Fic: Destiny of a Hunter - Dean/Castiel - R - DCBB - 4/5
The Destiny of a Hunter 4/5
INFO
PART 3
Dean stared out at the morning light, the coffee in his cup stone cold. He took a sip anyway and tossed the rest over the edge of the front porch railing. The liquid splashed against the dry brittle grass and soaked into the thirsty ground, vanishing as quickly as Castiel had hours ago. He still hadn't returned from wherever it was that he'd run off, and they were still no closer to locating Sam or saving Lisa. Dean wondered where Cas had gone so suddenly. He assumed it was Heaven, but maybe he'd gone somewhere else. Dean couldn't help thinking the one thought that had run through his mind since Castiel left. Did Castiel regret what had happened? Shaking the thought away, Dean pulled out his cell phone. He'd checked on Ben a few hours ago and everything had been fine, but Dean felt the urge to call again just to be sure. He wasn't taking any chances, and not having Ben there with him where Dean could see for himself that the boy was safe put Dean on edge.
Taking a deep breath, Dean turned to go back inside, and stopped short when he found Bobby in the front doorway, blocking his path.
"If this drought doesn't end soon, you may have to water my lawn that way every day," Bobby said. "What gives? You've been moping since Cas took off." Bobby reached out and nudged Dean on the shoulder, as though that would prod him into speaking.
Dean turned away from his piercing gaze, and tucked his free hand in his jeans pocket, shaking his head.
"It's nothing," Dean mumbled. There was no way he would talk about what had happened the other night even if it was Bobby and Dean was almost sure that his friend would understand. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and tried not to think about how good Castiel had looked and felt.
This was getting him nowhere. In a flash of sudden resolve, Dean shouldered past Bobby into the house. Dean wasn't sure what was going on, but there was one thing he knew for sure. He couldn't wait around for Castiel to pop back into their lives. Dean needed to find his brother and it was time to get off his ass and stop moping.
Not that he'd admit to moping because there was no way Dean would ever indulge in feelings like that.
He packed his belongings and stomped back out of the house, stuffing his duffle bag in the back seat of the car Bobby had loaned him. It wasn't his Impala but it would get him where he needed to go.
Bobby watched without saying a word until Dean moved to get in the car, then grabbed Dean by the arm and stopped him. "Where the heck do you think you're off to?"
"I need to find Sam," Dean said. Shrugging Bobby off, he got in behind the wheel and slammed the door. Bobby leaned into the open window and stared down at Dean, his brow creased with worry. Dean started the engine.
"Be careful," Bobby said before he straightened and stepped away from the car.
Dean roared away from the house before Bobby could say anything else and before he could change his mind and beg Bobby to join him. He knew it was something he needed, wanted to do on his own.
The silence from the passenger seat was deafening. He turned the radio up loud enough to drown out all thoughts, ignored the trill of his cell phone, and paid attention to the open road before him. It was a long ride to the town where Bobby said he saw Sam, and he needed to get some road beneath him if he hoped to get there before sundown.
Dean barely noticed the time go by as he tapped a finger to the beat of AC/DC. The phone trilled again, and he turned down the music before flipping the phone open to see Castiel's number on the display.
"Yeah," Dean said. There was not another vehicle in sight and Dean could see miles of deserted road stretching before him.
"Where are you?" Castiel's gruff voice filled Dean's ear, sending shivers through him.
Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at the little device as though it had insulted him, before replacing it and answering with a gruff, "On the road."
"That is what Bobby said," Castiel said. Dean could hear the frustration in Castiel's voice.
"I'm headed to Willow Springs to find Sam."
"He could be long gone," Castiel said.
"Maybe, but I have to start somewhere, unless you know where he is," Dean said.
"I wish I did, but I can not find him for the same reason that I can not find you."
Dean had forgotten about the carvings Castiel had burned onto their ribs that hid both he and his brother from Castiel.
"I will help you find him," Castiel said.
"Fine, but this time, we do things my way." There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Dean thought the angel had disconnected the call, until he heard a deep sigh on the other end.
"We will do things your way, but you need to tell me where you are."
A few miles later, Dean pulled into a full-serve gas station, stopping at one of the pumps, and turning off the engine.
Dean dialed Castiel's number, rolled down the window, and looked up at the gas station attendant as the man approached. He asked the man to fill up the tank, and then asked for the address of the place. He was about to relay the information to Castiel when the angel appeared in the passenger seat beside him with his cell phone to his ear. Dean fumbled his own cell phone, startled by the sudden appearance. Afraid the attendant had seen, he was about to chastise Castiel when he realized that the attendant had his back to them.
