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It was a quiet period. Well, as quiet as it was possible for them Winchester. Last version of the Apocalypse was prevented and whatever new crappy one wasn't arrived yet. So yeah, quiet time. Except for this ghoul’s nest that was killing couples since 1905. They were really good at this, because if it wasn't for Charlie's surprise email, the two brothers wouldn't have known. Sure, back in 1905, there were hints. But it occurred that at this same time a serial killer was in town, and not for playing Scrabble.
Charlie had indeed created a program that compiled somehow newspapers entries, the police incident records as well as some meteorological info to help them find new cases. This program was apparently running smoothly because they just received this surprise email from "Big Sister". No doubt it was her, not only because of this wit humour but also because of the little fox closing the email. Dean smiled at the computer, wondering what she was up to right now.
"Watch this Sammy", said Dean smashing the folder just impressed on the table, "new case !"
As Sam was looking into it, Dean continued:
"Found out by Charlie's program. Did you know she had a program to help us find cases ? She called it "Big Sister is watching"."
Sam giggled:
"She never stops, can't she ? So, what's on ?
- Apparently ? Ghouls. You know this little who's who Monster version that Charlie created ?
- The one to know what we are hunting by checking boxes ?
- Exactly. Well, turns out it's ghouls."
Sam was lifting the file's paper, astonished by the precision of Charlie's program.
"Wow. It really saw a pattern going on for fifty years thanks to what ? Three mysterious disappearances ?
- Yeah, awesome. She's awesome.
- Soooo. Who's going to be Cass husband ?
- I beg you pardon ?”
The disbelief in Dean's voice was truly hilarious, so Sam decided to play along.
"Yeah, since in no way we're going to pretend we're husbands, one of us needs to be Cass's. Charlie's program says here that there is an odd amount of couple deaths/disappearances linked in one way or another to this St Ann High School. Caspian, the husband of the first couple, was a retired teacher, Grace, the wife of the second was a headmistress. But as the time goes, the link seems looser and looser. There (he pointed one particular line on the file): the last couple was newly installed librarians that held some school's "trips".
- Trips to library ? Really ?” Dean rolled his eyes as he continued. “That's fucking lame. Who wants to go to the library?
When he saw the look on Sam face, he corrected himself.
- Okay, apart from your crazy geek ass, who wants to go to the library?
- Come on Dean...
- You know I'm right!”
Sam did his best impression of his resting bitch face, special guesting the very pitched lips.
“Whatever. So, one of us needs to investigate from afar. Since we need to be in that school to see how they target people, maybe I can apply to this PE teacher position. It’s vacant.
- You? Please, I still have fucking nightmares of the coach you in that fat sucking spa. I'm gonna do it.
- You’re sure?
- Fuck yeah. I've already done that and you're weird with anything that is not a book."
For the nth time this morning, Sam rolled his eyes. But he knew his time would come really fast.
And indeed, Castiel showed up pretty soon after they made the last agreement with the high school. While Dean was handing him a cup of coffee, he explained to him the new case:
- Cass, buddy, Charlie's algorithm found something for us. Ghouls probably. Anyway, people are disappearing, we will investigate. Seems to be linked to some high school, so I will go as a PE teacher while you and Sam will...
Dean opened his eyes wide as the realisation stroke him. He saw Sam's grin become a proud evil face. He couldn't let him have this satisfaction. That was nothing. Sam would be Cass fake husband, and that would be it, period. He would have continued his sentence, even though he had made this little tiny pause that marked Sam's sweet payback, if only Sam's voice would not have been faster.
“What Dean is trying to say… (he stressed heavily his brother’s name, exulting) is that while he will be the PE teacher, since my stupid geek ass is perfect for it, I'm going to be your husband to investigate in the neighbourhood and try to find those ghouls.”
Cass made a confused face, looked up to Dean, unsure what Sam's quality of butt had anything to do with this whole case, and finally asked the most relevant question he had in mind:
“Why don't we just... Go to the cemetery? Like all the other times ?
- Apparently”, replied Sam, “this area as a weird law that demand to burn the corpses before burying what remains. Oh! This law.”
Sam lied back into the back of his chair, half smiling. He remembered this odd one. When he was studying for the law appliance, Jess helped him by reading out loud all the oddest laws she could find on the Internet. That was one of them. She said that, apparently, this area had their share of epidemics due to corpse infections back in the days. So, they just decided, unless the body would be repatriated back somewhere else, all dead people on their soil would be cremated, no question asked.
Wiping the memory of his mind, he continued:
“So, there is this cremating law and apparently the crematorium is owned by the same family since... Hell, the dawn of time. There is no record of a family owing this crematorium other than the… Crematorians.
- Wait, they've got a name that's...?” asked Dean, tilting his head to the right, judgmental face on.
“Yeeep. They are in charge since before the nineteenth century, so they basically get called by their jobs. Bit odd but...
- It was pretty common to be called by your profession back then”, interrupted Cass, “Smith, Taylor, those are all professions.”
Sam gestured agreeingly towards him.
“Thanks Cass. So, there no way for a ghoul in here to... Just show up to the cemetery and eat dead people. They have to make their own dead people.
- Sam, you being fan of serial killers is already strange as it is and frankly really fucking disturbing but I draw the line at serial killers ghouls. Come on man, this is weird, even for you.
- It's not... I'm not...!
- Anyway, to not let Cass down for an autograph is all I ask.”
Sam rolled his eyes once again but promised to not let him down.
Luckily, one of the real estate developers in this area were the one the two brothers saved from the Native American bug curse back when they were still searching for their father and Azazel. For once, it had been really easy to borrow a house for "as long as you want, just get rid of whatever you're hunting" in a nice neighbourhood, one that seems to be on the hunting ground of the ghouls.
