oh, yeah. Traffic backed up for miles, people shouting, arguing… you know we have a policy of no more than three broken stoplights in any one district. He took it too far.”

“I was alerted to that. We very nearly had to intervene.”

“Really? Well I think I got there just in time. Fixed them all, and took Ornias back down for a bit of ‘reprogramming.’”

“Reprogramming?” Castiel started to look concerned.

“Yeah, I just made him read the manual again, and tested him on it until he got at least 70 per cent. I don’t do any of that rack torture stuff for minor transgressions, it’s just not me. Rules, order, that’s what scares them the most. I just sit back and watch them squirm.”

“It sounds like you’re doing quite well down there,” said Castiel, a hint of pride in his voice.

“I try.” There was that hollow, slightly pained look in Sam’s eyes again. His voice lowered. “When I was first there, it was hard, Cas. Not gonna lie, I didn’t see any way out and the things they did… the things I had to do to… to regain control of them…”

“It’s okay, Sam. It’s okay. We all had to do things we wouldn’t normally just to get by. I would never… judge anyone for what they did to try and make things better. Never, Sam. You are a good person, and I have faith that whatever you did, you did because you had to and not because you wanted to.”

It looked like there were tears welling up in Sam’s eyes, before he sniffed and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Cas,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “That means a lot.”

“Hey guys! Glad you came back. What can I get you?” Di beamed at them, tapping her notebook with a pen.

“I’ll have the Caesar salad and a green tea, please,” Sam said, idly flicking through the menu.

“Double cheeseburger, please. And a black coffee.”

Sam stared at Castiel as Di thanked them and walked off. “Dude, burgers again? You’re getting like Dean.”

“They don’t have them in Heaven. When I do feel the need to eat, it’s all salads and vegetables, and fruit smoothies. It’s so boring.”

“Man, you should come down to Hell. Burgers, fries, bacon… everything that’s bad for you. It’s all you can get down there. Sometimes it’s nice to come topside and have a salad.”

“You don’t change.” Castiel smiled.

“And you’ve clearly been taking lessons off Dean.”

Castiel sat back in his chair and stared out the window. “I suppose he has… what’s the phrase? Rubbed off on me.”

“In more ways than one.” Castiel turned his head to see Sam giving him a knowing look.

“I…” Castiel could feel himself blushing, the heat prickling his skin.

Sam smiled at this reaction. “Ha, I knew it! I couldn’t see it before, you know, when I was totally human. Now… It’s kind of obvious.”

There was no point hiding it; it was clear what Sam was talking about. “Yes,” Castiel sighed, realizing that this was probably the first time he’d admitted it out loud to someone else. “I miss him terribly. I didn’t… I didn’t understand how I felt before until I left, and he wasn’t there. And then I started watching him leading this life that’s not his, that’s someone else’s ideal and there’s just this strange ache here,” he pointed to his heart, “And I don’t know what to do about it. For all I know, he’s happy and he doesn’t want this, couldn’t care less about what I have to offer him.”

“Dude are you serious? Did you even notice the way he looked at you sometimes? Like you were the only person there, the only person who mattered.”

“Apart from you.”

“Well, yeah apart from me, but still… Dean doesn’t look like that at just anyone.” Sam watched as Castiel lowered his eyes, staring at the floral pattern on the plastic table. “Do you… do you love him, Cas?”

Castiel took a deep breath. The words kind of hurt to get out, having been so long in the making, but he managed it. “I don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone before, other than my Father, but Dean….I…” He took another breath. “Yes, yes, I do,” he said with conviction.

“So why haven’t you told him?”

Castiel looked up. “Why would he take me over the hundreds of girls he could have? Over Lisa?”

“Because you’re his Cas, no matter if you’re in Heaven, Hell or…Kansas. Whether he’s said it or not, he loves you too. I know it.”

Castiel tried to ignore the tingle that ran up his spine. “You’re certain about this?”

