[Fic] DCBB - Round Came the Magpie - Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
April 15, 1995
John Winchester wrenched the Impala’s wheel roughly to the right as he slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed and Dean flinched, convulsively grasping at the door handle. He met Sam’s startled gaze in the rear-view mirror and tried to smile at his brother reassuringly. He figured it only had to be a matter of time. Castiel wasn’t exactly being subtle. Dean heard the blue ’87 Civic squeal to an abrupt halt behind them, narrowly missing T-boning the Impala. On Dean’s side too.
Dean gulped as he watched Castiel coolly step out of the driver’s side, one hand resting on the open door, the metal acting like a make-shift shield between him and the angry Winchester patriarch. John couldn’t hurt Cas, but he could damn well try.
“What the hell are you and why the hell are you following my family?” John growled.
“I’m following Dean,” Castiel replied.
Dean rolled his eyes. Real great Cas. Awesome.
John came forward when he heard those words and grabbed the front of Castiel’s shirt, slamming him back against the side of the tiny two door import.
“Dean! Aren’t you gonna do something? Dad has a knife to your boyfriend’s throat!” Sam leaned forward in his seat, his voice panicked.
“He can stab him all he likes, Sam, might just manage to slow him down. But ah… I probably should explain… Or try anyway.”
Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder and gave a sober, “Good luck.”
Dean rolled his eyes again and stepped out of the car. He ran forward and stepped between the two men, noticing absently that he was almost the same height as Cas now.
“Dad! Dad! Calm down. I know him,” Dean interceded.
“You know this asshole?” John switched his glare to his son.
“Yeah, Dad, pretty well,” Dean flushed.
“How well?” John asked suspiciously, his grip loosening.
“Biblically,” Castiel quipped cheekily.
That really didn’t help. Castiel’s newfound sense of humour was awesome and under normal circumstances Dean encouraged it whole-heartedly, but there was a time and a place. Then again, the same constraints didn’t really apply to a celestial being who knew no fear of man.
John slammed Castiel against the car again, face livid. He pulled back a fist to slam into Castiel’s face but Dean managed to grab his father’s arm and stop the assault just before John could break his hand on Castiel’s jaw.
“Dad! You do not want to do that!” Dean stressed. “Believe me.”
“You’re telling me this pervert defiled my boy and I ain’t gonna punch him in the face?” John scowled.
“Okay, first off, there was no defiling,” Dean reassured. “And Cas isn’t a pervert! I basically had to throw myself at him to even get a damn kiss. The rest came later. Look, Dad, there’s something I kind of need to tell you but can we go somewhere that isn’t the side of the road to do it?”
John’s gaze flicked over to Dean then back to Castiel; he still hadn’t released the angel, who took everything placidly with a faintly amused smile.
John very hesitantly released Castiel and took a small step away. “Get in the car, Dean.”
“The motel is a few miles from here. We’ll meet you and Sam,” Dean replied.
“What?!”
“I’ll ride with Cas. We’ll meet you at the motel,” Dean repeated.
“Get in the damned car, Boy!” John shouted.
Dean scooted around Castiel and the back of the Civic and slid neatly into the passenger side of Jimmy’s car. Castiel stared at John challengingly.
“Dean!” John shouted. “Get the fuck out right now, or so help me-”
“I assure you, John Winchester, no harm will come to your son while he’s with me. In fact at my side is the safest for him. You’ll understand better when we have a chance to explain. I’ll follow behind.”
Their face-off was silent and tense for several seconds. Dean heard his heart palpitating in his chest as he watched both men glare at each other. John was more imposing physically while Castiel radiated his own quiet force, a hint of danger underpinning his entire frame. John must have picked up on it as well, along with Castiel’s steely resolve because he backed down and returned to the Impala.
Dean knew he would get it later for his defiance but being in the car next to Cas made it all worth it.
January 24th, 2006
Dean opened his eyes and smiled. He was in his bed at their house and Castiel had just entered, landing lightly at his side. He woke Dean with a gentle brush against his cheek and a chaste kiss.
“Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary,” Castiel greeted.
“Fourteen years,” Dean mused.
“Fourteen years,” Castiel repeated. “Before we progress, I just wanted you to know first: I am perfectly well,” Castiel pulled back his trench coat to demonstrate. Dean brushed the spot where the wound had been to verify it for himself.
Castiel continued, “And second: your friend Layla is healed. She will live a long, fulfilled life doing God’s work and never forget the miracle that touched her. She is a kind soul and a good spirit and it was never in My Father’s plans for her to die.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean whispered. “She’s a good person. I’m glad she’s going to be fine.”
“I also need to have a chat with your brother about faith healers,” Castiel remarked sternly. “True faith healers only act as the agents of angels and only when they are in line for Sainthood. It’s a favoured method to fulfill the miracle requirement.”
“He feels like shit, Dude. I think he gets it.”
“Then I have to speak to him about trusting me to never let anything happen to you,” Castiel sighed.
Dean let the quiet hang before he briskly clapped his hands. “Are we really gonna talk about faith healers and Sam or are we going to do something about the fact that I’m healthy, you’re healthy, we’re in our house, in our room with a very locked door and it’s,” Dean squinted at the clock, “5:34 am on my twenty-seventh birthday?”
Castiel smiled and leaned forward, hovering just before his lips touched Dean’s. “What do you propose we do about this fortuitous situation?”
Dean chose not to answer verbally, he pulled Castiel on top of him and proceeded to kiss his husband senseless.
xx
Dean rolled over and sat up slightly; he took a quick sniff of the air and then rose an eyebrow at Castiel. Castiel rolled onto his back languidly and pulled himself up slowly. He cocked his head to the side, staring at their closed bedroom door.
“Is that… bacon?” Dean asked timidly.
“I think so,” Castiel replied seriously.
“Awesome. Sammy is the best little brother ever. Kid totally remembered my birthday.”
Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think he ever wouldn’t remember, Dean. Even when you two weren’t really talking, he sent you a card.”
“Whatever. Bacon.” Dean scrambled into the closest available clothes - which turned out to be well-loved jeans and one of Castiel’s white button downs - before he scrambled out of the bedroom still unbuttoned. Castiel followed more sedately, pulling on Dean’s discarded pyjamas. Though Dean’s eagerness and excitement did put a smile on the angel’s face.
When he rounded the corner leading to the kitchen he heard the tail-end of Sam’s words to Dean, “Oh man, that’s a part of you I never wanted to see.”
“Shut up. I smelled bacon.”
Castiel heard the accompanying sound of a zipper with Dean’s words.
“Happy Birthday, you jerk,” Sam said, setting down the plate of pancakes and bacon in front of his brother. Dean then proceeded to drown the entire thing in syrup.
“Want some, Cas?” Sam offered.
Castiel grimaced slightly. “I think watching Dean’s treatment of the meal has somewhat diminished my desire.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his mouth full as he masticated his breakfast zealously.
“Nothing. I’ll make some coffee,” Castiel replied with a smile. Sam sat down with his own plate. The younger Winchester knew better than to attempt to make coffee. It was one of the few things Sam completely lacked skill in. Not to mention that Dean’s tendency to enjoy it at the consistency of motor oil and the strength of paint thinner made the brew a little impossible to imitate for normal humans.
“This is great, Sammy, thanks!”
August 2001
After some persuading and a lot of effort, Castiel had been integrated as part of their little family. It had been a few years now since he started travelling with them and he had proven to be useful time and time again. He had even cultivated a near-camaraderie with John. The two had bonded not only over being the eldest members of their small unit, but also over the fact that they were both soldiers.
Castiel’s knowledge had quickly become undeniably useful and it was through Castiel that the Winchesters had finally earned their revenge for their mother’s death. John - for that (if nothing else) - would forever be grateful.
So John had finally accepted Castiel. Sam had done so since the beginning and had long-viewed Castiel as an additional older brother, even referring to him as such. John had even come so far as to not even baulk at the idea of his oldest son being intimately involved and romantically committed to the preternatural being. Dean would always be protected at least.
All these factors cumulating made Dean come up with a kind of ludicrous notion, but perhaps not so crazy as that. Dean had been closely following the news lately and saw an interesting development come out of Canada. He had been with Castiel for ten years now, intimately for seven. He didn’t see Castiel going anywhere, nor had he any desire to dip his toes in another pool. That same development from Canada provided a way to make that stick - at least barring divorce.
Dean bit his lip and wondered if he really could take that plunge, if he really could commit himself forever to Castiel; with Castiel, forever was literally eternity. For the first time though, Dean Winchester had absolutely no misgivings, no twinge in his gut, no erratic thump to his heart. All he felt was a calm resolve and an excited flutter. Dean grinned.
“Hey Cas?” Dean called.
The angel looked up from where he was reading at the small living space in their motel room. “Yes, Dean?”
“I have kind of a wild idea…”
“Oh?”
“Call me crazy, but…”
xx
“You’re what?!” John Winchester roared like Dean hadn’t seen him roar in years. His face was a brilliant red - the shade any healthy tomato would be jealous of - and Dean could detect a small tremor in John’s shoulders as he tried to contain all that anger and shock into a condensed and singular place. John knew if he tried to lash out even peripherally, Castiel would stop him before he could take his next breath.
