Big Bang: Where We're Heading To: Part One
"Dean," Castiel said when he appeared in the Braedons' dark living room.
The human in question jumped up from the couch and spun around. "Jesus, Cas! I didn't even hear you!"
Castiel graced this comment with a tilt of his head. "Hear me?" he asked, puzzled.
"Yeah," Dean nodded, relaxing at the familiar sight of trench coat and bedraggled bed head. "Usually I can hear your wings when you pop in."
"And now you do not." Dean couldn't tell if this was meant as a question or not, so he nodded his confirmation anyway. Castiel blinked. "This bears further investigation."
Dean raised a wary eyebrow. "Please tell me you aren't going to pop in and out to see if I hear anything," he half joked. Who knew, the angel might even try it. In fact, Cas froze, a look of indecision on his face. Dean laughed. "Okay, you can't have come back just to test out your new angel mojo." Dean crossed the room and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "What's up?"
Castiel gulped. "There's, uh. . ." he trailed off and swallowed again, shuffling his feet a little, "I believe that a recent homicide in Portland was actually the work of a werewolf."
Dean stared at him, but Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes. "Huh." He carefully removed his hand and crossed his arms. "And the mighty Host of Heaven cares about this because. . .?"
Castiel blinked three, maybe four times while he answered. For a human that wouldn't have attracted any attention, but the angel wasn't well-known for his stares for nothing. "If it is indeed a werewolf, it is in a position which could greatly harm a Prophet of the Lord."
"Chuck?"
The angel shook his head.
Dean unfolded his arms. "There are other Prophets?" he asked, scratching absently at his neck.
"Of course," Castiel said, turning his gaze back on Dean full-force. "Several points of view are necessary for the Gospels to be properly understood."
"Okay, sure, whatever," Dean coughed. "Why are you asking me to deal with the problem?"
"You are the only hunter I know," Cas answered simply.
"No," Dean said sharply, glaring into Castiel's wide, blue eyes. "Bobby is the only hunter you know."
"Please, Dean."
Any further arguments were cut off by a short yell and a loud splash. The lights flicked on to reveal a very wet Castiel -- but only for a moment, before he mojoed it away -- a mildly shocked Lisa, and an amused Dean.
"Lisa, this is Castiel," he gasped out between peals of laughter. "Cas, Lisa."
Lisa gasped (appropriately, Dean figured). "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't know, I thought you were a demon!" She shot Dean an apologetic look before turning hostess on Castiel. "Could I get you a cup of tea?"
Castiel regarded Lisa for a moment, as if assessing her threat level. "Yes, thank you," he said, apparently deciding that it wasn't very high. Lisa left for the kitchen, and Dean and Castiel were alone together once more.
When she returned, Castiel still hadn't managed to persuade Dean of anything.
"Dude, Cas, no! Call Bobby," he growled. "I'm sure he would love to take a trip out to Oregon with you," he grumbled.
"Oregon is nice this time of year," Lisa said, handing Cas his cup of tea. He thanked her, and it looked like he had already decided to like her.
Dean, on the other hand, was less than happy with her just now. "What?" he demanded.
Lisa shrugged. "If he's got a job for you, I think you should take it." Dean spluttered a bit, trying to come up with a legitimate protest. Seeing his obvious protest, she continued, "What? Ben's got that trip to DC this week, remember? Besides, it would do you some good to get out of this house and away for a while."
Dean spluttered some more before finally setting his jaw in a hard line, glaring at both Castiel and Lisa, and grinding out an angry, "Fine."
"Well, that's settled, then." Lisa grinned brightly. "You better say goodbye to Ben."
Dean nodded grudgingly and headed down the hall. Before he did, however, he glared at Castiel and said, "I'm driving, though. None of that Angel Air shit, okay?"
"Of course, Dean," Castiel said, and Dean might have spied a slight smile.
When Dean was all ready to go, and the pair of them was headed out the door, Lisa yelled, "Good luck!" and grinned a bizarrely knowing smile at Castiel.
Dean didn't know what that was about, but at least Castiel wasn't totally incapable of making friends.
The car ride was not necessarily comfortable, though it was a far cry from awkward. Neither angel nor (ex-)hunter tried to speak over the familiar strains of Led Zeppelin and ACDC. And when Dean was pulled over for speeding, he didn't even glance at Castiel as he flirted their way out of a ticket. He got a phone number and a Twitter username for his troubles. That he did show to the angel, who shrugged. Dean hadn't really expected him to know, anyway.
Sam would have known.
