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Metabiosis - the dependence of one organism upon another for its existence
Sam stared at his phone, and then at the small dinner that they had pulled up to. He recognized it from earlier that day, when he and Dean had run into all of those demons. The problem was, it was clearly closed.
He pressed his fingers to the screen, like the pressure would summon the dot that had been Dean.
His brother had been here before, he had stayed here for 10 minutes before moving on. But the restaurant would have been closed, and 10 minutes was too long to discover that it was closed and figure out the nearest place for a piece of pie. He and Bobby had passed two all-night dinners on the way here, just the kind of thing that Dean would have jumped at the chance for.
Unless he had gone after the demons.
Sam flexed his hand, taking a deep breath.
Dean couldn’t go after the demons, there were too many and he wasn’t strong enough. He was two days out of the grave and still off of his game. Sam had clocked the demon before she had flashed her black eyes at them. His nose might be dead to sulfur, but he had other, more efficient ways to recognize them, even if it meant that the demons had to get close. It was something deep inside him that boiled and practically sang when they were around.
It was doing it now, although at a low hum. That had never happened before, but this wasn’t exactly a steady learning curve. He only told Ruby about the outward effects. About how well he was able to exorcise the demons, how many he was able to do before it started to fail, how long it took, how many people it took to save. The things he thought she would care about. Demon radar didn’t seem to be one of those things, especially since it wasn’t specific.
“Damn it.”
Sam glanced over at where Bobby was slumped in the driver’s seat. His thumb moved across the number pad on his phone before he dropped it into the cupholder. Bobby ran a hand over his face, pausing to squeeze at the bridge of his nose before looking over at Sam. “How much do we believe this is just a joy ride?”
Sam flinched, which seemed to be enough of an answer because Bobby nodded. “Yeah, thought not. Well, since he’s not here, let’s see what he got himself into.” He swung his door open, pausing with one foot out the door. “I’ll swing around the back. You go in and make sure he hasn’t stolen all of the pie.”
“That would be an improvement. It means he’s eating.”
It was the wrong thing to say because Bobby’s face went blank. He shoved himself out of the car the next moment, leaving Sam staring at the blank spot beside him.
He swallowed, flexing his fingers again. Suddenly, he wished that demons would charge out just to have something to do with the burn in his blood. Damn Bobby being there, damn being found out. It would be something other than standing by and just noting the long list of things wrong with his brother.
Then again, did anyone come back from the dead alright?
Sam pushed the question out of his mind, stepping out of the car. He tapped his fingers against his gun and the knife, checking over the weapons that he didn’t need but had to make a show of looking for just in case Bobby was watching. Him worrying over what was wrong with Dean meant that he wasn’t focused on what was wrong with Sam, at least for the moment.
He waited for Bobby to start around the back of the building before moving to the door. He expected to have to pick the lock, so his attempt to turn the doorknob was halfhearted, at least until the door swung open easily.
Sam froze in the doorway, tracing the swing of the door and then into the dark restaurant itself. Dean had spent 10 minutes here, opening the door wouldn’t have taken that long. Sudden onset pie cravings might have taken that long, but wouldn’t have led to a dead body.
He stared at it for a moment before jolting forward. Sam reached back to let the door swing closed behind him, barely glancing outside. He didn’t even think to call for Bobby until he was crouched by the body. He reached for the man’s pulse, sliding his fingers into place. There was none, which wasn’t surprising considering that his eyes were burned out.
Sam jerked his fingers back, but he couldn’t look away. Some part of him was frantically running through every creature that he knew, while another part was staring at the burn. It all the way down so the entire eye was removed, leaving charred muscles and nerves. Nothing he knew about could do that. There were plenty of creatures that would snack on eyes, but nothing that would burn them away.
The horrible urge to stick a finger in the burned out socket reared its head, Sam shaking it away to just poke around the site of the injury. It wasn’t an acid burn, the edges felt like charcoal, some of it crumbling into the eye socket.
He jerked his hand away, nervously wiping his fingers on his jeans. He might not know what this was, but Bobby might know something, or at least know what book to look at. But he didn’t call Bobby, he just stood up and looked around the room.
When he and Dean had visited the restaurant, the demons had been in everyone. Sam had counted at least seven. He knew he might have missed some in the back, which might account for the one body in the doorway to the kitchen and the outflung arm he could glimpse behind it. The rest of the bodies were scattered around the dining area, among the tables that had been flung aside.
Now that he was looking at the whole thing, he could see the path of the fight, from the door all the way to the last demon standing, the one in the waitress. She was slumped back against the wall, face stuck in a rictus of terror.
It was a common theme in those that were close to the waitress, which meant they had had time to see what was coming. But what had the power to make a demon that afraid?
Sam picked his way carefully through the mess, scanning for any clue that would help them out, but there was nothing. It was strangely clean, no spent bullets or bullet holes, no marks from a blade or puddles of holy water. An exorcism might have banished the demons, but not burned their eyes out.
He dropped to a crouch beside the waitress, pressing his fingers against her pulse just in case, but there was nothing. Sam frowned, drumming his fingers against her skin as he took in the scene.
Sulfur couldn’t be relied on, he couldn’t smell that anymore. But there was something different here, sharp like when a circuit burned out, or when lightning struck. Ozone with something just underneath that he couldn’t place because the ozone was too strong.
He rocked back on his heels, still pondering the mystery when the door back to the kitchen creaked open.
Sam jumped to his feet, pulling his gun out and aiming even as he processed who was standing on the other side of the room from him. “Ruby?”
“Damn.” She nudged the nearest body with her shoe, quickly jerking back at first contact. Ruby rubbed her palm against her jeans, a strangely nervous gesture as she looked up at him. “Are you chasing this?”
“I…We’re chasing Dean.”
“Is Dean chasing this?” Ruby moved away from the body, circling the others warily, like she expected them to jump up. When he didn’t answer right away, she stared at him. “Sam, what is Dean doing with this thing?”
“I don’t know. Do you know?”
“I’ve been a bit busy lying low to catch up.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you imagine how well that would go? ‘Hi, Dean. Good to see you mysteriously alive again. Remember me? The demon you never trusted?’ Yeah, because that will get me out of the conversation alive. That’s not suspicious at all.”
Sam huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Well, what do you know about this?”
Ruby’s gaze strayed down to one of the bodies, but it jerked up just as quickly, like she didn’t like looking at them. “I…I don’t know. I’ve never seen this. It’s bigger than anything, cosmically big.”
“Like a god.”
“Yeah, around that ballpark.” She paused, giving him a glare. “You’re not going to chase after this.”
She pointed down at one of the other waitresses, Sam following the motion instead of meeting her gaze. They weren’t chasing it, not at the moment. First, they had to figure out where Dean had wandered off to.
Unless this thing was following Dean.
He looked up at her again. “Do you know what pulled Dean out?”
“What? No. Why?” Ruby frowned. “He hasn’t told you?”
“No. Just that his grave looked like a bomb had gone off.”
“See, cosmic.” Ruby rubbed her hands over her arms. “This isn’t good, Sam. Something this big…what if it’s Lilith?”
“Lilith?” Sam tried to hold himself steady even as a roaring filled his ears. It made him want to rip something apart, but all of the demons that he could have vented his anger on were already dead. And he still needed Ruby. Until he got stronger and was able to defeat Lilith, he needed Ruby. “How? What could she pull in?”