“I mean it’s the most logical step, Dad,” Dean tried. “If it’s legal, why not take advantage of it?”
“And you’re on board with this?” John turned his penetrating gaze on the angel in the room, the question coming out more as an accusation.
“It’s what Dean wants, John. I’m perfectly content to go on living as we are but if Dean wants to take advantage of same-sex unions being legalized, then so be it. I can’t think of any reasons not to do it,” Castiel replied easily.
“You’re too young,” John said, his tone indicating it was the end of discussion.
Dean snorted and glared at his father. “Asking was only a formality, you know. I’m doing it anyway.”
“I’ve already had one son abandon me, you want to too?” John flipped tactics, trying for guilt over authority. It was only marginally more successful.
“Dad, I’m not abandoning you,” Dean replied consolingly. “We’ll take a quick trip to Niagara Falls then Nova Scotia. Spend a few days by the ocean, then be back on the road and hunting in no time. Yeah, sure, we might get a house if we can find one that takes cash payments in a decent area but that doesn’t mean I’m running out on the business. I’m a hunter for life, Dad.”
“No,” John repeated. “I’m not opening you up to that ridicule.”
Dean rolled his eyes this time. “I already get shit for it, Dad, slapping a ring on my finger ain’t gonna make that worse. You gonna be at my wedding, or not?”
“Not,” John answered coldly and there would be no changing his mind.
Dean heart sank and his face fell but he nodded stiffly and set his jaw. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit, snagging Castiel’s hand as he went, but the angel wouldn’t budge. Dean stomped out after that and slammed the door behind him.
Castiel winced and knew he’d have to apologise for that move later but hadn’t said his piece.
“Is it the concept of disrupting the marital contract that disturbs you, or do you think I don’t love your son?”
“What?” John snapped back.
“Marriage is a union, a commitment, a public intent of devotion. Yes, historically it has been a contract between a man and woman but a contract can be between any two people, and really, that’s what modern marriage can no longer be likened to. Back in the Dark Ages of human history and in historical periods before and after that, marriage was a mere hand-fasting. It was witnessed by those close to the two people, and in everyone’s eyes from that point forward, the two young people would be wed. The contract portion came in allotment of dowry represented by land, livestock, or - in rarer instances - physical coin. It was essentially a family giving over their daughter in exchange for their assets, and for the daughter to be taken care of and sheltered. Love had nothing to do with it the majority of the time. It was convenience.
“Now though, more romantic notions have been brought into marriage which negates the traditional contract portion of the institution. If two people are in love and wish to remain together for the remainder of their mortal lives, then they marry. You know this, you’ve experienced it. I know how much you loved the boys’ mother.
“I love your son, John, and I want to be with him for the remainder of his mortal years, and I have the unique opportunity to stay with him beyond that. I really rather we have your blessing in this matter. I know Dean would want you there, but we will go through with it, with or without you. Dean wants to make our union legal and essentially declarative. I’ve never denied Dean anything he’s wanted. Perhaps you could learn to do the same, in your own way,” Castiel finished, watching John stand there, mute. John made no move to say anything and Castiel nodded sadly. He turned to the door but paused with his hand on the knob, half turning back to John.
“I imagine Dean will want to be on the road as soon as possible. He already likely has our things packed up, if not loaded in the car. We’ll be picking up Sam, then heading out. If you decide to be there, I suggest you hurry.”
John didn’t go, and Dean never learned about the exchange, but when Castiel and Dean returned from their wedding in Canada, John didn’t say one word against it. He just shook their hands and slapped a newspaper in front of them, two obituaries circled in red.
“Got a case, Boys,” John said. “On the road by oh-five-hundred. Get some sleep.”
It was the first time that John had ever referred to Castiel as one of his boys.
February 28th, 2006
When Sam spotted the article, he ran out to the garage where Dean was tinkering with the Impala and Castiel was lounging on a lawn chair with a book. The radio was on while Dean and Castiel chatted about nothing and everything. The angel keeping his human company as he worked.
“Guys!” Sam said, running through the side door and waving the paper like a banner.
“What?” Dean looked up quickly, banging his head on the Impala’s open hood. He grumbled and rubbed the sore spot.
“I think I found a gig for us. It’s a bit of trek, but I’m pretty sure this is our kind of thing.”
“How far we talking?” Dean asked.
“Chicago.”
“How sure?”
“Like 98% sure, this article is just funny, Dean, we’ve driven further for less. Young woman gets torn to pieces in her locked apartment, no sign of forced entry, and the alarm was still active when they found her.”
“So she knew the guy, come on Sam-”
“They had to cut the chain to get into the apartment, Dean.”
“Well that is compelling,” Castiel spoke up for the younger boy. “No harm in looking into it, Dean. We have been holed up here for quite a while. It would be nice to get on the road again.”
“Dude, Chicago is like-”
“Not even ten hours, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “With you driving, we’d probably make it there in eight.”
Dean was reluctant to leave their little house. Lately the cases had seemed off the charts. A new one every week just about. Sure, they’d worked a lot when Sam and Dean were kids, but Dad only tended to have a case or two a month. They were now up to four or five, and half the time those were just cases they stumbled on. It was like the entirety of Middle America was going haywire or something. They’d already worked fifteen cases since Dean and Cas picked Sam up back in October. A lot of them were pretty standard urban legend stuff, but that thing with Max Miller had been a little more than crazy. Even with Yellow Eyes dead and buried, it seemed his contamination still existed in the children he had touched. Castiel had assured Dean that it was probably just residual and would bleed out in time. Everything seemed to start when Dad went missing and Jess was abducted. They really had weird lives. Dean wondered if this was all just coincidence or the scheming of angels. However, as the wise and stalwart Bobby Singer believed: there was no such thing as coincidence.
“All right, we’ll check it out. Not much else I can do to my baby anyway, she’s already just about perfect,” Dean quickly replaced what he was working on and closed the hood. He patted the gleaming metal affectionately and headed into the house.
March 1st, 2006
Dean crawled the Impala around the metropolitan streets, wincing every time a car came too close. He wasn’t nervous, he just didn’t want any of these big city douches to scratch his baby. City drivers were notorious for their poor performance.
“Man, I hate working cases in cities,” Dean grumbled. He had circled the block for the fifth time, hoping that something would suddenly open up large enough to edge the long, black body of the Impala into. He’d probably have to settle for a parking garage, which might be slightly safer but at the same time paying for parking was always something he found stupid.
Sam leaned forward from the back seat, resting on the front backrest. He and Castiel had traded out on the second leg of the journey. “Is that the real reason you weren’t too eager to work this case?”
“Shut up, Sam.” Then, as if Castiel had worked some heavenly mojo, a space suddenly opened up that had been previously occupied by an Escalade. Dean couldn’t keep the sneer off his face as the Caddy drove by; the completely impractical vehicle practically screamed ‘asshole.’ The pumping Euro bass did nothing to change Dean’s assessment.
“Are you going to be grouchy the entire time?” Sam sighed.
“Shut up, Sam,” Dean repeated.
“We’ll find a bar and get him relaxed, don’t worry, Sam,” Castiel reassured with a teasing glint in his eye.
“I just don’t get why everyone who lives in big cities has a degree in douchebag. It ain’t a crime to wonder why that is.”
“Careful, Dean, your hick is showing. Seriously, Dude, you’re basically declaring ‘I’m from Kansas’ right now,” Sam snickered. He leaned back and glanced down at a slip of paper. “So the apartment is two blocks back. You guys ready for this?”
Dean grimaced and looked down at himself, then over to Cas, scowling at the alarm company costumes Sam forced them into. “We’re burning these after, just FYI. Hard earned cash down the drain.”
“Whose?” Sam snorted as he climbed out of the car.
“Mine. You think credit card fraud is easy?” Dean sniped, following Sam along with Castiel.
“Are you certain the landlord won’t be sceptical about it taking three men to investigate?” Castiel asked doubtingly.
“Trust me, it’ll get us through the door,” Sam looked up at the building he’d taken them to. “This is it.”
The landlord turned out to be a landlady and she was distrusting that it took three men to investigate an apparently faulty alarm. She relaxed slightly when Dean improvised and explained that Castiel was an analyst and he and Sam were just technicians. She nodded and walked them up to the room, opening it for them.
“Are you sure the police won’t mind us having a look around?” Sam asked earnestly.
“They said they were done. Help yourself… Though can I just say, Boys, your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here, Ma’am, to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again,” Dean grinned, all charm. “Could you just walk us through what happened one more time? For the report, you see.”
“Well, I got a call from Meredith’s work, she hadn’t shown up in a few days and hadn’t called in either. When I came up to check on her… Well, that’s when I noticed the smell,” the woman’s voice faltered slightly. “Funny thing is, they had to cut the chain just to get in the door. Everything was untouched… Except poor Meredith. If I didn’t know any better, well, I’d say a ghost killed her. Only explanation. Like I said: your alarm is man-boobs.”
“Thank you very much, Ma’am. We’ll get to work immediately,” Castiel replied.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” she left, shutting the door behind her.