"Dean," Castiel said. He disconnected the call and put the phone away, and then turned intense eyes on Dean. Before Dean could say anything, Castiel shifted his gaze back onto the dash without another word.
Dean paid for the gas, ignoring the look of confusion on the man's face.
"Hey, weren't you alone when you pulled up?"
Dean ignored the remark and pulled out of the gas station. Much to Dean's relief, Castiel didn't say a word, just stared out the passenger window. Glad for Castiel's silence, Dean concentrated on the road. It was going to be a long drive. After a few miles, Dean relaxed a little, tension bleeding away with each mile and the realization that Castiel wasn't going to bring up what had happened the other night. The discomfort between them seemed to have passed for now. Dean kept his attention on the road ahead. It was already starting to get dark, and black clouds rolling in from the east, had blotted out the sun.
Dean reached out and turned on the music, killing the silence that vibrated in the air between them.
*
It was long past midnight by the time they reached Willow Spring, and Dean slowed down as he drove down the main street. The town was silent and nothing stirred in the darkness.
"We do this my way," Dean said. "You're just here for backup, understood."
Castiel nodded and followed Dean out of the car. A warm, dry wind kicked up some dust then faded just as fast as it had blown.
"We are alone," Castiel said, turning in a circle on the spot. Dean watched as Castiel scanned the area. His trench coat fluttered in a breeze, and then everything went silent again. Too silent.
"This way," Castiel said. He headed toward the same building they had been in the last time they were here. Dean yanked open the trunk, spun the lock and pulled his shotgun out. He thrust extra rock salt shells in his coat pocket and tucked a knife in his belt. He held out the handgun to Castiel, but he declined it. Castiel thrust out one arm and a sword appeared in his hand as though it had grown out of him. The deadly angel-killing weapon glinted in the dim light.
They advanced toward the building, Dean glancing behind them as they moved through the street. If anything tried to sneak up on them, it would get a nasty surprise. When they were on either side of the doorway into the building, Dean nodded for Castiel to go in ahead of him. Castiel held the sword up before him and moved slowly through the pitch-black entrance, and vanished in the darkness. Panicked, Dean rushed forward, bumping into Castiel who had stopped just a few feet beyond the door.
"I can go no further," Castiel said. He nodded at the second doorway. The walls were blank to Dean, but there had to be something there for Castiel to have stopped in his tracks.
"Angel wards," Dean said.
Castiel nodded confirmation.
"They weren't there the last time," Castiel said. "Something must have put them there to hide whatever is beyond those doors from my view."
"This could be it," Dean said. Of course, it couldn't have been as easy as walking in the building with Cas at his side, ready to teleport at the first sign of trouble. It never was, but Dean steeled himself, giving Castiel the shotgun and pulling his handgun out. He wished he'd brought heavier artillery.
"Here," Castiel said. He held out the sword for Dean to take. Their fingers brushed for a brief moment, and Dean felt an electric pulse flow through his body. He jerked away from temptation in the touch, grasping the sword in his hand and holding it before him.
"I'll be right back." Dean took a deep breath and walked through the doorway, gun in one hand and sword in the other. The entrance turned out to be empty of any threats, and Dean moved in farther. He stopped at the sound of muffled voices. They were just ahead and Dean readied his gun and tensed. All the muscles in his body hummed with the anticipation of what came next. He'd missed the adrenaline rush, the moment just before, not knowing if it would be a kill or if he'd have to run.
The voices stopped and Dean turned a corner to find the room empty. He slipped a penlight from his pocket and did a quick scope of the darkened area. He could just make out a smashed chair and table, and subdued light from the heavy drapes covering the window cut a wedge across the room. There were bits of broken glass scattered about as well as other signs of a struggle.
Dean moved into the room, careful not to tread on any of the shards. A piece crunched beneath his boot tread and Dean paused in his tracks. The sounds of another struggle were coming from the next room. Dean took another step, and as dark blur knocked him to the floor. He released the penlight and slashed out with the sword. The heavy weight on top of him rolled away with a grunt and jumped to its feet. Dean rolled in the opposite direction, and to his feet, spinning to face his opponent, ready to stab at whoever or whatever it was.
