Chapter Text
None of the information that Castiel and Dean were given made any sense. The idea that the town that they were randomly passing through could possibly contain a Grigori, the very same creature that killed Dean's parents, was ludicrous at best, and delusional at worst. However, every sign, every detail, every little testimonial coming from the newspapers and townspeople gave away that this was Coriantumr. The abomination and embodiment of true evil was in this small low scale town that runs off of factories and watermills. From the marks on victims bodies, to the strange voices, burning bushes, it all pointed to the terrible angel. Somehow they stumbled on this, but it was too... perfect.
Castiel knew right away that this had to be some sort of trap. He didn't know how, or why, but it just had to be. They haven't been actively searching for Coriantumr for over a year now, and now when they're going through a small town in the middle of Indiana after the major war that they finally escaped from was over, Coriantumr suddenly appears? Cas didn't trust it. Nor did Dean. However, Dean was blinded by revenge, by emotion, by this need to avenge his parents death to the point that he didn't care. Dean had to see it through.
Dean was ready to go, ready to abandon the motel that they were staying at, not even say goodbye to anyone, and get on the road and drive to this abandoned factory to put a bullet in between this creature's eyes. Yet, Castiel wouldn't let him go alone. He begged to be a part of this hunt, wanting to be there for multiple reasons. The first being to make sure that Dean wasn't killed due to the sheer strength and abilities that the Grigori possessed, and secondly, that if they did overcome this creature, Castiel wanted to share that moment with him.
So, there they were. Standing outside of a factory in the middle of the night. The building looked to be falling apart. Pieces of metal laid amuck, old rusted signs hanging by a single screw, and the sound of a generator covered up the sound of their footsteps in the gravel. Several lights were flickering on and off on the outside, possibly due to secondary lighting and energy being held within the facility.
The young twenty five year old hunter finished loading in the last bullet into a six chamber colt, the very colt that Samuel Colt made so long ago to kill any creature in existence. It was their one shot at killing this thing from a distance. The hunter wore dark clothing to hide in the shadows, only a simple long sleeved black shirt with three buttons lining the torso and his chest, followed by black jeans with frayed holes in the knees from excessive wear and tear. Hair slicked back to stay out of his eyes. A bracelet dangled from his wrist, several protection sigils hung from it, as well as a metal slab with the letters C+D carved into it. Dean's green eyes, decorated with golden flakes sparkling in the dark night, examined the exterior of the building, biting his bottom lip as a sense of unease washed over him. Filled with nerves as if he was about to perform in front of the whole school.
"Cas, you don't have to come." Dean spoke, his gentle orbs switching to look at the other. "You can sit this one out."
"Dean, if you think I'm going to let you go at this alone, then you have surely misunderstood who I am." Castiel said with such bold intent, it might have just thrown the other off balance.
However, it was the case. After everything that he and Dean have ever been through, this was the one thing that may be the least dangerous of all. Everyday they faced down death, they have nearly been beaten to death several times, but now? Now they where doing something to give peace to the stoic hunter before him. Castiel would never let Dean go into a place like this, a place where he could be killed, alone. To prove that, Cas wore his normal black suit company with a tan trench coat, showing that he wasn't going anywhere.
The hunter gave a warm smile, moving his hand slightly to take hold of Castiel's. The palm of his hand was calloused and cracked, giving off a rough and worn texture, yet still warm and strong all at once. Cas' hands were a strong contrast to the other. His own being soft and smooth, no scars or bumps or rough edges whatsoever. Yet, cool to the touch. In this small moment, just the two of them, Castiel knew that no matter what happens, he won't let anything bad happen to Dean. Never.
Dean gave a small squeeze to Castiel's hand before letting go, being replaced with the knob on the door to which he pushed in and stepped through. Cas followed not so far behind. Once inside, the hunter pulls out a flashlight and hands it over to Castiel then another one for himself. Flicking them on to give light to the inside of this decaying factory. Water leaked from above them, forming small puddles throughout the floor they stood on. Each drop echoing from off the walls. The light from the flashlights bounced off of some reflective surfaces which aided their search, but not by much. Making it very difficult to see.
"So, what exactly should I be looking for?" Dean asks, walking a few feet to the side.
"Well that is uh- a little difficult to explain. Grigori are very tricky. Greater strength than most angels and can alter perception easily. Best way to find what we're looking for is just by finding it, I suppose." Castiel explains.