The Winchesters looked around the apartment, looking for signs of ectoplasm, sulphur or EMF. Castiel even did his weird communing with the walls thing but he sensed only a shadowy, unkind presence. He couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was that he was sensing, but he certainly knew it was old. Castiel was quick to reassure the brothers that the scene was too messy to have been angels. Angels were brutal, yes, but they were also precise and kept it as clean as possible.
“Cas, you find anything out from the cops?” Sam asked after a few minutes of searching.
“Most of it we already knew, but there was one thing Officer Gumner did mention that was left out of the newspapers. Meredith’s heart was missing. Then the officer said the most peculiar thing. She seemed incredibly eager to give me a citation. Though I explained calmly that I did nothing wrong. She just smiled and told me I was ‘cute’ and handed me a card for further questioning.”
Dean snorted. “Dude, I thought we’d covered Flirting 101. She was hitting on you. Was she hot?”
“I suppose she did have a certain aesthetic appeal, but I didn’t pay too much attention,” Castiel replied.
“Well, good, I can rest assured you aren’t going to run off and elope with the pretty young officer of the law.”
“I’m already married,” Castiel frowned.
Sam chuckled lightly and ran the EMF through the kitchen again.
Dean took advantage of his brother’s absence to give Castiel a quick, chaste kiss. He turned back to the blood. There was something that looked off about it. “Hey Sam? Can you find some tape?”
Sam came out a minute or so later and handed Dean a roll he had found in the kitchen. Dean kneeled and stared at the blood spatter again. He cocked his head and then stuck one end of the tape down. He followed the splotches, arched around one last time and sat back on his haunches.
“Shit,” Castiel muttered.
“You recognize it?” Dean asked, looking towards Sam to see if it rang any bells in his genius baby brother’s noggin.
“Daeva,” Castiel answered.
The name sparked a memory in Dean’s mind and he cursed faintly.
“What? What’s a Daeva?” Sam asked.
“Very old. Two-thousand years before the birth of the Saviour. It’s Zoroastrian.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but those are the bastards that are kinda like demonic pitbulls, right?” Dean asked.
“Yes, that’s an apt description,” Castiel replied grimly.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam grimaced.
“It really isn’t,” Castiel concurred.
xx
It was a rather fortuitous chance that their victim, Meredith, worked in a bar. Grim way of looking at it, but true. Both Sam and Castiel had promised Dean a chance to unwind so they managed to cover both in one trip.
Dean was being his usual flirty self, trying to get information from some of Meredith’s coworkers. None of them really believed that speaking to the bartenders would give them any information on who would possibly want to summon a Daeva, and why they would want to do so to hurt Meredith. No one seemed at all hostile toward the girl.
As Sam watched Dean lean over the bar close to the female bartender, Sam glanced over to Castiel, trying to figure out how the angel put up with that. Sam wouldn’t like it if Jess went around and hit on anything with two legs, but then again, Jess wasn’t like that. Dean had always been kind of flirty. Castiel was calm and reserved as usual, skimming through a newspaper, a beer at his elbow. Sam shook his head.
Dean came over, a crumpled napkin in his fist.
“You get anything, besides the bartender’s phone number?” Sam asked sardonically. Castiel gave a tiny amused snort but didn’t comment further.
“Dude, I’m a professional, I’m working,” Dean rolled his eyes. Then he grinned, abashed and flashed the number before ripping it up. He leaned down and gave Castiel a slight kiss on the cheek. Sam saw the blue-eyed man’s lips curve up in a faint smile.
“I don’t get it,” Dean mused, “the gay guys can totally sense I’m taken and they flirt back playfully but nothing beyond that. The chicks though? Man. Is being unavailable suddenly a turn on?”
Women are notoriously competitive,” Castiel answered easily. “Have been since the dawn of your species. Despite an apparent attachment, if a male is attractive enough the women of the group will compete to try to steal him away. Breeding purposes. You’re gorgeous, so I don’t blame them.”
Dean blushed faintly and took a swing of beer. “So… Wha-”
Sam stood up suddenly, interrupting Dean and moved quickly across the floor.
Castiel and Dean exchanged curious glances.
“Something I said?” Dean remarked idly.
Castiel gave a half shrug in response and got up to follow, snagging Dean by the hand to drag him through the crowded tables.
They arrived just in time to catch the tail-end of Sam asking a petite blonde girl, Meg, about California.
Meg replied, “Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. The whole scene got old so I’m living here for a while.”
“You’re from Chicago?” Sam asked.
Dean and Castiel could both hear that he had a peculiar tone to his voice, as if something wasn’t quite sitting right with him. From the way Castiel’s hand tightened around Dean’s, Castiel must have felt something too. He was staring at her chest though. Dean glared and smacked him, quietly communicating his displeasure at his husband staring at some chick’s rack. Castiel glared back and shook his head, flicking his own gaze down on Dean’s chest, where the amulet Sam had given Dean for Christmas all those years ago was visible. Dean cocked an eyebrow in response.
“No, Massachusetts - Andover. Gosh, Sam what are the odds we’d run into each other?” Meg said.
“Yeah, I know. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Meg smiled a little flirtatiously at Sam. “Well I’m glad you were wrong.”
Dean cleared his throat, feeling distinctly on the sidelines of this conversation. He wondered absently if this Meg chick was one of Sam’s mysterious college friends. Though Sam had never mentioned her before. At least, Dean didn’t think Sam ever mentioned her before.
Castiel leaned forward and tapped Sam lightly on the shoulder, his eyes questioning.
“Oh, sorry. Meg, this is my brother Dean and his husband, Castiel,” Sam finally introduced.
She passed a glare fleetingly across Dean but her gaze lingered a little longer on Castiel, her pink lips curling up in a small, sultry smile. Dean felt Castiel tense, but he didn’t have time to ask Castiel about it because Meg’s gaze lost all interest and warmth when she shot a hostile look at Dean.
“So, you’re the infamous brother who has it all figured out. I’m surprised you’re down here with us plebs. Real nice of you to treat your brother like luggage, by the way. You seem like a swell guy,” Meg said, icily and unprovoked.
Dean was genuinely taken aback. “Sorry?”
“Excuse me, Miss, I don’t think-” Castiel tried to defend.
Meg interrupted, “Why don’t you let him do what he wants? You got your own life, if Mister-Tall-Drink-of-Water is proof of anything, why can’t you let Sam find one for himself?”
“Meg, it’s all right,” Sam soothed before Dean came up with an acerbic retort of his own.
Meg looked slightly chagrined and turned her now earnest gaze back towards Sam. “Sam, I’m sorry… Just the way you said he treated you. If it were me, I’d kill him.” Meg smiled at Castiel again, though her eyes were hard. “You sure you know what you’re in for, Clarence?”
“My name is Castiel,” he replied coolly. “And after thirteen years I’m rather well-versed in all things Dean. But thank you for your concern.”
“Whatever.” Meg turned back to Sam again. “Anyway, we should hook up sometime.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed though he was slightly edgy. He was hiding it well though; if Dean and Castiel hadn’t known him so well, they wouldn’t have seen it.
“I’ll show you a hell of a time,” Meg persuaded.
Sam slapped on his happy puppy grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know, that sounds great. Why don’t you give me your number?”
Castiel and Dean exchanged glances again while the other two gave their final pleasantries. Sam was up to something and Castiel was on board with it, but the entire thing with Sam’s and Castiel’s combined reactions was making Dean slightly uneasy. If he hadn’t had his angel co-pilot maybe he wouldn’t have noticed but Castiel was pretty bugged by the seemly-innocuous blonde girl, and her calling him Clarence didn’t sit right with Dean at all. The only popular reference Dean knew for that particular name was a movie angel, it seemed like way too much of a coincidence to be arbitrary or an understandable mistake. Dean may have let her get away with Casper, but not Clarence.
The three of them gathered their papers and left the bar once Sam had wrapped everything up with hot little Meg.
“Well that was a big steaming pile of weird,” Dean said as he unlocked the Impala. “Who the hell was she?”
“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, Man, it’s weird.”
“What the fuck was she going on about? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?”
Sam sighed and sought out Castiel for support but the angel was locked away in his own little world, his expression tight and puzzled as he stood stock still looking like the completely otherworldly creature he was.
“It was after we had that huge fight back in Indiana. I’m sorry okay, but that’s not what’s importa-”
“You’re free to go whenever you want, Sam,” Dean interrupted petulantly.
“Dean, would you listen?!”
“What?” Dean snapped back.
“There’s something strange going on here,” Sam said grimly.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I got that. That chick was all over Cas, Dude. Not cool. Speaking of Cas, what was all that in there with you, Feathers? I mean, you can be abrupt sometimes but you’re never outright rude. And her necklace?”
Castiel snapped out of his reverie. “Once we get back to the motel, I’ll explain. I don’t think talking about this in the middle of the street will do any of us any good. Suffice to say, I agree with Sam - wholeheartedly. Something strange is indeed going on here.”
xx
As had been habit of late, they rode over to their motel in awkward, tense silence. Sam had secluded himself to the back seat and Castiel was worrying at his ring, staring out the window. Dean’s hands were tight on the steering wheel; even the radio was silent. He was torn between being angry and anxious but was just sitting in an uncomfortable, tangled knot of both.
