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Derek glanced over to Reid. “Something about this case isn’t sitting right with me,” he admitted.
Reid nodded. “Kids are always hard.” He wiped at his brow. August in Kansas was no joke. Low 80s was nothing in Las Vegas. Here, the humidity weighed everything down.
“Not just that… this town, everyone here, it’s like they… I don’t know.”
“Like everyone’s holding their breath.”
They shared a look and then entered the school. It was small-town Kansas, a little run down in a lot of places. Even the flowers on the receptionist’s desk were starting to wilt.
“Hi there, what can I do for you?” the receptionist asked cheerily, looking up at them from where she sat.
Reid and Derek displayed their badges. “We’re with the FBI. Your principal, Ray Lonergan, should be expecting us.”
The receptionist, Connie Schmidt, according to her nameplate, startled a little at the request, but set to work typing away at her computer. “Yes, I’ve got you right here. Ray's in a meeting right now, but he should be finished up in a moment or two. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll let you know when he’s ready?”
The agents gave their thanks, but remained standing, neither too keen on sitting outside of the principal’s office.
Their silence didn’t stretch on too long, as a minute later, the office door opened.
“Get on to class now. And tell your brother that he has some items to pick up in my office when he’s feeling better,” Ray instructed.
“Sam’s not my brother,” the boy grumbled under his breath. He paused in the threshold when he saw the two agents, body stiff, assessing. Derek studied him right back. Army-short brown hair, pants a size too big, shirt a size too small. Two jackets layered over that and a permanent scowl on his face.
The teen shouldered past them before Derek could look much deeper.
“You must be the agents who called me,” the principal observed.
“Yes, sir,” Derek answered. “We’re here about the disappearance of one of your students, Castiel Novak.”
Reid had been the one to suggest following up on Castiel’s disappearance. According to Garcia, the Novak’s were religious fundamentalists who didn’t seem to think too highly of women. While the rest of the team investigated the killings from the angle of the victims, Reid and Derek had followed the thread of a missing child and his unconcerned father.
“We’d like to know about who he interacted with at school, if there was anything out of normal in his grades or behavior lately,” Reid continued.
Ray nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Castiel… that whole family really, is a tough nut to crack. Lawrence isn’t big, but they transferred here from a town even smaller than this one down in Utah.” He surveyed his desk in thought. Assorted folders and sticky notes. A computer from the early 90s. Behind him were three massive filing cabinets, on top of which he had lined books about teaching and leadership. “Never met the mom, but the dad… force of nature that man.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, we’ve got a policy in our district that we don’t put siblings in the same homeroom. Now there are five Novaks that go to this high school, probably seven more in the elementary and middle schools that feed into us. Chuck, their father, went to meeting after meeting with the school board until that policy was overturned. He’s got all five of those kids in the same class now.”
Reid cocked his head. “Do you know why he wanted them together?”
Ray shrugged. “Never gave a reason. Although-” He leaned forward. “-that whole family is incredibly religious. I always got the feeling that he didn’t want other students to ‘contaminate’ his kids.”
“Were there ever any suspicions of abuse?”
Ray shook his head. “Kids never had a scratch on ‘em. They’re always on time, always polite. Castiel especially. He volunteers with almost every opportunity the school has to offer. Tutoring hours, homecoming decoration, food drives. He even played the piano for the choir concert last month when our band director was out sick.”
“So the kid’s never home?” Derek pushed.
“I suppose.”
“And if he wasn’t at school or home, any idea where he’d go?”
Ray shook his head. “I’ve got too many students to keep track of where they all are in school, let alone once they leave these halls.”
“What about who Castiel spent time with during classes? Did he have a lot of friends?”
Ray thought a moment. “Not really, no. He’s well liked, but I suppose I’ve only ever heard him spend time with one other student.”
“Who?” Reid asked.
Ray gave an odd look. “That’s the funny thing, you just missed him. His name’s Dean Winchester.”
***
They thanked the principal for his help and then set off to the back of the school.
“So Dean, who is one strike away from juvie according to Ray, is the only friend of Castiel, who is the volunteer of the year around here?” Derek asked, working the situation through his mind.
Reid hummed in agreement. “It’s odd, but not unlikely. Castiel may feel some resentment toward his father’s overprotection and want to rebel by associating with a less desirable companion.”