“I don’t know if anyone can truly be certain about what’s going on in Dean’s head, but I kind of sensed it a little before. Now… demon mojo. I see more than I did before and I’m sure I see that.”

They were interrupted by Di bringing their food, telling them it was on the house as they were just testing out a new menu and using them as guinea pigs. As they ate, the conversation turned to their next plan, and how they could get Dean to go on a hunt that preferably didn’t involved severed limbs.

“I was thinking,” said Castiel as he ate his burger, “I suppose you’ve heard of Room 17?”

“Room 17?” said Sam, with a mouth full of salad leaves.

“I was reading up on different ghost stories-I thought a ghost might be simpler and slightly less disgusting than a wendigo-and came across it. It’s not that far from Cicero, actually.”

“Go on.” Sam chewed thoughtfully on a piece of chicken.

“In Noblesville, there’s this building. I think it used to be a paper factory, but it’s been abandoned for a few years because of some mysterious occurrences in one of the rooms, Room 17.”

“What kind of occurrences?”

“People falling ill, people being injured without any explanation, that sort of thing. I found this newspaper report.” Castiel pulled out an old newspaper from beneath his trench coat. “It says four teenage boys broke into the room, only to become trapped somehow. Only three of them appeared a day later, and they all had the same pattern of scratches on their face. None of them would say what had happened to them, or their friend who was still missing. A week later, the friend appears, dead, with exactly the same scratches on its face and all over the rest of its body.”

“Interesting.” Sam thought for a while. “Doesn’t sound like one of ours, and I’ve told them they can’t go frightening people without filling out the correct health and safety form… it must be a good, old fashioned poltergeist then.”

“Exactly. And exactly the sort of thing Dean would relish.”

“So, how do we bring it to his attention?”

Castiel smiled, and proceeded to tell Sam his plan. He’d already started sowing the seeds in Dean’s mind. A couple of days ago, he had appeared inside the house when Dean, Lisa and Ben had gone shopping, and proceeded to seek out every computer in the house. Once they were all located, he’d changed the news feed on the internet home page so the top story was about the mysterious goings-on in Room 17. This meant Dean could not fail to see it and, he hoped, be intrigued enough to read all about it. He’d watched with joy when Dean had returned home, waited until Lisa and Ben had gone to bed, and turned on the computer to indulge in a bit of ‘recreation’ time. Dean’s eyes had raked over the news feed, and Castiel felt a spark of joy down to his very core when Dean moved the mouse, hovering over the link before clicking though. He’d spent the rest of the evening totally engrossed, reading all about the legend of the poltergeist with interest.

“So, he’s interested then.”

“Yes, it certainly looked like it.” Castiel said.

“Good work, Cas.” Sam smiled, and Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud. “We just gotta up the game a little now. Give him a reason to go there.”

As if by magic, they heard a familiar voice.

“Whoa, you got apple pie in here now? Since when?”

“Since last Tuesday.” Di’s voice rang out across the diner.

“You never told me!”

“You were kinda laid up, Dean. Lisa said you took quite a beating.”

Dean shook his head dismissively. “Yeah well, I showed that guy. Won’t be messing with me again for sure.”

“And your arm’s healed up nicely. Can’t believe he actually bit you. Savages.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of Dean, flashing Di his widest grin. “How ‘bout a free slice for my trouble, huh?”

Di looked at him and smiled, shaking her head in a resigned manner. “Well, ok, since you asked so nicely.” She walked away, while Dean searched around for a newspaper. When he saw there wasn’t one, he leaned back in his chair, tapping his hands impatiently on the table.

Sam stared at Castiel, who motioned to the TV screen on the far wall of the diner. Sam waved his hand, and the TV switched itself on. Dean ignored it, until Sam turned up the volume and switched the channels. A news report flashed up, suddenly grabbing Dean’s attention. The report concerned a factory in Noblesville, which was due to be knocked down, making the area ready for new homes to be built. Stories were coming out about workers being attacked by an unknown force, of machinery suddenly having a life of its own, of construction workers refusing to go anywhere near the factory. One worker had even jumped off the roof to escape something, falling to his death.