He stopped and parked harder than he normally would have, flying into the spot in front of their motel room faster than he would have liked.
“Everyone inside, now,” Dean spoke, hard and clipped. The two passengers obediently piled out of the car. Dean opened and held the motel room door for the two men and followed after. He locked it tight behind them.
“You,” Dean pointed at Castiel. “Speak.”
Castiel glared at Dean briefly in response to the treatment but shook his head and sighed. It wasn’t worth getting angry at. There was way too much fighting lately anyway. He was done with it.
“Do you remember a few months ago, I told you about that young woman who flirted with me at the motel bar?” Castiel said.
“After we brought Sam away from his place in California? The second time, I mean…” Dean ventured.
“Precisely. The girl was also named Meg, which could easily enough be a coincidence, it isn’t exactly an unpopular name. However, what struck me then and what struck me again just now was the oddity of the necklace she was wearing. I had even commented on it. It appeared to be an occult object but even I failed to recognize the symbol the pendant bore. She had claimed she was coerced into purchasing it by a friend at a craft sale. The Meg we ran into just now also wore the exact same necklace. She seemed to be attempting to hide it, but nonetheless I caught a glimpse of it when she leaned in to speak with Sam. And what is it we always say about coincidence?” Castiel explained.
“That there’s no such thing,” Sam said grimly. “Dean, my reaction was along the same line. Running into her again like that? It’s just too weird, even for us. I think she may be mixed up in everything.”
Dean stared at both men for a moment, evaluating what they said before he nodded once. “Right, well, you got a last name and point of origin. Look her up.”
Sam was already sitting in front of the computer. He had pulled it out and sat down almost as soon as they entered the room. His fingers flew across the keys, but after only a few second’s search his shoulders slumped, dejected. He spun the screen around so Dean and Castiel could see it. They leaned in, Sam clicked and a photo popped up. The girl was younger and had longer hair but she was real.
“Well, guess your Spidey senses are off guys, sorry,” Dean said with an easy shrug.
Sam shook his head. “No, not that simple. I’m going to follow her.”
“You really think that’s a good idea, Sam?” Dean remarked.
“I can’t let this slide, especially if Cas agrees with me.”
“Fine, go get your perv on, whatever. We’re gonna look into those victims, see if we missed anything. Just don’t get yourself in trouble, Little Brother,” Dean conceded.
Sam left without another word, the Impala’s keys in hand.
Castiel moved to sit down to open the files again but Dean reached out and snagged him by the belt loops, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. It took a second due to his surprise, but Castiel responded energetically, allowing himself to be backed against the table. His hands came up to grasp at the short strands of Dean’s hair at the back of his head.
After a few moments Dean pulled back. “Hey, I’m sorry, Dude. I was pissed at what Sam said a million years ago, taking it out on you wasn’t cool.”
“It’s all right. A lot’s been happening lately. An unsettling amount, actually. Something big is inevitably on the horizon; I just hope we’re prepared.”
“God, why is everything happening now?” Dean groaned. “You know, once upon a time we just hunted werewolves and salted and burned ghosts. Now we tussle with angels, demons and everything in between, spewed from God knows where to do God knows what. I mean, really, sometimes I feel my whole life has been a show a puppet-master is putting on. I’d like to say screw Destiny. Hell, I’d like to say screw it right in the face, but Jesus Christ, Cas…” Dean shook his head slowly then dropped it on Castiel’s shoulder with a groan.
“You’re important, Dean, probably more than we realise right now but we’ll figure it out. The three of us.”
Dean straightened and up winked, he flashed a tired grin. “Team Free Will, right?”
“Right,” Castiel nodded firmly. “I’ll get coffee, why don’t you start on those files again.” Castiel ushered Dean to one of the chairs and pushed him down. He checked his wallet briefly then left the room.
“You haven’t asked him yet, have you?” a familiar voice drawled idly.
Dean stood quickly and twisted around; suddenly he was no longer in the motel room but that same white nothing space he had found himself in before. Across from him, leaning against what could only be a wall hidden among all the white was the angel that had visited him before, still wearing his father’s face.
“The fuck?”
“I put you down for a little nap,” the angel smirked. “So, why haven’t you asked?”
“The fuck?”
The angel sighed heavily. “Are we really doing this? Really? You really aren’t the brightest crayon in the box, are you Dean? You constantly seem to forget that I’m an archangel and that I want you very, very badly. Or maybe you just haven’t figured that out yet.”
Dean backed up, his eyes darting around before the bravado reared. “Well, hate to break it to you, Man. I’m taken and though my dad is a fine looking guy, the whole incest thing totally freaks me out.”
“Always, always joking,” the angel commented. “Dean, have you read the Bible?”
“Not really my thing. Too preachy. Makes me break out in hives. Really unattractive.”
“Well, then let me give you some Cliff’s Notes. My name is Michael. I’m a good guy. I protect Humanity. I only want what’s best for my Father’s precious creations. Don’t you understand? I want to help and I need you to do that. Together, you and I can put an end to the looming threat before it even happens. Don’t you want that?
“Sammy can go on and live his happy normal life with Jess. Have a couple of kids maybe. Your dad can retire and you and that little angel you’ve domesticated can get some dogs and live gaily ever after.”
“Dude,” Dean glared. His mind was silently reeling with the fact that he was speaking to the archangel Michael and apparently he had got it wrong. He wasn’t Lucifer’s vessel, he was Michael’s. That just didn’t connect.
“Happily, Dean, ‘gaily’ means happily,” Michael rolled his eyes.
“Look, Pal-”
“What did I do wrong this time?” Castiel asked weary.
Dean blinked, he stood up so quickly his chair toppled to the ground with a metallic crash. “The fuck?!”
Castiel put the coffee down quickly and hurried to Dean’s side, reaching out to steady the green-eyed man with a hand on his left shoulder.
“Dean, Dean. What is it?”
“Jesus, Cas, something has seriously been screwing with me. I should have mentioned it earlier, but honestly, it slipped my mind,” Dean said, letting out a shaky breath.
“What?”
“I… A few weeks ago, and again just now, an angel dream-walked me. I didn’t know who it was, but it’s Michael, Cas. And he’s wearing my dad’s face. My dad when he was a kid, but still my dad. He said… He said he needs me. Does that mean I’m…?” Dean couldn’t even finish the thought.
“I thought as much,” Castiel remarked, more to himself. Then, “Yes, Dean, it means you are Michael’s vessel.”
“Dude, he was in my head, does that mean he knows where we are?”
Castiel was quiet for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I doubt it. Getting inside your head and finding you physically are two separate things. I’ve warded myself as well so I can’t act like a beacon for them. Though I think it does mean Michael’s growing desperate and a desperate angel can cause a lot of harm.”
“Shit. He was wearing my dad, how did he even…?” Dean shook his head, not able to imagine any situation where his dad - at least the dad he knew now - would consent to letting an angel come and play. Though, Michael had mentioned that the young form of John Winchester was the most recently used vessel, but Dad hadn’t known a thing about the Supernatural before Mom was killed, so what the fuck happened there? Unless, his dad didn’t tell him everything, which wasn’t at all unusual.
“Did Dad know, Cas? About this shit before it got to Mom?”
“I didn’t think he was aware but… It is a troubling thing. The young version of your father you said? Could you guess at his age?”
“Not really, Dude. Mid-twenties, maybe? Probably before I was born but I can’t know for sure. Why?”
Castiel frowned to himself. “I need to make a call, stay here. Don’t go out. When Sam gets back, make sure he stays put as well. I don’t want either of you out of the other’s sight for a second. Do you understand?”
“Dude, ixnay the whole talking to me like I’m a kid, shit, I got it.”
“Sorry,” Castiel said a little distantly as he thought. “I’m just concerned.”
“I get it, go,” Dean nodded. He felt the tingle in the air just before Cas left, but reached out at the last second. “Wait.”
Castiel paused and turned, his expression slightly impatient.
Dean reached out and tugged Castiel towards him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Castiel softened under the attention and gave a faint smile.
“All right. I’m good now,” Dean grinned, stepping back. Castiel’s smile widened slightly just before he gave a small wave and disappeared.
Dean turned and looked around the now-empty room and his eyes landed on the forgotten files. He sighed heavily. A tight ball of tension was slowly building in his gut and he squeezed his quivering hand into a tight fist before shaking it off. His instincts were shouting at him that something was looming and looming quick. This whole mess was about to come to a head and soon. Dean just hoped that the three of them were ready for it and that the five of them - Jess and Dad included - got out of this thing alive.
Right now though, he decided to focus his energy on something else, and that something else was the case. Whatever this thing was, was now bigger than a few murdered people. He grabbed his cup of coffee and settled in. He’d be damned if he was moving away from this table without answers.
Surprisingly, it didn’t actually take long to find those answers. No more than a half an hour at the most, but the fact that it was so simple and that it fooled them so easily took a little longer to swallow. He was still staring at the evidence in black and white when Sam burst into the room, a manic gleam to his eye.
“Good news?” Dean ventured.
“I’m going to get Jess back,” Sam declared.
“What?!” Dean stood quickly.
