[Fic] DCBB - Round Came the Magpie - Part Two
Chapter Two
October 30th, 2005
Castiel had graciously given up the front seat for Sam and they’d been on the road for about an hour. Sam was once again subjected to Dean’s penchant for classic rock turned up way too loud. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like classic rock, it was just that he preferred other music. Maybe it also reminded him a little too much of Dad. Dean was still wearing the jacket even, the old well-worn leather seemed almost too big on the older man but Dean wore it like a second skin. Even with an angel on his shoulder, he still needed his armour.
“So how long have you and Cas been hunting alone?” Sam asked.
“Since just after you left,” Dean shrugged. “I was a little mad at Dad for chasing you off like that so I took Cas and we went. Baby was mine after all, nothing keeping me tied to him anymore. My own wheels, my own angel. Thought Dad was gonna clock me one when I told him.”
“Wow, I’m honestly shocked Dean. Never thought you’d do something like that. But obviously you three are on speaking terms again,” Sam observed.
“Cas and me checked in on you a few months after you started school, saw you were happy and no worse for wear and I was satisfied. You seemed better off so I let it go. Didn’t forgive exactly, but let it go. Dad even apologised and said he wanted to do the same for you but he was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
Sam snorted bitterly, not believing that for a second, at least the part about him. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true, Sam,” Castiel said, leaning forward.
“Maybe,” was all Sam conceded. “So you guys got a place, right?”
Dean shrugged. “Sorta, I guess, we’re still just renting. Little bungalow in Sioux Falls.”
“It’s blue,” Castiel said and he seemed inordinately pleased with that.
“He likes that it’s blue,” Dean said needlessly.
“Yeah, gathered that. Wow, my big brother settled down. Seems really strange, like it doesn’t fit,” Sam mused.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Not really settled down anyway, just a home base. We still hunt, but it’s nice to have something to go back to that’s more than just a seedy motel bed which a thousand strangers have slept in. Lots of hunters have houses. More do than don’t.”
“No, no, I know. Just… it was never our thing and now I guess it seems strange,” Sam shrugged. Suddenly Sam was taken over by a jaw-cracking yawn and he rubbed his itchy eyes.
Smirking a little, Dean turned the radio to a soft rock station and lowered the volume a little. Sam rolled his eyes, but the gentle sounds soon began working their magic, pulling up memories of his childhood, his own special brand of lullaby as he drifted off to sleep in the Impala.
“Get your beauty sleep, Sammy. Jericho is still a few hours out.”
xx
Castiel leaned forward along the back of the seat, playing absently with the short strands of hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean even managed to refrain from telling him to put his seatbelt on. Castiel glanced over at Sam, making sure he was still asleep.
“So, are you going to tell him?” Castiel asked.
“About?”
“Don’t play dumb, Dean Winchester, you’re far from it.”
“No.”
“Dean-”
“I said no, Cas. He doesn’t need to know, all right?”
“But what if-”
Dean locked his stern gaze with Castiel’s frustrated one in the rear-view mirror and said lowly, his voice rough, “No. It has nothing to do with that. Dad’s probably just kicking back with Jack, Jim and José and lost track of time celebrating a successful hunt.”
“Another young man disappeared,” Castiel said, eyes narrowed and angry. “If that was really the ca-”
“Coincidence.”
“Dean Winchester, you’re infuriating.” Castiel slumped back against the bench seat, then seemed to think better of it and in an instant he was gone.
“Dammit,” Dean growled, fighting to keep his voice low. Sam didn’t need to wake up and find himself in the middle of a spousal quarrel after all. Not to mention he would then start asking questions and that’s something Dean had no interest in dealing with right now. He just wanted to find Dad and get back to life as usual. It would never be normal, but it was his and he liked it.
xx
Dean had been driving with only Sam’s lullaby music to keep him company for the last few hours. The California sun had come up quick, warm and yellow maybe a half an hour earlier and Cas still remained a no-show. The shifting of light caused Sam to stir slowly from sleep; he rubbed his eye and looked around. Jericho was only about five miles out now, they’d be there soon.
When Sam looked and saw Castiel wasn’t there, Dean was grateful that he didn’t question it. Sam knew vaguely of Castiel’s abilities but one he knew for sure was the ability of flight. It was how Dean and Cas kept in touch when Dean was growing up. That and Castiel’s head-hopping trick. It wasn’t exactly dream walking, as far as Dean understood it, Castiel was actually in his head when he did it. Those had always been Dean’s favourite ‘dreams,’ especially the one when they fished from the dock on the lake. It took Dean back to his innocence and simple joys.
“There’s no sign of your father at any morgue or hospital,” Castiel spoke up suddenly.
“Jee-sus Christ!” Sam shouted. He jumped so much in his seat that he actually knocked his head on the Impala’s ceiling.
Castiel just stared levelly at the side of Sam’s head.
