Chapter Text
She woke up with a start, bolting up in her bed, sweaty clothes sticking to her back, heavy breaths forcing their way in and out of her lungs. After the initial panic had subsided and her breathing began to slow down, she pulled her legs into her chest and buried her head between her knees. Tears welled in her eyes and her ribs ached with the effort of not releasing the sobs that desperately clawed their way up her throat.
Body trembling and ears ringing from the deafening silence, she looked over at the clock on her night stand.
12:01.
As usual.
In the sixteen years that she had been living, twelve of them had entailed being plagued by the same nightmare every night. For the past six months, though, she had been having them at the exact same time, always waking up to find that it was one minute past midnight. And she could never remember the dream once she was awake.
Feeling drained but knowing she would be unable to go back to sleep, she pushed the covers off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A chill rose through her as her bare feet reached the hardwood floor. Her arms rose above her head and she twisted her spine, sighing as a series of grotesque pops of her joints permeated the thick silence. Slightly more awake now, she grabbed a zip-up hoodie off of the floor and made her way across the bathroom. As quietly as she could she opened her window and removed the screen.
A soft smile graced her features as a warm breeze floated through the window, tousling her hair as it filled her lungs. She deftly pulled herself through the open window to sit on the roof.
The shingles scraped against the bottoms of her calloused feet, but the view of the stars above her blinded her to any pain she might’ve felt. She stared up at the distant balls of flame in wonder, wishing she could see what they looked like up close.
As she stared upwards, she became more and more lost in thought. So much so, that she failed to notice the shadowy figure on the grass below her.
The figure strode silently across the perfectly manicured lawn. He didn’t even bother to sneak-- he was far too confident for that. Things had a tendency to go his way and so he was unworried.
The blade in his hand glinted in the moonlight. He brought it only as extra insurance; he didn’t expect the girl to fight back (at least not enough to concern him), but he wanted to be prepared for the unexpected. Were he to muck this up his entire plan would be ruined.
He soon discovered that it was easy enough to sneak up on her and even easier to knock her out.
With a wicked smirk he grabbed the girl’s wrist and left as quickly as he’d come.
The Winchesters were sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks. They had taken a few days between cases after a particularly vengeful ancient god decided to kill off perfectly healthy children. Their free time was spent sleeping, tending to their wounds, and doing fixing the Impala in the motel parking lot, and doing whatever the hell they wanted.
Little did they know that their peaceful few days would be cut short.
They awoke to the flutter of wings and a familiar gravelly voice telling them to wake up.
“Cas? What the hell-” Dean rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up. “Come on, man, we were sleeping!”
“I found a case,” Cas said simply.
Sam glanced over to his brother for a moment, wondering if he too was feeling that something was strange. Turning his attention back to the angel he said, “Since when do you find us cases?”
Castiel shifted his weight. He didn’t seem to know how to answer without arousing their suspicion. One hand reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded up page of newspaper, handing it to the youngest brother.
Sam took the paper, looking once more to his brother as he unfolded it. As he read his brow furrowed. “So a girl shows up in a creek in Tennessee,” annoyance crept into his voice, “how exactly does that require us? This seems like a problem for the police to handle.”
“Something’s not right. I can sense it,” Cas said.
“You can sense it?” Dean asked incredulously. “Cas, if you think you’re gonna interrupt one of the few vacations we get with our job you’re gonna need a whole lot more than vague suspicion and spidey senses.” His eyes swirled with annoyance as he leaned back against the headboard of the bed and folded his arms.
Something in Castiel’s eyes shifted. They seemed to shine a darker shade of blue with a hint of-- was that desperation? “Please,” he begged. “I would not bother you if it were an insignificant matter.”
A long silence stretched between the three men as the brothers held one of their silent conversations. Pointed glances flew back and forth across the room, sharp sighs sliced through the air, and Castiel’s brow furrowed more and more with each new new movement from either of them.
At long last both brothers turned their attention back to the angel.
“What do you need us to do?”
In no time at all, Dean found himself parking the Impala at an active crime scene two hours West of their motel. A brief (and somewhat vague) explanation from Cas had convinced them to don their FBI gear and make the drive to a spot along Lookingglass Creek in Oregon. The bridge crossing over it was completely blocked by yellow tape and police cars, but nevertheless the two men and the angel climbed out of the Impala as if they belonged there.
The three of them walked toward the tape with purpose, their strides long and unwavering. Dean, who was leading the pack, acted surprised and just a tad outraged when a sheriff put a hand to the hunter’s chest to stop him from crossing the police tape. Pulling his best irritated face, Dean whipped his fake badge from his pocket, introducing himself as Agent Burnham.
“Sorry,” the Sheriff said slowly, seeming somewhat sceptical as his eyes drifted over to the sleek and shiny black car that certainly wasn’t standard issue for the Bureau, “but what does the Bureau want with a small-town Jane Doe case?” It was clear by his folded arms and upturned nose that he was seeing right through them.