Derek let the thought simmer. Despite Dean's rap sheet, the principal clearly had some sympathy for him. Sure, he got in fights, but he was usually sticking up for other kids. His criminal record, curtesy of Garcia, painted a sadder story. Shoplifting peanut butter and hot dogs. Engaging in sex work. Kid clearly wasn't getting any support at home. They'd already known that John Winchester's wife had died in a fire when Dean was young. Several teachers had reported signs of abuse, but nothing had ever stuck to John.
“This does fill in one blank though.”
Reid nodded. “John Winchester is connected to this missing student as well.”
The BAU had been called in to investigate the drownings of eight women in the last year. The Lawrence Police Department couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The women crossed racial, age, and socioeconomic lines. There was nothing in particular connecting them, except for the cause of death. All of the women had drowned after enduring extensive torture. A little more digging from Garcia and almost twenty more bodies in the past ten years in surrounding areas surfaced with the same MO. The older victims were sex workers and homeless people, nothing that the police would look to close at.
On Reid's hunch, they had come to the school to follow up on the missing person’s report of Castiel Novak. It was looking like they were in the ballpark of being right.
They exited the school and hiked around to the dumpsters.
“Dean?” Derek called. “You back here?” The wind blowing was their only response.
This was the space that Ray had mentioned most students ran off to when they wanted to skip class, but there was a chance Dean had just gone home. The pair exchanged a look and continued forward. Ray had described Dean as volatile, ready for a fight. Neither of the agents were in the mood to tussle with a sixteen year old.
“Dean, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm here with my friend Derek Morgan. We’re with the FBI and we’re here to talk to you about your friend, Castiel. We’re trying to find him.”
A few more paces and then the crevice between the dumpsters that Ray had directed them to appeared in their view. Crouched down in that space was Dean Winchester, the same boy who had passed them in the front office not half an hour before.
Dean, however, was not alone. Despite looking incredibly underfed himself, he held a partially opened can of tuna fish and a kitten.
Derek knelt at the edge of the entrance, leaving enough room for Dean to exit quickly if he wanted to. Reid joined him a moment later.
Before either agent could say anything, Dean asked, “Cas is missing?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming recently.
“He was reported missing by his mom last night.”
Dean set his jaw, any vulnerability being shuttered away. The kitten crawled its way out of his grip and he let it go.
“Do you know where he went yesterday after school?” Reid continued.
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“Is there anywhere that he usually goes on Tuesday nights?”
“He- there’s a Bible study. At his church that he has to go to. But he didn’t go last night. His- he didn’t go.”
“Why not?” Derek pressed.
“I don’t know.” Dean pushed himself onto his feet, leaving the can, and exited the space, heading back to the cafeteria.
“When did you last see Castiel?”
Dean continued his march back to the school.
“Dean, we still have a few more questions for you, would you mind coming down to the station with us?”
“No, no, I can’t,” Dean muttered. He flicked his hoodie over his ears.
“Why not?” Derek repeated.
Reid took a step forward. “Dean, we know about your dad. Let us help you.”
Dean stopped. “You don’t know anything about my dad.”
“I know that he hurts you,” Reid responded. “That’s why you’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of August. And that he doesn’t feed you enough. That he doesn’t like that you’re kind and is using it against you.” Derek watched indecision flit over Reid’s face before he finally asked, “Where's Sam, Dean?”
***
Derek glanced in the rearview mirror. Dean had his back straight, eyes scanning the SUV and then its surroundings as they pulled away from the school.
“Do you really think my dad has Cas?” Dean whispered.
Derek let his mind run back through everything Dean had just told them, matching it with the information Garcia had pulled together that morning. John Winchester was an ex-Marine who apparently drilled his kids on firearms and strength since they were strong enough to hold a rifle. He had watched his wife die when Dean was four years old and since then had gotten obsessed with the occult. He thought that a demon had killed Mary, not a fire, and had spent the last twelve years devolving, killing transients who he thought were possessed. He’d stuck to this pattern until a year ago, when he started going after higher profile women in the town. Their deaths were what had gotten the case onto the BAU’s radar. Dean and Sam had been forced to help with the killings and on several occasions, Dean had to find the victims and bring them home. And for the past week, John Winchester had Sam locked in a closet and only let him out to nearly drown him in a bathtub full of holy water.
“I think it’s pretty likely,” Derek admitted.
“Do- do you think…” Dean swallowed. “Do you think he knows that Cas is gay?”
The agents exchanged a look. “Does your dad have an issue with gay people?”
Dean nodded. “That’s um. He found out that Sam is trans. That’s- that’s why-” Dean ground his teeth, eyes shining. “He thinks Sam is possessed too.”