This was indeed a really nice neighbour. Really quiet, full of families and children, near every stores you could think of. Sam had quickly found a job as a plumber; thanks to the diploma he had obtained during Dean's trip in purgatory. Diploma his brother had laugh him out for, once the whole "you didn't search me because you hit a dog" was not the only thing Dean could focus on. Anyway, Sam had been right to do all the paperwork and everything, since in no time he had found a well-paid job. For Castiel, it was more... Complicated. But he eventually found his angelic way out, and was now an employee at the local flower shop. All thanks to his bee's passion. Dean's first reaction was to absolutely forbid him to go in Baby with bees. Cass couldn't hear the end of it, even though he told him repeatedly he now understood better clothes custom and it wasn't even on his car that he had shown up naked covered in bees. Still.
The first month happened pretty smoothly. Sam and Cass introduced themselves to the neighbours, thanks to the cookie’s recipe Dean had taught the angel. Somehow, they were neither good nor bad. He managed, nobody knew how, to make them taste all the molecule individually but not as a whole. It was a complete mystery for the neighbourhood who asked Castiel to do them regularly, just to figure out this mystery. Furthermore, between Sam's job that allowed him to go directly on people's house, Cass's one which was the crossroad of gossips and Dean's, they were able to identify all people linked in the slightest to St Ann's High School, and to narrow down to 20 suspects. Sam was going to repair some odd water leaks on ten houses in the next two weeks while Cass and Dean would figure out an excuse to hand to the rest of them cookies wrapped in aluminium and silver foils.
The excuse per se was not that bad. Doing some cookies to celebrate Sam's and Cass's arrival a month ago was really a cute excuse. No, what was really that bad, was Dean calling Castiel "this weird dorky little guy" in front of almost each neighbour when he was explaining why they had a ton of cookies to get rid of. It was Cass not even react when Dean said that "his feathered ass" tried to impress "Sammy, that's just Sammy, hell". But it was the calm hand that landed on Dean's shoulder to stop him from an eternal mumbling that spread whispers all around. Those two had clearly more alchemy than just in-laws.
What definitely and irremediably spread rumours in all town was Dean arriving at St Ann's High School with a bunch of those dissension cookies and ranting all day long about how he did not write that bad, Sammy in the other hand did. Anyway, who is dumb enough to really think it was written kg.
“He’s a fucking angel, don’t curse kiddos, he’s supposed to be like the most knowledgeable in the room, and he really thought it was written in kilograms. If you wonder, one, ONE kilogram is 35 oz. IT WAS OZ” Dead began to really lose his chill. “Of course it was oz, not kg. So the house was freaking full of cookies. Like fucking everywhere. Don’t curse buddies.”
At this point, all the pupils were really interested about what their professor was saying. They learnt a bit more later that he could not even sleep on the couch now. For sure, Dean did not tell them that straight away, he needed a little push up, which gossip lovers were really happy to give him. It took nearly one whole month, but they came to know everything they wanted. More than they could dream of, actually. They learnt he didn't usually sleep on the couch because he had his own room in their new house. But they also heard that now Cass had inevitably invaded his room, again, but this time with cookies. At least, did he say some day, when they all had to run in circles in the stadium, back at home it was Sam's room the one mostly invaded by the angelic serial binge-watcher. Yes, because there were two houses in this story. The one Mr Flower – for lack of anything better, because the pupils could not refer to him as Mr Winchester since they were three to be called that may – and Mr Plumber were currently living at, and where Mr Winchester seemed to live a bit in spite of them being married. And the one he called home, maybe it was the Winchester’s parents’ one ? Because he certainly said they all had a room. Even though Mr Flower seemed to enjoy occupying the other’s rooms, and Sam’s one was apparently for binge-watching Netflix. Well, only when Sam was at whatever Palace Rowena was currently at so Cass could crash in front of Sam’s Netflix.
“I’m sorry Mister, so, you’re saying that he uses your brother’s room only when your brother is not there ?
- Yes, otherwise, Sammy just listens to true crime and serial killer podcasts, and it’s just fucking, don’t swear kiddos, weird.
- And when he’s out, it’s usually in an hotel with a Rowena ?
- I know right ?” answered Dean with the most betrayed face he could have.
This information, although said as if it was nothing, was really interesting. So one asked who was that Rowena. You know, for the full situation's understanding. To understand better the wrongs. Not for gossips. Definitely not for gossips.
"A freaking witch.” Dean had replied. “Sam's really fond of her, and okay she helped a lot, and she is maybe not that bad, but still. She's a witch. But he says, and I quote, I “don't have a say in whom is his best friend since you were gone a whole summer with the fucking king of hell." Sammy swears a lot, don’t be like Sammy. As if Crowley swinged that way.”
He really had the saltiest voice when he had told that. Nobody really knew if this was metaphorical, but sure it was a hell of an entertainment. And that he did absolutely not say he was the one who did not “swinged that way”.
A real Google doc had been long created to keep a track on all those information. And to had more with what pupils living in their neighbourhood could witness. For example, this particular day were some of them clearly saw their teacher nearly chocked to death while Sam joked about how a great kisser his husband was.