Dean listened with interest as a worker described the eerie feeling he got when walking down a particular corridor, telling the reporter how he had heard screams and cries, and the feel of something grabbing his back. He said he had run as fast as he could, and when asked if he would go back to finish the job, he stated he would never do it in a million years.

Castiel watched Dean intently, knowing the familiar face he made when he was thinking about something. He longed to hear his thoughts, but didn’t want to intrude.

“Dude, he’s made the connection.”

Sam's voice pulled Castiel out of his contemplation. “What?”

“He’s thinking about it, and he’s made the connection between that and the websites.”

“You’re reading his thoughts?” Castiel hissed.

“Yeah. We gotta make sure he’s on the right track.”

“Sam! That’s…”

“Look. Most of the time, I won’t do it. Believe me; I really don’t wanna go crawling round in Dean’s head,” he suddered at the thought, “but we gotta be sure.”

“So he’s making the connection?”

“Oh yeah, big time. Just needs a final push.”

Castiel thought for a while, chewing on the last of his fries. “When he goes home, I’ll make sure the laptop is stuck on the page about Room 17. He can’t fail to be convinced after that.”

“Cut all the power in the house too, so it’s on battery backup.”

Castiel eyed Sam, who put his hands up defensively. “What? Look, I gotta cause a little bit of annoyance while I’m up here. Guys are starting to ask questions.”

“You’re the Sheriff of Hell; you don’t answer to them. They should do as you say and not ask questions.”

Sam smiled. “Man, I should bring you down with me. Freak them out. Some of them remember you, you know.”

Castiel looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. You’ve got a pretty good reputation for being a bad ass motherfucker. If only they knew.”

Castiel smiled triumphantly to himself. “I like that.” He thought for a moment. “Tell them… tell them I’m watching them.” He narrowed his eyes, and Sam could swear he saw them twinkling.

Sam chuckled to himself, before checking his watch. “We’d better go. You ok monitoring the house? I gotta go test Ornias on the new and revised Demon Code of Practice.”

“I’ll go there now. How long do you think it will take?”

“Knowing Dean’s head… give it a couple hours to percolate, then maybe a night of thinking about what to do. He should be up and ready by morning, but make sure you’re there to nudge him in the right direction if you think he’s wavering.”

Castiel stared over at Dean, who was eating his pie with a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t think he’s wavering. I think he’ll be in Noblesville by 11am.”

“Good, good. See you tomorrow.” Sam disappeared in a flurry of bat wings, while Castiel sat there, thinking, smiling to himself. He’d been doing that more and more lately, a grin appearing on his face whenever he thought of Dean and Sam, and their little plans. It was the most enjoyment he had had since going back to Heaven, and a part of him wished it wouldn’t end.

There was that ache again, in his heart. He knew this was his last chance. If Dean didn’t want his old life back, if he really did want to live the domestic life with Lisa, that was it. Of the many angels, and humans, Castiel had met, Dean was the one whose soul shone the brightest, the one who he could clearly see himself with for the rest of his life. He sighed, watching the rain as it poured down outside, swirling the last dregs of his coffee around his cup before downing the now cold liquid. With a flap of his wings, he disappeared to stake out his usual spot at Dean’s house.

***

To Castiel’s delight, the plan worked. Dean had returned home and immediately turned on the laptop, making sure Lisa was out of the way and avoiding any awkward questions from Ben with a dismissive, “You should do your homework.” The page on Room 17 immediately came up, and Castiel quietly observed from afar as Dean spent the evening researching the incidents that surrounded the factory, eyes continually lighting up in interest when he found a new account of strange goings-on.