Dean didn’t react to Castiel’s sudden appearance. Over the years his body had subconsciously started to recognize the signs of approaching angel, or at least Castiel. Dean always figured it was borne of familiarity and prolonged exposure. There was a dryness and a sizzle in the air along with the scent of disrupted ions just before Castiel appeared. It crept and tingled slowly along Dean’s skin, accompanied by the faint-but-audible sound of wings fluttering.
“Well that’s something at least. And don’t you fucking disappear like that without checking in again,” Dean rebuked.
“You can keep trying to tell me what to do, Dean, that doesn’t mean I have to listen. Given the situation, I thought it best I leave for a while. As a result I have further and heartening information.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, everything okay guys?”
Dean said ‘yes’ at the same time that Castiel answered, ‘no.’
“Oookay, not touching that one. So good, Dad’s not hurt or worse. Great.”
Dean didn’t reply but he did slow the Impala down. There was a bridge up ahead that he was staring at closely. “Check it out,” he said.
They saw the flashing lights before they were really close enough to recognize it any other way. There were several police cars up ahead and as they crawled closer, they saw there were also several uniform-clad investigators.
Dean stopped the Impala and put it in park several feet away from the bridge. He leaned across Sam’s lap and dug through the glove compartment, pulling out two leather wallets and flicking them both open. He tossed one back at Castiel without looking and the angel caught it easily. Dean tucked the other in his inside left pocket. Sam only caught a flash of gold before the leather had been snapped shut but he’d bet cold money that they were forged badges.
“Really, Dean?” the youngest remarked exasperatedly.
“Shut it, Sammy and stay here.”
“What?” Sam demanded. “Why?”
“Frankly Kid, you look too young to be a Marshal and besides, aren’t forged badges a little too far beyond your sacred moral code?” Dean replied.
“Dammit, Dean. You drag me along and now you won’t even let me help? That’s a shit-move, Man,” Sam crossed his arms across his chest.
“Sam,” Castiel tried.
“You two dragged me here. You guys said you needed me. Or have we forgotten that already?”
“Sam, don’t be a brat,” Dean glared.
“Dean,” Castiel said cajolingly, “we’re wasting time, just let him come.”
Dean looked like he was about to protest on principle alone and he was still pretty ticked-off at his spouse, but he managed to snap his mouth shut and grit out, “Fine, but hang back and let Cas ‘n’ me do the talking.”
Sam got out of the car before making any promises, which resulted in Dean and Castiel having to hurry after him to meet up and beat Sam’s long, determined strides. Dean and Castiel managed to get in front of their younger brother just as they reached hailing distance.
As they approached they overheard two of the officers discussing that their latest alleged victim was dating what seemed to be the one deputy’s daughter. Dean filed the information away for later and shared a look with Castiel. Sam looked around them for a hint or a clue.
“You fellas had another one like this just last week,” Dean raised his voice a little so it would carry across to the officers.
The one turned; he seemed to be the lead in the investigation. “You are?”
“Federal Marshals,” Dean and Castiel flash their badges. Castiel’s was looked over with only a passing glance but ‘Jaffe’ (Dean saw on his nametag), lingered a little longer on Dean’s, staring at the younger man critically, then raised his brows to his hairline when he saw Sam.
“And the kid?” Jaffe asked, nodding at Sam.
“Work Study,” Dean replied quickly. “So, Deputy, what do we have? Not the first case you’ve had like this recently.”
“No, there was another one about a mile up the road and more before that.”
“Did I hear correctly, Sir? You knew the victim?” Castiel spoke up.
Jaffe shrugged a little, just a bare movement of his shoulder and he looked away. “Small town like this, everyone knows everyone. Just how it goes. Never came across a vic or a perp I didn’t know socially. Unless, of course, they’re outsiders like you.”
“So is there a connection then?” Dean asked.
“Nothing that stands out, no,” Jaffe shook his head.
“Do you have any theories so far?” Castiel questioned after that.
“Hell if I know, Marshals. Don’t see much of this, really. Other cases were before my time. Serial murder, kidnapping ring?”
Dean grinned widely. “Well that’s just the kind of crack police work I’d expect from you boys.” Dean grunted and was jostled slightly. The deputy looked none-too-pleased.
Castiel stepped forward quickly. “Thank you very much for speaking with us, Deputy Jaffe.”
Castiel steered both Winchesters away and glared silently at their backs. When they were a far enough out, Dean reached up and smacked Sam on the back of the head.
“Ow, dammit, Dean! What was that for?”
“Why’d you have to kick my ankle?” Dean retorted.
“Why’d you have to talk to police like that?”
“Children! The natives are getting restless. Stop it. Right now,” Castiel cut their bickering short.
“Bite me, Cas,” Dean snarled.
“What the heck is up with you two?” Sam wanted to know.
“Nothing!” Castiel and Dean snapped back in unison.
“Whatever,” Sam muttered.