"Okay, four eyes." The hunter mumbles, pushing aside some plastic curtains covering the doorway from one room to another.
Castiel raised a brow, following closely behind. "I don't have four eyes." He states.
The other just chuckles under his breath, glancing back at the other. "Expression, Cas. Mean's nerd, basically. It's a complement, kind of."
"Doesn't sound like it."
"Well, look at it this way. Nerds typically have glasses. Nerds are smart. So, I'm calling you smart. Book smarts anyway."
The barren building was evolving around them the further they went. Boxes full and unused laid in random places. Machines that have been lost to time, being covered with vines and ivy that also crawled amongst the walls. Empty shelves and full shelves. Random evidence of animals such as nests and feathers, even some droppings had been left around with no sense of order. It was clear that this place had been lost from society for a very long time.
All of the sudden, Castiel stops in his tracks, flashlight aiming at a large open doorway at the very end of the hall where he stood. A sort of humming, a vibration echoed in his head. Buzzing in his chest. It was obvious that Dean didn't hear nor feel it, because he continued to gaze around the hall they were in, picking up random objects thereabout. Cas knew what it meant, this sort of... sixth sense. He developed it after everything that had happened several months ago.
"Dean." Castiel calls out, catching the other hunters' attention.
Carefully, he gestures to the doorway, not making a sound. Dean raised a brow and his eyes widened slightly, but made a quick nod. Raising his colt up to eye level while making his way down the hallway. Castiel followed directly beside him, arming himself with a long steel and metal blade that was longer than his forearm. He gripped the handle tightly, preparing himself for the oncoming battle they would most likely find themselves in.
Inch by inch, the buzzing in his chest grew stronger. Which confirmed to him that they were going in the right direction. Seconds later, they enter through the doorway. A single light was turned on, a yellow dim light filling the entire room. Yet, it didn't really help either of them see. Dean lets out a soft gasp, his bottom jaw hanging open slightly, the flashlight that he held examining the room that they entered. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Ten beds were laying in the room. Five in each row. Busted up and rusty metal beds with pinstripe blue and white mattresses. A dusty green blanket laying at the foot of each bed. Each individual cot held a person, all wearing white beater tank tops and faded blue yoga pants. Men and women. They all looked dirty, as if they had been here for months, if not years. Each person had their arms exposed, long dark scars, dried blood plaguing their skin.
"All of these people..." Dean started to say, "How has no one noticed them missing?"
"Grigori’s tend to feed on those who won't be missed." Castiel explained, "Or at least know no one would come looking for them."
Dean walked a little closer to the beds, flicking the light onto each of their faces, as if he was trying to remember each and every one of them. The hunter never forgets the face or name of the people he saves, but the ones he doesn't- he always decided to do his best to remember anyways.
Castiel stays a bit behind the other, his crystal blue eyes focusing more on what was around them. Several instruments of blood extraction and weapons hung on the walls. Some are human made tools, others looking to be of IV lines or syringes. As if the creature they were hunting were trying to keep the host of the victims alive to make them last longer if the body is being treated medically. However, he pauses for a moment as he looks at a random desk. There was an outline of sorts, made out of dust. An object was missing that had been there for a while... a sword.
"Mom, dad!?" Dean suddenly shouts.
Spinning around, Castiel shines his light over at Dean who was suddenly running to the far end of the room, his light flickering over to two beds where a woman and man were currently comatose. Before he could speak, Cas saw the glint of metal.
"Dean, stop!" Cas shouts, but it was too late.
The hunter suddenly flung across the room, his body directly hitting one of the many shelves lining the walls before crumbling down to the ground. Not moving. Castiel turns back to where he saw the metal, only able to see the figure of someone for a split second before being thrown as well, his head making contact with the ground, then everything went dark. When he finally came to, there was a distinct throbbing in the back of his head, to the point it felt like it was his own heart beat. Vision was slightly blurry, but it came back soon enough. Groaning a bit as he tried to move, but realized he couldn't. Looking down, finally noticing a rope wrapped around his torso and a pole.
Then he heard a familiar voice calling out to him. It was Dean. Those stoic green eyes were just filled with so much anger, pain, hurt, that it made even Castiel nauseous. But, he couldn't do a thing about it. He was tied up, and so was Dean. Dean was tied up a few feet away from him, connecting him to one of the bedposts of the metal beds. Struggling to get free.