The factory was a former steelworks, producing heavy girders for use in industry. Room 17 itself was once occupied by George E. Hill, foreman of the factory in the 1920s. He was a large man, with a fearsome reputation amongst the workers. There were regular incidents with young workers being beaten with steel piping; intimidation, threats, and punishments if something went slightly wrong. It didn’t matter as long as the factory was making a profit. October 29, 1929 changed that though, when the stock markets collapsed. Sales hit an all-time low, and the company eventually folded, owing nearly $300,000. The workers demanded payment, and staged a rather violent protest where they barricaded themselves inside the factory. Hill was trapped inside. He was found dead in Room 17, around eight hours after the violence had subsided. The official verdict was that he hanged himself rather than face the prospect of being out of a job. Later, however, stories came out about a gang of workers attacking him, seeking revenge for the way he treated them. They apparently strung him up from the rafters in Room 17, leaving him to die as they ransacked the rest of the factory. Nothing was ever proven though, so the death remained recorded as suicide. The body was buried in a nearby cemetery, making it a quick and simple salt-and-burn job; nothing too taxing, but enough to give Dean a taste of what he had been missing.

Sam was already at the factory by the time Castiel arrived, leaning leisurely against a rusting door with his hands in his pockets. “What took you so long?” he called to Castiel, smiling.

“Seeking Revelation.”

“Don’t tell me you actually do that? I thought it was just an excuse you guys gave when you wanted to leave us high and dry.”

Castiel came closer. “Yes, that is true in part. Although, I have been in a rather long meeting with Jophiel, Elijah and Metatron about plans for the garden. They want to put up some sort of gazebo, but I can’t help thinking it’ll look tacky.” He flashed Sam a look of distaste, then sighed heavily. “I suppose I may have to relent. I’ve been getting a reputation as an ‘immovable object’ so maybe I need to...
loosen up a little, as Dean would say?”

Sam smiled. “We always said that about you. You got better, though, when you pulled that stick out of your ass. I’m glad that’s still the same now you’re a fully fledged archangel cause man, I wouldn’t have been able to stand it you went back to how you were. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I know how you feel, though. You have to go in harsh in the beginning just to get things done, you gotta earn their respect. Although now that things are settled, you gotta go a little easy or you’ll have a full-scale rebellion on your hands.”

Castiel lifted his eyes to Sam, then smiled. He’d almost forgotten how much sense Sam talked, how level headed he could be. “You’re right. I forget sometimes that you’ve been through exactly the same. I’ll page Jophiel now and tell him they can have the gazebo.”

He picked up his pager, and began typing. After a short while, he heard the familiar roar of the Impala, and Castiel felt a tingle up his spine. The feeling began to get more intense as the Impala came closer, and he could make out Dean, singing away as he surveyed the factory in front of him. Castiel nodded to Sam, and they both disappeared, reappearing in Room 17.

The air was cold and unnerving. Castiel had never really been affected by ghosts before-they were outside of Heaven, outside of Hell and let loose from Purgatory-but there was something about this room, something monumentally sad that he couldn’t help feel something. He glanced at Sam, who was looking around the room. He shivered. “I don’t like this,” he said. “It makes me feel uneasy and I can’t understand why.”

“I’m sure it’ll pass,” Castiel replied, before shivering himself.

“You’re sure he can’t see us?” Sam said.

“Positive. It’s a simple cloaking device-he won’t see us, because he won’t expect us to be here. All he’ll get is a sensation of someone being there, something hovering over his shoulder than he can’t quite see or hear.”

Sam smiled. “Since when did my life become one walking cliché,” he mused, before following Castiel to the back of the room, eyeing the entrance.

As they watched, they saw Dean open the door to the room. Immediately he was shoved back against the wall, and Castiel went to stop him before feeling a hand on his shoulder.

“We can’t interfere, Cas, remember? We gotta sit this one out and watch. Dean’s done this hundreds of times.”

Castiel nodded, watching as Dean pulled himself off the wall. This was the closest he’d been to Dean in a long time, and it was started to affect his judgment. He moved back to the opposite wall, and waited.