“I don’t know!” Ruby threw her hands in the air. “I’ve just started to think about it.”
“Then find out.”
“And leave you to stumble back into danger after that brother of yours?”
It hurt because it was true, but Sam held himself firm. “It’s more important to figure this out. We’ll need time.”
For a moment, it looked like Ruby was going to argue but then her gaze slid down to another body and she shuddered. That more than anything else seemed to decide her because she nodded. “Fine. At least that will give me an excuse to get out of this family reunion you have going on. Call me when you get low or if you stumble onto Lilith’s trail.”
Sam nodded, fighting back the small burst of panic. Ruby had left before, scouting out rumors and meeting contacts that would have run at the sight of a hunter. He had survived that then, he could do it again. It would just be more challenging to dodge Dean now that his brother was hanging around. Or maybe not if Dean kept sneaking out.
Ruby lingering, giving him one of those looks that started out sharp and then softened. It had been happening more often, and Sam was just starting to lean towards it when Ruby jerked back and looked towards the back door. Sam turned with her, hearing Bobby cursing in the kitchen.
He motioned for her to go, stepping in front of her as she slipped out the front door. Sam glanced over his shoulder to be sure that she was gone before easing forward towards the kitchen. “Bobby?”
He got a grunt as an answer, Bobby appearing in the sliver of the open doorway. “I’ve got three bodies with burnt out eyes here.”
“I’ve got more.”
“Damn it.” Bobby reached up to take off his hat, wiping his forehead. “What the hell could have done this?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
He shook his head, replacing his hat. “No. I’d need to research this, maybe make a few calls. In the meantime, we’re gonna find your brother and haul that boy to Pamela like we should have done in the first place.”
“You think this,” Sam gestured at the bodies, “is following Dean?”
“Working theory. Dean was here, then this thing was here. Maybe before, maybe after, maybe during. That’s what we’re gonna find out, just as soon as we summon this thing.”
Sam’s stomach twisted. He remembered the look of fear on Ruby’s face when she had seen whatever this thing had done and her insistence that this thing was cosmic. “A-are you sure?”
“You got any better ideas?”
Telling him about Ruby was definitely not a good idea. Research sounded better, but that would take them back to Sioux Falls and whatever was chasing Dean – if this was – would have time to do whatever it wanted.
He frowned down at the floor before shaking his head. “But we see if we hook whatever pulled Dean out first.”
“I might have something for that.” Bobby gave the restaurant one last glance before jerking his head towards the door. “Come on, before someone else comes for a late night pie run.”
Sam nodded, more than ready to leave the eyeless bodies and the smell of ozone. It was starting to burn the back of his throat now and turn his stomach. Sam couldn’t remember it affecting him like this before, but maybe he hadn’t been around it in such a high concentration before. He swiped his forearm across his nose, trying to breathe through the fabric of his flannel. It didn’t filter a damn thing, it didn’t even help. All it did was make Bobby give him a strange look.
It was only for a moment, then Bobby was striding towards the door. “Come on. We want to give ourselves a little space for this.”
“Sure.” Sam trailed after him, taking the time to look at his phone. There was still nothing in response to the voice mails that he had left, which didn’t help the worry that was sunk low and heavy in his stomach. It calcified there, lingering even as Sam joined Bobby at the car.
The plan had been simple at the start. Sneak out. Take care of business. Sneak back in. Drag himself off to bed and pass out for another few hours. If he was lucky, he would just have to come up with a half assed excuse about why he had been out. It would put that concerned and thinking expression off of Bobby’s face too, which would be even better.
He had passed all the usual tests, but Bobby would come up with others if he got suspicious enough. And the whole situation was damn suspicious.
Still, the excuse of a late night pie run after four (remember that four) months in Hell would fly. Just him and Baby. And no one else.
And that had been the plan, at least until he had driven back into the motel parking lot to find that Bobby’s car was gone.
Dean sighed, drumming his fingers against Baby’s steering wheel. He considered the empty spot for a moment longer before tipping his head back, addressing the roof of the car. “What are the chances that they’re just driving around chasing me?”
Silence was his answer, not that he expected much more. There was a strange tingling in the tips of his fingers, Dean shaking them out again in the hopes that it would go away completely. It had already dropped down from a sharp prickle, but that wasn’t because of anything that he had done. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, trying not to pay attention to the smooth motion of his pinkie. “Yeah, I don’t think so either. Damn it.”
He slumped forward against the steering wheel, held in stillness until he finally took a breath. But it was slow and steady, not at all what he wanted. Dean curled his right hand tight around the steering wheel, feeling the familiar press of leather, where his hands and his father’s hands had worn it down. That was calming, that was normal, that was real and not screams, blood and knives.
This time when he breathed, it was closer. A deep breath that was let out slowly, and something that was supposed to be calming, he supposed. It just wasn’t quite right. In fact, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his teeth go on edge. He wanted to grab his gun and throw himself out of his car.
As quickly as it rolled through him, it was gone, leaving him feeling annoyed.
Dean shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against the top of the wheel. “Just four hours, or this deal is off.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, fumbling for his phone. He flipped it open, squinting at the screen. There were voice mails from Sam and Bobby, neither of which came with a barrage of texts demanding to know where he was. Considering he had snuck out after a long argument about what to do about who had hauled him out of Hell, that was suspicious. More than that.
He swallowed back a growl, staring up at the motel sign. There were no answers there, or elsewhere. Maybe if he dug through what they had left in the room he would find something, maybe even a damn note about where they had gone off to. More likely, they had found he had snuck out and decided to do a little of it themselves.
Dean ran a hand over his mouth, feeling his throat go dry, but he wasn’t sure if it was him. Things felt like they were still on the fritz, firing at all the wrong times and locking up at others. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least he didn’t think it was. He could be wrong, and in trouble.
He watched the E on the sign flicker on and off. They didn’t know, not for sure, but they could guess. If not guess, then Bobby could jury-rig something, and it was bound to work.
Dean licked his lips, belatedly realizing that he hadn’t thought about doing it. He hadn’t wanted to, he had been too busy trying to figure out where Bobby and Sam could have gone. Or if they had been tailing him. If that was the case, they would have gone to the restaurant. They would know.
“Damn it.”
He scrolled down to Sam’s number, hesitating there for a moment before changing his mind and searching for Bobby’s. Sam hadn’t answered before. Sure, he’d been dead and in Hell, but there was something else. Something tapping at the back of his mind in that annoying way that made him want to reach back and scratch until it stopped.
The prickling spread up his spine to his shoulder. It rested there momentarily, a heavy weight that dragged him backwards before moving down his arm. Dean frowned and shook it. “Cut it out.”
The feeling retreated, Dean more than happy to leave it at that. He reached up to rub at his left shoulder, his hand slowing until it was just resting over the curve of it. Of everything he had done, that was enough to settle him. Dean slumped back in the seat, curling his fingers in and taking another breath.
This one was right, and the next one, and the next.
That was better, that was more like normal. It didn’t make him feel anything, everything was still strangely numb and distant, but he had been warned. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go, but it was making do. Dean could handle that, because it meant that he was on his feet and back with Sam and Bobby.
He peeled his hand away from his shoulder, uselessly trying to shake the remaining tingles from his hand. When that didn’t work, he went back to drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Guess I should call, huh? Just to get them back here before I crash for the night.”