“He truly learnt from the pizza men”
At some point, they all agreed there was surely a misunderstanding about Mr Plumber and Rowena’s relationship. Unexpectedly, the vast majority of St Ann's school admitted that, for what they could have investigated on, Mr Plumber was definitely not having an affair with this Rowena. How did they know that ? Just because one day, while he was in the library – this man had really made the public library his second home, he was as often in it as Leonie, their bookworm in chief – the famous Rowena showed. She was gorgeous. Something was utterly eerie about her, but she had this presence that draw everyone eyes on her. Even if she had a nickname for him, several actually, and she called him “deary” from time to time, she pinched his cheeks. Yes, like an old auntie or a grandmother. So yeah, they collectively decided she was no threat to Mr Flower and Mr Plumber-bookworm’s couple. But they all recognised maybe Mr Flower, the nice but also vastly confused florist of a husband, thought he was. And that would be why he was so receptive to Mr Winchester’s whatever-kind-of-flirt-it-was. But again, from what their really chatty, when not traumatising-them-with-his-long-runs, PE teacher said, the florist had been hitting on him from a long time. Like, a really long time. And M. Winchester seemed to be completely oblivious to it. Hell, a lot of people even thought he was in a complete denial on his own feelings for the florist. Which was utterly ridiculous considering he flirted sometime with his brother’s husband.
Some really took pity on Mr Plumber because it was obvious he was the consolation prize.
After two months, a picture leaked. One of a particularly flustered Mr Winchester staring intensely at Mr Flower biker outfit. Why would the nice florist be in such an outfit you may ask ? Well, a lot of students was wondering too. That’s when they discovered another side of this cute men. He liked bees. Like, totally adored them. Which could seem to push away the explanation of this biker hobby. But no, not really. In fact, he had signed up in a beekeeping association, which happened to also be a biker one. He was quickly taught how to drive a bike, and he kind of liked it. So he was having his first long ride with them the day the photo was taken. And after the look on Mr Winchester’s face, and the half mysterious yet utterly sexy smile Mr Flower made for him, a question was on all lips: did they must tell Mr Plumber that he was slowly but surely losing his husband? Or tell Mr Winchester that he was not as straight as he thought he was ?
Those questions were kind of answered, or rather delayed, by Leonie, the school's bookworm : she thought that Sam, the nice plumber, whom happened to be as often as her in the library, deserved better than to be the consolation prize – and to be cheated on. She told him that maybe his husband did not understand this Rowena was not his lover. She faced a really, really confused Sam. She kinda hoped she had her camera with her because the face he made was skyrocketing near that confused blinking man gif.
Old habits came back quickly and he asked her more details. That's how he discovered this whole Google doc thing.
They were so screwed.
Sam ran his hands on his face once again.
"I gotta say, it's kind of impressive. I mean, even Bobby did not have this kind of details when he was in skate-out.
- Dude, are you seriously complementing those freaks that spread rumours ? Rumours that will surely ruin two months of undercover? Maybe you don't care, but I actually miss my memory foam bed. This one does not remember me."
Sam glared in Dean's way, seeing his betrayed face of him.
"I'm not the one that, and I quote «look at M. Flower like he is everything» or « slightly smile fondly when M. Flower laugh but frown when it is because of one of Sam's jokes». Ah, this one comment surely is Leonie’s. Hell, Dean, it is even written here that you lean over Cass when we hold hands!
- Do I really look at bees the way I look at Dean?”
Cass's question really unsettled Sam and Dean. After quite a moment, when both Cass and Dean looked puzzled then at the other, then puzzled again, Sam sighed and took the bridge of his nose.
"Yes Cass, you look at bee’s the way you look at Dean."
There was an awkward silence.
"Let's call it a night."
It was not a question nor a suggestion. Dean was suddenly exhausted and he did not want to explore more how Cass though he was somehow alike with bees. And he really did not want to listen to Sam. He was not in love with Cass, God dammit. He just thought it was annoying to watch them playing lovebirds in front of him. To watch them giggles all day long. It seemed real in a way that Dean did not like. Which was strange, because he did not have any kind of problem with Sam and Cass being friend before. But it was surely not because he was in love with his best friend. Absolutely the fuck not.
When Dean woke up and went to the kitchen the next day, he saw a Sam who must certainly not have slept that night.
Honestly, how could he think that this wasn't obvious to death? He should have known better; he should have known that Dean was all but subtle. And neither was Cass. No, in fact they were really subtle. But only for each other. Because they were dumb as fuck. Sam had all night to discover that yes, those kids were freaking stalkers, but they were only on the iceberg’s not hidden part. Like, they did not know Dean as well as he did, and so they were not able to see all the little, nearly impossible to witness, mimics and faces he made throughout those two months. And they did clearly not live with them for years now.
Whenever they were hanging out all three of them and, for the sake of this mission, Cass and he were holding hands, or just... Chilling like a married couple, Dean would made the most hilarious faces. Little arching of the eyebrows, few seconds of blank face, on and on. For the first weeks, Dean really tried to contain himself, because it was a mission, and he knew better than that. But as time went, Cass and Sam learned how to function as a couple. Cass learnt what kind of salad Sam liked to eat during lunch break, and Sam often brought Cass – and Dean sometime – to the beekeeper farm where Cass was delighted to go more than once a week.
And as time passed by, Dean found it really hard to stay impassive. He knew it was nothing, he knew that Sam was not into Cass, he knew that. If his brother was on supernatural beings it was mostly demons, and always chicks. But still, he wished he had not rejected the idea of a PE teacher Sam. Because he wanted to be Cass's husband. So he was champing at the bit, waiting for the case to be closed.
Over a month, much to Dean's astonishment, he could not restrain himself as much as he could a few weeks back. He just couldn't. Without much explanation, he declared that Friday night would be movie night, just so Sam and Cass would go on fewer occasion out for dinner. He would also made sassy remarks on how the two were really grossly fond of one another. Nothing mean, nothing that could be witnessed as something different from just brother-making-fun-of-the-other but still.
Honestly, Sam was kind of impressed. He didn't think Dean could bear this whole situation that long. Hell, he thought he would let him be the PE teacher right away when he would have understood that the other was going to be Cass’s hubby. So he watched this jerk rail against it in silence.