He didn't recognize his attacker, but he dove after Dean again. This time, there was enough space between them for Dean to fire his gun. The loud shot filled his ears in the enclosed space, and Dean flinched. Though Dean couldn't tell for sure in darkness, it was likely a possession since they took the hit and kept on coming. Dean didn't want to wait around to find out if his suspicion was correct. He lunged forward with the sword and pinned them against the wall like a butterfly on a mounting board, unsure what the weapon would do to someone with a demon in him. The man screamed in agony, and Dean pushed, holding him in place until he could pick up his penlight.
"I'm only going to ask once," Dean said, twisting the sword again. "Where is Sam Winchester?" Gleaming in the narrow beam of light, the black eyes filled with rage, and the man snarled at Dean. When he didn't say a word, Dean gave the sword another vicious twist.
"There," the man said, motioning with one arm at a door across the room. Dean pulled out the sword and plunged the blade of the demon-killing knife into the man's chest, watching the man writhe and scream. Dean yanked the knife from his chest and stepped back to watch him crumple to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.
Dean didn't waste any more time. He turned to the closed door and stood for a moment just staring. Sam was behind the door. He'd been out of Hell the whole time that Dean had stayed at that house with Lisa and Ben, and he hadn't said a word to Dean.
Dean hesitated for only a moment before turning the doorknob. The room behind the door was too dark to see anything, and Dean brought the penlight into play again. He moved with cautious steps, throwing light in every corner, but the room was empty. A muffled thumping was coming from another doorway, and Dean trained the light on what looked like a closet door. He rushed forward.
"Sammy?" He checked the closet and found the door locked. Dean pulled the gun and shot the lock off without a second thought. The door swung open and something rolled from the cramped space. It was Sam, his arms bound behind his back, and his mouth covered with a gag. Dean fell to his knees, reluctant to reach out and touch, fearing Sam wasn't real and it was all a dream. Sam rolled toward him, pressed his back against Dean's knees, and turned to look up at Dean. They locked gazes, and then Dean's heart pounded in his chest as he removed the gag, his fingers fumbling, tearing at the knotted fabric.
"Dean." Sam's voice was no more than a croak. He still wore the clothes he had on when Dean watched him jump into Hell. His torn t-shirt had some bloodstains smeared across it, and his wrists were bleeding. Dean pulled out his knife and sawed through the ropes binding Sam's hands. Once freed, Sam let out a sigh of relief. A quick examination revealed that he had superficial cuts and bruises on his face, arms, and chest, but was otherwise unharmed, so Dean helped Sam to his feet.
"We need to get out of here," Dean said. He urged Sam to move toward the doorway, and together they made their way out of the building. Dean held back on asking any questions. He had so many and wanted to grill his brother, but he knew that right now was not the time.
Castiel was still waiting outside, and the angel grabbed hold of a swaying barely conscious Sam once they were out of the building. He reached up and touched two fingers to Sam's forehead. Sam flinched beneath the touch and leaned against Castiel for support. Once he healed, he was able to stand on his own.
"Get us out of here, Cas," Dean said.
With a nod and a flash of blinding light, they were no longer in that dark town. Disoriented and shaken up, Dean wasn't sure where they were, but once the feeling had faded, he realized that it was still dark and they stood a few feet from the car. Dean settled Sam into the passenger seat of the car, slamming the door shut while Castiel stood looking skyward.
"I need to go," Castiel said.
Before Dean could respond, Castiel vanished. Heaving a sigh of relief and frustration all in one breath, Dean got in the car. Sam sat slumped in the front seat, his head against the door and his eyes closed. Dean reached around to buckle him in, and jumped when Sam caught him by the wrist.
"Where's Castiel?" Sam asked.
Dean felt a stab of hurt that Castiel was what Sam was most concerned with at a time like this, but he pushed it aside, although he didn't hide the fact that he was pissed at Sam.
"Gone." Dean started the engine. He tore away from the side of the road. It didn't take long for him to orient himself, and they headed in the direction of Bobby's place. Dean wasn't sure what else to do. He needed to get Sam someplace safe and he needed time to think. Sam sat silent, staring out the window not volunteering any information. Dean didn't want to push, but he needed to know where Sam had been all this time, why he hadn't told Dean he'd escaped the pit, and how he'd escaped.
By the time Dean pulled into Bobby's, Sam was fast asleep in the passenger seat and they'd still barely said a word to each other. Dean nudged him awake, felting a pang in his chest at the sight of his brother, yawning and stretching. He'd thought he'd never see him again, yet there he was, Sammy beside him in the passenger seat. Dean swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat and climbed out of the car, slamming the door. When he spun around, he bumped into Castiel. Dean took a deep breath, cutting off a scream. They stood chest to chest, but Dean refused to budge. Castiel gave him the look of befuddlement that would usually make Dean smirk, but he wasn't in the mood. Dean felt Sam move in behind him, and he turned his head just enough to see his brother out of the corner of his eye.