It sounded like a plan, a good plan if he could manage to come up with a good excuse. Although, maybe just driving Baby around would be enough. After all it had been a while since he had driven her.
Dean reached out to pat the dashboard, freezing in the middle of the motion as something caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise.
He sat up quickly, looking in the mirrors before glancing around. It was so late it was practically early, so no one was out save for that one car that had passed by when he had first pulled back into the motel. There was no one else, and yet it felt like something was looking.
Dean moved to grab his shoulder, freezing halfway through the motion. It hadn’t been his idea to stop, but he had completely. His last breath was caught halfway in, turning stale and aching until it abruptly wasn’t anymore. Then there was just stillness, and Dean caught in the middle of it screaming because it was like the rack, held in place and made to wait for the next horrible thing.
There was a flicker of something and a slow release, just enough for him to get a breath in that mattered. And then there was a hard yank, like a hook had been stabbed into his sternum and pulled.
Dean jerked with it, slammed back against the front seat. He grabbed for the dashboard, scrambling at it to keep from being pulled backwards and through the back window. He jammed his foot just to the left of the pedals, straining against the pull. “What the fuck?”
All that he got for an answer was his fingers twitching and shifting on the dashboard. They were pressing down just enough that he could feel the dash start to give, but no further. His fingers scrambled for a hold, sliding off as the hook dug deeper. He gasped for breath, feeling it catch again, but this time it was choking, being torn away as something shifted deep inside him.
The next breath came with blood that clogged his throat until he managed to cough it up to clear it. And then it got worse, getting thicker as more organs failed.
He slumped in his seat, still not giving up the grip on the dashboard. It was the only thing that was keeping from tipping sideways and coughing up his entire liquified insides. If he was lucky, he would be unconscious before that happened so he wouldn’t have to see the stains in Baby. If he was lucky, he would die again before it started to really hurt.
Dean!
He jerked upright, his ears ringing. It was just on the edge of painful, Dean feeling blood dribble out of his ears. If he had been able to breathe right, he would have snapped about the volume, but the pain was just starting to ease as the pull disappeared. It left him coughing between his gasps for breath, all of that taking up most of his attention.
His hands moved, one dropping to the steering wheel while the other turned the key. The Impala rumbled to life, his body going through the motions to back her out of the spot and back to the road. It wasn’t as fast as he would have pushed her, but his head still spun with the motion, Dean slumping down until he was gently nudged back up.
Dean slumped against the seat, staring blearily at the road. “Where we going?”
The words were probably too slurred to be understood, but that didn’t matter. He just got reassurance and a soothing of some of the worst of the pain. He took that, feeling the hooked sensation starting to ease the further that he drove. That was something at least.
He grunted and pushed himself into a more comfortable position, which was hard to do since his hands and foot wouldn’t be moved from where they were. Dean let them be, trying to focus more on where they were going. All he was sure about was that it wasn’t deeper into the city, but out towards the suburbs and farm country. He had a vague recollection of having driven that direction with Bobby as they had come into town to find Sam. It wasn’t too helpful, because it didn’t answer any of the questions that mattered at the moment.
Where had Bobby and Sam gone? Had they been following close enough to know?
The only answer he was sure to be getting was where he was getting pulled towards. Dean wanted to rub at his chest where he could still feel the sharp prick of whatever had hooked into him, but neither hand would move from the steering wheel, both resting in the perfect 10 and 2 position that he rarely used.
Dean pulled against them for a moment more before resigning himself to just watching for Bobby’s car or whatever had pulled him out again.
Sam leaned his hip against the planks that made up their rudimentary table. It wobbled slightly, but not enough to tip the still softly smoking bowl or earn a glare from Bobby. Although Bobby might not have noticed, he was leaning over one of the books that he had pulled from the back seat. Sam watched his finger skim over a passage before shaking his head.
He bit his lip, glancing at the summoning that they had cobbled together in the absence of a definite creature to call on. It had sparked impressively, and there was that heart-stopping, stomach twisting moment when they had lit the ingredients on fire that meant that it had at least worked, but there was just a matter of strength. If what they were looking for was stronger than this, it could ignore it.
And Ruby had said cosmic.
Sam reached for the nearest book, dragging it over and frowning at the summoning there. It was for something minor, something unhelpful, but he still stared at it like it would suddenly yield up the answers they needed. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised when it didn’t.
“Bobby…”
“Yeah, should try something stronger. Just let that smoke itself out first.” Bobby paused to tip his hat back, wiping his forehead. “It would help if we had a name. Might be able to get one if we call Pamela, or something in the right ballpark.”
Sam sighed and looked down at his wrist. It was edging towards two in the morning, and if the psychic was still awake, she might have called them by now. Or maybe she was just sitting at her phone until they got desperate enough. If Bobby didn’t find something to summon the thing that had pulled Dean out of Hell or the thing that had killed all of the demons at the restaurant, if they were two different things at all.
Cosmic, she had said. And they were trying to summon it.
He frowned and flipped through the book in search of a general banishing spell, just in case salt and silver didn’t have enough oomph to them.
Sam tapped his fingers against one page, his gaze sliding away to the symbols. He tried not to look too hard at those aimed towards demons and the way that it made his skin crawl. It was the idea that one of them had somehow given them the slip and landed in his brother that made him uneasy and nothing else. It couldn’t be anything else.
He ran a hand over his face, staring at the steps laid out in front of him, the words turning to gibberish. It was bad enough that he had failed to get Dean out of his deal and out of Hell himself, but the idea that it was a demon who had done it was worse.
What if it was on Lilith’s command?
Sam jerked his hand down to his phone, before stopping himself. He would need quiet to talk to Ruby without Bobby catching on. He could dodge Dean, but Bobby was still too observant about the both of them. Sam was sure that Bobby was watching now, even as he searched for something to try next.
He wiped his palm on his jeans, trying to pass it off as a twitch, not a tell. “I don’t think he would have gone.”
“He wouldn’t have been able to argue. You didn’t see him when he first turned up. He looked a minute from collapsing.”
Sam nodded, at least until his mind caught up to what Bobby had said. He jerked away from the table, watching as the planks rocked. “Bobby, we buried him in Illinois.”
“I know. I don’t think he walked.” Bobby paused for a moment, looking uneasy. “Not all the way.”
“But he passed the tests.”
“All of them. Nothing.”
“Then did this save him, follow him up, or stick to him after?”
Bobby shrugged, turning back to the book. “That’s where Pamela would have come in.”
“When we get him, I’ll get his legs.”
That got the corner of Bobby’s mouth to quirk up for a moment before he was cursing under his breath. He slammed the book shut, taking a step back. “Balls.”
“Dead end?”
“Yeah. Time to get creative. I think we can stick with the ingredients, it’s just figuring out the wording. Chalk.”
Sam got out of Bobby’s way as he bustled over to the bowl. He reached over the planks to grab at the chalk that they had brought in to make some of the sigils. He tossed it Bobby’s way, the man catching it to crouch on a spare section of ground to conjugate verbs.
He waited until Bobby had worked through the first sentence before edging over, looking over his shoulder. It looked the same as the other summons, although Bobby was leaving gaps to figure out key words later. Sam had a few ideas, at least with the way that Bobby was laying it out. He tipped his head to the side, watching Bobby viciously rub out one word. “Shouldn’t that be the one establishing the limit of the call?”
“Yeah, but how do we do that when we don’t know what we’re callin’ on?”
“Stop it at god?”
