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Dean freaking hates witches. He always has. They have no excuse for their nasty, skeevy behaviour, their gratuitous bodily fluids and dabbling with seriously dark mojo. And for what? Dean’s a pretty dab hand at a ritual or spell when it comes down to it, but witches sell their souls to be able to make that shit up and have it stick. Dean’s fine with following the books, gathering the non-disgusting ingredients, bit of chanting, bish bash boom, job done. You’ve gotta be pretty dumb to offload your soul for skills that anyone can have with the right type of education.
And they’re always so petty too. Like the human equivalent of vengeful spirits; killing everyone in their path because they got a rough deal in life and can’t stand to see anyone else happy. So when Dean says he never intended to become a marriage counselor for a witchy couple on the rocks, he really, truly means it. It’s just about the farthest thing he imagined himself doing when they started this case, and he really misses the days when the job was simply to find the bad thing, and kill it. Living in shades of grey sucks.
He also wishes he had a better control over his abilities; flying he can handle, but smiting? Tossing people about like rag dolls? Dean wouldn’t know where to begin, let alone give injuries or illnesses just by looking at people, like Zachariah could. And he wasn’t even an archangel. Gabriel was able to create elaborate fantasy realities and monsters to punish people with; Dean’s lucky if he’s able to conjure a cup of coffee, not for lack of trying. Pie on demand? Dean is all over that; with no success so far.
So though he’s not trapped by the witchcraft, or able to be tossed about (much to the witches' annoyance), Sam is, and Dean’s not about to leave him. He tries the next best thing; reasoning with them. It’s a foolish plan, but Dean’s fresh out of ideas. By some small miracle, it works, and they get to return to their motel in relatively one piece. Sam’ pretty bruised up, but low-risk healing he can handle. Dean lays his magical hands on his brother, who is then scratch-free, and considerably less constipated-looking.
Neither of them are expecting a monster to be lying in wait for them. In their own motel room, what the hell. Dean shoots it; silver and iron custom rounds work on most uglies. Unfortunately, this is not one of those goons. Dean can see demon's true faces, and though he smells a faint hint of sulphur, the monster with a human look isn’t hellspawn. He does bleed black goo though, gross. Dean is able to overpower him, but its not until Mr Stark, the male witch whose marriage they just helped save, turns up, do they get a solution. Don binds him with magical chains, and removes the cursed coins his wife had planted to kill them. And after everything they just did for her! The cheek of it.
Don doesn’t know what the creature is, but he does know that its powerful, and he advises them to throw their new buddy in a bottomless pit. Like Dean has one of those just lying around. Still, judging by the the creep’s wriggling, maybe they need to invest in one. Those chains aren’t going to last forever.
Naturally, they plan to lock it in the panic room, but when they call Bobby to tell him they’re coming, he tells them to meet at an old safehouse of Rufus’ instead. Dean steels himself, and then grabs hold of the monster ‘Chet’ by the shoulder and gives his wings a solid beat. He lingers a few minutes longer than he means to- long enough for Sam to protest, but then they’re flying.
Dean concentrates on the information Bobby gave them- “old backwoods cabin in Whitefish” and focuses on the scent of Johnny Walker Blue, salt and gun oil and then- woodchip crunches underfoot as he glides to a stop outside the ramshackle old wood cabin. He leaves the monster with a very disturbed Bobby, who still can’t get over the sight of Dean popping out of nowhere.
Flying solo back to Sam is easier. He knows where he’s going, and he doesn’t have to account for anyone else’s weight. With Sam attempting to sleep in the back of the Impala, Dean drives through the night. He doesn’t need to eat, or stop to pee. It still takes about twenty hours, with Dean going at breakneck speeds, but they make it there in good time before the world explodes with crazy again.
--
Sam is ashamed to admit, Cas is the one he thinks of when they first see monsters wearing their faces on the news. At that point, they didn’t know Chet downstairs was capable of shapeshifting, and according to Dean, all is not wedded bliss between the newlyweds. Then Sam feels shitty, because Cas has been curing lepers, healing the blind and sending muses to promote peace in the Middle East. He’s been trying hard to get back into Dean’s good graces, even going as far as to agree to dive into the Cage and rescue Adam’s soul. Cas wouldn’t do something like this to force them into hiding and make their lives even harder.
Still, they’re pretty screwed. Chet’s a bit of a loudmouth, crowing about how he found them through their credit card fraud, and his monster buddies used their DNA found in a motel shower drain... it’s downright invasive, that level of stalking, and now all their IDs are burned.
Bobby sends them to get new ones from a total basket case called Frank, who lives in a run-down house with far too many electronics and guns. He probably wears tin foil hats. But he does give them professional IDs and Sam a new laptop. By some small miracle, he also persuades Dean to put the Impala on lockdown- something Sam never managed to achieve the last time the FBI were on their asses.