"Cas," Sam said.
"Where have you been all this time?" Dean twisted his body until he was facing Sam.
"I wasn't gone that long," Castiel said.
Dean glared in his direction and pointed to Sam to indicate that he'd meant the question for his brother. When Sam remained silent, Dean realized that maybe they needed to have this out; a knockdown drag-out fight was just what the doctor ordered.
"Cas already told me that you've been out for almost a year," Dean said.
Sam took a deep breath and turned his gaze up to the sky. He didn't look tense or concerned in the least bit, and that angered Dean. Sam should have been grateful or excited or something, not simply standing there looking unconcerned. Dean moved to the trunk and unlocked it. He couldn't just stand there waiting. Besides, he needed to do a count of the ammunition and clean his shotgun. If he kept busy, then maybe he wouldn't explode into anger at what was happening right at this moment, wouldn't tear into Sam, because that was the last thing Dean wanted right now.
The problem was he wasn't sure what he wanted. The anger and resentment and bitter feelings swirling around in him threatened to boil over, and Dean needed to get control.
He could feel the weight of Sam's gaze on him, but Dean refused to turn around. He slammed the sword down into the trunk, and set his shotgun beside the long cool length of metal. Dean caressed the blade. He wondered what it had been forged out of and why it could kill angels. Dean picked up the blade again and held it in a firm grip, and then he took a deep breath and tossed the blade back in the trunk. When he turned to face Sam, he realized that his brother had been speaking, although he hadn't heard a word.
The ruffle of wing feathers filled the air, and Dean snatched up the sword, spun around with it in hand, and found Gabriel standing before him.
"Easy there," Gabriel said, eyeing the sword though, from his expression, Dean could tell that the angel was not afraid. Gabriel held his hands up before him in a gesture of surrender, and Dean lowered the sword.
"Does this thing even kill angels?" Dean said, waving the blade in the air between them.
"We should all go inside," Castiel said. He glanced up at the sky, where dark clouds were rolling in from the east. "I will explain when we are inside." Castiel headed toward the house, not waiting for them to follow.
When they were all in the house, Dean turned on Castiel. He saw Bobby and Jo enter the room out of the corner of his eye and heard the sharp intakes of breath when they saw Sam.
"What the hell is going on here?" Bobby demanded.
Gabriel sauntered over to the sofa and flopped down, arms and legs sprawled.
"I'm here to help," Gabriel said.
Dean wondered if Gabriel was there to help, whether it meant that anyone and anything could come back from the dead at any time. If that were true, then Dean didn't understand why anything he did mattered, why they were wasting their time chasing down the thing that had taken possession of Lisa. He was beginning to question the need, since if she died it seemed as though Castiel could just snap his fingers and presto, Lisa would be alive again, breathing like always. After all, Castiel had brought Jo back with just a touch.
Dean's head spun with these thoughts as he watched Gabriel pull a candy bar out of his jacket pocket. The wrapper crinkled and, Dean flinched again at the disgusting noises of pleasure that Gabriel made while he ate.
"I know what we're up against," Sam said.
Dean turned his attention to his brother, and for the first time, he really stopped to look at Sam. He looked a little tense but, other than that, he seemed fine. There was no concern in his eyes, no fear, nothing.
"That's why they had you trapped and they were going to trap you too." Gabriel made a casual wave at Dean. He finished the bar and tossed the empty wrapper on the floor. Dean glared down at the wrapper and at Gabriel who rolled his eyes at him and made the wrapper vanish. "God, I missed chocolate while I was away." Gabriel jumped to his feet and sauntered over to Castiel, throwing one arm around Castiel's shoulders. "We already have a strategy to get the bad guy." He pulled Castiel closer and gave him a squeeze, although Castiel looked uncomfortable.
"We don't have time for this," Sam said.
Everyone started shouting at once. Dean watched as his brother railed at Gabriel, and Castiel stood between them trying to pry them apart. Jo stood off to one side, arms crossed. Dean frowned at the feeble smile she threw Dean's way. Dean whistled for everyone to stop. When they were all silent and he had their attention, Dean threw his arms in the air with exasperation.
"Okay," Dean said. "Then if we have a plan, how about you letting us in on it and we can get this over with because I want my life back."