Bobby’s jaw twitched, Sam feeling his stomach drop out at the thought. A god wouldn’t have pulled Dean out for no reason, they would want something. Sacrifices maybe. Maybe that’s what Dean had been doing out, holding up his end of the bargain. “We could focus on gods of fire, or eyes.”
“Or revenge.” Bobby shook his head. “Too wide.”
“Damn it.” Sam turned to pace, veering away from the sigils that would harm demons and staying far away from the devil’s trap on the floor. That was true, because it was a matter of finding the god that matched, and whichever one had a special interest in them, and for what reason. That kind of dive would take days with more books than what they had in Bobby’s trunk. And there was no way that they could hide it from Dean.
Maybe he would tell them what he remembered.
Maybe he would keep lying.
Maybe he didn’t remember anything at all.
Sam turned away to pace in another direction, freezing when he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala.
He spun on his heel to stare at Bobby, panic holding him still. Bobby didn’t seem quite so bothered, but he straightened up slowly. “Looks like he found us.”
“How?”
“Probably didn’t take the tracker off of your phone.”
Sam cursed and fumbled for his phone, staring at the screen. There was no hint from that, and no time to try for a work around. The rumble of the Imapala shut off, followed by the sound of the door shutting.
Sam threw a worried glance at Bobby as the man stood up. Bobby gave the door a glance before looking down at what he had written. He pulled the bowl over to him, motioning vaguely over at Sam. “We’ll try this. Maybe because Dean’s around it’ll come out.”
He didn’t get a chance to argue before Dean was shoving his shoulder against the barn door and stepping in. Sam could tell the exact moment he realized what he was seeing, because he froze and whistled. “Wow, nice secret art project. Who’s it for?”
A lie would be easier, and it would deflect Dean, at least until Bobby finished what he was doing. But Dean was already looking at him, frowning as he took in the jars of ingredients that were strewn everywhere on the boards.
Sam took a deep breath, bracing himself. “You, Dean.”
“What? Why? Look at me, I’m fine.” Dean plucked at his flannel, Sam’s attention drawn to dark stains along the edges. It was hard to tell what it was in the light of the few lanterns, but Sam was willing to bet that it was blood. His mind flashed to the dead demons in the restaurant before pushing that thought aside. There had been nothing to bleed, all of their eyes had burnt out. He looked back up at Dean’s face as he smiled, catching a dark patch of blood at the corner of Dean’s mouth.
Just as soon as he spotted it, it disappeared. Or maybe Dean wiped it away. But he hadn’t moved. The blood had only been there until he had noticed it, and then it was gone.
Sam took a deep breath, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You were dead, and now you’re not.”
“Yeah, that’s how resurrection tends to work.”
“But why? Why you? Why four months? Why do it and who?”
“You’re making me feel real loved here, Sam.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, covering up most of the blood stains. “Are you annoyed that I came back or that it wasn’t you?”
“What?! No. Dean, why wouldn’t I want you back?”
“I don’t know, you don’t seem to be too happy.”
“I’m worried.”
“Yeah, and I’m fine.”
“Then where did you go tonight?”
“What?”
“Tonight.” Sam used his height to loom over Dean. It rarely worked, because Dean still saw him as a kid, but there were a few times that it would be enough for Dean to back down. It almost worked now, Dean rocking back on his heels. It was enough to get Sam to push more. “What was that? Late night pie run?”
“Yes. And I wanted to drive my car. It’s been four months.”
“Without a note.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Dean!” Sam jumped at Bobby’s voice, turning to look at him.
The man was braced against the table, glaring at the two of them. When he was sure of their attention, he nodded. “You’ve been dead for four months and just show up again. Damn right we’re happy. Damn right we’re worried because that doesn’t just happen without consequences.”
“Hey, Dad just strolled right out of Hell. What makes you think I didn’t do that?”
“Because we have a restaurant full of bodies that implies something different.” Dean flinched at that, his gaze dropping to the side. It focused on something on the table, Sam wanted to lean out to see what it was, but he didn’t want to give himself away. Instead, he looked back at where Bobby was huffing and stepping back. “So, do you have something to add or can we go back to figuring out what hauled you out of there?”
“No.” Dean shifted his weight, something about it making Sam tense. It was all wrong. This was Dean trying to figure out how to avoid something instead of being helpful. His brother wasn’t at the point of just running for the car, but it might be close.
He tensed, ready to tackle Dean to the ground just to keep him in place. It wasn’t quite necessary for the summoning for Dean to be there, but maybe he would be good bait. It might come if Dean was there.
Bobby seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he gave them both a sharp nod before dropping the match into the bowl and starting to speak.
Dean jerked at the first word, looking like he was ready to run. Sam moved to intercept him, twisting when Dean went to dodge around him to Bobby. That left him wrong footed for a moment, and in the perfect position to see Dean start to pull a knife.
That made him lunge forward, catching Dean’s wrist. “DEAN!”
Dean jerked back, staring down at the knife in his hands. He dropped it to the ground, kicking it away as he jerked his arm out of Sam’s grip. “No! We are not doing that!”
Sam scrambled for a hold on Dean, frustrated when his brother kept pulling away. “Dean, what the hell?!”
Dean didn’t seem to hear him, too busy backing towards the doors. One hand reached up to grab his left shoulder, curling into the fabric. “It was one of the first rules.” There was a pause, Dean quick to shake his head like there was an answer that only he could hear. “It’s Bobby.”
Bobby faltered a bit in the ritual, which made Sam want to look back. But he didn’t dare tear his gaze away from Dean.
Dean hadn’t quite made it to the door, he had strayed off course somewhere so he was pressed back against the wall. He was curling into himself one hand clawing at his left shoulder all while muttering to himself.
“No. No, just stay in. Don’t…”
Sam took a cautious step forward, watching as Dean looked up at him and shook his head. “Sammy.”
“It’s alright, Dean.”
Dean shook his head harder. “No. No it’s not. It’s fucking-” He broke off into a series of hacking coughs, Sam freezing at the sight of blood dripping out of Dean’s mouth.
For a moment, he was back in that living room, held against the wall and helpless as the hellhounds tore into his brother. Except this time he wasn’t screaming, he couldn’t get a word out as Dean buckled, falling to his knees.
“Stop it!” The words were garbled in the mix of blood that Dean was still coughing up, but it was more than enough to make Bobby stumble.
Sam turned, motioning him to stop as Bobby took a ragged breath. He was aware that this was a turning point, that they could finally find out what was going on because there was something in Dean. But there was blood.
Sam thought that he was over that. He had been hunting for years. But blood was one thing, knowing that it was Dean’s was another.
Bobby held his gaze before nodding, the hand holding the book starting to lower.
Behind him, Dean gave a ragged sounding sigh, Sam turning around to try and get him to calm down. But Dean was already staring off into the distance, rocking on his knees.
“N-no, no. This is the line, remember?”
“What line?” When Dean didn’t look at him, Sam reached over to shake his shoulder, jostling him harder when Dean didn’t even look his way. “Dean, what line?”
Dean flailed out with his free hand, grabbing hold of Sam before shoving him back.
Sam grunted as he landed on his back, already twisting to try and get to his feet. He heard the heavy thud of Bobby’s footsteps as the man rushed around the table, only for him to stop. Sam rolled onto his feet, freezing as the lights in the old barn suddenly turned on, blazing bright enough that Sam could hear the hum of the bulbs.