After a few stops, one to sleep (Dean slept; Castiel watched), the pair finally arrived at their destination. They checked into a motel, and Dean flopped onto his bed.
"Dean," Castiel began, glancing at the other bed. "I don't understand." Dean snorted at that. "Why are you paying extra for a bed we don't need?"
Dean gave him a level gaze. "Two guys, one bed? People are going to assume, Cas."
"Oh, I see," Cas nodded, even though he really didn't comprehend what Dean was trying to say.
Before Castiel could get to the bottom of things, though, Dean closed his eyes and said, "Get the lights, will you?" and Castiel complied. Dean was out in a matter of moments, and Cas settled himself to another night of watching the human sleep.
"But the State Police are already working the case!" a particularly stubborn secretary argued.
"Listen, lady," Dean began, "we're sorry about this, but we just want to catch the killer as soon as we can, and we aren't sure that the State Police can do it on their own. Okay?"
"I'm sorry, Agent Jagger, Agent Bowie," the secretary said, nodding at Dean and Castiel, respectively, "but unless you can get a warrant, I'm not letting you see the autopsy. Capice?"
"No," Castiel said, drawing the secretary's attention. "It is imperative that we look at that autopsy file. It could be a deciding factor in saving another life."
"What, you think the guy is going to kill again?"
Castiel nodded gravely.
"But why would he wait an entire month? What makes you think he'll attack again now?"
"The answer might very well lie in the autopsy."
The secretary looked over at Dean, who smiled encouragingly, before she sighed. "Fine! If it is really that important, you can have the file. Just don't tell anyone it was me who gave it to you." She bent to reach down under the counter, pulling out a box full of files. After ruffling through them all, she grabbed one and slapped it down in front of Castiel. "There you go."
"Thanks," Dean said and snatched it up. "C'mon Cas," he gestured toward the door before he turned about and stalked out of the office. Castiel nodded appreciatively at the secretary before following after Dean.
The woman watched the two leave, shaking her head. "All the good ones…" she muttered.
"Wow, Cas. You're getting better at lying."
Castiel tilted his head the slightest bit. "I did not lie."
"Yeah, but you didn't tell her that we were looking for a werewolf," Dean laughed.
They were back at the motel for now, and they had finished looking over the file. Dean tossed it onto the table, where it fell open. The photos showed a woman with her heart missing, killed the last night of the full moon, pretty much proving Castiel right.
"I simply did not tell her everything. I suspect that would have not helped our case any."
"Yeah, you lied." Dismissing the conversation, Dean stood up. "We have to go talk to the victim's family now. Are you good with that?"
"I suppose," Cas answered.
"Don't mess this up," Dean said as he pulled Castiel out of his chair. "They're going to want answers, and we can't tell them the truth."
The angel nodded to show that he understood. But he still asked, "Ever?"
Dean shook his head. "Never. 'A werewolf did it' is not the kind of answer they want. Trust me on this."
"Why not?"
"Because if they find out that things like werewolves are real and killed their family, they're going to want revenge or something. And they'll just get themselves killed."
Castiel paused, as if he had something to say, but he kept his mouth closed. Instead, he nodded and the two left to go speak with the cousin of the deceased, Rachel Monague.
Rachel was a small woman, with short red hair that she held at bay with a headband. She fidgeted nervously in her chair. "I already talked to the police, like, a month ago. Why hasn't anyone solved the case yet?"
"I'm sorry, miss," Dean said, "we've just got a few more questions, and then we'll be out of your hair."
"Then will you let us bury Patty?"
"We will release the body soon, Miss Monague," Castiel assured, attracting Dean's attention. Dude, he'd just lied! Cas turned to meet Dean's eyes and gave a confused frown. Dean snapped his head back toward Rachel, who was watching the exchange with a small smile.
"So," she began, but she didn't get any further than that. She was interrupted by a loud beeping, and she fumbled around until she pulled out a cell phone. After glancing at the front screen, Rachel turned to Dean and asked, "May I?"
"Go ahead," Dean said, with accompanying hand gesture.
Rachel smiled in response and pressed the phone to her ear. "Hey, baby," she murmured, in the tone that was only ever used for significant others. "Sarah?" she started, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Put Charlotte on," she demanded of this Sarah person.
After a moment of silence, Rachel sighed, "Then why do you have her phone?" She rolled her eyes at whatever response she received and asked, "Okay, what do you need? I'm kind of busy." Freezing, Rachel took a deep breath.