Eventually, Dean lost it. Not in a full tantrum mode, no. He just snapped after a month and half when he saw Sam having some ice cream on the face. He knew Cass was going to rip it off and do this little mimic that was really too cute for this world. And he was not going to let that happen. No fucking way. He took this fucking napkin and just rip it off himself. And he saw the fucking grin of Sam, dammit, he saw his brother exult in one smile, and he knew Sam got him. That's why he could not help the "bitch" that crossed his lips. Not minding at all, Sam had replied with the traditional jerk, all smiles. However, both knew that this was the confirmation all the little teasing Sam was doing for months, for years, waited for.
"Dude, did you really stayed up all night to read this stupid Google doc?
-As a matter of fact, yes. You remember those fanfictions you read about us?"
Dean made the most utterly disgusted face he could. Why on earth would his brother try to bring this to his memory?
"I did not and was freaking happy about it until you spoke. Why?”
Sam looked at him, his lips pinched.
"Yeah, well, do you also remember the whole crappy TV show world?
- You mean the one where you married fake Ruby? Aaaaand where we were like crazy rich? Yeah, what about that?
- You remember in the scripts the thing... The DeanCas thing?”
Dean looked more and more puzzled as the conversation went on.
"Your point Sam?
-This Google doc is like dozens of prompts for DeanCas fanfiction. This is so hilarious.
- Yeah, yeah I bet so. That's why you were up all night? Because it was hilarious?”
Sam glared at Dean and rolled his eyes.
“No, I just couldn't sleep, so I read this instead. Whole more fun that I thought it would. There is one student who clearly has no time for this and just wrote "sexual tension between jackass Prof...
- Oh God, it's fucking Spencer, oh he's gonna hear me for sure!”
Sam continued his sentence as if Dean did not interrupt him.
“ ... and M. Flower". Like, a bunch of time.
-That's creepy dude.” He gestured to all of this, coffee in one had, disbelief on his face. “More than your creepy obsession with serial killers.
- Well, if this mission is going to be compromised, anyway we can have a good laugh.”
Dean was speechless. How come Sam, his little organisation freak of a brother, could take this like that? They worked for nothing. And he was laughing at their wasted efforts. Well, to be fair, it was not Sam's fault, even though he would clearly not admit that out loud. But still.
Castiel chose this moment to show up in the kitchen. After pouring some coffee, he asked what every one of them wondered.
“Are we continuing with this mission? Or do we call another couple of hunters to do it?”
Sam sighed.
“Problem is... There is no time left. According to their pattern, they will strike next week max. But let me check if there are another freshly installed couple who could be a better target that we do.”
He clicked into his laptop a few times. A moment passed. Sam just shook his head.
“Nothing. So either way they just... Delay their meal. Which seems unlikely. Or they are content with us. We are clearly not in a rush anyway. We can wait for another week.”
They all agreed to stay a little longer.
“Just guys please... Do not make more content for this. No matter how it’s funny to read.”
As Sam talked, he gestured vaguely to his laptop. Castiel was obviously confused, not having followed the prior conversation.
"Why would we make content for your laptop? We don't do laptop?
-He's speaking of all the stalking those kids made about us Cass.
-Oh. I see."
They managed, to the greatest disappointment of all the rumours tellers of the town, to not act like they were not so secretly having an affair. For five days. But it all blew off the Wednesday. Dean was heading to the library to discuss with Sam about a potential case, since this one did not seem to work out. When he entered, he saw Cass was there too, which happen to be convenient. He would not have to repeat himself. He loved kids, really, but he was just so fucking done repeating himself. As he approached, he heard them speak in what was clearly not English. Or Spanish. It could be French, for all he knew, because this language was fucking wild, but it seems more... Ancient somehow. More powerful too. That was how it clicked. It was Enochian. Why the hell were they talking in Enochian ?
“I say that with absolutely not an inch of jealousy in my voice, in case you wonder Sam” began Dean, looking briefly around to see that they were not alone, “because it is not one of those DeanCass crap again, but Cass since when did you fucking teach Sammy to speak your tongue? No matter how or when I asked you, you freaking refused all the time.”
Knowing where it would lead, Castiel explained before the whole situation would come out of hand:
"I, for one, did not teach Sam. And I will not teach you either way, because it causes severe headaches when a human – he whispered the word because he somehow felt that it was strange if someone could hear him talk about human by calling them human – try to learn it. And I do not want you to be hurt. And I do not want to hurt you either."
This was pretty sweet. As enraging it was to witness all of those dorks-in-love moves, Sam was glad sometime to be there and to see that Dean was deeply loved. Even if it means that the mission will be compromised.
Because they had drawn enough attention towards them to definitively screw up this mission. Even if Dean had contained himself, even if he did not raise his voice, his face was enough.
In spite of this half-explanation, Dean did not seem totally convinced. But he dropped off the topic. He knew he could not tell Cass what he thought about it in the library, not in front of everyone. Plus, they were invited tonight at a neighbours’ party house, and he did absolutely not want to answer some crazy housewives’ questions about that.
He sure as hell was glad he did drop the subject because he received weird looks and weirder sub-text anyway. He almost chocked when an old lady came, examined him from head to toes and go off with an "yah, you're more boyfriend material than your tall brother, believe me I had three husbands" looking obnoxiously at his pecs.