“Hey, you’ve been doing a really good job keeping it together, Dean,” Reid promised. “But you don’t have to anymore. We’re not going to let him hurt you ever again, okay?”
The teen shook his head. “No, no, I don’t- he. I don’t care if he hurts me. I should be in that closet, okay? Sam didn’t do anything wrong! I should be in there but instead I’m out here, going about my life like nothing’s happened so that I can see them when I get home and make sure that they eat dinner and go to the bathroom.” Dean wiped at his face furiously.
“You are doing everything you can to protect Sam. And now it’s our turn. We’re going to do everything we can to get them and Cas out.”
“Okay.”
Derek pulled to a stop a block from the Winchester residence.
“He won’t notice if you pull closer. He spends most of the day in the basement,” Dean offered, voice tight.
“Protocol, kid. I’m going to call in to my team real quick. We’re going to sit tight until they get here.”
Dean grimaced, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Derek looked up from his phone. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t get a chance to look back at the teen before he slumped forward, phone clattering to the floor.
***
“-mentioned…”
“What?”
“That you might have found another one. Another demon.”
Derek blinked but everything remained dark.
“I did.”
“And did you, um, cure him- it. Yet.” Dean’s voice. So the other one must be…
“I got it locked out back. I know that thing was trying to defile you boy. So stay clear of it.” John Winchester.
“Yes, sir.”
***
Derek must have slipped unconscious again, because the next time he woke up, there was light trickling from the top of a staircase.
"Derek?" Reid whispered. "Derek, wake up."
"Is he bleeding? I have an extra shirt."
Derek blinked, trying to place the new voice. Young, but sure.
"No, I don't think so. Derek, hey, can you hear me?"
"Reid?" He tried to look around, but his head spun. In the dim light, he made out Reid a few feet away. On the other side of Reid sat a younger person.
"I'm here."
"What's going on?" He accounted for himself as best he could. His hands were bound around a support pillar. His head hurt, but he was largely uninjured. His gun and phone were gone, as were his shoes.
"We're in the Winchester's basement. Dean knocked us out with some sort of chemical agent. No one's been down since I've woken up. Sam is down here as well."
Derek pushed himself up, leaning forward against the beam he was tied to. Reid was in a similar situation not too far away. Sam was- Derek swallowed bile. Sam was in a padlocked dog crate not too far from Reid. Derek took a deep breath. "Thank you, Reid." He angled toward the kid. "Hi, Sam. I'm Derek Morgan. I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of here."
It was hard to tell, but Sam seemed to smile. "I know. I'm sorry about Dean. It's weird, but it's his way of protecting me." A twelve year old should not be this calm. Derek hated to think about what would stress Sam out.
"We understand," he promised. He rubbed his hands together. It was freezing, almost enough for him to miss the humidity.
"Sam, do you know if there is anyone else in the house?" Reid asked.
The kid shook their head. "It's us, Dean, and my dad. Is there someone else missing? It's been a couple days since the last woman, he would have gotten rid of her body by now."
"There's a student from your school, Castiel Novak. He hasn't been seen for over a day now," Reid explained.
"Oh." Sam looked down, suddenly upset.
"Did you know him?"
Sam's eyes darted around. "Um. He and Dean were… are… close."
"So we heard."
Sam shook their head. "No, like." They lowered their voice. "They're…" Sam struggled for a moment before finally pointing to their left ring finger. "Someday, probably."
Derek took a moment to process that information. So Cas and Dean were dating. And John was violently homophobic. He exchanged a look with Reid.
"Does my dad know?" Sam asked.
"We don't think so."
They let out a sigh. "Okay. Cas'll, he should be okay for a little longer then."
"You think he's alive?"
"If my dad has him, then…" Sam's face darkened. "He has a ritual. He- he thinks that people are possessed by demons and that he needs to 'purify' them. It's a lot of dunking in holy water, being cut by silver knives, stuff like that. Sometimes he'll recite exorcisms, but usually he's too drunk and I'll have to." Derek clenched his jaw. John was sick, involving both of his children in his killings. "But, he usually keeps the 'demons' for a couple days. Four at most," Sam shrugged.
"Is there a place he could be keeping Castiel?"
"There's a shed out back. He doesn't usually use it, but… I was in the, um, the closet. Upstairs. For the last couple days. I-" Sam's eyes got distant, clearly thinking back through their most recent trauma.