“That all you got, you son of a bitch?” Dean said, pulling an iron bar from his jacket. Immediately he was thrown across the room, and Castiel watched in horror as scratches started to appear on his face. He cried out in pain, before swinging the iron bar at thin air. The ghost finally revealed itself on the other side of the room, and with a look of absolute horror on his face, Castiel realized that the vision wasn’t George Hill at all, but a boy, no more than ten years old.

“Shit,” said Sam. “I’m guessing that’s not George. Who the hell is it?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” The worry was evident in Castiel’s voice.

Dean stared at the ghost. “Who the hell are you? Where’s George?”

The ghost laughed. “George moved on when those bastards hung him from the rafters. Me, I get to stay here.”

“You got a potty mouth for a kid.”

“Comes from years of hanging around here,” the ghost replied.

“ Who the hell are you?” Dean asked, gripping the iron bar tightly. He was suddenly shoved hard against the wall, fingers at his throat.

“I’m Nathaniel.”

“What?” Dean shouted, before swinging the iron bar. It hit Nathaniel full in the chest, and he disappeared. Dean fell to the floor, panting heavily. “What the fuck?” he said, to no one in particular.

“What the fuck?” said Sam, turning to Castiel.

“This is new to me. I don’t… there were no records of a Nathaniel ever being at the factory let alone dying here; I’m sure of it. I don’t know what ‘s going on.”

As Dean panted, he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, scrolling through the options before pressing the ‘call’ button. “Please be a signal. Please,” he muttered. “Shit!” he exclaimed, before waving the phone about and trying again. “Oh, come on!” Castiel waved his hand, and instantly the phone connected. He ignored the narrowed eyes he got from Sam and continued to watch Dean.

“Bobby? Bobby yeah it’s me, it’s Dean. Yeah, I’m on a hunt. No, no time to explain. Bobby, I need something, quickly.”

Sam and Castiel looked at each other. “Bobby!” they both exclaimed, smiling despite the gravity of the situation. Dean was still in touch with Bobby, which meant that he, in some respects, still had contacts in the hunting game. They could hear mumbling on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, you got your laptop?” Dean continued. “Good. I need you to look up Nathaniel Hill. Around 1929; be about nine or ten. You got that?”

More mumbling from the phone. Castiel looked at Sam, and the realization dawned on them at around the same time. Nathaniel Hill. George’s son.

The ghost reappeared, looking more pissed off than ever. It started to attack Dean with abandon, and Dean dropped his phone in an effort to get away from its long fingernails. He moved again, swinging the iron bar once more, right at the ghost’s head. Again it disappeared, and Dean fell to the floor, scrabbling for his phone.

“Bobby? Bobby? You got it? Son of George… I knew it! Yes…. oh right…. right…”

“What’s he saying?” Sam hissed.

“I have no idea. I can’t make it out,” Castiel replied.

Dean closed his phone and stood up, bar in his hand, panting. When the ghost reappeared, Dean moved back. “So,” he began, “What’s going on, Nathan? What happened here? Got caught up in Daddy’s dispute?”

“You know nothing!” the ghost hissed. “There was no dispute, they murdered him.”

“So I hear. So where do you come in?”

“I was here. I was here when they strung him up. And you know what? When they’d finished with him, they did it to me, too. A poor, frightened child, only helping his father pack up his belongings before he got fired, and they strung me up from the rafters and left me to die.”

“So why are you still here, if daddy’s passed on to the other side?”

“He’s not one of ours,” Sam said.

“He’s not one of ours, either. I don’t know…maybe he’s in Purgatory? I don’t go there much.” Castiel shrugged his shoulders.

“Neither do I. It’s so depressing in there. All those people waiting in line…” He shuddered.

The ghost continued. “Cos he knew he deserved it, knew what he’d done to people. Only I didn’t. I didn’t deserve that. What child deserves to be murdered for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? And you know what they did afterwards? Came back, took my body out back and burned it, so no one would find me. Left my father’s corpse dangling for all to see, but hid any evidence of what they’d done to me.”