Previous | Masterpost | Next
April 15, 1995
John Winchester wrenched the Impala’s wheel roughly to the right as he slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed and Dean flinched, convulsively grasping at the door handle. He met Sam’s startled gaze in the rear-view mirror and tried to smile at his brother reassuringly. He figured it only had to be a matter of time. Castiel wasn’t exactly being subtle. Dean heard the blue ’87 Civic squeal to an abrupt halt behind them, narrowly missing T-boning the Impala. On Dean’s side too.
Dean gulped as he watched Castiel coolly step out of the driver’s side, one hand resting on the open door, the metal acting like a make-shift shield between him and the angry Winchester patriarch. John couldn’t hurt Cas, but he could damn well try.
“What the hell are you and why the hell are you following my family?” John growled.
“I’m following Dean,” Castiel replied.
Dean rolled his eyes. Real great Cas. Awesome.
John came forward when he heard those words and grabbed the front of Castiel’s shirt, slamming him back against the side of the tiny two door import.
“Dean! Aren’t you gonna do something? Dad has a knife to your boyfriend’s throat!” Sam leaned forward in his seat, his voice panicked.
“He can stab him all he likes, Sam, might just manage to slow him down. But ah… I probably should explain… Or try anyway.”
Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder and gave a sober, “Good luck.”
Dean rolled his eyes again and stepped out of the car. He ran forward and stepped between the two men, noticing absently that he was almost the same height as Cas now.
“Dad! Dad! Calm down. I know him,” Dean interceded.
“You know this asshole?” John switched his glare to his son.
“Yeah, Dad, pretty well,” Dean flushed.
“How well?” John asked suspiciously, his grip loosening.
“Biblically,” Castiel quipped cheekily.
That really didn’t help. Castiel’s newfound sense of humour was awesome and under normal circumstances Dean encouraged it whole-heartedly, but there was a time and a place. Then again, the same constraints didn’t really apply to a celestial being who knew no fear of man.
John slammed Castiel against the car again, face livid. He pulled back a fist to slam into Castiel’s face but Dean managed to grab his father’s arm and stop the assault just before John could break his hand on Castiel’s jaw.
“Dad! You do not want to do that!” Dean stressed. “Believe me.”
“You’re telling me this pervert defiled my boy and I ain’t gonna punch him in the face?” John scowled.
“Okay, first off, there was no defiling,” Dean reassured. “And Cas isn’t a pervert! I basically had to throw myself at him to even get a damn kiss. The rest came later. Look, Dad, there’s something I kind of need to tell you but can we go somewhere that isn’t the side of the road to do it?”
John’s gaze flicked over to Dean then back to Castiel; he still hadn’t released the angel, who took everything placidly with a faintly amused smile.
John very hesitantly released Castiel and took a small step away. “Get in the car, Dean.”
“The motel is a few miles from here. We’ll meet you and Sam,” Dean replied.
“What?!”
“I’ll ride with Cas. We’ll meet you at the motel,” Dean repeated.
“Get in the damned car, Boy!” John shouted.
Dean scooted around Castiel and the back of the Civic and slid neatly into the passenger side of Jimmy’s car. Castiel stared at John challengingly.
“Dean!” John shouted. “Get the fuck out right now, or so help me-”
“I assure you, John Winchester, no harm will come to your son while he’s with me. In fact at my side is the safest for him. You’ll understand better when we have a chance to explain. I’ll follow behind.”
Their face-off was silent and tense for several seconds. Dean heard his heart palpitating in his chest as he watched both men glare at each other. John was more imposing physically while Castiel radiated his own quiet force, a hint of danger underpinning his entire frame. John must have picked up on it as well, along with Castiel’s steely resolve because he backed down and returned to the Impala.
Dean knew he would get it later for his defiance but being in the car next to Cas made it all worth it.
January 24th, 2006
Dean opened his eyes and smiled. He was in his bed at their house and Castiel had just entered, landing lightly at his side. He woke Dean with a gentle brush against his cheek and a chaste kiss.
“Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary,” Castiel greeted.
“Fourteen years,” Dean mused.
“Fourteen years,” Castiel repeated. “Before we progress, I just wanted you to know first: I am perfectly well,” Castiel pulled back his trench coat to demonstrate. Dean brushed the spot where the wound had been to verify it for himself.
Castiel continued, “And second: your friend Layla is healed. She will live a long, fulfilled life doing God’s work and never forget the miracle that touched her. She is a kind soul and a good spirit and it was never in My Father’s plans for her to die.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean whispered. “She’s a good person. I’m glad she’s going to be fine.”
“I also need to have a chat with your brother about faith healers,” Castiel remarked sternly. “True faith healers only act as the agents of angels and only when they are in line for Sainthood. It’s a favoured method to fulfill the miracle requirement.”
“He feels like shit, Dude. I think he gets it.”
“Then I have to speak to him about trusting me to never let anything happen to you,” Castiel sighed.
Dean let the quiet hang before he briskly clapped his hands. “Are we really gonna talk about faith healers and Sam or are we going to do something about the fact that I’m healthy, you’re healthy, we’re in our house, in our room with a very locked door and it’s,” Dean squinted at the clock, “5:34 am on my twenty-seventh birthday?”
Castiel smiled and leaned forward, hovering just before his lips touched Dean’s. “What do you propose we do about this fortuitous situation?”
Dean chose not to answer verbally, he pulled Castiel on top of him and proceeded to kiss his husband senseless.
xx
Dean rolled over and sat up slightly; he took a quick sniff of the air and then rose an eyebrow at Castiel. Castiel rolled onto his back languidly and pulled himself up slowly. He cocked his head to the side, staring at their closed bedroom door.
“Is that… bacon?” Dean asked timidly.
“I think so,” Castiel replied seriously.
“Awesome. Sammy is the best little brother ever. Kid totally remembered my birthday.”
Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think he ever wouldn’t remember, Dean. Even when you two weren’t really talking, he sent you a card.”
“Whatever. Bacon.” Dean scrambled into the closest available clothes - which turned out to be well-loved jeans and one of Castiel’s white button downs - before he scrambled out of the bedroom still unbuttoned. Castiel followed more sedately, pulling on Dean’s discarded pyjamas. Though Dean’s eagerness and excitement did put a smile on the angel’s face.
When he rounded the corner leading to the kitchen he heard the tail-end of Sam’s words to Dean, “Oh man, that’s a part of you I never wanted to see.”
“Shut up. I smelled bacon.”
Castiel heard the accompanying sound of a zipper with Dean’s words.
“Happy Birthday, you jerk,” Sam said, setting down the plate of pancakes and bacon in front of his brother. Dean then proceeded to drown the entire thing in syrup.
“Want some, Cas?” Sam offered.
Castiel grimaced slightly. “I think watching Dean’s treatment of the meal has somewhat diminished my desire.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his mouth full as he masticated his breakfast zealously.
“Nothing. I’ll make some coffee,” Castiel replied with a smile. Sam sat down with his own plate. The younger Winchester knew better than to attempt to make coffee. It was one of the few things Sam completely lacked skill in. Not to mention that Dean’s tendency to enjoy it at the consistency of motor oil and the strength of paint thinner made the brew a little impossible to imitate for normal humans.
“This is great, Sammy, thanks!”
August 2001
After some persuading and a lot of effort, Castiel had been integrated as part of their little family. It had been a few years now since he started travelling with them and he had proven to be useful time and time again. He had even cultivated a near-camaraderie with John. The two had bonded not only over being the eldest members of their small unit, but also over the fact that they were both soldiers.
Castiel’s knowledge had quickly become undeniably useful and it was through Castiel that the Winchesters had finally earned their revenge for their mother’s death. John - for that (if nothing else) - would forever be grateful.
So John had finally accepted Castiel. Sam had done so since the beginning and had long-viewed Castiel as an additional older brother, even referring to him as such. John had even come so far as to not even baulk at the idea of his oldest son being intimately involved and romantically committed to the preternatural being. Dean would always be protected at least.
All these factors cumulating made Dean come up with a kind of ludicrous notion, but perhaps not so crazy as that. Dean had been closely following the news lately and saw an interesting development come out of Canada. He had been with Castiel for ten years now, intimately for seven. He didn’t see Castiel going anywhere, nor had he any desire to dip his toes in another pool. That same development from Canada provided a way to make that stick - at least barring divorce.
Dean bit his lip and wondered if he really could take that plunge, if he really could commit himself forever to Castiel; with Castiel, forever was literally eternity. For the first time though, Dean Winchester had absolutely no misgivings, no twinge in his gut, no erratic thump to his heart. All he felt was a calm resolve and an excited flutter. Dean grinned.
“Hey Cas?” Dean called.
The angel looked up from where he was reading at the small living space in their motel room. “Yes, Dean?”
“I have kind of a wild idea…”
“Oh?”
“Call me crazy, but…”
xx
“You’re what?!” John Winchester roared like Dean hadn’t seen him roar in years. His face was a brilliant red - the shade any healthy tomato would be jealous of - and Dean could detect a small tremor in John’s shoulders as he tried to contain all that anger and shock into a condensed and singular place. John knew if he tried to lash out even peripherally, Castiel would stop him before he could take his next breath.