“Good,” Dean sniped. “Can we go?”
They walked in tense silence back to the car, three doors slamming in succession. It was never comfortable when everyone in a confined space was angry at each other in some way. Sam wanted to say something to Dean and Castiel about their apparent spat but he wasn’t sure if his lack of presence in Dean’s life as of late left those rights revoked.
Castiel wanted to talk to Dean civilly about their disagreement but he knew that even to attempt it right now was a lost cause. Dean didn’t like to talk under the best of circumstances. It wasn’t as if Castiel was terribly chatty, but he never liked bitterness between them. There was too much at risk.
Dean on the other hand was ready to do bodily harm if anyone opened their mouth about anything. He was not in the mood for this shit, at all. He just wanted to go find a motel and maybe grab a beer or two - alone.
Sam had other plans. “We should probably go find Amy.”
“Who’s Amy?” Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “The Deputy’s daughter. He was talking about her as we were walking up. She was dating the missing kid, Troy. Amy might have more to say. She seemed to be the last one who spoke with him. We could get more info on what’s going on.”
“Dammit, you’re right,” Dean sighed.
“That really isn’t necessary,” Castiel interjected.
“Oh and why’s that, Fly-boy?”
“I told you already, the case here is a Weeping Woman, or a Woman in White. Checking the country records would serve us better than bothering a young girl who probably knows nothing and is potentially grieving,” Castiel spoke with the hardness of forced civility. He really just wanted to shout at Dean and knock some sense in to him somehow. Sam needed to know the situation. There were no two ways around it.
“Due diligence,” Dean shot back. “We’re gonna find that Amy chick.”
“A waste of time,” Castiel retorted. “You can go without me.” Castiel patted down his pockets and then he was gone.
“Dammit, Cas!” Dean shouted.
Sam winced at the loud noise in the confined space. “Where… ah…” Sam began hesitantly, “where do you think he’s going?”
“I don’t fucking care,” Dean replied, turning into town. Despite those words though, Sam saw Dean’s thumb come up to play with the white gold band on his left-hand ring finger, a sure sign he was more upset than he was letting on. Dean only fidgeted with his wedding band when something to do with Castiel was bothering him.
xx
Dean was pissed and that was an understatement. He was filthy, tired and smelled like a toilet. The damned ghost had hijacked his car and drove him into the drink when they went to check out the bridge the article at the library had told them about. By the looks of things it seemed more and more likely that the case involved what Castiel had said originally. Which meant Dean would have to admit to being wrong and which also meant that he had no reason to be filthy, tired and to smell like a toilet, because if he had listened to Castiel in the first place the angel would be by his side in bed right now and they wouldn’t have pulled an all-nighter ‘discovering’ everything Castiel already knew, apparently. Perhaps Dean had been hesitant to believe Castiel because he found it difficult to reconcile the fact that his father would have been tripped up by a little ghost hunt.
On top of everything, Castiel still hadn’t shown and Dean was starting to worry. He knew it was kind of ridiculous to worry about an angel, but he couldn’t help it. It was hardwired into Dean’s DNA to be anxious about the people he loved.
Dean pulled up to the first motel they came across and bemoaned the mess his impromptu swim had made of the Impala’s interior. The threadbare towel he had been sitting on helped a bit, but he’d still have to detail the entire thing when he had a minute, just on principle.
Sam and Dean entered the motel and Dean had to give the guy behind the desk credit for not even blinking an eye at Dean’s state. The green-eyed man dropped his forged credit card on the desk and waited.
“You guys here for a reunion or something?” the clerk asked.
“Why do you ask?” Sam wondered.
“’Nother Aframian. Burt, I think. Came in and bought out a room for the entire month,” the clerk explained.
Dean met Sam’s gaze head on and pulled out his phone.
xx
Dean and Sam had only been poking around John’s room for a few moments, shifting through tacked-up articles and assorted items when the tingling along Dean’s spine, the scent of ozone and the telltale flutter of wings alerted Dean to Castiel’s presence.
“John-”
“Shit!” Sam shouted, spinning around to glare at the angel.
Castiel continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “Hasn’t been here for four days and I found no traces of him in town any longer. However, as you can see,” Castiel gestured to John’s research diorama, “I was right.”
To see the affirmation of Dean’s earlier suspicions in black and white on the wall did nothing for Dean’s anger. He just gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly.
“After all this time, Dean, I fail to understand how you continue to fault my word at every turn but believe your father at the drop of a hat. Regardless, Constance Welch. Yes, her husband did have an affair, he confirmed it in not so many words when I spoke to him earlier this morning. However, Mrs. Welch was cremated. That leaves the only logical conclusion being that there is a scrap of DNA that is probably now impossible to find, or that there is something else tying Constance Welch to this plane. I suspect she killed her children in a fit of grief over her husband breaking his marriage vows, though I don’t have confirmation on that as of yet. The spirit of Mrs. Welch won’t approach me. I don’t think you can term me unfaithful by any means. My being an angel might also dissuade her from appearing.”