"No you don't," Gabriel said with a smug smirk. His nose wrinkled up and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
PART 5
INFO
PART 3
Dean stared out at the morning light, the coffee in his cup stone cold. He took a sip anyway and tossed the rest over the edge of the front porch railing. The liquid splashed against the dry brittle grass and soaked into the thirsty ground, vanishing as quickly as Castiel had hours ago. He still hadn't returned from wherever it was that he'd run off, and they were still no closer to locating Sam or saving Lisa. Dean wondered where Cas had gone so suddenly. He assumed it was Heaven, but maybe he'd gone somewhere else. Dean couldn't help thinking the one thought that had run through his mind since Castiel left. Did Castiel regret what had happened? Shaking the thought away, Dean pulled out his cell phone. He'd checked on Ben a few hours ago and everything had been fine, but Dean felt the urge to call again just to be sure. He wasn't taking any chances, and not having Ben there with him where Dean could see for himself that the boy was safe put Dean on edge.
Taking a deep breath, Dean turned to go back inside, and stopped short when he found Bobby in the front doorway, blocking his path.
"If this drought doesn't end soon, you may have to water my lawn that way every day," Bobby said. "What gives? You've been moping since Cas took off." Bobby reached out and nudged Dean on the shoulder, as though that would prod him into speaking.
Dean turned away from his piercing gaze, and tucked his free hand in his jeans pocket, shaking his head.
"It's nothing," Dean mumbled. There was no way he would talk about what had happened the other night even if it was Bobby and Dean was almost sure that his friend would understand. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and tried not to think about how good Castiel had looked and felt.
This was getting him nowhere. In a flash of sudden resolve, Dean shouldered past Bobby into the house. Dean wasn't sure what was going on, but there was one thing he knew for sure. He couldn't wait around for Castiel to pop back into their lives. Dean needed to find his brother and it was time to get off his ass and stop moping.
Not that he'd admit to moping because there was no way Dean would ever indulge in feelings like that.
He packed his belongings and stomped back out of the house, stuffing his duffle bag in the back seat of the car Bobby had loaned him. It wasn't his Impala but it would get him where he needed to go.
Bobby watched without saying a word until Dean moved to get in the car, then grabbed Dean by the arm and stopped him. "Where the heck do you think you're off to?"
"I need to find Sam," Dean said. Shrugging Bobby off, he got in behind the wheel and slammed the door. Bobby leaned into the open window and stared down at Dean, his brow creased with worry. Dean started the engine.
"Be careful," Bobby said before he straightened and stepped away from the car.
Dean roared away from the house before Bobby could say anything else and before he could change his mind and beg Bobby to join him. He knew it was something he needed, wanted to do on his own.
The silence from the passenger seat was deafening. He turned the radio up loud enough to drown out all thoughts, ignored the trill of his cell phone, and paid attention to the open road before him. It was a long ride to the town where Bobby said he saw Sam, and he needed to get some road beneath him if he hoped to get there before sundown.
Dean barely noticed the time go by as he tapped a finger to the beat of AC/DC. The phone trilled again, and he turned down the music before flipping the phone open to see Castiel's number on the display.
"Yeah," Dean said. There was not another vehicle in sight and Dean could see miles of deserted road stretching before him.
"Where are you?" Castiel's gruff voice filled Dean's ear, sending shivers through him.
Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at the little device as though it had insulted him, before replacing it and answering with a gruff, "On the road."
"That is what Bobby said," Castiel said. Dean could hear the frustration in Castiel's voice.
"I'm headed to Willow Springs to find Sam."
"He could be long gone," Castiel said.
"Maybe, but I have to start somewhere, unless you know where he is," Dean said.
"I wish I did, but I can not find him for the same reason that I can not find you."
Dean had forgotten about the carvings Castiel had burned onto their ribs that hid both he and his brother from Castiel.
"I will help you find him," Castiel said.
"Fine, but this time, we do things my way." There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Dean thought the angel had disconnected the call, until he heard a deep sigh on the other end.
"We will do things your way, but you need to tell me where you are."
A few miles later, Dean pulled into a full-serve gas station, stopping at one of the pumps, and turning off the engine.
Dean dialed Castiel's number, rolled down the window, and looked up at the gas station attendant as the man approached. He asked the man to fill up the tank, and then asked for the address of the place. He was about to relay the information to Castiel when the angel appeared in the passenger seat beside him with his cell phone to his ear. Dean fumbled his own cell phone, startled by the sudden appearance. Afraid the attendant had seen, he was about to chastise Castiel when he realized that the attendant had his back to them.