Later that evening, he learnt that Cass had a similar experience. Except the lady that came at him was neither old nor friendly. Dean tried to tell Cass he was not really sure the old bat was really friendly, but he received this look, the one Cass made which seemed to tell you “you're missing my point, Dean”. Anyway, this not friendly not old lady came to him to tell him that even if his brother’s partner looks freaking good, he has no right to cheat on a poor partner that is clearly oblivious and is clearly in love. At this point, according to Cass, this lady became less frightening because she broke down in tears, and kept repeating "See? That's what you do to this poor little big Sammy". Needless to say, Castiel was utterly puzzled. Sam was not crying at the current time, and he had done nothing wrong to him. As far as he knew anyway. Dean had to explain to Cass why the lady told him that, and when Castiel finally understood, it shined bright on his face. Only to be immediately replaced by the shade of concern.
"Do you really think that I hurt Sam with my actions? I don't understand what kind of actions Mrs Afleloo referred to, but-
- Cass, relax. If anything, Sam knows that you're not trying to hurt him. Plus, remember all of this – he gestured vaguely as he lowered his voice – is fake. Sammy knows that too. He is more amused by this whole situation than he is hurt, believe me.
- Amused?"
Castiel was once again confused. Even after years with the Winchesters, he sometimes had trouble understanding their reactions. Like for example why would Sam be amused by the situation. They were hunting eating human couple ghouls. That was not amusing. People, humans, were dying.
“Yeah, yeah, you know, the whole Google Doc thingy. He stayed up all night a week ago just so he could read it entirely. He somehow really like to see all the neighbours’ investigating about Destiel or whatever crappy name they put on.
-They named... Us ?
- Don't get me started on that pal.”
They paused. There was something else, but neither of them wanted to talk about it when other could ears drop. They both knew it was about the Enochian thing of earlier, so they silently agreed to go home to talk about it in private.
They were going to head out to their house but one of their neighbours, the Middleson, offered them a last drink before returning home. They were a sweet old couple that sometime invited Sam and Cass for lemonade. When they realised the three of them were often together, they begun to tell Dean to come over too. They were one of the potential suspects of the Winchesters, but something did not really match. They went, both of them, to St Ann High School, but after the first victims were found dead. Sure, it could be a family of ghouls, it would not be the first time monsters reunited and used the same method from parents to children, but the family of both of them arrived in the area in the 20’s. They were really nice, and the three Winchesters liked to hang out with them. Both Mrs Middleson and Dean liked mechanic and engines, and Cass appreciated to tag along, while Mr Middleson and Sam discussed ‘till the end of the day about art and literature. Sometimes, Leonie, one of Dean's student, but also one bookworm Sam had come to know during his long sessions at the library, would come to help the old couple, and stay to follow the discussion between the two men. Mr Middleson’s lemonade was really the best. And tonight was not an exception, even though Castiel could sense that it was a bit sweeter than usual. And he tasted a little something like iron. Maybe the glass. Sam quickly drew there too and took one to drink.
“Gerald, please give your recipe to Dean so he can make it when we’ll come home, it's truly amazing.
-Oh, sweetheart, you know you can go at our place whenever you want and I'll make you one. Don't be shy. The door’s always open.”
Sam smiled and thanked him for the invitation. When they would go back at the bunker, their real home, he might keep contact with them, just so they would be able to make a stop whenever they will have a case near the area. This lemonade was truly divine. And Dean owed him one for the time they did a six hours detour just so he could met with his match on whatever version of Tinder he was on.
They came home pretty late, and after some quick wash, both Sam and Dean were passing out in their beds. They were exhausted, but at the same time, it was as if they were going to have their best night of sleep ever. Sam was the first to sink in a dream, the taste of this incredible lemonade on the tongue. Everything felt… warm. He was in the bunker, but it wasn’t really the one they left two months ago. Sure, the architecture was the same, but there were tons of books everywhere, like in Bobby’s old house. In fact, it smelled like Bobby’s. A mix between improbable spices, which were in fact spell ingredients, oil engine, and old and new books. The solid oak table was really a mess. In fact, it was disappearing under tons of sheet, books, artefacts, and files. Someone was obviously doing some archive works, in a way that seemed like Bobby’s. Sam heard noises coming from the kitchen, and he saw the old man emerge from it, a beer in one hand, and a mug in the other. Bobby handed him the mug as he started to speak :
“You know that the model of your coffee pot is the same one we first bought for our house ? You’re lucky boy, because it is the only coffee machine I know how to use. Anyway. Shall we continue ?”
He sat on a non-occupied-by-books-and-all chair, and pulled one for Sam. He focused on whatever he was doing, as Sam had watched him do all of those years.
“We’re kind of doing it fine, Sam. We’ve managed to classify and order all of Rufus collection of books and artefacts, and God knows he was fucking messy, and same thing with the old storage box your dad left. Damn it, I knew I had a lot of things in my house, but I really did not imagine it was that much. We are going to spend a year on this.”
Sam gently laughed. Bobby really seemed surprised. They were doing archive works together for six months now. Sometimes, when she was not hunting with Dean, Cass, or Jo, Charlie tagged along, to help them create a digital version of the Men of Letters library. Dean did not understand how they could do this all day long without killing themselves, but they seemed happy to play librarians, and honestly, this work really helped hunters all around the country. They learnt so much thanks to that, and hunts became much safer.
They were buried in old papers, Bristol sheet to make notices and dust when the bunker’s door opened. Quite unexpectedly, Sam heard a feminine voice presenting herself in a heavy Scottish accent with her famous “Hello boys !”.
“Rowena ? What are you doing there ?
- Aaah, Samuel, my boy, where are you ?”
Sam made a puzzled face. Rowena hardly put a toe in the bunker, unless he asked her to because, you know, the world was ending.
“Downstairs, in the main room. What-”
Before he could finish, he heard heels clinging, as the witch was going down to meet him.
“Whyy, Samuel, I just wanted to say hi. Come here.”