"I'm going to be very clear, honey. Supernatural is not real. It is just a series of poorly written books about made up people and invented creatures. There are no such things as werewolves."
Dean glanced over at Castiel, ready to meet his eyes and share a look. However, Cas was staring at Rachel. It almost seemed like he was trying to listen in to the conversation. Who knew, maybe he could.
"No. And do you know why? They are fictional characters. They don't exist," Rachel continued. Dean sort of wished he could hear Sarah's side of this exchange, just so he knew what was going on. He was not so lucky, though.
"So that's what this is about," Rachel smiled wickedly in a sudden epiphany, which Dean was not privy to. "I'll be home soon, I swear," she assured Sarah. "Tell Char I miss her."
As much attention as Dean was paying to this private conversation, he was surprised when Rachel snapped the phone shut.
He jumped a little in his chair and looked away quickly. He hoped that the girl hadn't noticed his eavesdropping. He shouldn't have worried about himself, because Castiel was still staring at her, and she definitely noticed that.
Rachel gave a little half laugh, visibly creeped out by the strange government agent staring at her with shocking blue eyes.
She had the good sense not to bring it up, though, and said instead, "My girl's sister is so weird. She actually thinks it was a werewolf -- like from those Supernatural books -- that killed my cousin. Crazy, right?"
Castiel shifted his head minutely to the right. "She is very smart," he offered.
The red head gaped at him. "You can't seriously be saying --"
"Hold your horses," Dean said, holding his hands up. "What my partner meant was, uh," he floundered for a moment before he came up with a suitable excuse. Damn Cas and his failure to lie at the right times. "We think that your cousin may have been killed at the hands of a copycat killer."
Dean wasn't really sure what the definition of a copycat killer was. He'd heard the term on TV once, while flipping through channels. He didn't watch cop shows, so he hadn't stayed on that program. He just hoped that it meant what it seemed it did, and that Rachel would buy it.
For once, his luck was good, and she did.
"You think someone is going around when the moon is full and killing people, taking their hearts out of their chests, pretending to be some creature from an obscure series of books?"
Well, when she said it like that, it sounded like at least seven kinds of crazy. Maybe eight.
Shooting Cas a look that he hoped said something like, "Shut your trap or I'm going to do something awful involving zippers,"
Dean nodded in reply. "Exactly."
Surprisingly, Rachel nodded back. "Okay, I can see that."
The interview went about normal from there on. Rachel didn't really know much about Patty's personal life, since she was going to college in Montana. (She would be there now, taking summer classes, but she was sticking around here until the funeral.)
Patty was just an ordinary woman with an ordinary job and an ordinary apartment, Rachel told them. She ate ordinary food at ordinary restaurants and drank ordinary alcohol at ordinary bars. None of this information led Dean and Castiel to the identity of the werewolf. Thankfully, this wasn't the only information that Rachel had to give.
"Her boyfriend, Rick, is a little strange, though," she said, picking at the polish on her fingernails. "When I came by the first time, right after I got into town, he was just hanging around her apartment all day." Rachel rubbed at her eye absently. "But he just sort of looked guilty to me." At Dean's intrigued look, she shook her head, saying, "Not, like, in a 'I just killed my girlfriend' kind of way, sorry. It was more the kind of guilt you feel when you accidentally run over someone's gerbil and they have to clean it up because you didn't notice it, and no matter how many times you say sorry, it won't help because they don't blame you in the first place."
Dean was one hundred percent positive that whatever Rachel was talking about, it was entirely unrelated to the investigation at hand, so he thanked her profusely for her help, grabbed Castiel by the hand, and got the Hell out of Dodge.
"Dean?" Castiel asked, turning a gun over in his hands. "What is this for?"
Dean looked over his shoulder at the angel standing behind him and answered simply, "To shoot the son of a bitch."
"Oh." Castiel nodded as if that made sense. "How do you plan on finding it?"
Shrugging, Dean checked his own gun. "We'll walk the streets and hope to run into him."
"That sounds like --" Castiel began to say, but he was cut off by the ringing of a cell phone. By habit Dean checked his pockets, but no one was calling him. Someone was calling Castiel. With an ease that was likely just leftover muscle memory from his body's time as an ordinary human, the angel answered the phone and held it up to his ear. "Hello?"
"Is this Agent Bowie?" the small, breathless voice of Rachel Monague asked.
Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, not wishing to directly lie to the woman. "Is there a problem?" he asked, instead of the simple and untrue answer of "Yes."
"Speakerphone, Cas," Dean hissed, and Castiel obligingly pressed a button on the phone.