"Dean," Castiel said. He disconnected the call and put the phone away, and then turned intense eyes on Dean. Before Dean could say anything, Castiel shifted his gaze back onto the dash without another word.
Dean paid for the gas, ignoring the look of confusion on the man's face.
"Hey, weren't you alone when you pulled up?"
Dean ignored the remark and pulled out of the gas station. Much to Dean's relief, Castiel didn't say a word, just stared out the passenger window. Glad for Castiel's silence, Dean concentrated on the road. It was going to be a long drive. After a few miles, Dean relaxed a little, tension bleeding away with each mile and the realization that Castiel wasn't going to bring up what had happened the other night. The discomfort between them seemed to have passed for now. Dean kept his attention on the road ahead. It was already starting to get dark, and black clouds rolling in from the east, had blotted out the sun.
Dean reached out and turned on the music, killing the silence that vibrated in the air between them.
*
It was long past midnight by the time they reached Willow Spring, and Dean slowed down as he drove down the main street. The town was silent and nothing stirred in the darkness.
"We do this my way," Dean said. "You're just here for backup, understood."
Castiel nodded and followed Dean out of the car. A warm, dry wind kicked up some dust then faded just as fast as it had blown.
"We are alone," Castiel said, turning in a circle on the spot. Dean watched as Castiel scanned the area. His trench coat fluttered in a breeze, and then everything went silent again. Too silent.
"This way," Castiel said. He headed toward the same building they had been in the last time they were here. Dean yanked open the trunk, spun the lock and pulled his shotgun out. He thrust extra rock salt shells in his coat pocket and tucked a knife in his belt. He held out the handgun to Castiel, but he declined it. Castiel thrust out one arm and a sword appeared in his hand as though it had grown out of him. The deadly angel-killing weapon glinted in the dim light.
They advanced toward the building, Dean glancing behind them as they moved through the street. If anything tried to sneak up on them, it would get a nasty surprise. When they were on either side of the doorway into the building, Dean nodded for Castiel to go in ahead of him. Castiel held the sword up before him and moved slowly through the pitch-black entrance, and vanished in the darkness. Panicked, Dean rushed forward, bumping into Castiel who had stopped just a few feet beyond the door.
"I can go no further," Castiel said. He nodded at the second doorway. The walls were blank to Dean, but there had to be something there for Castiel to have stopped in his tracks.
"Angel wards," Dean said.
Castiel nodded confirmation.
"They weren't there the last time," Castiel said. "Something must have put them there to hide whatever is beyond those doors from my view."
"This could be it," Dean said. Of course, it couldn't have been as easy as walking in the building with Cas at his side, ready to teleport at the first sign of trouble. It never was, but Dean steeled himself, giving Castiel the shotgun and pulling his handgun out. He wished he'd brought heavier artillery.
"Here," Castiel said. He held out the sword for Dean to take. Their fingers brushed for a brief moment, and Dean felt an electric pulse flow through his body. He jerked away from temptation in the touch, grasping the sword in his hand and holding it before him.
"I'll be right back." Dean took a deep breath and walked through the doorway, gun in one hand and sword in the other. The entrance turned out to be empty of any threats, and Dean moved in farther. He stopped at the sound of muffled voices. They were just ahead and Dean readied his gun and tensed. All the muscles in his body hummed with the anticipation of what came next. He'd missed the adrenaline rush, the moment just before, not knowing if it would be a kill or if he'd have to run.
The voices stopped and Dean turned a corner to find the room empty. He slipped a penlight from his pocket and did a quick scope of the darkened area. He could just make out a smashed chair and table, and subdued light from the heavy drapes covering the window cut a wedge across the room. There were bits of broken glass scattered about as well as other signs of a struggle.
Dean moved into the room, careful not to tread on any of the shards. A piece crunched beneath his boot tread and Dean paused in his tracks. The sounds of another struggle were coming from the next room. Dean took another step, and as dark blur knocked him to the floor. He released the penlight and slashed out with the sword. The heavy weight on top of him rolled away with a grunt and jumped to its feet. Dean rolled in the opposite direction, and to his feet, spinning to face his opponent, ready to stab at whoever or whatever it was.
He didn't recognize his attacker, but he dove after Dean again. This time, there was enough space between them for Dean to fire his gun. The loud shot filled his ears in the enclosed space, and Dean flinched. Though Dean couldn't tell for sure in darkness, it was likely a possession since they took the hit and kept on coming. Dean didn't want to wait around to find out if his suspicion was correct. He lunged forward with the sword and pinned them against the wall like a butterfly on a mounting board, unsure what the weapon would do to someone with a demon in him. The man screamed in agony, and Dean pushed, holding him in place until he could pick up his penlight.