He dropped his gaze back to Dean, watching as he curled further in on himself. His stomach dropped as he watched Dean shake his head, still talking to whatever he thought was there. “Dean?”
Dean cut himself off in whatever he was saying, leaning over to cough up more blood on the floor. He rocked forward only to stop as something caught him. For a moment, Sam thought that Dean had caught himself, but Dean’s head was already lolling forward as he went limp.
“Dean!”
“Damn it.” Bobby rushed past him, reaching out to grab Dean and haul him away from the wall when a streak of blue-white shot from somewhere close to Dean’s shoulder and lashed out.
It struck Bobby across the stomach, sending him flying backwards. Sam moved slightly, intending to catch him only to be thrown as well as Bobby slammed into him.
The two of them tumbled to the floor, Sam rolling away and clear. He stumbled to his feet, reaching out for Bobby in the same motion. He grabbed onto Bobby’s hand, starting to haul him up when Dean made a high pitched whine. Sam twisted to look at him, only then realizing that Dean wasn’t making the sound. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere in specific, but it was rising to the point where it drowned out the hum from the lights.
Sam flinched at the tone, reaching up with his free hand to cover his ear. The motion dragged a shadow across the wall, Sam barely glancing at it, until the shadow moved long after his arm had stopped.
He pulled Bobby to his feet, turning to stare at the shadow that was rising on the wall.
It wasn’t his or Bobby’s, the light was wrong for it. It wasn’t Dean’s either, but it seemed to be coming from him.
Sam’s mouth went dry as the top of the shadow’s head hit the join between the roof and the ceiling, the back of his mind reminding him that it was too tall, and the wrong shape. It was roughly human, but too thin and angular.
It turned, almost like it caught sight of them, and then it was lighting up with pinpricks of blue-white blazing out from it.
The whine rose in pitch, Sam reaching up to press his other hand to his ear. It did nothing to stop the sound. In fact, Sam was sure that it somehow made it even louder.
He hissed and took a step back, bumping into Bobby. Sam glanced back at him before angling himself. “What the hell is that?!”
For a moment, he was sure that Bobby hadn’t heard him because the man was shaking his head. Then he realized that it was an answer, which made his blood run cold.
Bobby didn’t know everything, but he had a good handle on most of the monsters. Those that he didn’t know about he could at least recognize a similarity or pattern of behavior. That he was immediately stumped was sobering.
This was something that had slipped past all of their tests, that was able to imitate Dean so well that neither of them had noticed. They would have just carried on for who knows how long not knowing until they had tried a summoning of something else.
The pinpricks of light focused on the two of them, Sam getting the impression that they were being watched. He shrunk back, reaching for his gun.
His fingers had just closed around it when a line of that nearly white appeared where Sam assumed the head was, but it stretched impossibly long. The whine pitched higher as the mouth stretched wider. Sam wanted to reach up and press his hands to his ears, but that would mean that he might miss his shot at the thing. Hopefully silver would work. If not, then it might be enough to scare if off to just talk with Dean, maybe get some hint to what was riding his brother.
He jerked the gun out, the ringing in his ears making him sloppy. It didn’t matter because the creature focused on him, things starting to rise from its shoulders.
Sam had just enough time to think wings before the shadow was turning. He thought he saw it rise slightly off the wall before it was crashing down and over Dean in a wave of blue-white.
“Sam!” Bobby pulled his arms away from where he had started to aim, Sam bristling at it. Like he would just shoot Dean after all of this. He couldn’t even get a good line of sight.
He took a step back, twisting to shout back when the whine pitched up high enough that he couldn’t stand it. He dropped his gun to clamp his hands over his ears, going to his knees at the same time. Sam curled forward, pressing hard on his ears just to get the whine to stop, but it felt like it was in his head, rattling around to the point where he wanted to claw it out. His palms slid on something, Sam vaguely aware that it was blood. He went to pull a hand away to check when the lightbulbs above him finally gave out.
The first went with a sharp pop, Sam glancing up at it only to hunch his shoulders against the sparks that fell. The others followed in a row, exploding in a shower of spark and an afterglow that lingered in his vision. He edged closer to where Bobby was crouched on the ground, thinking to protect him slightly from the shower of sparks and glass when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
The thing had flowed over Dean and was in motion now. In the flash and break of the lights it was like watching an old film, the creature moving in jerks and starts, a horrific stop motion as it started to rise from the ground. For a moment, it looked human enough that Sam hoped that it could just be Dean gaining control. Then it stood, rising beyond Dean’s height and stretching arms and legs that were too long and only barely human. Too long toes flexed into the floor, Sam seeing claws, bones, paws, strings of light, all things that didn’t make sense to his brain. He looked away, catching sight of one of the elongated hands extending towards the table and the summoning.
Wings opened up as the creature moved, one large primary set catching Sam’s eye as they extended overhead. It was because he was following the arc of those that he missed the opening of the next pair. They dipped close over his head, Sam gaping at them, his hands slipping slightly.
The wings fanned out, brushing against the side of the barn as the creature moved. It almost looked like it was balancing, which made Sam start looking at how it was braced on things that might have been knees and one hand. Hitting a joint might do something, or attacking the weak points at the knees. Sam didn’t know if any of the soft spots on the body would help, because the creature’s skin seemed to glow. But it would be worth a shot with a knife, if one of those wings didn’t hit him.
Sam had a sudden vivid image of being sent through one of the walls by a wing. There had been one finals week that he and Jess had fallen down the rabbit hole and ended up watching a nature documentary at 4 in the morning. He couldn’t remember what most of it was about, but he did remember watching a swan viciously beat a human with its wings. And these wings were at least three times as large.
He abandoned his plan to move close, choosing to roll to the side and grab Bobby to drag him free.
It took a moment for Bobby to get his feet under him again, and then he was pulling himself up using Sam to steady himself. Sam leaned in to help, retreating towards the wall. “What do we do?”
“Damn if I know.” Bobby sucked in a quick breath, grabbing his arm and squeezing to the point of pain.
Sam winced but didn’t do more when he realized that the creature was watching them. But it was also still reaching for the bowl, gaze fixed on that. Sam swore under his breath. So there were two heads, but it was hard to make out just what they were. There were times when they looked human, but they were also animals, a bird, some kind of deer, a lion. He caught the edge of a snarl and flash of sharp teeth, and then the creature was lunging the last distance between it and the makeshift table.
A hand slapped down on the planks, sending everything on it flying as the planks snapped in the middle. Sam watched as the bowl tumbled off, strewing the still smoldering ingredients.
The creature snarled, slapping a hand over them to kill the flames. Then it went still, heads hanging low.
Sam took a deep breath, choking on it as the creature looked sharply at them. There were three heads now, and one was definitely a bird. All three focused on the two of them, Sam scrambling to grab onto Bobby. The question was whether to pull him along until they got outside or to shove him. Either way, the two of them would be able to slip through the doors while the thing would have to take the time to get through. Or just claw its way through the roof. Still, that would take time, which they could use to get away and regroup.
He was ready to start shoving Bobby when the creature buckled in the middle, the head that looked like a bird tipping up with a shrill cry. Then it was breaking down, shrinking at the same time the wings were withdrawing. Parts of the creature lit up in white, Sam unable to look at them for too long without his eyes hurting. He focused again on the whole, watching as it shrunk and got more human. Just where it went, he wasn’t sure. It looked like it was retreating in until it left Dean behind, still crouched on the floor.