Rachel's voice was still quiet, as if she were whispering, but now Dean could hear her, too. "You could say that," she replied, her tone suggesting that this was a huge understatement. Through the phone line, Dean and Castiel could hear the sentence punctuated by a tinny, yet resounding, thud.
"What was that?" Dean demanded.
"Rick," was the only answer he received, before there was a loud cracking sound, a soft swear, and the line went dead.
"Shit," Dean mumbled, as Castiel gathered his phone back up. "Did we get Rachel's address?"
"She was staying at a motel. This motel," Castiel answered.
"And she's clearly not here now," Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What about Rick?"
"He lived with Patricia."
"Who lived…where?"
Castiel closed his eyes and thought. He ignored Dean's snapping and mutters of "Hurry, hurry," and calmly said, "Eight seven six North Webster Street."
"Okay, let's go." Dean started out the door, not waiting to be sure that Castiel followed him.
"I could," Castiel offered, holding up two fingers.
Dean glanced back over his shoulder. He started to deny this idea, to save himself future discomfort, but then thought better of it. Who knew how much time the poor girl had before, well, who knew what would happen. "Yeah, sure," he said, and braced himself for Castiel's teleportation.
The pair landed in a bedroom. It was dark, but Dean could still make out the shape of a large bed and a dresser. Something rustled in a corner, and the light flicked on.
"How did you get in here?" Rachel asked from her seat on the ground. She pointed at the dresser. "I blocked the door."
Dean glanced at Castiel and shook his head. "That's not important." He squatted down next to Rachel and said, "We just need to know what exactly is going on."
The woman sighed and looked between the two men. "I came over to have dinner with Rick, but then he just flipped! Went totally mental." She paused, pulling on a piece of her hair. "I got him trapped in a bathroom, and called you," she gestured at Castiel, "but then he got out, and I dropped my phone and ran. Ended up here." She sat back on her feet, apparently done with her story. "How did you even find me?"
"Well," Dean smiled, "Cas is pretty good at things like that."
Blinking, Rachel turned to Castiel and stared for a moment. She was dangerously close to gaping, but she swallowed it and returned her gaze to the hunter crouching in front of her. "I don't suppose you're Dean, then?"
"Guilty as charged."
"I'm going insane," Rachel groaned, tucking herself into a ball.
Dean grinned at her, in what he hoped was consolation. "What, the werewolf didn't tip you off?" It might not have turned out that way.
Rachel frowned at him, and a moment passed in awkward silence.
Something slammed into the door, knocking the dresser back a few inches. Dean scrambled to stand up, Rachel hid her
face behind her knees, and Castiel stayed standing exactly where he was. The door shuddered again, pushing the dresser just a bit further.
"You know how to use a gun, right?" Dean asked Castiel, pulling his own out.
Castiel nodded. "I've used a gun before."
"Good."
There is no more time for conversation, though, as the sound of wood splintering had both Dean and Cas on their guards.
The werewolf -- Rick, apparently -- crashed through, knocking the dresser right over. He growled and snarled, trying to decide who to go after first. With Rachel being protected by Dean, he chose to come right at Castiel.
Castiel was not afraid of the feral humanoid attacking him. He just pointed his gun at the werewolf and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked uselessly.
"Did you cock it?" Dean shouted, as Cas backed away. The angel fumbled with the gun, answering his question without needing words. "I thought you said you've done this before!"
"It was a shotgun," Cas grumbled, finally getting his gun to cock. He aimed carefully and pressed his finger against the trigger. The bullet rang out, cracking the mirror across the room. ". . .Right next to his head," he admitted, sending a bashful look Dean's way.
"Oh, for the love of --"
BANG.
Rick crumpled to the ground, blood oozing into a puddle beneath him. Rachel let out a long breath at the sight.
"This will be difficult to explain to the authorities," she said, adding to herself, "Sarah's going to love it, though."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Just don't tell them about us, or the werewolf thing."
Rachel barked out a short humorless laugh. "Right, because they would totally believe me if I did."
"Still. Listen, we've got to go, so good luck with the police." Dean gave Castiel a meaningful look, and the angel responded in kind, poofing them out of the house and back to their motel room.
As soon as Dean had gathered all his things up, he informed Castiel that he was returning to the Braedons', to Lisa, and to Ben. Cas made no protests, simply frowning before disappearing from right in front of Dean. ("Still shitty at goodbyes," Dean had grumbled.)