As she was hugging him, she saw that he wasn’t alone.
“Oyy, you secretive boy, who’s your friend ?
- He’s not- That’s not- He’s- (Sam sighed). Rowena, this is Bobby Singer, Bobby this is Rowena MacLeod.”
As he said that, understanding, as if some puzzle piece came together, shine bright on the witch and the hunter face. They both exclaimed:
“Aah the surrogate father !
- The mom witch !
- Right.” Sam didn’t know where to put himself. “So Rowena, why-
- This boy always asks questions. I’m guessing he got that from you, Robert.”
The whole scene was surrealist. And at the same time, it seemed so real, so warm, so right.
Rowena clapped her hands, her face lighted up.
“While I’m sure what you are doing is really important, bla-bla the men of letters, I’m sure that if Robert is just like you Samuel, you two have been buried in all of your books and everything for eons. But do not worry, Rowena is here ! Actually, it might be fun with three people.”
The two men looked at her suspiciously.
“No, I’m not killing you, of changing you in a pig again, relax. So, I was tidying up a bit at home, in a really less messy way than yours, and I found something.”
She searched quickly in the bag she was carrying, and pull out a little notebook. It seemed really ancient but also too clean to be really old. In fact, if you looked closely at it, you would notice it was a paperbank – those notebooks made to look like really beautiful old books. The witch made some room for herself, clearing out piles of books, papyrus, Bristol sheets, etc., and sat down. She tilted her head, indicating to the hunters to sit too. She opened the notebook, which from afar seemed to be a kind of recipe book.
“So, while I was doing the cleaning, I find this little one ! I started writing it when I was doing my Mega Coven project. Anyway. It’s a beginner witch manual. But not like the old, decrepit ones. Er, they taught nothing but healing spell, and not the strong ones on top of it. No, if you want to appeal the youth, you have to adapt. So, it’s an anthology of simple, but impressive, spells. Because, you know, you have to compete with the idea of magic TV shows put on their head.”
Honestly, no one in the bunker really understood where all of this was leading them. What all of this had to do with them ? They did not know.
“Well, I told myself “Rowena, don’t you think it would be fun to test all those silly little spell with Samuel ?” Since, you know, nobody is actively trying to murder you, or to use your body, deary. You have a really busy boy, Robert.
- Could you not call me Robert ? Bobby’s fine.
- Don’t bother” argued Sam “she’s Crowley mother and they have the same nickname habits. It’s hopeless.
- Why, Samuel, you nearly sound annoyed. That’s your name, deary. Anyway. Since I’m here, and you two clearly seem to really want to continue what you were doing, would you like to test out those spells with me ? I brought all of the ingredients we need.”
Sam looked at Bobby. It was late on the afternoon, they had worked all day, they could have a proper evening for once. He knew Bobby was kinda into witchcraft. He was the one who taught him his first spells after all. And he really liked to spend time with the red-head witch.
They spend the whole evening testing her spells. Some were really easy: two or three ingredients, a simple word in Latin or Greek, and voila purple, yellow, blue, pink wreathes. They did a spell that just blowed up in sparkles. One that turn Sam’s hair green and Bobby’s beard orange. One made a decent cup of tea. Sam was really having fun, and he was fine. Really fine.
Dean was fine too, even though he had another kind of dream. Bloodier. He was on a hunt. A nest of vamps that was clearly not subtle. They just arrived in the town, and they did not hunt outside of their living area, judging by the disused factory nearby where all corpses had been found. What a bunch of amateurs. Anyway, since Sam was out with a date finally. So they were alone with Castiel for the day, and maybe the night. They could just go out for this little hunt and be home for dinner. They went in this little town in Kansas, undercover as FBI agents. Cass did, once again, flip out his fake badge upside down. Dean smiled, as always. He really found that endearing. His weird little dorky angel of a friend was really a mess. In a good way. He was always a mess in a good way. Even when he showed up in his car naked covered in bees.
They investigated a little and went into the morgue to be sure it was really for them. And it was a case for them. So they went back to the Impala, to take some machetes and dead-men blood, and they headed to this vegan disused factory. Which was kind of ironic, giving the situation. Anyway, they entered, and here the show went on. There was dust, there was blood, you could have tasted the machetes’ iron. Even though they were pretty newly born vampires, they did give them quite a fight. Fight that ended badly for them, of course. Unfortunately for the Twilights, they did not exactly measure up to an ex-soldier of God Angel that became a hunter, and the ex-keeper of Cain’s mark best hunter out there. When their heads went finally off, Cass went by Dean’s side.
“Dean, you have a cut. Let me heal it for you.
- Cass, it’s nothing, you’re not obligated to do this for me.
- I’m an Angel, Dean, you cannot obligate me to do something I do not want to. I like to take care of you.”
With that, he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, where the cut was. Cass pressed gently it, and a glow-y halo went on, healing quicky and without pain the wound.
“Shall we go home ? Did I hear right when you said you were going to cook roasted chicken ?”
Dean made a surprise, but pleased, face. Cass did not really need to eat. He was an angel after all. But sometimes, he ate what Dean made for him.
“Sure. And I have to show you this awesome movie, as well. Since there is now a pop-corn machine in the Deancave, you know, we could watch it.”
The movie was on, they were both comfortably installed, when Cass asked:
“Is it really a common thing for humans to give mix tape to their non-human friend ?
- Oh no, this two aren’t friends, believe me.”
Everything felt right on. It was warm, and comfy.
