The Dead Bodies Mean "I Love You" Part V
Masterpost | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
Dean is ecstatic with news of where to find Bela. He can’t wait to stick his knife in her and watch her squirm like the little worm she is. He’s been waiting for years to finally get his revenge on her and the opportunity has finally come, albeit somewhat muddled.
“Don’t get too excited,” Sam says, glancing at Dean. “We can’t know for sure if she’s there. If we go in, we go in strong.”
“After what that bitch did to us?” Dean spares a glare. “She screwed us over big time. I say we jump in and hit her hard.”
“Yes, we should, but she’s sneaky,” Sam sighs. “She probably already knows we’re coming for her.”
“Maybe not though,” Dean suggests. “She fell pretty far off the map, Sam. It’s been almost three years.”
Bela used to be one of them. She was in on the gig and hired the boys to kill a few people on her behalf. In return she kept the police away. If the cops caught onto their trail then Bela would bail them out before trouble got started.
Bela was never interested in Sam and Dean, she was interested in money. With Sam and Dean killing anyone in her competition, she was able to climb that corporate ladder and make millions. The Winchesters were cut off from Bela and never heard from her again, other than a voicemail and an entourage of police cars.
They had escaped, but Bela is a thorn in their side and she needs to be taken out. Sensing the imminent losing battle in trying to reason with Dean, Sam stops talking and looks out the window. Dean grins. Sam’s a smart boy.
Nevada is as hot as Dean knew it would be and he’s glad their new Nissan has awesome AC. It’s just desert and sage brush for miles and miles. No wonder Bela moved here. It is in the middle of freaking nowhere. In fact, he is beginning to wonder if there is even a city in this wasteland.
“She’s supposed to be in the very center of Las Vegas,” Sam says.
“If there is a Las Vegas,” Dean says, turning a corner. “I don’t think.... oh.”
Around the corner is a city coming from literally nothing. It is a sparkling oasis in the middle of literally nowhere. Despite himself, Dean feels a bit awed.
“Like I was saying,” Sam pokes Dean. “She’s in the center of Vegas. That’s what Garth said.”
“He better be right,” Dean replies, “or he’s next.”
“He’s never been wrong before.”
“Sioux Falls is nowhere near as important as Bela. If he’s wrong, he’s dead.”
---
Bela’s house is one of those really fancy homes. Turret and balcony included. It’s the dead of night and unfortunately, that means hundreds of people are walking the streets of downtown Vegas. Sam picks the lock and they walk inside, guns raised. The front room is dark, as are the stairs and the next room over. Lights are on in the kitchen and it spills through an open door.
“I was wondering when you boys would turn up,” Bela’s light accent filters through the air. “I was worried Garth might have butchered the message, though I’m not sure how he’d manage that.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Dean threatens, taking a step into the well lit kitchen, Sam hot on his heels.
“Don’t be like that,” Bela is standing by the stove, a glass of wine in her hands. “I brought you boys to me for a reason.” Sam and Dean stop. “Don’t look so confused. Did you really think Garth could have found me on his own? I’m here to help you.”
“We don’t need your help,” Sam says, standing behind Dean.
“Not even with Castiel?” she cocks an eyebrow and takes a sip of her wine.
“Castiel isn’t a problem,” Dean spits out.
“Not yet,” Bela reprimands. “Haven’t you two been watching the news?” They shake their heads and she groans, “I don’t know how you boys have lived this long. Follow me.”
Without any other option, Sam and Dean follow Bela into her living room, guns still at the ready. She turns on her flat screen and the news flickers on.
“It appears that the vigilante killer, Castiel, has left his home in Illinois. He has taken his mission across the country, much like the Winchesters have done. He was last seen in Lawrence, Kansas. There are no murders to report, but a house was burned to the ground.”
A picture of a house pops on screen. A house in flames. Dean and Sam grab each other, guns limp at their sides. It was their house that was burning.
“Officials say that this house was where the young Winchester boys grew up. No one knows why Castiel has decided to pay a visit to the Winchester home, but the nation is wondering, what will the Winchesters do in response?”
Bela snaps the TV off. Sam and Dean are shell shocked and look at Bela with wide eyes.
“Still think he’s not a problem?”
“Just a coincidence,” Dean brushes it off, trying to hide the waver in his voice. “No way he could figure out that was our home. No way in hell.”
“I don’t like it either,” Sam leans against the wall. “But we have to think of something to do about him. He can’t go on like this and we’re going to have to stop him eventually.”
“No,” Dean shakes his head. “He’s just some whack-job and he’ll move on. We’ve dealt with this before, with Michael in New York. They just get tired and move on. He’ll be the same.”
Dean knows he’s lying through his teeth. He recognizes commitment when he sees it and Castiel is brimming with it. He’s in for the long haul and he’s after the Winchesters. Dean knew this when he saw Castiel kill Meg Masters. He saw it in his eyes. This man is here to stay.
He can’t explain why that doesn’t fill him with dread. Instead, Dean’s filled with anticipation. He can’t help but lick his lips wondering when Castiel is going to strike next, who he’s going to kill, where he’ll be. It makes his heart skip a beat.
“Well if you boys need any help with this Angel of Thursday, I’m here,” Bela says lightly. “Unless you’d rather kill me?”
Sam and Dean share a look. It’s a good idea to kill Bela now, get her out of the picture, get their revenge for all the crap she put them through. But as loathe as Dean is to admit it, Bela has a point. Castiel is just getting started. They need all the help they can get to stop him. The message passes between brothers and they look at Bela.
“We’ll stay here for a while,” Dean says slowly, Sam nodding beside him. “But this is your second chance, Bela. Don’t screw it up.”