Reid cleared his throat. "It's alright, Sam. Thank you for helping us with this information, but we don't need to keep talking about this."
"Okay," they whispered.
"Do you like to read?"
"Ye- yeah."
"What's your-" The door to the basement creaked open, light flooding the space.
By the time Derek's eyes adjusted, John Winchester was halfway down the stairs, Dean right on his tail.
The father was broad shouldered and tall. He wore flannel and work boots and had a rosary around his neck.
Dean had changed since Derek had last seen him, his layers replaced by a thin black t-shirt that further displayed his thin bruised, limbs. His body was rigid and his eyes sharp as he descended the stairs.
"Hope you boys don't mind the accommodations," John drawled. "You won't be needing them for much longer though."
Two to four days, Derek reminded himself. That was Sam's estimation of how long they had.
No doubt, someone on the team had already realized that they were missing. It wouldn't be long until they were busting through that door. Derek needed to get the kids away from John before that happened. The question was how. He thought back to the raid on the ranch. And then to Reid's kidnapping not too long ago. Derek supposed it was his turn to take the brunt of the abduction.
Keep him talking. Use the profile against him.
Derek didn't get very far into his plan however.
"Dean, douse them," John ordered, attention drifting from his captives. The slight wobble and the smell informed him that the killer was already on his way to being drunk.
"Yes, sir." Dean disappeared into a storage space under the stairs and returned with two milk jugs filled with water.
"One for your brother," John growled. He took a step toward Dean, but the boy had already retreated, a grimace on his face.
John leaned against a workbench on the far side of the room. With the lights on, Derek could study the space. He and Reid were more or less in the center of the room. John was to their right and the stairs straight ahead. The concrete walls were coated in spray paint depicting odd symbols. One look at Reid told him he wouldn't like what they meant. He glances behind himself to see a wall of weapons. Shotguns, machetes, whittled pieces of wood. Thankfully, John didn't seem too interested in those at the moment.
Derek opened his mouth to ask only to be drenched in water. He sputtered, coughing up the stale water. He wiped his eyes with his bound hands, shivers already starting to set in.
With his eyes cleared, he saw that John hadn't moved. Instead, Dean was the one standing before him with an empty jug. His face was hard, but he paused a moment before he turned to Reid and mouthed, 'I'm sorry'. This kid was going to be all kinds of messed up when Derek's team arrived.
Dean repeated the ritual with Reid, who was better prepared than Derek had been.
As much as Derek wanted to get John talking, he worried that anything he did would be taken out on the children. John seemed to be aware of this power he held, a smug, critical look on his face.
Reid however seemed to think he had a way around this concern. "Thank you," Reid murmured, eyes downward.
"What did you say boy?" John growled. He didn't move though.
Reid's eyes flicked upward. Dean hesitated in his path to Sam. "I said thank you. For cleansing us."
John snorted. "You think you're smart, huh? You demons are all the same." John pushed up off the bench, which was covered in knives and bullets. He took the final jug from Dean, who backed away immediately, and poured the water onto Sam. The kid didn't react to the water, simply closing their eyes until it was done. They blinked owlishly up at their father, swallowing once. Derek realized in horror that they were drinking the water being used to hurt them.
"Did that make you feel better?" they asked innocently.
Dean grimaced, stepping forward unconsciously. Derek appreciated the confirmation that the one thing that would pit Dean against his father was his sibling.
John however just spat at his child, kicking the cage and then turning back to the stairs. "You've got five minutes," he informed Dean. The boy nodded, quickly putting away the last jug his father thrust at him and then hurried to Sam's side.
“Hey, Sammy, you okay?”
Sam nodded, gingerly wiping water from their eyes. In the light, it was easy to see the cuts and bruises littering Sam’s arms and face. Sam seemed to have a short ritual to help mitigate the exposure to the water. A ritual that Dean knew well. Sam stripped off their t-shirt and Dean handed Sam a hoodie that had been shoved just outside of where the water had crashed. Dean wrung out the shirt and then laid it out to help it dry. Sam only wore boxers on their bottom half and didn’t bother to do anything to dry them out.
Derek shook his head. These kids…
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. Sam reached through the cage and took their brother’s hand. They shrugged, eyes glassy now that they were in relative safety.
Derek gave them a few more seconds and then cleared his throat. Five minutes wasn’t much time. “Dean?” he asked.
The older sibling glanced over warily. “Yes?”
“Is there anything we can do to help Sam?”
Dean squeezed his sibling’s hand. Sam was looking further away by the second. They were running out of time.