Sam went still, barely daring to breathe as he watched Dean get to his feet. It was a slow and awkward process, bad enough that Sam began edging closer despite the way that Bobby grabbed at him.
They would still run. They would just grab Dean and drop every charm, sigil, spell and ounce of silver they had on him until they had something.
He was still wary enough to linger a few steps away from Dean, watching his brother stare at his fingers as they flexed. Sam thought he saw Dean’s gaze flick to him in a moment, but it was gone just as quickly. Then he was back to looking at his fingers, stroking over the curve of his left thumb. It wasn’t Dean’s usual fidgeting. That was something to watch, but still… “Dean?”
“Not currently.” Dean spoke, only it wasn’t his voice. It was deeper, rough, ragged, like it was having problems coming out of his throat. Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as the thing wearing Dean studied the thumb before changing its grip on it.
Sam saw its fingers curl around the digit, watching the tension in the muscles. He only realized what the thing was going to do a moment before it pulled sharply on the thumb. “Don’t!”
There was a crack as the bone broke, followed by the report of a shotgun.
Sam jerked to the side, twisting to look at Bobby. The man had a gun in his hand, already cocking it again to shoot. The barrel shook as it did so, but Bobby kept aiming at Dean. “Back away, Sam.”
“Bobby!”
“That thing’s not Dean.”
“I know, but-”
“He’s right.” Sam looked back at Dean, watching as the creature tipped his head to the side. He adjusted his hold on Dean’s thumb again, giving it a hard shove. Sam heard something click back into place, right as the creature looked pleased with itself. It rubbed its fingers over Dean’s thumb before glancing at where the silver shot had hit him. It was glowing that same blue-white, the creature obviously pleased with what was going on. It brushed a hand over the injury before turning to look at the two of them. “I’m not Dean.”
“Figured.” Sam heard Bobby step closer, fighting the urge to reach back and grab the gun to get him to stand down. “Tell us what the hell you are, and then get out of him.”
The creature raised Dean’s eyebrow, and then it cocked its head to the side. Then it went still, unnaturally so.
It held like that, a statue in the middle of a dark barn. And then it relaxed, eyes flicking towards the books before focusing on them again. “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.”
Sam jerked back, his mind going blank for a moment and filling only with the paintings and stained glass windows he had seen. Of beautiful people with white wings and halos. Of what the bible described as angels, creatures with multiple heads, wings, eyes and rings, beyond human comprehension. And he stared at his brother, trying to see something of the angel in there. All he saw was something that wasn’t Dean, something that had been a monstrous shadow and then had crashed into his brother.
Bobby scoffed. “Pull the other one.”
“The other…Oh, yes. I see. Thank you.” Castiel nodded slowly. “I thought you had seen before. I would assume that would be recognizable to hunters.”
“I don’t know what I saw.”
Castiel’s eyes narrowed, Sam sure that the creature would just charge them. He reached for his gun, coming up empty. His gaze darted to where he had stood before. Sam could see the shape of the gun there, just barely visible in the remaining light from the lanterns. But he had his knife.
Sam drew it out, catching the way Castiel looked at it. He attention seemed to make Dean’s eyes fade to blue, or maybe it was the lighting. Or something else. Sam adjusted his grip on the knife, stepping up to Bobby. “What did you do to Dean?”
When Castiel didn’t answer immediately, Bobby took aim with his shotgun. That got Castiel to look over to him, the angel holding Dean’s face completely blank. That was wrong too, because Dean would always have some reaction, some little bit of motion. The only time he had been still he had been dead.
Sam swallowed, feeling like even his blood was fizzling and sparking, which couldn’t be good. He flexed his hand, watching as Castiel’s gaze dropped down to that too. When the angel’s gaze flicked back up to him, it was with a slightly different expression that made him want to curl up and hide. Because Castiel could see him right down to his soul. Of course he could, he was an angel. He could see everything that was wrong with Sam, everything he tried so hard to fix and always failed. Of course Castiel would see all of that, and would look away.
Castiel trailed a hand down Dean’s side, the touch gentle despite the lack of emotion on his face, almost reverent. “I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. I laid his soul back into his body and worked to rebuild it.”
“Thanks for that.” Bobby cocked the shotgun. “Now get out.”
Castiel narrowed his eyes and turned to face the two of them. Sam noticed that his hand was still resting on Dean’s hip almost possessively, but then he was dropping it away. “If I do, he’ll die.”
The panic slammed into him again, Sam barely managing not to gasp. He did suck in a ragged breath, feeling it get caught somewhere. It was automatic when it came to Dean and Bobby if they were threated. It was the entire reason he had been running with Ruby, because he needed not to feel this every time something big came for them. He wanted to be able to do something and fix his own damn mistakes without another soul being sold for his sake.
Bobby swayed slightly, Sam watching the shotgun waver before Bobby held himself together. That steadied him too, Sam getting a better hold on his knife. “Why should we believe you?”
Castiel looked them over before glancing back at where the ingredients had been scattered on the ground. The corner of his mouth twitched before his gaze slid back over. “I think the evidence is clear, but all things considered…”
The angel took a breath, the action strange after so much stillness. And just as suddenly it was Dean again, everything strange, alien and angel gone.
Dean’s shoulders slumped, his brother rubbing at his chest before shooting a glare at Bobby. “Son of a bitch. You didn’t have to shoot me.”
Bobby shrugged apologetically, but didn’t put down his shotgun. It made Sam want to reach over and pull it down, because Bobby had to see that this was Dean.
Bobby must have guessed about what he was thinking because he pivoted slightly. “Yeah, well, didn’t know it was you.”
“Didn’t know it was me, my ass.” Dean brushed over where the bullet holes in his shirt was again, Sam fighting the urge to rush over and check himself. Dean patted his chest. “You could see me.”
“I saw a kind of body snatching parasite that took you over and broke your thumb.”
The whine came back, pitching high and loud before resolving into a roar. Sam jumped back at a flash of light just over Dean’s left shoulder. It quickly formed into a lion’s head, snarling just over Dean’s shoulder.
“You should show me some respect.” The lion’s lips didn’t move, nor did the head bob in any way, which was weird because the damn thing was just hovering there.
Its muzzle wrinkled more as the snarl deepened. It was the kind of sound that meant trouble and instinct was telling Sam to just cut and run until the sound stopped.
Bobby must not have had that instinct, or he was pushing past it because he just shifted his aim. “Or what?”
The lion head didn’t say anything, but Dean jumped and reached over to pat at its face, not seeming to care that his hand was coming very close to sharp teeth. “Oh hell no, I’m not being used in the middle like this. You,” Dean squeezed at the top of the lion’s head, Sam having a moment to wonder at his brother’s sanity. “Calm the fuck down. And you,” the last was aimed at Bobby, “stop angering my pacemaker.”
“Pacemaker?”
Considering everything that was going on, it was the wrong question to ask, but it was what Sam’s attention had caught on. It was just an odd phrasing, especially when Dean was walking and talking. When they had been doing the summoning he had been coughing up blood. But that wasn’t a heart problem.
Dean didn’t answer right away, his attention was on the lion’s head. He had gone back to petting it, getting the snarl to subside into something that might have been a purr. The next moment the head was shifting under Dean’s hand, becoming some kind of antelope. Dean’s hands stuttered to a stop for a moment before he pulled away.