“And miss out on all the fun?” she smirks.
Dean tries not to punch it off her face.
---
Castiel can still smell the smoke. Still hear the creaking of wood as the fire crackles through the home. The sirens are still echoing in his ears. His skin was tingling with the remnants of heat. The light from the fire lit up the entire neighborhood. The neighbors screamed.
This will bring the Winchesters out. This will certainly bring the boys running to him. Castiel will finally be able to finish his holy work, to kill Sam and Dean and finally rid the world of their evil.
He’s not yet finished. If he truly wants these boys out, he needs to up his game. He needs to prove himself a threat, prove himself something worthy for the boys to hunt. Castiel pulls over on the highway, kneeling in the dirt and raises his voice to heaven.
“Oh Father in Heaven. Tell me where I must go. Show me the way thou hast prepared. Lead me to the sinners, that I may send them to thee for repentance and salvation. Father, give me a sign. Show me the way.”
The wind picks up on the abandoned highway and a flier lands in his lap. Real Estate in Chesterfield, Missouri. Castiel folds it, tucks it in his pocket, and bows his head.
“As thou wilt, so shall it be done. Amen.”
---
Sam and Dean spend a week with Bela. There’s still a lingering sense of bitterness, but they work well together and she can help with Castiel.
“He is very religious,” Bela tells them, pointing at the list of victims. “He kills in sets of threes, and we can assume he prays after each death.”
“You don’t by chance know what he’s saying, do you?” Sam asks.
“He’s praying in Enochian,” Bela explains. Sam and Dean show no reaction and she gives a theatrical sigh, “Enochian is believed to be the language of the angels. I had a professor in New York email me his translation. He thinks it’s the Lord’s Prayer.”
Sam nods with understanding, looking back at the papers, and Dean stands there gobsmacked. The Lord’s Prayer? Dean can’t even remember the last time he read the bible.
“And that would be...?” Dean asks.
“It’s a special prayer,” Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. “A lot of religions use it. It was in the Bible, said by Jesus himself.
“Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.”
“And this Castiel says this prayer after every death?” Dean says, laughter bubbling in his chest. “He’s just like The Boondock Saints! Someone’s gotta tell him it’s already been done.”
“I don’t think he’s doing it to mimic the movie,” Bela says cooly. “Otherwise why would he burn down your house? Think, boys! There’s something bigger going on in his pretty little head.”
He’s certainly got a pretty head, Dean admits to himself. Dark hair and shining eyes. With the scruff and the voice. A shiver makes its way down Dean’s back and he shakes himself mentally. Not the time to ogle.
Sam’s eyes grow wide and he runs his hand through his hair. A soft breath escapes his lips and he sits down. He runs his hand through his hair again. His eyes are distant and he flips through the papers on the table.
“Wanna share with the class?” Dean prompts him.
“It’s us,” Sam says slowly. “Dean, he wants us. He’s trying to outdo us, or bring us from hiding, or something. He’s not trying to mimic anything. Castiel wants... he wants in.”
“No,” Dean shakes his head. “How thick can the guy be? Does he want to play with fire?”
“Sam has a point,” Bela muses. “This is nothing like any other copycat I’ve seen. Castiel wants something from you boys. Perhaps you should find out. Head over to Kansas and see what our Angel of Thursday could possibly want from the greatest killers the nation has ever known.”
---
Castiel pulls his knife across the woman’s throat. This is a mere side trip. He had felt God’s guiding hand, leading him to Newport, Arkansas. This city needed to be cleansed. Missouri could wait a few weeks.
He wipes the blood from the blade and whispers the prayer under his breath, wishing the woman’s soul a speedy journey to the afterlife. He flips her body facing heaven, crosses her arms, and leaves the apartment.
With luck, no one will know he was even here. Castiel steals through the night, wondering if the Winchesters will follow him south. He wonders if they’ve finally taken notice of him. With the smallest of smirks, he laughs. They would be fools not to notice him.
---
With strict orders for Bela to stay where she was and to answer their phone calls, the Winchesters leave Nevada and start the long road to Kansas. Dean comes up with all kinds of lies to convince himself that this Castiel will just leave them alone, that he’s no different from any other copycats they’ve found. But Castiel is different. Something about his eyes, the way they were firm and cold. There was no manic vendetta in his eyes as he killed Meg Masters on camera, no fire of revenge. Just cold calculation. Dean hates to admit he shivers and gets a little turned on by that.
They’re driving some beatdown highway in Utah when the radio blares out a news report.
“Castiel is no longer in Kansas. It’s believed that he is in Arkansas, where another triple-murders has taken place last Thursday. All victims were criminals.”
With a low growl, Dean changes the station.
“Hey there caller, what’s your opinion on Castiel?”
“I think he’s just trying to one-up the Winchesters. He’s just trying to get his ten minutes of fame by killing people he believes are evil.”
“What is wrong with these people?” Dean jams the power button. “He is nothing like us.”
“Yeah, he’s got a reason,” Sam says softly.
“So do we,” Dean’s voice is low. “Just because we don’t let people know doesn’t make him special.”
Sam and Dean refuse to speak of the reason they chose this life, refuse to talk about it. Talking about it makes it real and Dean can’t handle it so they don’t talk. Here comes Castiel, with a reason, a noble reason even, and he’s all America can talk about.
Dean aches for a body to carve. He needs it. It’s only been a couple of weeks and he’s already missing the high, the rush. The only thing that keeps him from stopping the car and shooting up anyone in sight is knowing that one day he’ll find this Castiel.
He’s not sure whether to kill him or kiss him when they meet.
Part VI