“Well don’t look at me, Dude,” Dean put up his hands. “Never been with another person in my life. Kind of don’t have much opportunity when you meet your future spouse at thirteen. Sammy?”
Sam furrowed his brow and turned down his mouth for a second. “Well I can’t imagine cheating on Jess, but I have more, ah… partners under my belt than either of you so I may be the best bet. Not to mention the entire not gay thing I got going on.”
Dean rolled his eyes at that one. Sure, he didn’t really know if he was gay or not. The exploration and experimental phase was kind of bypassed for him. All he knew was that he was in love with Castiel and Castiel was in love with him. Castiel wasn’t even technically a dude, but there was no point in arguing semantics with his brother. He just thought he was Cas-sexual and Cas was Dean-sexual. Simple as that.
Dean scratched absently at his nose and then wrinkled it. He was still gross and needed to remedy that yesterday. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He briefly considered heading to his and Castiel’s room but shrugged and headed to the bathroom here instead. When he opened the door, Sam’s voice made him pause.
“What’s that?” the youngest asked.
Dean turned to the just-revealed back of the bathroom door where there was a remnant of a sooty, circular mark. Dean swallowed and, eyes wide with panic, looked at Cas. Castiel’s face turned grim and he met Dean’s gaze.
Dean swallowed again, flicking his eyes over to and then passed Sam. “Ah, dunno… Protection sigil maybe.”
“Dean,” Castiel warned.
“I need to get cleaned up, Cas,” Dean said quietly. He was too worried about this new revelation to be angry any longer.
January 25th, 1992
The morning after Dean’s strange little incident, he poked his head around the front door and squinted into the bright sunlight. It was slightly cool, but not unbearable. Dad had decided to take on a few hunts in the more Southerly locals of the United States. Dean stepped out onto still-green grass as he buttoned up his light flannel jacket and peered around the cabin. There was no telltale signs of what happened the previous night and the boy was about to pass it off as just a crazy dream. Just to check though, he went to the edge of the wood thirty feet from the house and gaped at what he saw.
It wasn’t just one toppled log, it looked like a bomb site. There were fallen trees and detritus in a wide circle. The grass was deadened and scorched. The log he had sat upon the previous night was now little more than woodchips and Dean wondered how it got that way because he could have sworn it was whole and intact when it was slowly crushing his legs last night.
Dean shook his head and began slowly backing away from the apparent battle field, only to shriek and flail wildly when he ran into something warm and solid. Dean looked up into the gentle face of the boy from last night. Not a dream then.
“Good morning, Dean,” he greeted.
Dean was prepared this time. He splashed holy water in the boy’s face and while he sputtered through his surprise, Dean slashed out with a silver knife, followed quickly by an iron one for good measure. The handful of salt was probably overkill but it was worth it to see the look on the teenager’s face at the end of it.
Dean couldn’t help a light giggle that escaped his throat, but if asked later he would say it was a manly chuckle.
“Are you satisfied?” his rescuer asked archly.
“Well if you are a monster, it’s nothing I’ve heard of,” Dean finally admitted. “Hey!” He saw the once again pristine arms of the young man’s shirt, now completely void of blood or rips. “What the hell?”
Castiel, (that’s what the other boy had called himself last night, Dean recalled) sighed heavily at that and held out his arm. “Do it again, I’ll show you.”
Dean couldn’t help the look of disbelief he flashed Castiel, but shrugged and cut his arm again. The line of bright crimson dribbled out quickly after that, apparently staining through the damaged shirt in a small pool when suddenly, in the span of little more than a breath, both wound and cloth knitted themselves together and Dean’s rescuer was once again pristine.
Dean licked his lips and met the blue eyes of the boy across from him before dancing his gaze away. “You… ah… you said you were an angel. P… prove it. ‘Cause no matter what Mom told me before she tucked me in at night, I think there’s no such thing. You’re just the same thing but ah… but bigger!”
Castiel seemed to expect that and nodded, resigned. He walked around Dean until his back was facing what was left of the treeline. Dean shifted with the movement. The young man looked around and flexed his shoulders slightly, glancing briefly up at the sky before he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.
Gradually, the sky began to darken and the wind picked up, rustling what was left of the leaves on the trees around them. Dean felt a chill bite into his skin and he crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself. Suddenly there was a low, rumble of thunder which Dean felt in the soles of his feet. He gasped when that thunder was followed by quick flashes of lightning and then stumbled back and away when he saw great, arching shadows painted across the bare branches of the still-standing trees that circled their cabin. Wings. It was the shadow of wings.
Just as soon as the lightning and thunder appeared it cleared away again, returning the cheery sun to its position of honour in the sky and warming their clearing almost immediately.
“You’re an angel,” Dean whispered, unable to hide the awe from his voice. “But why are you here?”