Now even more irritated, Dean mimicked the sheriff’s posture. “Listen, buddy, we have reason to believe that this could be a part of a string of cases nationwide. You want to question it then call my director. Now, if you don’t mind?” He gestured in frustration to the yellow tape, demanding more than asking to be let through.
“Yeah. Sure,” the sheriff griped. “I’d like your director’s phone number, though, if you don’t mind.”
Without another word, Dean fished a business card emblazoned with one of Bobby’s fake phone numbers out of his breast pocket and shoved it in the direction of the real law enforcement officer.
The three men fell into step once more as they ducked under the yellow tape. Together they made their way down the grassy embankment towards the creek.
Between the muddy ground and the swollen banks and fast-moving flow of the creek, the Winchesters were lead to believe that it had recently rained. A lot. They picked their way closer to the congregation of cops at the very edge of the creekbed, a few of them even standing in it.
“What’ve we got, boys?” Dean asked as they drew nearer. This time he was prepared, already flashing his badge and prompting Sam and Cas to do the same.
Questioning eyes flashed between the cops, seeming to wonder what the Sheriff had: what did the FBI want with this case? Slowly but surely they began to divulge details of the case.
A girl had been found in the water around daybreak by an eager fisherman. Miraculously, she was still alive. From what they could tell, she was almost completely uninjured, save for a few minor scrapes and some bruises. Her breathing was normal and even, her pupils dilated in response to light --by all accounts she seemed to be in perfect health. There was no evidence that she had jumped, or of any way she could have gotten into the creek. The catch was that nobody could seem to get her out of the creek. That was where the cops began to have trouble explaining further.
“Well, where is she?” Sam questioned. His brow was furrowed and there was a certain glint in his eye that only seemed to appear when he had determined that something fell into the Winchesters’ area of expertise. His brow furrowed even further as he watched one of the cops point out towards the middle of the creek.
“We tried to get her out but she won’t budge. She’s not caught on anything, she’s just… floating there,” one officer managed. “It’s like she’s asleep and just floating there,” his voice was strained with confusion.
The hunters were equally confused. They stared out into the rushing current of the swollen creek where the girl lay perfectly still in the middle of it all. What might have been the weirdest part was that the floating debris from the storm they assumed caused the rising of the water level seemed to swerve out of the way of hitting her.
“And, uh,” the officer spoke up again, drawing the attention of the Winchesters once more, “you might think we’re crazy but…” The man was wringing his hands and chewing on his lip, as if he were wondering whether to actually go through with finishing his sentence.
Dean raised an eyebrow after a few beats of silence. Impatience ran through his veins, coupled with the curiosity and apprehension that came with the unusual circumstances of this case.
“Well, whenever anyone goes to touch her they get this weird mark. Looks like a burn.”
As the officer said this, he and a few of his comrades rolled their right sleeves up to their elbows. The skin of their arms was marred just below the crease of their inner elbows. The marks were a fresh red, shaped vaguely like a triangle, about the size of a half dollar.
Upon seeing the mark, Castiel stepped forward with wide eyes. He grasped one of the men’s arms to inspect it more closely. His eyes studied every millimeter of the mark before he suddenly picked his head up once more to look out at the girl. Without warning he shoved past the cops and past his friends. There was absolutely no hesitation in his expression or in his gait as he began to wade into the creek.
“Whoa, Cas!” Dean called in surprise, following him to the edge of the creekbed. When his friend ignored him, he called after him a few more times. With no response from Cas, he too began to make his way into the creek, grumbling the whole time.
Sam still stood in front of the cops, watching his brother and the angel. When Dean entered the water, Sam’s shoulders slumped and his face morphed from professional to bitchy. He wasn’t about to be the only one of them left on land, unable to immediately be there to help them, would they need it. Letting out a huff and shaking his head a little, the youngest Winchester trudged toward the creek and unenthusiastically waded in after them. He cringed at the feeling of the cold water and mud squelching through his socks and shoes, but he persisted onwards.
When he caught up to the other two, Cas was simply staring intently down at the girl, while Dean was staring at Cas in bewilderment. He watched as his brother debated between wanting to help what seemed to be a harmless teenage girl in an odd situation and following everything being a hunter had taught him and being extra cautionary with this girl, if that’s what she really was.
Before Dean could come to a decision, Cas grabbed the girl’s shoulders. Her eyes flickered open but seemed to stare past him as he pulled her upright. As he did this, the current suddenly seemed to affect her again.
Her lower body, still submerged in water, began to succumb to the rush of water heading downstream. Had Cas not kept a firm grip on her shoulders, she surely would have been pulled away and drowned.
“How in the hell did you do that?” one of the cops called from where they still stood on the bank. The water carried the clear confusion in his voice to the Winchesters and the angel, but none of them answered.
In a blink, Cas had placed the girl over his shoulder. Without so much as a glance towards the Winchesters, he started in the direction he had come.
The brothers chased after him once more, running as well as on could over mossy rocks under water and fighting the pull of the current.
When the three of them were at last back on land, only then did Castiel acknowledge the boys again. “We need to get back to the bunker,” he had said before disappearing. The two very confused hunters were left to answer the numerous questions of the even more confused cops Cas had just left behind.