To be fair, Cass himself felt sleepy, even though he was an Angel, ergo he didn’t need to sleep. He curled himself on the couch, ready to watch some episodes of Scooby Doo, because in the end, Dean was right, this cartoon was great. He was going to press the power button on the remote when something happened. He did not quite know what. He just knew he was suddenly warm. A good warm. Maybe that was it, he had found the angelic equivalent of alcohol, and it was sweet lemonade all along. Anyway, he just let himself drawn in this warmness, because somehow, he felt that he was not in a real danger. He had definitely found the angel equivalent of alcohol.
He was in the bunker’s forest. It was a warm and sunny day. Some rays of sun ruffled his face. He could hear the singing of birds, and the quiet buzzing of insects. Before he could turn to see more, he heard someone in the distance calling his name. He concentrated, to see precisely who was calling him, and he saw Dean, with what seemed to be a picnic basket. He was heading on his way.
“I sure should call you sunshine, dude, you’re literally bathing in sun”
Cass smiled. It was once again those terrible puns Dean loved to make. He was very confused at first by them, because he had trouble to understand them. But after all those years with him, he began to finally comprehend them. They were terrible anyway, but Dean was so happy when he told them, it was all Castiel needed to appreciate them. In no time, Dean had set the blanket for them to sit on, and he had spread all over it the snacks and baked goods he brought.
“Come on man, we already know that you’re brilliant, stop bathing in the sun like that and sit down to eat !
- Dean, what is all of that ?
Dean made a puzzled face.
- Don’t you like it ? I thought that, since Sam is not in town and we have no case or no Apocalypse currently running, we could, you know, spend some quality time together.
- And you cooked all of this for me ?
- Yeah, I know you don’t have to eat, but who doesn’t love to eat even if you don’t really need to ?” Dean said, making the cutest childish face. “I made you peanut butter sandwiches ! You like those ones, right ?
Castiel smiled fondly.
- Yes, I like those ones. And I would really like to join you, too.”
He sat down, and thanked Dean for all of this.
- Don’t mention it, Cass. You know, that’s nothing compared to what you always do for us, for me. I don’t like those Dr Phil crap and all, but I figured out just a thank you wasn’t enough.”
It would have been really.
Castiel was truly and entirely relaxed. It was warm out there, they were not threatened, and he could just enjoy the moment, with a visibly happy Dean. When they finished eating, they just laid there, observing the trees moving, listening to the birds humming. Their elbows were gently touching one other. Castiel knew that even though Dean had insisted on this notion of personal space, with the years, he seemed to care more and more less about it. He turned his head in Dean’s direction, and he saw the Winchester was watching him, a half-smile on. It really was perfect.
Little did they know that those weird dreams were not actual proper dreams. In fact, it was some kind of potion put into their lemonade that put them into this sleepy state. While the effect was still on, making them sleep like a log, two figures sneaked in, and kidnapped two of them. Sam did not discover that until the next morning.
He was still half-awake, enjoying the peaceful night he had. It was really uncommon lately. He felt really well rested, for the first time in a long one. He was surprised though to not see Dean. Sure, sometimes he woke up late, but he was usually in the kitchen or in the shower around 8 in the morning. Maybe he was having a lie-in. Good for him, he was visibly tired too. The youngest of the Winchesters then searched Castiel to discuss what to do today. Even though he called him, and searched in every room, beginning with Dean’s because Cass tended to watch him sleep, he could not find him. And that was when it clicked. There was nobody in Dean’s room too. The two of them would never leave without a text or a note, and there wasn’t any. Sam’s eyes opened wide. With all that went on, the freaking Google Doc, they have still been abducted by the ghouls ? It was astonishing. But quite not practical at all. Because he had not a fucking clue where they were.
On a wine cave, actually. Dean had not seen so much wine – so much expensive wine – in all his life. Not only they had been kidnapped in their sleep by fucking ghouls, but they were fucking French sons of bitches. Freaking awesome. And on top of that, they still didn’t know who or where they were, so Sammy couldn’t go in and help them right away. Fun-freaking-tastic. There were footsteps, which stopped Dean’s train of thoughts.
“Now now now, are those two sleeping beauty awake ?”
It was the voice of Mr Middleson. They were astounded. How come they did not figure it out ? They were on their list, but… something did not fit.
“You may wonder what is going on…” begins Mrs Middleson. “Well, firstly, you are restrained with magic bounds, so even if you are really good at untying ropes, it won’t work. Secondly, we’re going to eat you. Not while you are alive, that goes without saying.
- Right, of course” interrupted Dean, his most sarcastic smile on.
Mrs Middleson continued as if Dean did not just spoke.
“You see, with my wonderful husband, we like to eat lovebirds. Because we ghouls have access to all your memories, we like to have some romantic entertainment. And because it is simpler then to embody a married couple when we move out. And we’re moving out. You know what they say, you are what you eat. Quite literally in our case.
She clapped in her hands.
- Anyhow, you two were quite a challenge. Honestly, I feel sorry for the poor Sam. Not only he will discover that his husband is in love with his own brother, but he will lose all of you at once because you two will “elope”. We had to brew a potion to know who you were in love with, Castiel. We surely hope you’re going to taste good. We had to give it to the two brothers, just in case most St Ann’s High School was wrong. Fortunately, they weren’t. See, as would say our lovely Leonie, this is a sort of Amorentia potion, except that you don’t smell what you love most, you dream of it. Or them usually. You two dreamt of the other, so, it was quite clear for us who we were going to kidnap.
- Wait, wait, who Sammy dreamt of ?
- Is this really all that you can think of now, Dean ?” asked an annoyed Castiel.
- Anyhow, I hope you’re going to taste up to our efforts.”
They were so screwed. As they discovered the first time Castiel helped chasing Rowena, Angels of the Lord were not immune to magic. And God did not put some way to communicate from angel to human through angel radio, because of course, Angels had wings back then. And, of course, when they needed the help of the well-versed in witchcraft Winchester, he wasn’t here.