“To help,” Castiel replied simply.
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October 30th, 2005
Castiel had graciously given up the front seat for Sam and they’d been on the road for about an hour. Sam was once again subjected to Dean’s penchant for classic rock turned up way too loud. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like classic rock, it was just that he preferred other music. Maybe it also reminded him a little too much of Dad. Dean was still wearing the jacket even, the old well-worn leather seemed almost too big on the older man but Dean wore it like a second skin. Even with an angel on his shoulder, he still needed his armour.
“So how long have you and Cas been hunting alone?” Sam asked.
“Since just after you left,” Dean shrugged. “I was a little mad at Dad for chasing you off like that so I took Cas and we went. Baby was mine after all, nothing keeping me tied to him anymore. My own wheels, my own angel. Thought Dad was gonna clock me one when I told him.”
“Wow, I’m honestly shocked Dean. Never thought you’d do something like that. But obviously you three are on speaking terms again,” Sam observed.
“Cas and me checked in on you a few months after you started school, saw you were happy and no worse for wear and I was satisfied. You seemed better off so I let it go. Didn’t forgive exactly, but let it go. Dad even apologised and said he wanted to do the same for you but he was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
Sam snorted bitterly, not believing that for a second, at least the part about him. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true, Sam,” Castiel said, leaning forward.
“Maybe,” was all Sam conceded. “So you guys got a place, right?”
Dean shrugged. “Sorta, I guess, we’re still just renting. Little bungalow in Sioux Falls.”
“It’s blue,” Castiel said and he seemed inordinately pleased with that.
“He likes that it’s blue,” Dean said needlessly.
“Yeah, gathered that. Wow, my big brother settled down. Seems really strange, like it doesn’t fit,” Sam mused.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Not really settled down anyway, just a home base. We still hunt, but it’s nice to have something to go back to that’s more than just a seedy motel bed which a thousand strangers have slept in. Lots of hunters have houses. More do than don’t.”
“No, no, I know. Just… it was never our thing and now I guess it seems strange,” Sam shrugged. Suddenly Sam was taken over by a jaw-cracking yawn and he rubbed his itchy eyes.
Smirking a little, Dean turned the radio to a soft rock station and lowered the volume a little. Sam rolled his eyes, but the gentle sounds soon began working their magic, pulling up memories of his childhood, his own special brand of lullaby as he drifted off to sleep in the Impala.
“Get your beauty sleep, Sammy. Jericho is still a few hours out.”
xx
Castiel leaned forward along the back of the seat, playing absently with the short strands of hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean even managed to refrain from telling him to put his seatbelt on. Castiel glanced over at Sam, making sure he was still asleep.
“So, are you going to tell him?” Castiel asked.
“About?”
“Don’t play dumb, Dean Winchester, you’re far from it.”
“No.”
“Dean-”
“I said no, Cas. He doesn’t need to know, all right?”
“But what if-”
Dean locked his stern gaze with Castiel’s frustrated one in the rear-view mirror and said lowly, his voice rough, “No. It has nothing to do with that. Dad’s probably just kicking back with Jack, Jim and José and lost track of time celebrating a successful hunt.”
“Another young man disappeared,” Castiel said, eyes narrowed and angry. “If that was really the ca-”
“Coincidence.”
“Dean Winchester, you’re infuriating.” Castiel slumped back against the bench seat, then seemed to think better of it and in an instant he was gone.
“Dammit,” Dean growled, fighting to keep his voice low. Sam didn’t need to wake up and find himself in the middle of a spousal quarrel after all. Not to mention he would then start asking questions and that’s something Dean had no interest in dealing with right now. He just wanted to find Dad and get back to life as usual. It would never be normal, but it was his and he liked it.
xx
Dean had been driving with only Sam’s lullaby music to keep him company for the last few hours. The California sun had come up quick, warm and yellow maybe a half an hour earlier and Cas still remained a no-show. The shifting of light caused Sam to stir slowly from sleep; he rubbed his eye and looked around. Jericho was only about five miles out now, they’d be there soon.
When Sam looked and saw Castiel wasn’t there, Dean was grateful that he didn’t question it. Sam knew vaguely of Castiel’s abilities but one he knew for sure was the ability of flight. It was how Dean and Cas kept in touch when Dean was growing up. That and Castiel’s head-hopping trick. It wasn’t exactly dream walking, as far as Dean understood it, Castiel was actually in his head when he did it. Those had always been Dean’s favourite ‘dreams,’ especially the one when they fished from the dock on the lake. It took Dean back to his innocence and simple joys.
“There’s no sign of your father at any morgue or hospital,” Castiel spoke up suddenly.
“Jee-sus Christ!” Sam shouted. He jumped so much in his seat that he actually knocked his head on the Impala’s ceiling.
Castiel just stared levelly at the side of Sam’s head.