Soft pitter patters came from the corner of the room, attracting Castiel's eye. Turning his head to face the noise, he sees the culprit. Coriantumr. The man was a bit taller than himself, wearing a dark black suit and black suit coat, darker than any bottomless pit on the face of the earth. Pale white skin in contrast to the hat that was worn to cover up the other's hair. A hand clenching what looked to be a cane, which the bottom came to a sharp tip. Each step was echoed by this object that the other didn't seem to need. The closer he got, the more Dean struggled, a burning furry between his eyes. Yet, Castiel stayed still, his own hands working on the knots to get himself free.
"I have got to say, this is the first time I had a meal delivered to me." The Grigori stated, walking directly between the two captee's. "Hunters of all things, what a treat."
"Hot and ready." Dean retorts, "Gotta say though, when I got the address, I was expecting more of a super sonic soldier boy, not Count Dracula."
The Grigori rose a brow, now walking closer to Dean, who in return, held a harsh glare- not daring to look away. "You should play nice, maybe I can make your soul last longer without all the struggling. However-" He stops and looks at Castiel, "I don't sense your soul, typically I can feel them the moment they enter the room- but not yours." Coriantumr turns towards him, getting way too close. Castiel quickly stops his hands from working on the knots, not wanting to give away his means of escape.
"Don't you fucking touch him." Dean growled.
"If I honored that request, then I would have to honor it for everyone who asks me that. Not good for business, do you understand?" Coriantumr asks.
Then the abominable creature grabbed the base of his cane from off the ground, placing it directly underneath Castiel's chin, lifting it up so their eyes made contact with one another. Cas swallowed slightly, moving slightly to try and look away, but it didn't work. "What are you?" Coriantumr questions.
"Didn't God tell you to not play with your food?" Castiel snarks, a tone he's picked up from Dean over the years.
Coriantumr chuckles, setting the cane back down. "God thinks I'm dead, as well as the other angels. I believe they thought we took to extinction, but there are many of us out there. Appears I've just been the one who's been made out. Also it's not food if you have a connection to it- right Dean?" He glances back over.
The hunter frowns, brows knitting together. "How do you know my name?"
More soft pitter patter as the man moved once more, same time Castiel went back to work. They needed to escape and free everyone that was bound up, but Dean was his more pressing matter. Everyone behind him was going to be dead soon anyways, but if Coriantumr feeds on Dean- feeds on Cas' human, then he'll die as well.
"I never forget a face, Dean. Last time I saw you, you were inside of dear ole John's hospital room, waiting for him to wake up." Coriantumr stated, kneeling down to become eye level with the other. "Your mommy was there too, two for one special I might add. Can't take a child, their souls are too sweet for my liking. It takes time for the salt and bitter to taint that power."
"Why did you take them? I thought the whole Grigori deal was that they take people who won't be sought after, or missed. You took two parents that had children. You destroyed a family!" Dean yelled.
"The community never really knew them, their only friends were those two mechanic religious out of the sixties couple. The only person that ever really looked for them was you. Not a lot of people are going to trust a child's very reactive imagination, would they?" Coriantumr asks.
One more knot, just one more. Come on Castiel, break out, now! This would be so much easier if he had his blade.
"Fuck you." Dean hissed.
Coriantumr chuckled one more, before gripping Dean's throat tightly. He struggled, of course he did, but the angel was too strong. Dean couldn't break away, no matter how hard he tried. "I bet I can make you last just as long as your mommy and daddy. A new soul to play with. I'm curious though, if it is the best meal that I have ever had- if their offspring will taste just as good, if not better."
"Bite me." He growls.
"I plan to."
No, he won't. Castiel grunts, ripping the last knot out from his binds. Standing up in a haste, booking it over, tackling the creature away. Both stumbling to the side, the cane being knocked away from the both of them. When he regained his balance, a fist was dug into his face, jolting his head to the side. Cas shakes it off, punching the other back. A hand gripping the other's shoulder to prevent him from getting away. It became a blur of punches, kicks, and grunts as they ran into the wall, tools and boxes falling to the floor around them.