“I mean it’s the most logical step, Dad,” Dean tried. “If it’s legal, why not take advantage of it?”
“And you’re on board with this?” John turned his penetrating gaze on the angel in the room, the question coming out more as an accusation.
“It’s what Dean wants, John. I’m perfectly content to go on living as we are but if Dean wants to take advantage of same-sex unions being legalized, then so be it. I can’t think of any reasons not to do it,” Castiel replied easily.
“You’re too young,” John said, his tone indicating it was the end of discussion.
Dean snorted and glared at his father. “Asking was only a formality, you know. I’m doing it anyway.”
“I’ve already had one son abandon me, you want to too?” John flipped tactics, trying for guilt over authority. It was only marginally more successful.
“Dad, I’m not abandoning you,” Dean replied consolingly. “We’ll take a quick trip to Niagara Falls then Nova Scotia. Spend a few days by the ocean, then be back on the road and hunting in no time. Yeah, sure, we might get a house if we can find one that takes cash payments in a decent area but that doesn’t mean I’m running out on the business. I’m a hunter for life, Dad.”
“No,” John repeated. “I’m not opening you up to that ridicule.”
Dean rolled his eyes this time. “I already get shit for it, Dad, slapping a ring on my finger ain’t gonna make that worse. You gonna be at my wedding, or not?”
“Not,” John answered coldly and there would be no changing his mind.
Dean heart sank and his face fell but he nodded stiffly and set his jaw. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit, snagging Castiel’s hand as he went, but the angel wouldn’t budge. Dean stomped out after that and slammed the door behind him.
Castiel winced and knew he’d have to apologise for that move later but hadn’t said his piece.
“Is it the concept of disrupting the marital contract that disturbs you, or do you think I don’t love your son?”
“What?” John snapped back.
“Marriage is a union, a commitment, a public intent of devotion. Yes, historically it has been a contract between a man and woman but a contract can be between any two people, and really, that’s what modern marriage can no longer be likened to. Back in the Dark Ages of human history and in historical periods before and after that, marriage was a mere hand-fasting. It was witnessed by those close to the two people, and in everyone’s eyes from that point forward, the two young people would be wed. The contract portion came in allotment of dowry represented by land, livestock, or - in rarer instances - physical coin. It was essentially a family giving over their daughter in exchange for their assets, and for the daughter to be taken care of and sheltered. Love had nothing to do with it the majority of the time. It was convenience.
“Now though, more romantic notions have been brought into marriage which negates the traditional contract portion of the institution. If two people are in love and wish to remain together for the remainder of their mortal lives, then they marry. You know this, you’ve experienced it. I know how much you loved the boys’ mother.
“I love your son, John, and I want to be with him for the remainder of his mortal years, and I have the unique opportunity to stay with him beyond that. I really rather we have your blessing in this matter. I know Dean would want you there, but we will go through with it, with or without you. Dean wants to make our union legal and essentially declarative. I’ve never denied Dean anything he’s wanted. Perhaps you could learn to do the same, in your own way,” Castiel finished, watching John stand there, mute. John made no move to say anything and Castiel nodded sadly. He turned to the door but paused with his hand on the knob, half turning back to John.
“I imagine Dean will want to be on the road as soon as possible. He already likely has our things packed up, if not loaded in the car. We’ll be picking up Sam, then heading out. If you decide to be there, I suggest you hurry.”
John didn’t go, and Dean never learned about the exchange, but when Castiel and Dean returned from their wedding in Canada, John didn’t say one word against it. He just shook their hands and slapped a newspaper in front of them, two obituaries circled in red.
“Got a case, Boys,” John said. “On the road by oh-five-hundred. Get some sleep.”
It was the first time that John had ever referred to Castiel as one of his boys.
February 28th, 2006
When Sam spotted the article, he ran out to the garage where Dean was tinkering with the Impala and Castiel was lounging on a lawn chair with a book. The radio was on while Dean and Castiel chatted about nothing and everything. The angel keeping his human company as he worked.
“Guys!” Sam said, running through the side door and waving the paper like a banner.
“What?” Dean looked up quickly, banging his head on the Impala’s open hood. He grumbled and rubbed the sore spot.
“I think I found a gig for us. It’s a bit of trek, but I’m pretty sure this is our kind of thing.”
“How far we talking?” Dean asked.
“Chicago.”
“How sure?”
“Like 98% sure, this article is just funny, Dean, we’ve driven further for less. Young woman gets torn to pieces in her locked apartment, no sign of forced entry, and the alarm was still active when they found her.”
“So she knew the guy, come on Sam-”
“They had to cut the chain to get into the apartment, Dean.”
“Well that is compelling,” Castiel spoke up for the younger boy. “No harm in looking into it, Dean. We have been holed up here for quite a while. It would be nice to get on the road again.”
“Dude, Chicago is like-”
“Not even ten hours, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “With you driving, we’d probably make it there in eight.”
Dean was reluctant to leave their little house. Lately the cases had seemed off the charts. A new one every week just about. Sure, they’d worked a lot when Sam and Dean were kids, but Dad only tended to have a case or two a month. They were now up to four or five, and half the time those were just cases they stumbled on. It was like the entirety of Middle America was going haywire or something. They’d already worked fifteen cases since Dean and Cas picked Sam up back in October. A lot of them were pretty standard urban legend stuff, but that thing with Max Miller had been a little more than crazy. Even with Yellow Eyes dead and buried, it seemed his contamination still existed in the children he had touched. Castiel had assured Dean that it was probably just residual and would bleed out in time. Everything seemed to start when Dad went missing and Jess was abducted. They really had weird lives. Dean wondered if this was all just coincidence or the scheming of angels. However, as the wise and stalwart Bobby Singer believed: there was no such thing as coincidence.
“All right, we’ll check it out. Not much else I can do to my baby anyway, she’s already just about perfect,” Dean quickly replaced what he was working on and closed the hood. He patted the gleaming metal affectionately and headed into the house.
March 1st, 2006
Dean crawled the Impala around the metropolitan streets, wincing every time a car came too close. He wasn’t nervous, he just didn’t want any of these big city douches to scratch his baby. City drivers were notorious for their poor performance.
“Man, I hate working cases in cities,” Dean grumbled. He had circled the block for the fifth time, hoping that something would suddenly open up large enough to edge the long, black body of the Impala into. He’d probably have to settle for a parking garage, which might be slightly safer but at the same time paying for parking was always something he found stupid.
Sam leaned forward from the back seat, resting on the front backrest. He and Castiel had traded out on the second leg of the journey. “Is that the real reason you weren’t too eager to work this case?”
“Shut up, Sam.” Then, as if Castiel had worked some heavenly mojo, a space suddenly opened up that had been previously occupied by an Escalade. Dean couldn’t keep the sneer off his face as the Caddy drove by; the completely impractical vehicle practically screamed ‘asshole.’ The pumping Euro bass did nothing to change Dean’s assessment.
“Are you going to be grouchy the entire time?” Sam sighed.
“Shut up, Sam,” Dean repeated.
“We’ll find a bar and get him relaxed, don’t worry, Sam,” Castiel reassured with a teasing glint in his eye.
“I just don’t get why everyone who lives in big cities has a degree in douchebag. It ain’t a crime to wonder why that is.”
“Careful, Dean, your hick is showing. Seriously, Dude, you’re basically declaring ‘I’m from Kansas’ right now,” Sam snickered. He leaned back and glanced down at a slip of paper. “So the apartment is two blocks back. You guys ready for this?”
Dean grimaced and looked down at himself, then over to Cas, scowling at the alarm company costumes Sam forced them into. “We’re burning these after, just FYI. Hard earned cash down the drain.”
“Whose?” Sam snorted as he climbed out of the car.
“Mine. You think credit card fraud is easy?” Dean sniped, following Sam along with Castiel.
“Are you certain the landlord won’t be sceptical about it taking three men to investigate?” Castiel asked doubtingly.
“Trust me, it’ll get us through the door,” Sam looked up at the building he’d taken them to. “This is it.”
The landlord turned out to be a landlady and she was distrusting that it took three men to investigate an apparently faulty alarm. She relaxed slightly when Dean improvised and explained that Castiel was an analyst and he and Sam were just technicians. She nodded and walked them up to the room, opening it for them.
“Are you sure the police won’t mind us having a look around?” Sam asked earnestly.
“They said they were done. Help yourself… Though can I just say, Boys, your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here, Ma’am, to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again,” Dean grinned, all charm. “Could you just walk us through what happened one more time? For the report, you see.”
“Well, I got a call from Meredith’s work, she hadn’t shown up in a few days and hadn’t called in either. When I came up to check on her… Well, that’s when I noticed the smell,” the woman’s voice faltered slightly. “Funny thing is, they had to cut the chain just to get in the door. Everything was untouched… Except poor Meredith. If I didn’t know any better, well, I’d say a ghost killed her. Only explanation. Like I said: your alarm is man-boobs.”
“Thank you very much, Ma’am. We’ll get to work immediately,” Castiel replied.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” she left, shutting the door behind her.