Dean didn’t react to Castiel’s sudden appearance. Over the years his body had subconsciously started to recognize the signs of approaching angel, or at least Castiel. Dean always figured it was borne of familiarity and prolonged exposure. There was a dryness and a sizzle in the air along with the scent of disrupted ions just before Castiel appeared. It crept and tingled slowly along Dean’s skin, accompanied by the faint-but-audible sound of wings fluttering.
“Well that’s something at least. And don’t you fucking disappear like that without checking in again,” Dean rebuked.
“You can keep trying to tell me what to do, Dean, that doesn’t mean I have to listen. Given the situation, I thought it best I leave for a while. As a result I have further and heartening information.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, everything okay guys?”
Dean said ‘yes’ at the same time that Castiel answered, ‘no.’
“Oookay, not touching that one. So good, Dad’s not hurt or worse. Great.”
Dean didn’t reply but he did slow the Impala down. There was a bridge up ahead that he was staring at closely. “Check it out,” he said.
They saw the flashing lights before they were really close enough to recognize it any other way. There were several police cars up ahead and as they crawled closer, they saw there were also several uniform-clad investigators.
Dean stopped the Impala and put it in park several feet away from the bridge. He leaned across Sam’s lap and dug through the glove compartment, pulling out two leather wallets and flicking them both open. He tossed one back at Castiel without looking and the angel caught it easily. Dean tucked the other in his inside left pocket. Sam only caught a flash of gold before the leather had been snapped shut but he’d bet cold money that they were forged badges.
“Really, Dean?” the youngest remarked exasperatedly.
“Shut it, Sammy and stay here.”
“What?” Sam demanded. “Why?”
“Frankly Kid, you look too young to be a Marshal and besides, aren’t forged badges a little too far beyond your sacred moral code?” Dean replied.
“Dammit, Dean. You drag me along and now you won’t even let me help? That’s a shit-move, Man,” Sam crossed his arms across his chest.
“Sam,” Castiel tried.
“You two dragged me here. You guys said you needed me. Or have we forgotten that already?”
“Sam, don’t be a brat,” Dean glared.
“Dean,” Castiel said cajolingly, “we’re wasting time, just let him come.”
Dean looked like he was about to protest on principle alone and he was still pretty ticked-off at his spouse, but he managed to snap his mouth shut and grit out, “Fine, but hang back and let Cas ‘n’ me do the talking.”
Sam got out of the car before making any promises, which resulted in Dean and Castiel having to hurry after him to meet up and beat Sam’s long, determined strides. Dean and Castiel managed to get in front of their younger brother just as they reached hailing distance.
As they approached they overheard two of the officers discussing that their latest alleged victim was dating what seemed to be the one deputy’s daughter. Dean filed the information away for later and shared a look with Castiel. Sam looked around them for a hint or a clue.
“You fellas had another one like this just last week,” Dean raised his voice a little so it would carry across to the officers.
The one turned; he seemed to be the lead in the investigation. “You are?”
“Federal Marshals,” Dean and Castiel flash their badges. Castiel’s was looked over with only a passing glance but ‘Jaffe’ (Dean saw on his nametag), lingered a little longer on Dean’s, staring at the younger man critically, then raised his brows to his hairline when he saw Sam.
“And the kid?” Jaffe asked, nodding at Sam.
“Work Study,” Dean replied quickly. “So, Deputy, what do we have? Not the first case you’ve had like this recently.”
“No, there was another one about a mile up the road and more before that.”
“Did I hear correctly, Sir? You knew the victim?” Castiel spoke up.
Jaffe shrugged a little, just a bare movement of his shoulder and he looked away. “Small town like this, everyone knows everyone. Just how it goes. Never came across a vic or a perp I didn’t know socially. Unless, of course, they’re outsiders like you.”
“So is there a connection then?” Dean asked.
“Nothing that stands out, no,” Jaffe shook his head.
“Do you have any theories so far?” Castiel questioned after that.
“Hell if I know, Marshals. Don’t see much of this, really. Other cases were before my time. Serial murder, kidnapping ring?”
Dean grinned widely. “Well that’s just the kind of crack police work I’d expect from you boys.” Dean grunted and was jostled slightly. The deputy looked none-too-pleased.
Castiel stepped forward quickly. “Thank you very much for speaking with us, Deputy Jaffe.”
Castiel steered both Winchesters away and glared silently at their backs. When they were a far enough out, Dean reached up and smacked Sam on the back of the head.
“Ow, dammit, Dean! What was that for?”
“Why’d you have to kick my ankle?” Dean retorted.
“Why’d you have to talk to police like that?”
“Children! The natives are getting restless. Stop it. Right now,” Castiel cut their bickering short.
“Bite me, Cas,” Dean snarled.
“What the heck is up with you two?” Sam wanted to know.
“Nothing!” Castiel and Dean snapped back in unison.
“Whatever,” Sam muttered.
“Good,” Dean sniped. “Can we go?”