Castiel kicks the other away from him, right in the stomach. The Grigori doubles back, moving a few feet away. He looks around, trying to find something to defend himself with. Where did the other put his blade when he was knocked out? It was nowhere in sight, making him completely useless in this fight. Then he found something. Glancing back at the creature before charging to the side, grabbing a long silver wrench. Turning back just in time to swing and make contact with the creature's skull. Battering in his face that moment.
Coriantumr stumbles away, then his eyes begin to glow, causing Castiel to swallow. That's not good. "Alright, I'm done messing around."
Then there was the sword, appearing out of thin air and into the creature's grasp. A long silver blade, engravings etched in enochian that came down to a sharp hilt. Cas looked back at Dean, who's desperate green eyes were staring back at him, furiously trying to break out of his binds. Maybe he could help, but with this angel on the loose in front of them, those odds were not likely.
The Grigori growled and charged back to Cas, slicing the blade towards him, the other barely being able to dodge and duck out of the way. Dancing backwards and to the sides to avoid being hit. The wrench that he held was being used to block the harsh motions. However, with one harsh swipe, the only tool that he had got knocked out of his hands, flung across the room with ease. His eyes widen, taking several steps backwards with a shaky breath. Eyes only able to comprehend what was about to happen in a split second-
A large gasp expelled from his lungs as the sword struck right into his stomach, going right through his spine. A loud shout from behind him, but not a single word was registered. Underwater, that's all he could associate with it. Thousands upon thousands of needles being shoved into his body, breathing was near as possible. Each choking breath was short and harsh, but nothing was filling his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He could not breathe. Somehow he ended up on the floor, time was so slow yet fast at the same time. The world swirled around him, he felt warm and cold. Boiling and freezing all at once.
His body moved slightly as if he was being lifted up, the pain that he felt turned up tenfold as a jolt of agony went crawling down his spine. Castiel knew what was happening to him now. He was going to die. But, he couldn't die. Not yet. Not now. Not after everything he has done, after everything he's been through. This can't be happening to him. Everything he planned, everything he has yet to do... this isn't fair. This wasn't fair! Dean and he finally felt safe, it can't end like this. What even is after this? Things like him don't go to heaven, they don't go to hell. Being on earth was the only thing that was for certain. If he dies, everything was pointless. All useless. Cas didn't want to die... he didn't want to go. Please don't make him leave.
"Cas- Cas, hey buddy, hey- you aren't going anywhere, you hear me? It's just a flesh wound." Dean's voice. It felt miles away, but Castiel knew that he was right there.
His eyes slowly looked up, behind the blur was Dean. Even through the haze he could see Dean's green orbs, staring down at him. Who was more scared? Castiel wanted to say something, he really truly did. But breathing had become a chore, all he could do was stare back in fear, fear of leaving. He didn't want to die... Dean's hands cupped his face and head, as if he were a small child, he could feel a single tear fall onto his cheek. Was it his or Dean's?
"Look at me- Look at me, you're not dying today. No way, not with me around. Remember? Us against everything. Y-you aren't leaving me. Pl-please don't leave me, you bastard!" Dean's voice quivered, trying to keep it together and failing. "Not after everything- not after this... Cas? CAS!"
Everything went silent after that. Everything went black. His eyes closed, a sense of fear and peace washing over him at once. The pain drifted away, body feeling extremely lax. A part of him waited, waited for the next thing to occur. Maybe someone like him would go to heaven, if that were the case- that would be much more terrifying than going to hell after all that he has done. There was no burning flame, no brilliant light. Just- nothing. Darkness.
But- something changed.
Wind started whistling in Castiel's ear, soft yet coarse. The hard floor that he was laying on now felt gentle and fluid, molding to his form. Something wet on his face, a warmth covering every inch of skin. A blinding light. Air shoved down into his lung, forcing Castiel to open his eyes, finally able to breathe.
Jolting to a sitting position, a hand shooting to his chest as he tried to breathe. Filling his starved body. Deep sharp breaths. Head and hands shaking with unease. His eyes scanned his surroundings, but that only added to his own panic. This wasn't a warehouse, nor was it at night. The sun bared down on his retinas, forcing Castiel to shield his pearly blue eyes. The ground was made of sand, the wetness was droplets coming from the large body of water in front of him. A beach. How did he end up on a beach? Where was he?
