Chapter Text
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
He was supposed to be making burgers in the Bunker, classic rock playing in the background as Cas stood beside him, watching and copying him. The TV would be off. The day would be sunny. Cas wouldn't be good at forming the patties, and Dean would stand behind him and help. Cas would look back and smile that tiny smile of his, and Dean would lean in and catch it for the first time. They'd both stop breathing for a moment before Cas would grin and Dean would copy him. They'd kiss again. Sam would walk in and smile but not say a word. Because Sam always knew, really.
That's how Dean always wanted it to go, at least.
Not like this.
Not in a dingy basement, half-starved, definitely dehydrated, and gripping that damned knife.
Alone.
Dean closed his eyes and pretended he could taste the sunlight in Cas's mouth for one more moment before taking the cursed knife and carving an invisible confession into his palm.
~~~
-Two Days Earlier-
"Hey, so get this." Sam sat first his laptop then himself at the small table in their motel room. He turned the laptop to face Dean, whose face was stuffed with crappy fast food burger.
"W wffe?"
Sam shot him his Bitch Face™ and clicked a few keys on the keyboard. "Yeah, Dean. A knife. It's some sort of cursed object that a lot of people are trying to bid over. The owner isn't too keen on selling, though."
Dean swallowed and took a big gulp of soda. "How is that our problem then?"
"Well..." Sam hit a key and a picture of a ragged man showed up. "This guy broke into his house last night. The knife was gone when he got there."
"So... cursed item on the loose?"
"Looks like."
"What's it do?" Dean took another big bite.
"It- God, can you quit eating for even a minute? It doesn't say. Like. Anywhere. It's just supposed to be very very bad."
"Well that's specific."
"Look. I wouldn't even bring it up if it weren't for the fact that this-" Sam pulled up a video, "-was on the security cameras."
Dean glanced at Sam before pressing play. A man on the screen walked in long strides, knife in hand. Another man backed away from him, only for the first man to swing the knife across the other's throat. Dean waited for man number two to fall, but he didn't. He didn't even bleed. He just stumbled and looked like he began screaming. The first man glanced at the camera, eyes shining, before striding away.
"That man is still alive. Not even a scratch." Sam turned his laptop back around.
"So what? A knife that doesn't kill people? Doesn't sound that dangerous to me, Sammy."
"That's what I thought, too. But then I learned that a stripper across town was found dead in an alley, throat slit."
"You think this knife harnesses a reaper, then?"
Sam met Dean's eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Which makes it incredibly dangerous. And we need to find it before someone goes on a killing spree."
"You ID our thief?"
"Can't find a match. May be a shapeshifter. I figure our best bet is to go talk to the knife's previous owner: Mr. J. G. McKinley."
Dean finished off his drink before balling up the burger paper and tossing it into the wastebasket. "Then let's go."
They soon found themselves ringing Mr. McKinley's doorbell. Dean glanced around, taking in the lack of police cars and caution tape.
"Did he not report anything stolen?" Dean whispered to Sam, who shook his head.
"He reported some silverware was gone. Nothing important."
"Silverware as in the knife."
"Obviously."
The heavy wood door opened with a groan, revealing a middle-aged man with slightly greying hair. "Who are you?"
Sam and Dean both held out their badges. "I'm Agent Grohl and this is Agent Cobain. We're here about a theft that occurred here."
The man stepped back from the door, giving them room to enter but not saying a word. The brothers entered the house, crossing over the rug in the doorway.
Dean loosened his tie, sweat immediately beading on his forehead. "Man, you keep it humid in here, don't you?"
The man eyed the two suspiciously, before spitting out, "Christo."
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam rolled his eyes. "We ain't demons."
McKinley sighed and closed the door behind them. "Yeah, you didn't get stuck in the trap under the rug either. You're hunters, right?"
The brothers exchanged a look.
"How did you know?" Sam asked.
McKinley snorted. "Grohl and Cobain? And the FBI showing up for a silverware theft? Ridiculous."
"So the humidity is-"
"Holy water. Gotta be careful."
Dean frowned a little. "Yeah well, you weren't careful enough. Mind telling us what happened?"
McKinley sighed before gesturing for them to sit on the couch as he took a chair. "I've kept that damned knife safe for years, and secret, too. I don't know who finally tracked me down, but they put out word in the whole monster community and it ain't been easy ever since. The missus even packed up for a few days to stay safe. Then last night that damn shapeshifter got in and stole it pretending to be some shady lowlife."
Sam nodded understandingly as Dean narrowed his eyes. "Why protect it?" Dean asked. "What exactly does it do?"
McKinley fidgeted. "It... transfers wounds. You don't kill who you try to. It picks randomly."
"Who would even want something like that?"
"Evil sons of bitches who enjoy creating chaos."
Sam cleared his throat. "Do you have any leads on this shapeshifter?"
"Nope. I'm not a hunter. Just unlucky, mostly."
Sam opened his mouth to ask another question, but Dean abruptly stood up, cutting him off. "Well thank you for your time. We'll let you know if we find it."
McKinley nodded at him and let the two out of the house.
Once the door closed behind them, Sam pushed Dean. "Dude, what the hell?! We didn't get to ask like, half the questions we needed to!"
"He was lying." Dean unlocked Baby and slid in. "He started lying after I asked him what it did. This thing, knife, whatever, it goes deeper than what he's letting on."
Sam sighed and closed the passenger door behind him. "Then what do we do?"
"I'm thinking we ask our resident angel to do a bit of research for us."