“Shit,” said Dean.

“Shit,” said Sam and Castiel together.

“Look, man. I know what happened to you was…bad.”

“Bad?”

“Yeah, look, those people that did that to you, they were animals, right? And they shoulda paid for what they did but…you’re attacking innocent people, man. People who had nothing to do with that shit. You gotta, you gotta stop.”

The ghost lunged at Dean again, grabbing at his arm and leaving three deep scratches there. Dean yelled, kicking out and swinging the bar wildly. The ghost disappeared as the iron came into contact with it, and Dean lay on the floor, panting heavily. He looked down at his bleeding arm and moaned, dropping the bar and rubbing his face with his hand. “Son of a bitch. How the hell do I get out of this? There’s no body, no remains.”

He looked up to the sky, then down to the floor, then up to the sky again. “If either of you sons of bitches is there,” he began. Castiel could hear Sam breathing heavily beside him. “Sammy, Cas? If either of you give a damn and can help, help me.”

Castiel clenched his fist, wanting nothing more than to appear in all his angelic glory and save Dean, but Sam stopped him. “We can’t, Cas. We can’t interfere or he’ll know what we’ve been doing.”

“We’ve done enough interfering already, Sam. It’s led us to this.”

The ghost appeared again, and Dean swung. This time he missed, the bar crashing down onto the floor and smashing the floorboards beneath. Again the ghost lunged, scratching his face until the blood was in his eyes. Dean felt himself pushed forward, his head lying on the floor. As he stared forward, blinking the blood away from his vision, he noticed something that had been concealed under the floorboards. It was a piece of thick rope, tightly coiled. Tangled around it were long strands of very blond hair. As he looked at the ghost, he could make out the same blond hair, and judging by the shocked look on the ghost’s face, it was clear they were his.

Fumbling around for his lighter in the pocket of his jeans, Dean pulled it out and lit it. He gave a smirk before setting fire to the dried rope. The ghost screamed, a deafening wail that shot straight through Castiel and made him shiver to his very core. As the rope burned, the ghost disappeared and Dean sat there, panting heavily. He looked to his bloody arm, before feeling the scratches on his face. “Shit,” he moaned. “What the hell am I going to tell Lisa?”

“The truth,” Castiel said, unable to help himself. Dean instantly looked around.

“What?” He asked in confusion, staring all around the room. Castiel could feel his heart beat speeding up, thudding in his chest.

“Dean? Can you…” He suddenly felt a large hand grab his shoulder. Sam was staring at him, shaking his head. With a wave of his hand, they both disappeared.

They reappeared at the back of the factory, and Sam looked pissed.

“You nearly gave us away, dude!”

“He heard us. He heard me!”

“Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t, you said so yourself.”

“I know, but he…”

“Cas, you’re imagining things. Your… your obsession with him is making you think that way.”

“I’m not obsessed.” Castiel looked angry. “Don’t you...”

Sam saw the look Castiel gave him, and softened a little. He put a hand gently on his shoulder. “Look, look. Okay, I didn’t mean ‘obsessed’, I meant… look, you said you love him right? So you’re thinking things are there that aren’t because you desperately want them to be.”

“But you saw, Sam. He sensed we were there. He prayed to us.”

“How can he sense you, or me for that matter? He was just reaching out to the people… Christ.” Sam looked up, and Castiel could see he was breathing hard. “He was reaching out to the people he’s lost in the hope… in the hope that we could help him. Because he still believes we can. He still believes in us, Cas.” Sam seemed visibly affected by this.

Castiel stared down to the floor. He wanted to take comfort in the thought that Dean still believed in him and Sam, but his mind was a blur of conflicting thoughts. Perhaps it was playing tricks on him. Perhaps he wanted Dean to sense him, to have some sort of connection with him that couldn’t be broken by Heaven or Hell, that he was imagining things. And now, it was clear that Sam wasn’t coping as well with the loss as he first thought.