"I'm only going to ask once," Dean said, twisting the sword again. "Where is Sam Winchester?" Gleaming in the narrow beam of light, the black eyes filled with rage, and the man snarled at Dean. When he didn't say a word, Dean gave the sword another vicious twist.
"There," the man said, motioning with one arm at a door across the room. Dean pulled out the sword and plunged the blade of the demon-killing knife into the man's chest, watching the man writhe and scream. Dean yanked the knife from his chest and stepped back to watch him crumple to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.
Dean didn't waste any more time. He turned to the closed door and stood for a moment just staring. Sam was behind the door. He'd been out of Hell the whole time that Dean had stayed at that house with Lisa and Ben, and he hadn't said a word to Dean.
Dean hesitated for only a moment before turning the doorknob. The room behind the door was too dark to see anything, and Dean brought the penlight into play again. He moved with cautious steps, throwing light in every corner, but the room was empty. A muffled thumping was coming from another doorway, and Dean trained the light on what looked like a closet door. He rushed forward.
"Sammy?" He checked the closet and found the door locked. Dean pulled the gun and shot the lock off without a second thought. The door swung open and something rolled from the cramped space. It was Sam, his arms bound behind his back, and his mouth covered with a gag. Dean fell to his knees, reluctant to reach out and touch, fearing Sam wasn't real and it was all a dream. Sam rolled toward him, pressed his back against Dean's knees, and turned to look up at Dean. They locked gazes, and then Dean's heart pounded in his chest as he removed the gag, his fingers fumbling, tearing at the knotted fabric.
"Dean." Sam's voice was no more than a croak. He still wore the clothes he had on when Dean watched him jump into Hell. His torn t-shirt had some bloodstains smeared across it, and his wrists were bleeding. Dean pulled out his knife and sawed through the ropes binding Sam's hands. Once freed, Sam let out a sigh of relief. A quick examination revealed that he had superficial cuts and bruises on his face, arms, and chest, but was otherwise unharmed, so Dean helped Sam to his feet.
"We need to get out of here," Dean said. He urged Sam to move toward the doorway, and together they made their way out of the building. Dean held back on asking any questions. He had so many and wanted to grill his brother, but he knew that right now was not the time.
Castiel was still waiting outside, and the angel grabbed hold of a swaying barely conscious Sam once they were out of the building. He reached up and touched two fingers to Sam's forehead. Sam flinched beneath the touch and leaned against Castiel for support. Once he healed, he was able to stand on his own.
"Get us out of here, Cas," Dean said.
With a nod and a flash of blinding light, they were no longer in that dark town. Disoriented and shaken up, Dean wasn't sure where they were, but once the feeling had faded, he realized that it was still dark and they stood a few feet from the car. Dean settled Sam into the passenger seat of the car, slamming the door shut while Castiel stood looking skyward.
"I need to go," Castiel said.
Before Dean could respond, Castiel vanished. Heaving a sigh of relief and frustration all in one breath, Dean got in the car. Sam sat slumped in the front seat, his head against the door and his eyes closed. Dean reached around to buckle him in, and jumped when Sam caught him by the wrist.
"Where's Castiel?" Sam asked.
Dean felt a stab of hurt that Castiel was what Sam was most concerned with at a time like this, but he pushed it aside, although he didn't hide the fact that he was pissed at Sam.
"Gone." Dean started the engine. He tore away from the side of the road. It didn't take long for him to orient himself, and they headed in the direction of Bobby's place. Dean wasn't sure what else to do. He needed to get Sam someplace safe and he needed time to think. Sam sat silent, staring out the window not volunteering any information. Dean didn't want to push, but he needed to know where Sam had been all this time, why he hadn't told Dean he'd escaped the pit, and how he'd escaped.
By the time Dean pulled into Bobby's, Sam was fast asleep in the passenger seat and they'd still barely said a word to each other. Dean nudged him awake, felting a pang in his chest at the sight of his brother, yawning and stretching. He'd thought he'd never see him again, yet there he was, Sammy beside him in the passenger seat. Dean swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat and climbed out of the car, slamming the door. When he spun around, he bumped into Castiel. Dean took a deep breath, cutting off a scream. They stood chest to chest, but Dean refused to budge. Castiel gave him the look of befuddlement that would usually make Dean smirk, but he wasn't in the mood. Dean felt Sam move in behind him, and he turned his head just enough to see his brother out of the corner of his eye.