They walked in tense silence back to the car, three doors slamming in succession. It was never comfortable when everyone in a confined space was angry at each other in some way. Sam wanted to say something to Dean and Castiel about their apparent spat but he wasn’t sure if his lack of presence in Dean’s life as of late left those rights revoked.
Castiel wanted to talk to Dean civilly about their disagreement but he knew that even to attempt it right now was a lost cause. Dean didn’t like to talk under the best of circumstances. It wasn’t as if Castiel was terribly chatty, but he never liked bitterness between them. There was too much at risk.
Dean on the other hand was ready to do bodily harm if anyone opened their mouth about anything. He was not in the mood for this shit, at all. He just wanted to go find a motel and maybe grab a beer or two - alone.
Sam had other plans. “We should probably go find Amy.”
“Who’s Amy?” Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “The Deputy’s daughter. He was talking about her as we were walking up. She was dating the missing kid, Troy. Amy might have more to say. She seemed to be the last one who spoke with him. We could get more info on what’s going on.”
“Dammit, you’re right,” Dean sighed.
“That really isn’t necessary,” Castiel interjected.
“Oh and why’s that, Fly-boy?”
“I told you already, the case here is a Weeping Woman, or a Woman in White. Checking the country records would serve us better than bothering a young girl who probably knows nothing and is potentially grieving,” Castiel spoke with the hardness of forced civility. He really just wanted to shout at Dean and knock some sense in to him somehow. Sam needed to know the situation. There were no two ways around it.
“Due diligence,” Dean shot back. “We’re gonna find that Amy chick.”
“A waste of time,” Castiel retorted. “You can go without me.” Castiel patted down his pockets and then he was gone.
“Dammit, Cas!” Dean shouted.
Sam winced at the loud noise in the confined space. “Where… ah…” Sam began hesitantly, “where do you think he’s going?”
“I don’t fucking care,” Dean replied, turning into town. Despite those words though, Sam saw Dean’s thumb come up to play with the white gold band on his left-hand ring finger, a sure sign he was more upset than he was letting on. Dean only fidgeted with his wedding band when something to do with Castiel was bothering him.
xx
Dean was pissed and that was an understatement. He was filthy, tired and smelled like a toilet. The damned ghost had hijacked his car and drove him into the drink when they went to check out the bridge the article at the library had told them about. By the looks of things it seemed more and more likely that the case involved what Castiel had said originally. Which meant Dean would have to admit to being wrong and which also meant that he had no reason to be filthy, tired and to smell like a toilet, because if he had listened to Castiel in the first place the angel would be by his side in bed right now and they wouldn’t have pulled an all-nighter ‘discovering’ everything Castiel already knew, apparently. Perhaps Dean had been hesitant to believe Castiel because he found it difficult to reconcile the fact that his father would have been tripped up by a little ghost hunt.
On top of everything, Castiel still hadn’t shown and Dean was starting to worry. He knew it was kind of ridiculous to worry about an angel, but he couldn’t help it. It was hardwired into Dean’s DNA to be anxious about the people he loved.
Dean pulled up to the first motel they came across and bemoaned the mess his impromptu swim had made of the Impala’s interior. The threadbare towel he had been sitting on helped a bit, but he’d still have to detail the entire thing when he had a minute, just on principle.
Sam and Dean entered the motel and Dean had to give the guy behind the desk credit for not even blinking an eye at Dean’s state. The green-eyed man dropped his forged credit card on the desk and waited.
“You guys here for a reunion or something?” the clerk asked.
“Why do you ask?” Sam wondered.
“’Nother Aframian. Burt, I think. Came in and bought out a room for the entire month,” the clerk explained.
Dean met Sam’s gaze head on and pulled out his phone.
xx
Dean and Sam had only been poking around John’s room for a few moments, shifting through tacked-up articles and assorted items when the tingling along Dean’s spine, the scent of ozone and the telltale flutter of wings alerted Dean to Castiel’s presence.
“John-”
“Shit!” Sam shouted, spinning around to glare at the angel.
Castiel continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “Hasn’t been here for four days and I found no traces of him in town any longer. However, as you can see,” Castiel gestured to John’s research diorama, “I was right.”
To see the affirmation of Dean’s earlier suspicions in black and white on the wall did nothing for Dean’s anger. He just gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly.
“After all this time, Dean, I fail to understand how you continue to fault my word at every turn but believe your father at the drop of a hat. Regardless, Constance Welch. Yes, her husband did have an affair, he confirmed it in not so many words when I spoke to him earlier this morning. However, Mrs. Welch was cremated. That leaves the only logical conclusion being that there is a scrap of DNA that is probably now impossible to find, or that there is something else tying Constance Welch to this plane. I suspect she killed her children in a fit of grief over her husband breaking his marriage vows, though I don’t have confirmation on that as of yet. The spirit of Mrs. Welch won’t approach me. I don’t think you can term me unfaithful by any means. My being an angel might also dissuade her from appearing.”