He had no other choice but to call her. Not that he really minded it, but he knew he would not hear the end of it anytime soon. He dialled her number.
“Samuel, to what do I owe the honour ? Your brother has lost his memory, again ?
- Hey Rowena. No, no, not as far as I know. It-it’s just that I need your help on something. I… I think we have been drugged with something magic. But I don’t know any spell to help me determine what it was. And… Cass and Dean had been missing.
-Deary, you never stop, aren’t you ? I’m not anything near your lovely country, so you’ll have to summon me. You’ll explain to me all of this when I’ll be here.”
She arrived in no time. After Sam explained the situation to her, she started searching for some magnifying glass in her purse.
“You know, magic lets some residues on, even after the spell is effective. Let me see.”
She pulled out a really strange, really colour full magnifying glass. Glasses actually. She observed Sam through them, humming occasionally.
“It was some sort of sleep spell. Quite like the one I gave you, except this one makes you dream about something, some place, someone you like to be around. It is often used to know one’s romantic interest. It is surely why your ghouls used it. You’re lucky” she commented, raising her head to look at Sam “it requires a plant quite rare. Your local herbalist, or florist at least, may know who it was. Chop chop, do your FBI agent trick.”
She then wrote the name of said plant on a paper, and handed it to Sam, who was watching her with a weird look. As if he thought she was stupid. She did not appreciate the look.
“What ? Why are you looking at me as if I wasn’t the brightest witch on this earth ?”
Sam scoffed, trying not to laugh at her face.
“Forgot the part where I was an undercover plumber, don’t you ? I can’t exactly go around as an FBI agent.
- No Samuel, I’m not going to do what you have in mind. Absolutely not.”
“Excuse me to interrupt you sir, FBI.
- The FBI ? What are you doing around here, Agent ? Is there a problem ?”
Said agent let out a heavy Scottish sight.
“No, no, not for you anyway. Agent MacLeod. I’m investigating on those couple disappearances and hints strongly suggest that the suspect had brought a rare flower.”
Rowena exited the shop, a name written on a paper. She headed it to Sam, not without glaring daggers at him first.
“I’m going back to this amazing onsen in Japan, and I don’t want you to call me unless it is to say that you are back home safe and sound, understood Samuel ?
- Yes, agent MacLeod.”
He was unable to help himself. It was truly a blessing, seeing Rowena like this.
If she had wanted to, her glare would have killed him on the spot. Lucky for him, she had a soft spot for the boy. She vanished quickly, having prepared her return spell in advance. Sam looked at the name in his palm. “Gerald Middleson”. Guess he was having a glass of lemonade earlier than he thought. On the way, he cross path with Leonie. He tested her with silver quickly, just to be sure she was clean, and headed directly to the Middleson’s house when he was sure she was human.
The house seemed to be empty, but the front door was opened. Silver bullets loaded gun in a hand, Sam walked carefully, heading where he could hear voices. It seemed that they were all in the basement. Finally, the easy way. Mrs Middleson was speaking, sometimes interrupted by Dean’s sarcastic remarks. One day, he would get himself killed with this stupid habit of his. He went downstairs carefully, until the Middleson were at shoot sight. Farewell sweet lemonade, Sam thought. He pulled the trigger once, twice, and the Middleson fell on the ground.
“It’s about time Sammy ! We had a full conversation on because of how slowly you were to arrive !
- Yeah, sorry Dean, I overslept.
- Ah, so you figured out this whole Amorentia crap ? Still don’t understand what the fuck was that, or why this name sounds so familiar. Er, Rowena is surely rubbing off on me.
- It’s from Harry Potter, idiot. Amorentia is a love potion that allows you to smell what or whom you love most. And this potion was kind of similar cause-
- All right Hermione, call down. You iced your library buddy too ? Mrs Ghoul right there spoke about her while you were having your Harry Potter experience.”
Sam pinched his lips together, giving Dean an annoyed look.
“I actually bumped into her before arriving here, she’s clean. What do we do now ?
-Let’s make this look like a fire.” Started Castiel. “People will start asking questions if we disappear just when the Middleson are shot.
- Not before we grab some bottles.”
Seeing the face of both Cass and Sam, Dean continued:
“Come on guys, the Men of Letters’ alcohol stock is half empty, and there are some freaking fine bottles here. Plus, I’m sure your witch apprentice ass has this bottomless pocket or whatever with you Sam.
-It’s a purse.”
Dean looked at Sam like he always did when his little brother was quibbling. It was the same. Sam rolled his eyes and gave it to Dean, and then he went upstairs to fiddle with gas and electricity to create an accidental domestic fire.
“Hey, Cass.
- Yes, Dean ?
- Could you go upstairs and try to find Mr Middleson cookbook ? To have the lemonade recipe ?”
Castiel looked at Dean quickly, before cracking a smile.
“Yes, sure.”
“What did you tell everyone to explain why we were living ?” asked Dean to Sam.
- That with the fire and all, I realised that my loving husband was indeed loving, but not me. So we broke up and sell the house.
- That’s why some people asked me if I was planning to move out with Dean. I get it now.”
Dean looked at Cass through the rear-view mirror, not quite sure what to do with this information. After a while, he spoke again:
“Can you imagine that after all the fiasco of their first couple of victims, they made everyone believe there was a serial killer in town, actually shot a poor guy to impersonate him and leave hints for the cops, before eating and then impersonate Mr and Mrs Middleson during their first year of college ?
- Look who seems impressed now ! Be careful Dean, it is weird.” said Sam, looking up from his phone.
- Yeah, yeah. Quit texting or let Cass sit in front to make conversation with me, bitch.
- Jerk.”