He heard Sam took a deep breath. “Uhhh. This is a mess, isn’t it?” His eyes were red with unshed tears.

Castiel stared at him, a pang of regret hitting him full in the stomach. He’d been so wrapped up in the plan he hadn’t thought about the affect it could be having on Sam. On him, too. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Sam cleared his throat. “More than anything. Man, I thought I’d be able to cope better but sometimes… sometimes it just gets to me, you know?”

“I know.” Castiel put a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Thanks, man. For being here. Makes it a hell of a lot easier.”

“You too, Sam.” It was true. Having Sam around made things easier, gave Castiel a connection to his old life, the life he dearly wished he could get back.

Suddenly, the familiar rumble of the Impala sounded, making them both look up. “Can’t be that bad if he’s ok to drive.” Sam said, smiling once more.

“Do you want to go back to Lisa’s, just to make sure he’s fine?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

***

They both stood in the garden, watching inside the house intently. Dean walked into the back room, and Lisa followed him. The windows were open, so Sam and Castiel could hear everything that was said. It wasn’t as if they were being quiet.

Lisa was asking him why he hadn’t turned up at the garage for his morning shift, and Dean was trying to cover saying he’d had an accident. He showed her the scratches on his arms, and pointed to the ones on his face as evidence.

Lisa shook her head. “I don’t believe you, Dean. I think you’ve been on a hunt.”

“I… what? Of course not!”

“Sure looks like it to me.”

“Lisa, I haven’t…”

“Don’t lie to me, Dean!” She sat down on a chair, and put her hands on her temples. “I knew it would be difficult, when you moved back in. Just adjusting to normal life, with a family, a home… it’s hard, I know. I’ve helped you as much as I can, and I knew… I knew we couldn’t work, that things had changed… I accepted that, and promised to help you move on. But please, don’t bring this into my home. Please, Dean. I can’t deal with it. Not with Ben. If you ever put him in danger, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m not… I made a promise, you know. I made a promise to Sammy that when everything was over, I’d live the white picket fence domestic life. I promised him, Lisa. You think I’d go back on that?”

“But you still went out. You still took on a hunt and put yourself in danger. Tell me the truth, now. That’s what you did.”

“I…”

“Dean!”

Dean sighed, moving closer to the back door. “Okay, yeah, I did. I did, and nearly got myself killed. Happy?”

“No, of course I’m not happy. And Sam, and your friend Cas, do you think they’d be happy if they knew you were doing this?”

Suddenly Dean turned, looking out towards the garden, almost directly at Sam and Castiel. Castiel’s breath hitched, and he could feel Sam’s doing the same. Dean looked back to Lisa. “You’re right, they wouldn’t. That was my last hunt, Lisa. Swear to… to whoever the hell cares, that was my last hunt. No more.”

Dean walked back through the house and out of view. Lisa followed him. Castiel turned to Sam, who just shrugged his shoulders, looking completely dejected.

“So what do we do now?”

Castiel stared at him. Everything told him to give up, that they’d blown their chance. Dean had said so himself that he was done with it, that he didn’t want to hunt any more. Yet something… something still niggled Castiel; it gnawed at him relentlessly, like an itch you just can’t scratch no matter how hard you try. Something about Dean, about the way he acted, told Castiel that he just shouldn’t give up, not yet. He took a deep breath.

“We try, one more time.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You sure? ‘Cause Cas, we really messed up here. We could’ve done more damage. Do you think that’s wise?”

“One more time. This is it, though. If we can’t convince him after this…” he shivered, “it’s the end. No more. We promise to leave him alone, even though he’s clearly not happy. One more time, Sam. Agreed?”

Castiel’s heart lightened when he saw the smile in Sam’s face. “One more time. Agreed. So, do you have a plan?”

“Not yet. Give me one week to work something out.”

Chapter Four - Witches pt 1