Frank’s parting shot; “There is no such thing as a random series of robbery murders by your evil twins,” puts Sam on the right path to figuring out the monsters' pattern. It takes him a little longer than it probably should, to work out they’re visiting all the towns Sam and Dean worked jobs after he left Stanford. From there, its easy to work out where they’re going to be. Keeping to the crazy strategies they’ve been sticking to the last few years, they decide to meet these new freaks head on.
However, before they get the chance, Cas calls for Dean to return to Heaven. When Dean refuses, he turns up in person, startling them enough that Dean has to pull over so he doesn’t crash their stolen car.
“Dean, I thought we had gotten past your penchant for stubborn refusals.”
Dean swivels in his seat to face Cas. “Woah, hang on just a minute. My refusals have always been for valid reasons, and guess what, that’s what humans do when they are asked to do something; they either say yes or no. It’s free will, remember that?”
“Yes, but you are no longer human. You are now the right hand of God, and must behave accordingly. Will you return to your post of your own accord, or must I drag you back?” Cas' rumbling voice doesn’t hold a trace of humour, and Sam is starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable as the third-wheel to their intense eye communication.
“It’s not that I don’t want to come back. We kinda have a situation here.” Dean finally says, “I can’t leave Sammy to deal with it alone.”
“What kind of ‘situation’?” Cas demands. Sam can hear the air quotations, even if Cas’ hands remain in his lap.
Dean tells him about the black goo shape-shifters on a killing spree, and Cas’ eyes narrow dangerously. Sam is afraid he doesn’t believe them, but he just demands to know the location of Rufus’ cabin so that he can see this creature for himself. He’s gone and back within seconds.
“I recognised the creature as a soul I ingested from Purgatory.” He announces, and this case suddenly got a million times more crazy. The black goo monsters are Leviathan, the first beasts God ever made; they are extremely old and therefore very powerful, bloodthirsty and hard to put down. And Cas sent them all to Hell, which means-
“Crowley.”
Cas growls like it’s a curse word, before disappearing, presumably to have words with the King of Hell.
--
Bobby has been going through every monster kryptonite he can think of, but nothing’s making a lick of difference. It’s not until he chops the mook’s head off that he makes an impact, and even that doesn’t last long.
Somehow, Jody Mills has managed to track him down, and she’s a breath of fresh air. Bobby’s never really considered a woman not in the life; that way lies heartbreak, but Jody’s a peach and damn good at running interference with the FBI and putting down zombies. He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about it since she learnt the truth.
After she accidentally finds the solution to their current monster problem, Bobby doesn’t hold back, and what do you know, those lips are exactly as soft as he thought they’d be.
--
This case is fucked from the very beginning. It starts with their faces splashed all over the news, their lastest fake death cover blown, and ends with Sam finding out about Amy and going his own way. Dean wants to scream, or gank something, because when has them separating ever been a good idea? Instead he goes to Heaven, straight to God’s Garden. It’s deserted.
Cas? I’m here now, like you wanted.
I AM HERE DEAN, says Cas, and after a familiar tugging sensation, Dean finds himself standing next to God and surrounded by babies. Babies of all stages of development, from newborn up until about three years old, all different ethnicities, crawling and rolling on one another, gurgling and giggling with bright baby laughter. Cas leans over and gives him a chaste kiss hello, which Dean quickly deepens, curling his fingers into his husband's hair. After the day he's had, he needs a distraction, and this is as good as any. He steps back, breathless, and is confronted with all the babies again.
Where are we? he asks, having been pretty sure he’d been everywhere in Heaven.
WE ARE STILL IN THE GARDEN. THIS IS THE SHARED HEAVEN OF ALL THE SOULS TOO YOUNG TO FORM THEIR OWN.
Here and there, dotted between the wriggling, squirming and bouncing babies, are a lower class of angels, with only two faces and small, brightly coloured wings. They're playing with the babies and carefully stopping them from getting into mischief.
MALAKHIM. Cas helpfully supplies. THESE ARE THE CARETAKER ANGELS. THERE ARE NO MORE ANGEL FLEDGLINGS IN HEAVEN. SO THEY FULFIL THEIR ETERNAL PURPOSE WATCHING OVER THESE IMMATURE SOULS. THEY RADIATE CALM AND COMFORT.
Sounds like a good system then, Dean grudgingly concedes. No reason Heaven can’t accidentally get something right every now and then.
He swoops down to scoop up a baby that's been gumming on his shoelaces. It’s a chubby Asian child, possibly Chinese, with big dark eyes and a shock of straight black hair, but Dean can’t say for sure. He can however say, What’s up little man? You teething?
The baby gurgles in delight at the sight of him, and Dean chuckles in response, drawing the kid close to bounce him on his hip. Kids, he knows how to handle.
So why are we in Heaven’s nursery? He asks, not sure he’s going to like the answer. You can never tell with Cas.
I ASSUMED YOU WOULD WISH TO KNOW WHERE TO FIND ADAM’S SOUL.
When you get him back from the Cage, you mean?
I ALREADY HAVE, Cas smiles like a cat rolling in catnip, tuna and cream. IT WAS ONE OF THE FIRST TASKS I PERFORMED WHEN I BECAME GOD.