The Winchesters looked around the apartment, looking for signs of ectoplasm, sulphur or EMF. Castiel even did his weird communing with the walls thing but he sensed only a shadowy, unkind presence. He couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was that he was sensing, but he certainly knew it was old. Castiel was quick to reassure the brothers that the scene was too messy to have been angels. Angels were brutal, yes, but they were also precise and kept it as clean as possible.
“Cas, you find anything out from the cops?” Sam asked after a few minutes of searching.
“Most of it we already knew, but there was one thing Officer Gumner did mention that was left out of the newspapers. Meredith’s heart was missing. Then the officer said the most peculiar thing. She seemed incredibly eager to give me a citation. Though I explained calmly that I did nothing wrong. She just smiled and told me I was ‘cute’ and handed me a card for further questioning.”
Dean snorted. “Dude, I thought we’d covered Flirting 101. She was hitting on you. Was she hot?”
“I suppose she did have a certain aesthetic appeal, but I didn’t pay too much attention,” Castiel replied.
“Well, good, I can rest assured you aren’t going to run off and elope with the pretty young officer of the law.”
“I’m already married,” Castiel frowned.
Sam chuckled lightly and ran the EMF through the kitchen again.
Dean took advantage of his brother’s absence to give Castiel a quick, chaste kiss. He turned back to the blood. There was something that looked off about it. “Hey Sam? Can you find some tape?”
Sam came out a minute or so later and handed Dean a roll he had found in the kitchen. Dean kneeled and stared at the blood spatter again. He cocked his head and then stuck one end of the tape down. He followed the splotches, arched around one last time and sat back on his haunches.
“Shit,” Castiel muttered.
“You recognize it?” Dean asked, looking towards Sam to see if it rang any bells in his genius baby brother’s noggin.
“Daeva,” Castiel answered.
The name sparked a memory in Dean’s mind and he cursed faintly.
“What? What’s a Daeva?” Sam asked.
“Very old. Two-thousand years before the birth of the Saviour. It’s Zoroastrian.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but those are the bastards that are kinda like demonic pitbulls, right?” Dean asked.
“Yes, that’s an apt description,” Castiel replied grimly.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam grimaced.
“It really isn’t,” Castiel concurred.
xx
It was a rather fortuitous chance that their victim, Meredith, worked in a bar. Grim way of looking at it, but true. Both Sam and Castiel had promised Dean a chance to unwind so they managed to cover both in one trip.
Dean was being his usual flirty self, trying to get information from some of Meredith’s coworkers. None of them really believed that speaking to the bartenders would give them any information on who would possibly want to summon a Daeva, and why they would want to do so to hurt Meredith. No one seemed at all hostile toward the girl.
As Sam watched Dean lean over the bar close to the female bartender, Sam glanced over to Castiel, trying to figure out how the angel put up with that. Sam wouldn’t like it if Jess went around and hit on anything with two legs, but then again, Jess wasn’t like that. Dean had always been kind of flirty. Castiel was calm and reserved as usual, skimming through a newspaper, a beer at his elbow. Sam shook his head.
Dean came over, a crumpled napkin in his fist.
“You get anything, besides the bartender’s phone number?” Sam asked sardonically. Castiel gave a tiny amused snort but didn’t comment further.
“Dude, I’m a professional, I’m working,” Dean rolled his eyes. Then he grinned, abashed and flashed the number before ripping it up. He leaned down and gave Castiel a slight kiss on the cheek. Sam saw the blue-eyed man’s lips curve up in a faint smile.
“I don’t get it,” Dean mused, “the gay guys can totally sense I’m taken and they flirt back playfully but nothing beyond that. The chicks though? Man. Is being unavailable suddenly a turn on?”
Women are notoriously competitive,” Castiel answered easily. “Have been since the dawn of your species. Despite an apparent attachment, if a male is attractive enough the women of the group will compete to try to steal him away. Breeding purposes. You’re gorgeous, so I don’t blame them.”
Dean blushed faintly and took a swing of beer. “So… Wha-”
Sam stood up suddenly, interrupting Dean and moved quickly across the floor.
Castiel and Dean exchanged curious glances.
“Something I said?” Dean remarked idly.
Castiel gave a half shrug in response and got up to follow, snagging Dean by the hand to drag him through the crowded tables.
They arrived just in time to catch the tail-end of Sam asking a petite blonde girl, Meg, about California.
Meg replied, “Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. The whole scene got old so I’m living here for a while.”
“You’re from Chicago?” Sam asked.
Dean and Castiel could both hear that he had a peculiar tone to his voice, as if something wasn’t quite sitting right with him. From the way Castiel’s hand tightened around Dean’s, Castiel must have felt something too. He was staring at her chest though. Dean glared and smacked him, quietly communicating his displeasure at his husband staring at some chick’s rack. Castiel glared back and shook his head, flicking his own gaze down on Dean’s chest, where the amulet Sam had given Dean for Christmas all those years ago was visible. Dean cocked an eyebrow in response.
“No, Massachusetts - Andover. Gosh, Sam what are the odds we’d run into each other?” Meg said.
“Yeah, I know. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Meg smiled a little flirtatiously at Sam. “Well I’m glad you were wrong.”
Dean cleared his throat, feeling distinctly on the sidelines of this conversation. He wondered absently if this Meg chick was one of Sam’s mysterious college friends. Though Sam had never mentioned her before. At least, Dean didn’t think Sam ever mentioned her before.
Castiel leaned forward and tapped Sam lightly on the shoulder, his eyes questioning.
“Oh, sorry. Meg, this is my brother Dean and his husband, Castiel,” Sam finally introduced.
She passed a glare fleetingly across Dean but her gaze lingered a little longer on Castiel, her pink lips curling up in a small, sultry smile. Dean felt Castiel tense, but he didn’t have time to ask Castiel about it because Meg’s gaze lost all interest and warmth when she shot a hostile look at Dean.
“So, you’re the infamous brother who has it all figured out. I’m surprised you’re down here with us plebs. Real nice of you to treat your brother like luggage, by the way. You seem like a swell guy,” Meg said, icily and unprovoked.
Dean was genuinely taken aback. “Sorry?”
“Excuse me, Miss, I don’t think-” Castiel tried to defend.
Meg interrupted, “Why don’t you let him do what he wants? You got your own life, if Mister-Tall-Drink-of-Water is proof of anything, why can’t you let Sam find one for himself?”
“Meg, it’s all right,” Sam soothed before Dean came up with an acerbic retort of his own.
Meg looked slightly chagrined and turned her now earnest gaze back towards Sam. “Sam, I’m sorry… Just the way you said he treated you. If it were me, I’d kill him.” Meg smiled at Castiel again, though her eyes were hard. “You sure you know what you’re in for, Clarence?”
“My name is Castiel,” he replied coolly. “And after thirteen years I’m rather well-versed in all things Dean. But thank you for your concern.”
“Whatever.” Meg turned back to Sam again. “Anyway, we should hook up sometime.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed though he was slightly edgy. He was hiding it well though; if Dean and Castiel hadn’t known him so well, they wouldn’t have seen it.
“I’ll show you a hell of a time,” Meg persuaded.
Sam slapped on his happy puppy grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know, that sounds great. Why don’t you give me your number?”
Castiel and Dean exchanged glances again while the other two gave their final pleasantries. Sam was up to something and Castiel was on board with it, but the entire thing with Sam’s and Castiel’s combined reactions was making Dean slightly uneasy. If he hadn’t had his angel co-pilot maybe he wouldn’t have noticed but Castiel was pretty bugged by the seemly-innocuous blonde girl, and her calling him Clarence didn’t sit right with Dean at all. The only popular reference Dean knew for that particular name was a movie angel, it seemed like way too much of a coincidence to be arbitrary or an understandable mistake. Dean may have let her get away with Casper, but not Clarence.
The three of them gathered their papers and left the bar once Sam had wrapped everything up with hot little Meg.
“Well that was a big steaming pile of weird,” Dean said as he unlocked the Impala. “Who the hell was she?”
“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, Man, it’s weird.”
“What the fuck was she going on about? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?”
Sam sighed and sought out Castiel for support but the angel was locked away in his own little world, his expression tight and puzzled as he stood stock still looking like the completely otherworldly creature he was.
“It was after we had that huge fight back in Indiana. I’m sorry okay, but that’s not what’s importa-”
“You’re free to go whenever you want, Sam,” Dean interrupted petulantly.
“Dean, would you listen?!”
“What?” Dean snapped back.
“There’s something strange going on here,” Sam said grimly.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I got that. That chick was all over Cas, Dude. Not cool. Speaking of Cas, what was all that in there with you, Feathers? I mean, you can be abrupt sometimes but you’re never outright rude. And her necklace?”
Castiel snapped out of his reverie. “Once we get back to the motel, I’ll explain. I don’t think talking about this in the middle of the street will do any of us any good. Suffice to say, I agree with Sam - wholeheartedly. Something strange is indeed going on here.”
xx
As had been habit of late, they rode over to their motel in awkward, tense silence. Sam had secluded himself to the back seat and Castiel was worrying at his ring, staring out the window. Dean’s hands were tight on the steering wheel; even the radio was silent. He was torn between being angry and anxious but was just sitting in an uncomfortable, tangled knot of both.