The antelope didn’t seem to care, although it bobbed lower to rest its muzzle on Dean’s shoulder. It stared at them for a moment before speaking, Sam jumping at the sound of its voice. It was the same voice that had come mangled out of Dean’s throat, but different.
“Rebuilding a human body takes precision and time, but I was not afforded the latter. Demons attacked as soon as I had the body whole enough to hold a soul. The inner workings are all less than functional,” Castiel’s head cocked to the side, “although I believe the digestive system is functional to the jejunum. If I hadn’t been interrupted, it could have been finished by tonight.”
“Oh thank God.”
Castiel snorted, but Dean didn’t seem to care that he blasphemed in front of an angel. And Castiel didn’t seem to have any desire to push him on it. The angel was too busy eyeing the two of them. “Removing me would cause Dean to die, horribly and painfully now that it’s been days since I started work.”
Sam swallowed, glancing over at Bobby. Bobby didn’t look back, but there was a bit of waver in him. Castiel was shifty, claiming to be an angel or not, although Sam was tempted to believe him. There was nothing that he knew of that could have resurrected Dean like that, and he had seen the angel when it was stopping their summoning. It had been powerful and frightening, and it made perfect sense why angels in lore prefaced everything with ‘Do not be afraid.’ If he hadn’t seen it emerge from Dean, Sam would have attempted to shoot it.
He watched Dean, slightly amused with the way that his brother was almost absently stroking the muzzle of the antelope head. It would have been something to tease him about, but he was still wary. He couldn’t forget about the shadow that had loomed over Dean, and what it had done to him.
Cosmic.
Sam fought the urge to take a step back, especially when Castiel’s gaze flicked over his way. It was another one of those long glances, the ones that went too deep. Thankfully, this one wasn’t too long before it moved over to Bobby. Bobby had the courage or the stubbornness to hold it, even after Castiel looked away. But he did lower his gun.
“So, how long are you staying in Hotel Dean?”
Castiel tipped its head to the side, a strangely birdlike movement for an antelope. If Sam didn’t know better, he would guess that it was confusion. But then Castiel was flicking an ear. “As long as it takes to complete the repair. Dean’s consent was conditional on that. He isn’t meant to hold me anyway.”
“Excuse me.”
Castiel bared its teeth, subsiding when Dean rested a hand on its muzzle. “Angels are picky. It’s all specific people, certain families. That kind of thing.”
Sam risked a step forward. Castiel didn’t protest, so he slipped his knife back away, but still within easy reach. As he approached he could see that Castiel’s head wasn’t quite floating. It was easier to see if Sam didn’t look at it directly, just out of the corner of his eye. The connection was there, a faint blue-white that extended from where Dean’s shoulder ended. It curled around until it thickened and lost the semi-invisibility to become the neck of the antelope. Sam couldn’t tell if the energy was static or flowing, it was hard to look at on its own, and staring too long made something in him hurt.
He focused on his brother, watching as Dean grinned at him. “He’s not gonna bite. He’s well trained like that.”
Castiel might not bite, but he did give Dean a disgusted look. “I’m not a pet.”
“Of course not.” Dean gave the angel a hard pat before dropping his hand.
The back and forth was easy, and it should have soothed him. But something had him on edge. Maybe it was because he could still see the great shadow of Castiel and what the angel had turned Dean into for a brief moment. That alone made it dangerous, but there were things that didn’t quite add up.
“If Dean’s not the right meatsuit, what’s gonna happen to him?”
“If circumstances were different, he would have given out long before now. But seeing as I was allowed to take this vessel when I am the only one holding it together, Dean is in no danger. By the time he would be, my mission will be finished.”
“What mission is that?”
It was a relief to have Castiel’s gaze move away from him, Sam didn’t know how Dean could stand it.
Bobby seemed to have a better time, not as successful at Dean, but he was able to hold Castiel’s gaze for a moment longer than Sam was. That seemed to make Castiel give him a more considering glance before settling back on Dean’s shoulder. “To raise the Righteous Man from Hell.”
When Bobby didn’t react immediately, Dean raised a hand and gave a small wave. “Apparently, that’s me.”
“But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know”
“It means, God has a purpose for you.”
Sam tensed at the solemn proclamation, his gaze fixed on the angel. He was dimly aware that Dean and Bobby were just staring at each other, trying to have a conversation without saying anything. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the angel on his brother’s shoulder, proclaiming that Dean was the one that God had chosen.
The old rage filled him again, the one that Sam had thought that he had shoved away or had worn away with exorcising demons. It was back now for this.
Dean had never believed. He had never prayed. He had mocked and belittled, but nothing that would have gotten the attention of God and his angels. Sam didn’t know where the whole Righteous Man came from, because righteous and Dean were things that occasionally met.
But Sam had worked. He had prayed, he had believed. He didn’t just blindly follow the orders of whoever snapped them out the most like Dad, he weighed and measured what he had to do, walked that line that most hunters preferred to ignore. And he had tried his best, he was still trying his best, although for what he didn’t know.
Dean didn’t need saving, somehow, he had been chosen and left Sam behind.
But there was still Lilith, he could still stop her from hurting anyone else. That was a worthy goal, even if it wasn’t whatever mission that God had.
Sam glanced back at Castiel, catching the brief look that the angel was giving him. This time, he attempted to stare back. And, this time, Castiel looked away first.
They didn’t ask about the demons.
Dean shifted in his seat, surprised by the sound of Castiel’s voice in his head after the angel had been speaking outside of it. He quickly turned the motion into a stretch and settle. He didn’t answer, not until he felt Sam’s gaze stray away. Even then, he hesitated, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention to the road.
I think they were kinda distracted. You made quite the entrance.
Castiel was blank, but Dean was used to that. Inflection was carried in the voice, not the flicker of presence that was curling somewhere around his stomach. Normally, Dean would ask what Castiel was up to, but the angel had said something about his digestive system before naming something that Dean was sure didn’t exist in any body.
It does. Here. There was what felt like a tap, but on the inside of his stomach and it took everything Dean had not to flinch. He didn’t want to explain to Sam that Castiel was messing around with his insides, not after Sam had just shut down in the barn.
The tapping withdrew, Dean feeling as Castiel pulled away from his work and moved somewhere back closer to Dean’s heart. It seemed to be his preferred place, tucked up there. Dean would have teased him for being a sap if Castiel hadn’t already expressed his disgust in whoever had repaired Dean’s heart from the last trauma it had suffered. Apparently, it had been subpar work.
The entrance was not intended. You were hurting and I had to stop it. They were not helping.
A bit protective?
Castiel paused for a moment before the force of his negative swept through him. I have a mission, to heal you for God’s purpose. I didn’t drag you out of Hell for your family to tear you apart.
Alright. Alright. Touchy.
He got what might have been a huff in response, but Castiel didn’t sink away. He remained in place, pulsing slightly. Dean guessed that it meant that the angel was thinking. Or he might be wrong. He’d had like a day and a half of being awake with Castiel focused on something other than healing him.
Right now it seemed to be Bobby and Sam’s behavior, and he didn’t know how to explain it. Or, he knew how to explain Bobby. Sam was just off somehow, and Dean couldn’t put his finger on it.
He is an abomination.
Dean jerked Baby’s wheel, ignoring Sam’s yelp of surprise and whatever lecture that would come afterwards. But the Impala wasn’t off the road, which was a small victory. “Watch your mouth.”