Slowly, Castiel put a hand into the sand, forcing his unstable figure to stand up. This didn't make any sense. He couldn't have just suddenly appeared unless... Dean! Shit, did something happen to Dean with the Grigori? He had to call him, make sure everything was alright. Hands shot immediately down to his pockets, eyes glancing down, but he paused. A new development occurring. Where was his trench coat? He definitely had it on before he passed out. Castiel shakes his head, needing to worry about that later. Checking his pockets, he checked every single pocket from the pants to the suit jacket, even in the white pouch in the front of his dress shirt. Nothing. He didn't have his phone. Was it in his coat?
Think, just think. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere isn't a new thing for Cas, and it shouldn't be too hard to retrace his steps. If he is on a beach, chances are there are tourists or humans nearby. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to keep walking and find someone or something to tell him where he was. So, swallowing a bit of sand that ended up in his lungs, Castiel started to walk.
Each step in the sand felt strange, his legs shaking slightly with every movement. As if it were the first time he had used them in a while. Sort of reminded him of when Dean forced Cas to lay in bed for a week straight, then when he was finally able to get up, he nearly fell over. In either case, the sun above him kept blaring down. Forcing his eyes to squint while navigating the foreign land. The suit jacket he wore didn't last long, being wrapped around his torso as the sweat began to build up.
Eventually, Castiel found a section of the beach with lots of people after walking for a solid hour. Men and women in swimsuits, pool noodles, and towels. One of them was bound to have a cell phone. Quickly, jogging over, he stops a few feet away from a rather large man who was holding a phone in his left hand, playing some random game with balls and numbers on the screen.
"I need your phone." Cas said quickly, a bit out of breath.
The man looked up with white sunscreen smeared on his cheeks, the rest of his plump face looking bright red from the heat. "Excuse me?"
"I need your phone." Castiel repeats.
The stranger sat up from his spot, removing the black sunglasses that he was wearing, an annoyed glare behind his eyes. "I don't know where you get your rocks off, but I'm busy. Use your own damn phone."
"I lost it, I need to use yours so I can call and figure out where I am."
"Get too hungover or something?" The man scoffs.
"Listen, just give me your phone to make a call. I'll give it right back."
"Make it quick." The stranger swipes the screen on his phone, getting out of the game and tossing his phone up.
Castiel catches it with very little grace, mumbles a small thank you, before opening to the phone app. Quickly, he dials Dean's number and raises it to his ear. All he gets is a deadline. Okay, maybe the call plan expired. When was the last time Cas called that number anyways? He tries a different number to another one of Dean's phones, this time he just gets Dean's voicemail. Then he tries the other phone, then the other, then the other, and nothing happens. Alright, something is definitely wrong here.
He mumbles a small thank you to the annoyed man, tossing the phone back before rushing out of the beach and into the small town. Something happened. Something is terribly wrong. Castiel can tell the city that they were in based on some of the small ma and pa shops that were around. These were the same shops that he and Dean have driven past while running into town. However, they looked different. Only slightly, but different enough to notice a change. The signs looked either older or brand new. The people inside appeared to have aged slightly, but maybe it was just the lighting from the new day.
That wasn't a priority to worry about. If it's day, maybe they beat the Grigori and celebrated? Maybe got drunk, maybe they just wandered off in different directions andCas passed out. Going off of that logic, Castiel sprinted- no- ran as fast as he could towards the motel that he knew for a fact that they where staying in. Room 17. Dean had to be there, he had to be.
It took a max of fifteen minutes to get to the location, but it was also different. Different names, different decorations, everything was different. The impala wasn't in sight either. Slowly, Castiel stops in his tracks, doing his best to calm down. This was all wrong. Even then, he had to figure out what was going on. That's when Castiel spots the lobby of the motel, and quickly walks towards it, opening up the dark red door and closing it behind him.
Inside was a red and white desk, a dark contrast to the blue one when he checked in earlier. Walls were painted just as white, and the lobby chairs were red as well. Tile was white and new. Behind the desk was a woman with bright pink hair, faded into dark black, pulled up into a tight pony tail on the top of his head. She wore a red visor and red motel issues t-shirt with khaki shorts. When she looked up, her brown eyes examined Castiel up and down before giving a big smile with her bright red lips.
"Hello sir, welcome to The Checkered Hotel! Just one bed for the night?" She asks.
Castiel shakes his head slightly, walking further into the room and over to the desk. A couple of pamphlets laid across the top of the desk, describing different activities that can be done in the small town as well as basic information about the motel and how it became a thing.