“Well don’t look at me, Dude,” Dean put up his hands. “Never been with another person in my life. Kind of don’t have much opportunity when you meet your future spouse at thirteen. Sammy?”
Sam furrowed his brow and turned down his mouth for a second. “Well I can’t imagine cheating on Jess, but I have more, ah… partners under my belt than either of you so I may be the best bet. Not to mention the entire not gay thing I got going on.”
Dean rolled his eyes at that one. Sure, he didn’t really know if he was gay or not. The exploration and experimental phase was kind of bypassed for him. All he knew was that he was in love with Castiel and Castiel was in love with him. Castiel wasn’t even technically a dude, but there was no point in arguing semantics with his brother. He just thought he was Cas-sexual and Cas was Dean-sexual. Simple as that.
Dean scratched absently at his nose and then wrinkled it. He was still gross and needed to remedy that yesterday. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He briefly considered heading to his and Castiel’s room but shrugged and headed to the bathroom here instead. When he opened the door, Sam’s voice made him pause.
“What’s that?” the youngest asked.
Dean turned to the just-revealed back of the bathroom door where there was a remnant of a sooty, circular mark. Dean swallowed and, eyes wide with panic, looked at Cas. Castiel’s face turned grim and he met Dean’s gaze.
Dean swallowed again, flicking his eyes over to and then passed Sam. “Ah, dunno… Protection sigil maybe.”
“Dean,” Castiel warned.
“I need to get cleaned up, Cas,” Dean said quietly. He was too worried about this new revelation to be angry any longer.
January 25th, 1992
The morning after Dean’s strange little incident, he poked his head around the front door and squinted into the bright sunlight. It was slightly cool, but not unbearable. Dad had decided to take on a few hunts in the more Southerly locals of the United States. Dean stepped out onto still-green grass as he buttoned up his light flannel jacket and peered around the cabin. There was no telltale signs of what happened the previous night and the boy was about to pass it off as just a crazy dream. Just to check though, he went to the edge of the wood thirty feet from the house and gaped at what he saw.
It wasn’t just one toppled log, it looked like a bomb site. There were fallen trees and detritus in a wide circle. The grass was deadened and scorched. The log he had sat upon the previous night was now little more than woodchips and Dean wondered how it got that way because he could have sworn it was whole and intact when it was slowly crushing his legs last night.
Dean shook his head and began slowly backing away from the apparent battle field, only to shriek and flail wildly when he ran into something warm and solid. Dean looked up into the gentle face of the boy from last night. Not a dream then.
“Good morning, Dean,” he greeted.
Dean was prepared this time. He splashed holy water in the boy’s face and while he sputtered through his surprise, Dean slashed out with a silver knife, followed quickly by an iron one for good measure. The handful of salt was probably overkill but it was worth it to see the look on the teenager’s face at the end of it.
Dean couldn’t help a light giggle that escaped his throat, but if asked later he would say it was a manly chuckle.
“Are you satisfied?” his rescuer asked archly.
“Well if you are a monster, it’s nothing I’ve heard of,” Dean finally admitted. “Hey!” He saw the once again pristine arms of the young man’s shirt, now completely void of blood or rips. “What the hell?”
Castiel, (that’s what the other boy had called himself last night, Dean recalled) sighed heavily at that and held out his arm. “Do it again, I’ll show you.”
Dean couldn’t help the look of disbelief he flashed Castiel, but shrugged and cut his arm again. The line of bright crimson dribbled out quickly after that, apparently staining through the damaged shirt in a small pool when suddenly, in the span of little more than a breath, both wound and cloth knitted themselves together and Dean’s rescuer was once again pristine.
Dean licked his lips and met the blue eyes of the boy across from him before dancing his gaze away. “You… ah… you said you were an angel. P… prove it. ‘Cause no matter what Mom told me before she tucked me in at night, I think there’s no such thing. You’re just the same thing but ah… but bigger!”
Castiel seemed to expect that and nodded, resigned. He walked around Dean until his back was facing what was left of the treeline. Dean shifted with the movement. The young man looked around and flexed his shoulders slightly, glancing briefly up at the sky before he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.
Gradually, the sky began to darken and the wind picked up, rustling what was left of the leaves on the trees around them. Dean felt a chill bite into his skin and he crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself. Suddenly there was a low, rumble of thunder which Dean felt in the soles of his feet. He gasped when that thunder was followed by quick flashes of lightning and then stumbled back and away when he saw great, arching shadows painted across the bare branches of the still-standing trees that circled their cabin. Wings. It was the shadow of wings.
Just as soon as the lightning and thunder appeared it cleared away again, returning the cheery sun to its position of honour in the sky and warming their clearing almost immediately.
“You’re an angel,” Dean whispered, unable to hide the awe from his voice. “But why are you here?”
“To help,” Castiel replied simply.
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