It was directed at Castiel, which meant that he was left with Sam staring at him with his eyes all wide and offended. Then everything buckled down and Sam was leaning over towards him.
“What the hell?!”
Dean reached out to push him back, surprised when Sam just went instead of leaning into it. “Not you, the angel.”
That got the skeptical looked he expected. Sam shifted in his seat, starting to ease back even as Dean felt the annoyed snap from Castiel. He doesn’t believe.
Oh he does. Hunters are just wary sons of bitches.
Castiel might have huffed, but it was hard to tell when it was all mental. What did happen was a sort of annoyed feeling slither down his spine. Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel had taken that route, but it almost didn’t matter. It didn’t matter where the angel went in his body, he would always hear him. And the caustic reply came soon enough. It would be easier if either of you had faith.
Dean almost laughed, but he stopped himself. He just pressed his lips together, staring fixedly at the road so Sam couldn’t complain. Sammy has enough for the both of us. Give him time, he’ll come around.
And if he doesn’t?
He will, he just doesn’t have the perk of having you live in his head with all of the knowledge of the universe.
Castiel wasn’t quite convinced of that, but he quieted, if only for a few miles. Dean was more than happy to actually relax, to settle into his body instead of feeling like he was floating somewhere off to the side. Maybe that was because Castiel was still fixing it and he wasn’t really in place yet. Or it was because Castiel wasn’t supposed to be using him as a vessel.
There had been an explanation, shoved into his brain just before Castiel had made his escape from the grave and encroaching demons. It had been complicated, beyond his comprehension because most of it had been given in complex equations. Dean was sure that he had recognized something about wavelengths, but high school was too damn long ago and his bad luck had always put science first thing in the morning, so he had dozed through it.
What he did managed to wrestle away from his sudden and full knowledge of Castiel in mathematical form was that Castiel was a soundwave, and he was a fancy wine glass. At some point, the soundwave that was Castiel would shatter him, but he was kept safe because he was already shattered. So Castiel could opera it up all he wanted while he was rebuilding Dean with no ill effects, because there wasn’t much there to work on. It was that trade off of when Dean was back up and running that would be the dangerous part.
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, taking the opportunity to watch Sam out of the corner of his eye.
Sam had insisted that he ride with Dean, leaving Bobby to follow behind him. Dean hadn’t protested, because he was sure that one or the other would be watching him until they decided that Castiel wasn’t going to start killing him or other people.
Castiel rattled his spine to express his distaste. Why would I disobey my orders? Angels were made to watch over humans.
You’ve been doing a shit job then.
The rattle repeated itself, Dean sitting up to avoid the sensation. But it was his own damn spine, so there was no running away from it.
Castiel seemed content with that, settling down again. Watch, but not interfere. My garrison hasn’t been on Earth for… millennia.
The pause was weird, because Castiel was always so sure of himself. Everything came out sounding like a command, with the weight of God behind it. And well, that made sense. But this was interesting. It made Dean want to poke, but maybe a little bit later when Castiel wasn’t in the mood to mess with his bones.
Whatever had caught Castiel in his memories didn’t last long. Dean had the strange sensation of remembering that he had just shook his head without actually doing it. It is not of import.
Wow.
Dean, this had something like bared teeth to it, Dean wanting to check to see if he had actually been bitten. But Castiel hadn’t even been outside of him. Castiel just snarled somewhere in the small of his back. The important thing is that the demons knew where you were buried.
I mean, you did make a mess.
Mess or not, they were waiting.
Dean swallowed, turning the information over in his head. People would assume that I had been burned.
Your grave was not obvious, which meant that someone knew, or was told.
No. No way. I trust Bobby and Sam.
Then why does Sam reek of demon?
Dean purposefully looked at his little brother. We ran into demons earlier, and they probably went back again chasing us.
Castiel hummed, retreating a bit. Dean wasn’t sure how he was able to tell, but that was the general impression that he got from the angel. He expected Castiel to pipe up with something again, but the angel settled, apparently accepting that as the explanation. But that wasn’t quite right either. It felt like Castiel was holding something back, He didn’t know how someone literally sharing his body could do that, but Castiel was managing it.
Dean tightened his hold on the steering wheel. If he didn’t need Castiel to live, he would kick the angel out for that, because they weren’t doing this. He wasn’t going to have Castiel drifting into mysterious silences at the same time that Sam was lying to him. And the two of them were so damn obvious about what they were doing, just not what they were lying about.
He breathed out slowly, reaching over to turn the volume up. Dean saw Sam giving him a sidelong look out of the corner of his eye, Dean reminding himself not to look. He didn’t need Sam to offer that sad puppy dog look and reminders that this was a good thing because it meant that he had been right and angels, Dean, angels!
Well Sam didn’t have to deal with one sitting in him, messing around with his insides or some mission from God that was looming over his head. He wasn’t even a whole person, not really, and he would still have to jump through some damn hoops.
There was a hesitant touch to his back, which then slid up to his left shoulder. Something in Dean wanted to shove Castiel off because he was part of the problem, but he was also the only one offering some kind of support.
That didn’t stop him from rolling his shoulder forward.
Castiel stopped, just at the edge of his shoulder blade. There was pressure, almost like a real touch, except the fingers were a fraction too long. It should have freaked him out, but it didn’t. He’d been running along with Castiel through hell, what were a few more months back topside.
Dean relaxed, feeling Castiel’s hesitation. It took him half a mile to start reaching again before he was fitting what might have been a hand to the handprint that he had left behind, but on the inside.
It was a weird, skin-tingling sensation that made him reach across to press his hand against it from the other side. Dean braced himself for something weird, like when he had been trying to hold Castiel in earlier. This time it was more of a settling, a reconnection.
I don’t have orders for your mission yet, but someone will be in contact.
You mean once they realize things have gone off the rails.
There was a moment where Castiel shuffled through his head, just far enough into the explanation that Dean offered to get it before he was withdrawing again. Yes. But that is plenty of time to find out what your brother is lying about.
Yeah? And what about you?
That got a long sigh. Dean, I can’t lie about things I am not aware of. I know you are important to upcoming events, that was all that we were told.
It sounded true enough, but Dean still dropped his hand away. Castiel didn’t seem to find it an insult, because he drifted back away. Dean could feel the angel settling back down around his stomach, probably going back to work.
Dean suppressed the urge to poke at the angel, not wanting to making him accidentally misplace his liver.
Castiel huffed, annoyance filtering through. There is no liver to misplace. I’ll have to construct a completely new one since you decided to utterly ruin the last one.
I’ll get you a copy of Grey’s Anatomy before you go all Dr. Sexy on me then.
There was another pause as Castiel went through the references. Dean could pick out the exact moment he lost patience with it. That would be helpful considering I haven’t rebuilt anything on this scale before and there’s not much left behind to work from.
He could probably take that as an insult, or it was because a hell hound had torn his insides to shreds. Castiel wasn’t quite so helpful about the context. So Dean just snorted and let the comment stand.
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, checking on where Bobby was behind them before dropping his gaze to the road unspooling ahead of him.
If he ignored the slight warm prickle that marked where Castiel was working, it was just like old times. Sam in the passenger seat, Baby purring underneath his hands and the open road. It could just be any other hunt, any other trip back to the motel for the night. But he didn’t quite trust that, because it was exactly the kind of thing that had been used against him in Hell. So he focused on the sensation of the angel by his liver and the road before them.