That was certainly not the last that Dean saw of the angel. Not a week passed before Castiel was back in Lisa's living room, telling Dean about a haunting right there in Cicero. He couldn't very well pass it up, not when it was so close by. So, he took the case with Castiel, and together they discovered that the "haunted house" was no such thing, just an old curse that never died away. It didn't take much to fix that up, just a little bit of work convincing the latest living descendant of the original witch to lift the curse. Not a problem, with both Dean and Cas working on it.
A little while after that, Cas had appeared again, this time offering a job in Washington, D.C. Something was causing a ton of trouble, and Cas was sure it was a trickster. He was right, after a fashion, but neither hunter nor angel had really expected to run up against a tanuki, and they'd called Bobby for help. Japanese lore was sort of his thing, as Dean had once learned. The tanuki had a thing for fairy tales, but they'd managed, even if Dean was continually stuck into the girl roles. (Tricksters are irritating as Hell.) Cas hadn't looked very happy when Dean went back home to Lisa, but whatever. Dean figured that Cas had his own problems in Heaven to deal with.
Life quickly fell into a cycle, a pattern, a rhythm. Castiel would come by with a job for Dean, they'd go take care of the monster, and then Dean would return home. He would go to Ben's soccer games, show him the way around an engine, and try not to be an awful influence on the kid. Weeks passed, then months. Hunts blurred together, a shapeshifter in Michigan, a pack of chupacabras in Texas, a banshee in California. . . Before Dean realized it, two whole years had passed since Cas's first visit to the Braedons', even longer since the Apocalypse ended.
It was late in the fall of 2012, and Ben was at school more often than not. It was around this time of year that Dean got the most antsy, since he was without the distraction of his almost-son. Not that Lisa wasn't a good distraction, but she had her job to deal with. So, much of the time, he was left at Lisa's house all alone, just waiting for Castiel to appear. It wasn't the most interesting life, but hey. It worked. Though, maybe he should get a job, besides hunting. Then he would feel less like a freeloader.
On a Thursday in the middle of November, Dean sat on the couch, contemplating what his life had become. He guessed that Sam would be pretty okay with this, since he was keeping his promise. He wasn't trying to bring Sam back, and he was having his life with Lisa, even if it weren't quite the standard Apple Pie Life(TM). Sure, he was still hunting, and spending more quality time with Cas than with Lisa, but he was happy, and that's what Sam wanted, anyway. Right?
His musings were interrupted by a very familiar voice saying, "Hello Dean."
Dean had stopped being surprised at his friend's sudden appearances long ago. "Hey, Cas. What have you got for me this time?"
"A family of ghouls is making its way through the graveyards of Illinois," Castiel said, his mouth twitching up into the threat of a smile. "It is not exactly pressing, however."
"Yeah?" Dean asked, grinning. "You want to hang around here for a little while, then?"
"I would enjoy that very much," Castiel intoned, as though it were the most serious thing in the world.
"Take a seat, then." Dean gestured to the couch, pointing at a spot beside him. "Make yourself comfortable."
Castiel actually smiled at that, just a sliver of teeth showing through. "Thank you," he said. He moved across the room, to take his place at Dean's side. There was a coffee table blocking his way the couch, and Castiel didn't feel like flying that short of a distance. So he reached down to move the silly table aside, and, once he had, he straightened and entirely intended to sit down and be comfortable, as Dean had suggested.
He was not granted this one pleasure, however. Before he had the chance to join the hunter in respite, he heard the tell-tale flutter of wings and felt a familiar Grace brush up against his. Of course he knew it, because it was the very grace that had once destroyed him. (He was forgiven, of course. He had been acting under orders, and Castiel of all angels understood the pressure of orders.)
However, Castiel was still not very happy about the archangel's presence, because it could mean only one thing. He was needed in Heaven, and he would have to leave Dean, if only for a short time.
Sure enough, before he had the opportunity to react, the archangel grabbed onto Castiel's Grace and pulled, dragging him away from Earth.
Dean was left in the dust, staring at the spot that had previously held Castiel in confusion. "What the Hell?" He hadn't seen the other visitor, so, to him, it seemed as if Castiel had popped away all on his own.
As much as Castiel's disappearance confused him, it didn't overly bother him. Cas was an angel, and he could do whatever the Hell he wanted. If it didn't make sense, then, well, Dean had never been able to understand Castiel that well anyway. He could focus on the ghoul problem, but as Castiel had said, that wasn't extremely pressing. Ghouls weren't too dangerous as long as they stuck with old corpses.
Dean leaned back into the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and settled back into his thoughts. Previous~ Next