“No, it’s- I’ve got it under control,” Dean responded. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a mangled jerky stick. “Here, Sammy, eat up.” Sam made a face, but took the item. “Yeah, I know. But I can’t just sneak down a salad, can I?” Dean pulled his hand up to gesture, but Sam yanked him closer. “I know,” he sighed.
“Dean, can you tell us what happened after we parked down the street?” Reid asked.
The boy shrugged. Sam shoved their brother slightly, chewing slowly. Dean scowled. “I brought you here. Dad tied you up.”
“How did you transport us here?” Reid pressed. Derek inclined his head. Reid was trying to locate the SUV. If it was still near the property, Garcia could use it to accurately track their location and the team would only find them sooner.
“I moved your car into the garage. Why?”
Reid held up his bound hands. “I’m just curious how someone so malnourished could have done all this, even if we were unconscious.”
Dean seemed to take offense to that, but didn’t comment. Sam handed their wrapper to Dean and shoved at him a little. Dean glanced down at his watch and nodded. “Hey, I’ll try to come back tonight, okay? Try to get some sleep. I think… It’s going to be a long night.” He ruffled his sibling’s hair through the cage and shoved the wrapper in his pocket. He reached for Sam one more time and clasped their hands together. Sam nodded and leaned back as Dean started climbing the stairs.
“Dean?” Derek called.
The boy paused.
“Is Castiel here?”
Dean stiffened. A moment later, there was a scream from the floor above them. He kept climbing.
***
Derek and Reid allowed Sam to settle. Reid seemed to be holding up alright, definitely lucid still. It seemed this situation wasn’t too close to his previous hostage situations. Derek was grateful. He’d need the kid’s mind.
After it was clear that neither Winchester would be back for a while, the screams only growing in frequency, Derek focused on Reid. “Do you know what those symbols are?” Dean had hit the lights on his exit, but Derek knew that the symbols were floating around in his mind’s eye.
“They’re all over the place,” Reid started. “Several are from early Christian societies. Some are Jewish, some from various Pagan beliefs. All are… they’re trying to ward off evil spirits. Or to trap them.”
There was another scream, just as painful as the last. How the neighbors didn’t hear, Derek didn’t know.
“Sam, I know this is a lot to ask, but can you tell us what your dad is doing up there?”
There was silence. Derek glanced at Reid, but the dim light from earlier was gone. They were in total darkness.
“Sam, are you awake?”
There was a clange of metal, Sam flicking the cage.
“Sam, are you having trouble speaking? You can hit once for no, twice for yes,” Reid instructed.
Two hits.
“Hey, that’s okay,” Reid promised. “Sam, do you-” There was the sound of wood splintering upstairs and the screaming transformed into shouts.
“FBI, don’t move! Hands where I can see them!”
Derek relaxed. Hotch and the rest of the team were there.
“Okay, Sam, that’s our team. They’re going to do everything they can to get everyone out of here safely,” Reid explained. There was some rattling where Sam was and then, “Sam? How did you- Derek, Sam is going to come over and let you loose.”
“What?”
“They’ve got some sort of lock pick. Did Dean give this to you?”
Sam stomped twice. Yes.
“Is he going to surrender to the law enforcement upstairs?”
Sam knelt down in front of Derek, their breath coming through in sharp pants. They slowly knocked once, then twice.
“Okay,” Reid breathed. “What about Castiel? My team knows that he’s a victim. Do you think your dad will try to use him as a hostage?”
One knock and then Derek was free. Sam didn’t think that John would use Castiel as a hostage, so then… “Do you think he will use Dean?” Derek asked.
Two hits.
“Sam, I need you to stay with Reid, okay? You two, hide under that workbench. I’m going to go upstairs, communicate with the team.”
Sam’s presence retreated and then Reid said, “I’ve got Sam. Morgan, be careful.”
“Don’t worry, Pretty Boy, I will be.” And with that, Derek began sneaking up the stairs, sticking to the sides to stay as silent as possible.
“John, you don’t want to do this. Let Dean go and we can talk,” Prentiss instructed softly.
Derek slowly opened the door. Through the sliver, he saw that John had his back to him, Dean pulled to his chest. He didn’t see any weapons pointed at Dean, but that didn’t mean much. In the center of the room, Castiel was tied to a chair, looking around, but clearly disoriented. Prentiss, Rossi, and Hotch had fanned out on the far wall by the front door.