"No, actually. When did this location change?" He asks.
"Oh a while ago. The Blue Crowns Motel went out of business a long time ago, so The Checkered Hotel took its place and we've gotten a lot more traffic since then. Cleaned up the parking lot and everything, helps attract tourists, you know?" The lady explained.
"How long ago was that, exactly?" Castiel pushes.
"I dunno, maybe two to three years ago."
"Three years?" He repeats, not entirely sure if he heard that correctly. "What year is it?"
"2007? Sir, did you hit your head last night? If so, I can call you an ambulance."
"No, that's quite alright. Just give me a second." Castiel said softly, taking a step back away from the desk.
Sitting down, Castiel gripped the arm rests of one of the chairs before clasping his fingers over his chin and jaw, hands folding together to think. Three years. There's no way it has been ten years. Yet, that would explain everything that had happened up to this very moment. The older people in the town, the change in scenery, everything. It all lined up. Then, how did this happen? Angels on occasion have been known to bend time to their will. Time is extremely fluid like that. However, it's never into the future. High ranking angels are the only ones who could do something like that. With Castiel's reputation, chances are, none of those individuals would allow him to live like that.
That begs the question on how exactly this happened. Angels were the first theory, the second one being that he might have been in some sort of coma and living in limbo for the past few years, but that wouldn't account for being stranded on a beach. Nor would that explain the lack of his trench coat. Maybe Grigori's had more grace and power than Castiel thought, so did he shoot him into the future? Surely if that were the case, Coriantumr would have mentioned it. There is only one other explanation for this to occur, and the very thought sickened Cas to his core.
Death. That's it. He died and came back. Castiel knew he was going to die the moment that sword pierced his spine, maybe even severing it. That would account for the time change, the sudden reappearance. Resurrection was not a new topic for him, he has run into it several times. Yet, it has never been done for someone such as him. Why was he back? How was he back? For what purpose? What gain?
Where was Dean? Did he die that night as well? No, no way. Dean was always resourceful, he thrived in tense situations. Always did what was needed of him, no matter what. However, if Castiel did die, who knows how that affected the human. That reckless being always wore his heart on his sleeves whenever he and Cas were alone, always stoic any other time. The way Dean would break down over someone he lost, someone he cared about... it was terrifying at times. Yet, the amount of love that he shared could ruin anyone's ideas of it. The more Dean loved with his heart, the worse the death or loss may be.
Not saying that he was anything too special to Dean, but he knew the relationship that they had. His death would have damaged him, and the only ones who would really understand just how much would be the Harvelle's. Actually, the Harvelle's are the only ones who would know where Dean was at this exact moment. He had to call them, and they will lead him to Dean. Yes, he didn't know what he was going to say to either of them, but it had to happen. Had to happen now.
He looks back up at the woman behind the desk who's eyes had never left Castiel's form since the moment he sat down. "Do you have a phone?"
"Uh- yeah, in the back." She said in a wary tone, gesturing to the side wall where a phone was attached by a cord.
Castiel mumbles a small thank you, standing up as quickly as possible, nearly running over to the wall. Nerves bundling in his stomach, a heavy pit laying at the very bottom. Hands shaking slightly as he dialed the numbers to the roadhouse that the Harvelle's owned. Ringing for a few seconds before someone picked up.
"It's the Roadhouse, how can I help you?" Came a young female's voice.
"Jo?" Castiel asks.
"Who is this?" The girl asked, a hint of confusion lacing her words.
"It's Castiel." He explains, however, the moment he stopped speaking, the line cut out.
He curses under his breath for a second before dialing the number once more, someone picked up. "It's the Roadhouse." The same voice repeated.
"Jo, it's Castiel. Is Ellen or William there?" He asks.
"Look here, asshole. I don't know how you got that name or this number, but if you call back one more time I will kill you." The phone dies once more.
"No, Jo listen- Jo? Jo!" Castiel huffs and hangs the phone back onto the line.
Fine, if the Harvelle's won't talk to him over the phone. Guess he'll have to go see them in person and get some answers. However, he didn't know how they could possibly react to seeing him alive, probably very similar to how he was just treated. Maybe he'll be checked for being a shapeshifter or ghoul, something along those lines. Yet, it didn't matter. He needed to find Dean, and this was the only way to do so.