He stopped and parked harder than he normally would have, flying into the spot in front of their motel room faster than he would have liked.
“Everyone inside, now,” Dean spoke, hard and clipped. The two passengers obediently piled out of the car. Dean opened and held the motel room door for the two men and followed after. He locked it tight behind them.
“You,” Dean pointed at Castiel. “Speak.”
Castiel glared at Dean briefly in response to the treatment but shook his head and sighed. It wasn’t worth getting angry at. There was way too much fighting lately anyway. He was done with it.
“Do you remember a few months ago, I told you about that young woman who flirted with me at the motel bar?” Castiel said.
“After we brought Sam away from his place in California? The second time, I mean…” Dean ventured.
“Precisely. The girl was also named Meg, which could easily enough be a coincidence, it isn’t exactly an unpopular name. However, what struck me then and what struck me again just now was the oddity of the necklace she was wearing. I had even commented on it. It appeared to be an occult object but even I failed to recognize the symbol the pendant bore. She had claimed she was coerced into purchasing it by a friend at a craft sale. The Meg we ran into just now also wore the exact same necklace. She seemed to be attempting to hide it, but nonetheless I caught a glimpse of it when she leaned in to speak with Sam. And what is it we always say about coincidence?” Castiel explained.
“That there’s no such thing,” Sam said grimly. “Dean, my reaction was along the same line. Running into her again like that? It’s just too weird, even for us. I think she may be mixed up in everything.”
Dean stared at both men for a moment, evaluating what they said before he nodded once. “Right, well, you got a last name and point of origin. Look her up.”
Sam was already sitting in front of the computer. He had pulled it out and sat down almost as soon as they entered the room. His fingers flew across the keys, but after only a few second’s search his shoulders slumped, dejected. He spun the screen around so Dean and Castiel could see it. They leaned in, Sam clicked and a photo popped up. The girl was younger and had longer hair but she was real.
“Well, guess your Spidey senses are off guys, sorry,” Dean said with an easy shrug.
Sam shook his head. “No, not that simple. I’m going to follow her.”
“You really think that’s a good idea, Sam?” Dean remarked.
“I can’t let this slide, especially if Cas agrees with me.”
“Fine, go get your perv on, whatever. We’re gonna look into those victims, see if we missed anything. Just don’t get yourself in trouble, Little Brother,” Dean conceded.
Sam left without another word, the Impala’s keys in hand.
Castiel moved to sit down to open the files again but Dean reached out and snagged him by the belt loops, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. It took a second due to his surprise, but Castiel responded energetically, allowing himself to be backed against the table. His hands came up to grasp at the short strands of Dean’s hair at the back of his head.
After a few moments Dean pulled back. “Hey, I’m sorry, Dude. I was pissed at what Sam said a million years ago, taking it out on you wasn’t cool.”
“It’s all right. A lot’s been happening lately. An unsettling amount, actually. Something big is inevitably on the horizon; I just hope we’re prepared.”
“God, why is everything happening now?” Dean groaned. “You know, once upon a time we just hunted werewolves and salted and burned ghosts. Now we tussle with angels, demons and everything in between, spewed from God knows where to do God knows what. I mean, really, sometimes I feel my whole life has been a show a puppet-master is putting on. I’d like to say screw Destiny. Hell, I’d like to say screw it right in the face, but Jesus Christ, Cas…” Dean shook his head slowly then dropped it on Castiel’s shoulder with a groan.
“You’re important, Dean, probably more than we realise right now but we’ll figure it out. The three of us.”
Dean straightened and up winked, he flashed a tired grin. “Team Free Will, right?”
“Right,” Castiel nodded firmly. “I’ll get coffee, why don’t you start on those files again.” Castiel ushered Dean to one of the chairs and pushed him down. He checked his wallet briefly then left the room.
“You haven’t asked him yet, have you?” a familiar voice drawled idly.
Dean stood quickly and twisted around; suddenly he was no longer in the motel room but that same white nothing space he had found himself in before. Across from him, leaning against what could only be a wall hidden among all the white was the angel that had visited him before, still wearing his father’s face.
“The fuck?”
“I put you down for a little nap,” the angel smirked. “So, why haven’t you asked?”
“The fuck?”
The angel sighed heavily. “Are we really doing this? Really? You really aren’t the brightest crayon in the box, are you Dean? You constantly seem to forget that I’m an archangel and that I want you very, very badly. Or maybe you just haven’t figured that out yet.”
Dean backed up, his eyes darting around before the bravado reared. “Well, hate to break it to you, Man. I’m taken and though my dad is a fine looking guy, the whole incest thing totally freaks me out.”
“Always, always joking,” the angel commented. “Dean, have you read the Bible?”
“Not really my thing. Too preachy. Makes me break out in hives. Really unattractive.”
“Well, then let me give you some Cliff’s Notes. My name is Michael. I’m a good guy. I protect Humanity. I only want what’s best for my Father’s precious creations. Don’t you understand? I want to help and I need you to do that. Together, you and I can put an end to the looming threat before it even happens. Don’t you want that?
“Sammy can go on and live his happy normal life with Jess. Have a couple of kids maybe. Your dad can retire and you and that little angel you’ve domesticated can get some dogs and live gaily ever after.”
“Dude,” Dean glared. His mind was silently reeling with the fact that he was speaking to the archangel Michael and apparently he had got it wrong. He wasn’t Lucifer’s vessel, he was Michael’s. That just didn’t connect.
“Happily, Dean, ‘gaily’ means happily,” Michael rolled his eyes.
“Look, Pal-”
“What did I do wrong this time?” Castiel asked weary.
Dean blinked, he stood up so quickly his chair toppled to the ground with a metallic crash. “The fuck?!”
Castiel put the coffee down quickly and hurried to Dean’s side, reaching out to steady the green-eyed man with a hand on his left shoulder.
“Dean, Dean. What is it?”
“Jesus, Cas, something has seriously been screwing with me. I should have mentioned it earlier, but honestly, it slipped my mind,” Dean said, letting out a shaky breath.
“What?”
“I… A few weeks ago, and again just now, an angel dream-walked me. I didn’t know who it was, but it’s Michael, Cas. And he’s wearing my dad’s face. My dad when he was a kid, but still my dad. He said… He said he needs me. Does that mean I’m…?” Dean couldn’t even finish the thought.
“I thought as much,” Castiel remarked, more to himself. Then, “Yes, Dean, it means you are Michael’s vessel.”
“Dude, he was in my head, does that mean he knows where we are?”
Castiel was quiet for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I doubt it. Getting inside your head and finding you physically are two separate things. I’ve warded myself as well so I can’t act like a beacon for them. Though I think it does mean Michael’s growing desperate and a desperate angel can cause a lot of harm.”
“Shit. He was wearing my dad, how did he even…?” Dean shook his head, not able to imagine any situation where his dad - at least the dad he knew now - would consent to letting an angel come and play. Though, Michael had mentioned that the young form of John Winchester was the most recently used vessel, but Dad hadn’t known a thing about the Supernatural before Mom was killed, so what the fuck happened there? Unless, his dad didn’t tell him everything, which wasn’t at all unusual.
“Did Dad know, Cas? About this shit before it got to Mom?”
“I didn’t think he was aware but… It is a troubling thing. The young version of your father you said? Could you guess at his age?”
“Not really, Dude. Mid-twenties, maybe? Probably before I was born but I can’t know for sure. Why?”
Castiel frowned to himself. “I need to make a call, stay here. Don’t go out. When Sam gets back, make sure he stays put as well. I don’t want either of you out of the other’s sight for a second. Do you understand?”
“Dude, ixnay the whole talking to me like I’m a kid, shit, I got it.”
“Sorry,” Castiel said a little distantly as he thought. “I’m just concerned.”
“I get it, go,” Dean nodded. He felt the tingle in the air just before Cas left, but reached out at the last second. “Wait.”
Castiel paused and turned, his expression slightly impatient.
Dean reached out and tugged Castiel towards him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Castiel softened under the attention and gave a faint smile.
“All right. I’m good now,” Dean grinned, stepping back. Castiel’s smile widened slightly just before he gave a small wave and disappeared.
Dean turned and looked around the now-empty room and his eyes landed on the forgotten files. He sighed heavily. A tight ball of tension was slowly building in his gut and he squeezed his quivering hand into a tight fist before shaking it off. His instincts were shouting at him that something was looming and looming quick. This whole mess was about to come to a head and soon. Dean just hoped that the three of them were ready for it and that the five of them - Jess and Dad included - got out of this thing alive.
Right now though, he decided to focus his energy on something else, and that something else was the case. Whatever this thing was, was now bigger than a few murdered people. He grabbed his cup of coffee and settled in. He’d be damned if he was moving away from this table without answers.
Surprisingly, it didn’t actually take long to find those answers. No more than a half an hour at the most, but the fact that it was so simple and that it fooled them so easily took a little longer to swallow. He was still staring at the evidence in black and white when Sam burst into the room, a manic gleam to his eye.
“Good news?” Dean ventured.
“I’m going to get Jess back,” Sam declared.
“What?!” Dean stood quickly.
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