"Cas," Sam said.
"Where have you been all this time?" Dean twisted his body until he was facing Sam.
"I wasn't gone that long," Castiel said.
Dean glared in his direction and pointed to Sam to indicate that he'd meant the question for his brother. When Sam remained silent, Dean realized that maybe they needed to have this out; a knockdown drag-out fight was just what the doctor ordered.
"Cas already told me that you've been out for almost a year," Dean said.
Sam took a deep breath and turned his gaze up to the sky. He didn't look tense or concerned in the least bit, and that angered Dean. Sam should have been grateful or excited or something, not simply standing there looking unconcerned. Dean moved to the trunk and unlocked it. He couldn't just stand there waiting. Besides, he needed to do a count of the ammunition and clean his shotgun. If he kept busy, then maybe he wouldn't explode into anger at what was happening right at this moment, wouldn't tear into Sam, because that was the last thing Dean wanted right now.
The problem was he wasn't sure what he wanted. The anger and resentment and bitter feelings swirling around in him threatened to boil over, and Dean needed to get control.
He could feel the weight of Sam's gaze on him, but Dean refused to turn around. He slammed the sword down into the trunk, and set his shotgun beside the long cool length of metal. Dean caressed the blade. He wondered what it had been forged out of and why it could kill angels. Dean picked up the blade again and held it in a firm grip, and then he took a deep breath and tossed the blade back in the trunk. When he turned to face Sam, he realized that his brother had been speaking, although he hadn't heard a word.
The ruffle of wing feathers filled the air, and Dean snatched up the sword, spun around with it in hand, and found Gabriel standing before him.
"Easy there," Gabriel said, eyeing the sword though, from his expression, Dean could tell that the angel was not afraid. Gabriel held his hands up before him in a gesture of surrender, and Dean lowered the sword.
"Does this thing even kill angels?" Dean said, waving the blade in the air between them.
"We should all go inside," Castiel said. He glanced up at the sky, where dark clouds were rolling in from the east. "I will explain when we are inside." Castiel headed toward the house, not waiting for them to follow.
When they were all in the house, Dean turned on Castiel. He saw Bobby and Jo enter the room out of the corner of his eye and heard the sharp intakes of breath when they saw Sam.
"What the hell is going on here?" Bobby demanded.
Gabriel sauntered over to the sofa and flopped down, arms and legs sprawled.
"I'm here to help," Gabriel said.
Dean wondered if Gabriel was there to help, whether it meant that anyone and anything could come back from the dead at any time. If that were true, then Dean didn't understand why anything he did mattered, why they were wasting their time chasing down the thing that had taken possession of Lisa. He was beginning to question the need, since if she died it seemed as though Castiel could just snap his fingers and presto, Lisa would be alive again, breathing like always. After all, Castiel had brought Jo back with just a touch.
Dean's head spun with these thoughts as he watched Gabriel pull a candy bar out of his jacket pocket. The wrapper crinkled and, Dean flinched again at the disgusting noises of pleasure that Gabriel made while he ate.
"I know what we're up against," Sam said.
Dean turned his attention to his brother, and for the first time, he really stopped to look at Sam. He looked a little tense but, other than that, he seemed fine. There was no concern in his eyes, no fear, nothing.
"That's why they had you trapped and they were going to trap you too." Gabriel made a casual wave at Dean. He finished the bar and tossed the empty wrapper on the floor. Dean glared down at the wrapper and at Gabriel who rolled his eyes at him and made the wrapper vanish. "God, I missed chocolate while I was away." Gabriel jumped to his feet and sauntered over to Castiel, throwing one arm around Castiel's shoulders. "We already have a strategy to get the bad guy." He pulled Castiel closer and gave him a squeeze, although Castiel looked uncomfortable.
"We don't have time for this," Sam said.
Everyone started shouting at once. Dean watched as his brother railed at Gabriel, and Castiel stood between them trying to pry them apart. Jo stood off to one side, arms crossed. Dean frowned at the feeble smile she threw Dean's way. Dean whistled for everyone to stop. When they were all silent and he had their attention, Dean threw his arms in the air with exasperation.
"Okay," Dean said. "Then if we have a plan, how about you letting us in on it and we can get this over with because I want my life back."
"No you don't," Gabriel said with a smug smirk. His nose wrinkled up and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
PART 5