And you didn’t think to tell me? Dean demands, disturbed Cas would keep something like this a secret. Had he planned to hold Adam’s soul over him, if he refused to comply? He doesn’t want to believe it, but why else would Cas keep something this big from him?
I DID NOT WISH TO GIVE YOU FALSE HOPE. The new God sighs, like he knows what Dean’s imagining and is displeased by his lack of faith in Him. As though that’s Dean’s fault.
ADAM WAS IN THE CAGE FAR LONGER THAN SAM. HUNDREDS OF YEARS. HE RETAINS ALMOST NO MEMORY OF HIS LIFE ON EARTH.
What, nothing? Dean baulks, horrified. To have no life but that of as a chew-toy of two wrathful archangels...
HE CANNOT SPEAK DEAN. HE HAS ONLY THE VAGUEST IMPRESSIONS. ADAM IS A CHILDLIKE SOUL. HE BELONGS HERE IN ETERNAL PARADISE UNDER THE CARE AND SUPERVISION OF THE MOST CARING ANGELS.
Dean can’t argue with that. He puts the baby down and watches as it crawls off to find a playmate.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE HIM NOW?
Adam is building a sandcastle, when Cas points him out. He isn’t building it alone, either. There is a pretty female angel with him; she has brown doe-eyes and golden locks that fall in delicately curled waves. She is smiling widely at Adam’s effort - which is a misshapen heap of sand more than anything - and occasionally guiding his hands with her own.
They both look up when Cas and Dean sit down with them; the angel with all the respect and reverence of a Cas Loyalist; his most devoted sect of followers. Adam’s features are smooth, innocent with joy and curiosity. There isn’t even a flicker of recognition in those sea green eyes.
Hey, Adam, Dean whispers. I’m your big brother, Dean. What you got there?
There’s a red spade between the open V-shape of Adam’s legs, and he grasps it with enthusiasm and waves it at Dean, until he takes the gift.
Thanks, buddy. Wanna show me how? He digs the spade into the memorex sand, and Adam coos in reply. He takes the lump of sand Dean’s collected and adds it to his pile.
They continue to play like this for a while, Dean offering gentle encouragement to everything Adam does. He never gets a verbal response more complex than laughter and excited babbling. A lump forms in his throat, choking him. Adam had been a clever, cunning little shit with a scathing tongue on him and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Cas is right; nothing of that kid remains. Hell burned it all out of him.
Cas touches his shoulder, brushing back and forth; silent comfort that Dean is all too willing to take. He meets the God’s sympathetic eyes, and is finally introduced to the other angel in their midst.
DEAN. THIS IS MURIEL. SHE IS EXTREMELY EXPERIENCED AT CARING FOR THE CHILDREN FROM ABUSED LIVES. I HAVE ASSIGNED HER THE SOLE DUTY OF ADAM’S CARE. I CAN THINK OF NO ANGEL BETTER SUITED TO THIS TASK.
The angel gives Dean a warm smile and a bow. She’s been silent the whole time they were here, and suddenly something occurs to Dean.
Can Adam still learn things in here?
IN WHAT MANNER?
Like, could he learn to talk again? He turns to Muriel. Make sure you talk to him, all right? All the time, describe what you’re doing, tell him how clever he’s being. I want to see if he makes any progress.
Yes, General. I shall. Muriel says. She begins immediately, leaning forward to catch Adam’s attention to ask if he wants to play with the toy cars now. Adam claps his hands in delight and the floor they’re sitting on changes; the sand melts away to be replaced by bright blue carpet, lots of little plastic cars and tonka trucks.
ADAM HAS ALREADY MADE MUCH PROGRESS SINCE I BROUGHT HIM HERE.
The thought of it being worse than this makes Dean queasy. In what way?
HE WAS TOTALLY SILENT. HE DID NOT INTERACT WITH ANY OF THE CHILDREN. HE COWERED IN FEAR. THAT IS WHY I ASSIGNED MURIEL TO WATCH OVER HIM. SHE ENCOURAGED HIM TO PLAY.
Dean watches as Muriel takes his instructions to heart, describing the toys by colour, size and the usage of their full-sized Earth counterparts. She praises Adam whenever he picks up the correct one, though it’s by no means every time.
Dean joins in with the game, bright and cheery for Adam’s sake. If the smile never reaches his eyes, no one calls him out on it.
Time passes differently in Heaven, but after what Dean judges to be a solid day playing with his youngest brother, he finally gets round to asking Cas about Crowley and the Leviathans.
HE CLAIMED NOT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THEIR ESCAPE.
And you believed him? Dean scoffs.
IT IS TRUE THAT THERE ARE MANY UNSTABLE HELL-MOUTHS. IT IS NOT INCONCEIVABLE THAT THEY ESCAPED UNAIDED.
But?
IT DOES SEEM SUSPICIOUS THAT THEY WOULD IMMEDIATELY SEEK TO HARM YOU.
Yes. Yes it does. But it's a mystery for another day; right now, Dean has a brother that needs him, and for once, it isn't Sam.