“Dad,” Dean hissed. “Let me, let me help you. They’re- they’re demons, right? I’ll go downstairs and get some more holy water. We’ll get them in the Devil’s Trap, purify them.”
Dean moved forward slightly and John didn’t react.
Dean wasn’t being held hostage. He was protecting his dad.
Slowly, Derek waved his hand through the door. Hotch inclined his head.
They were in agreement. The next few seconds unfolded slowly.
Dean stepped away from his father, toward Derek, and John moved to put Castiel in between himself and the team. Derek burst out of the doorway, tackling John the moment Dean was clear. They wrestled, but John hadn’t been prepared and Derek quickly got the upperhand. He flipped him over and Hotch cuffed him.
“We’ve missed you,” Hotch grinned.
Derek nodded, blowing out a breath.
Prentiss was attending to Castiel, directing paramedics to him. He was looking around hazily. Derek motioned to Rossi. “Reid’s in the basement with Sam. Dean’s gonna be blocking that door, let me do the talking.”
Rossi nodded, clapping Derek on the back. “Lead the way.”
Derek knocked on the door. “Dean? It’s Derek. I’ve got my friend Dave Rossi here. We’re wanting to come down and check on you and Sam. Is that okay?”
“Where’s my dad?”
“My boss is taking him to a squad car now.”
“And Cas?”
Derek glanced over his shoulder. John was halfway out the door. Paramedics were talking to Castiel. Prentiss was surveying the scene. “He’s getting taken care of by EMS workers. Do you want to see him?”
“No. Is he gone?”
John cleared the door.
“Yeah, he’s gone.”
Dean pushed the door open. “Leave Dave. Bring one of your paramedics. Um… A woman, if you’ve got one. You’ve endeared yourself to Sammy, but…” Dean looked Rossi up and down. Derek didn’t need it spelled out.
Rossi nodded and took off.
“Let’s go,” Dean directed.
“Reid, Sam. Dean and I are coming down. Upstairs is clear, we’re bringing EMS to you ASAP.”
“Ready for you,” Reid called back.
Dean flicked the lights on and Derek was again struck with the coolness of the basement. In the havoc of the last few minutes, he’d forgotten that he was still soaking wet. Dean scrambled down the stairs, sliding down to where Sam was pressed up under the workbench. Reid had backed away to give the siblings space. A visual check told Derek that Reid wasn’t too hurt. He returned his focus to the kids. Dean held Sam to his chest. “Hey, Sammy, it’s over, okay?” Dean brushed Sam’s hair out of his face. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
Sam smiled briefly, hugging Dean back, tears running down their face.
There was some shuffling at the top of the stairs and Derek crouched down. Reid joined him.
“Hey, Sam, Dean. EMS is coming down.” Dean clutched at Sam. “We’re not going to separate you, okay? But Sam needs medical attention. You do too.”
“Fine,” Dean grumbled.
Derek motioned the EMS worker down. “Hi there. I’m Catherine. I’m here to check you out.”
***
Derek knocked on the door. “Dean? It’s Derek.”
“Come in,” the teen called.
Derek had just finished watching John’s interrogation. Hotch had gotten a full confession, but John had all the symptoms of psychosis. He was going away, but not where Derek wanted him to.
The medical staff had been incredibly accommodating. They had put Sam and Dean in the same room and it had only taken a little pushing to get Castiel in there as well.
Derek shut the door behind him, nodding to the local officer stationed outside their door.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
Dean shrugged from where he’d holed up on Sam’s bed. Castiel was asleep on the next bed over. “I’m fine. They’re making me talk to some dietician,” Dean grumbled.
Derek raised an eyebrow. “You’re severely malnourished, kid. Sam, don’t let him mess around.”
“Yes, sir.”
Derek took a seat across from them.
“There’s a social worker going to be here in about half an hour. Obviously, you’re not going back with your dad. Is there anyone you’d like to call before they get here?”
The siblings exchanged a look and Dean nodded. “Bobby. Got a phone?”
“He was our dad’s friend,” Sam explained. “Um, he doesn’t know about- about everything. But he’s-”
“Say no more,” Derek smiled. He held up his phone and tossed it to Dean, who immediately punched in a number.
“Hey. Bobby? This is Dean… I’m in the hospital. With Sam… No, no we’re- we’re both okay. Our, um, dad’s going to jail, I think. I was hoping- Yeah?” Dean smiled. “I’ll see you tonight.” He rattled off the address and then tossed the phone back to Derek, pulling Sam back against his chest.
Derek smiled. They’d be alright.