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The Impala’s tires crunched on the worn asphalt of the fair grounds. The passenger door opened almost before the car was fully stopped.
“Who called us for this job again?” Sam asked as he leaned slightly on the door.
“I don’t know man, one of Dad’s old friends. Sounds like a classic salt and burn, so let’s just get it over with,” Dean sighed as he walked toward the trunk.
“When was the last time we had a ‘classic salt and burn’, Dean?”
“Too long. Can’t you see the pure excitement lighting up my face?”
Sam rolls his eyes and joins his brother at the back of the car. “Speaking of things that have been going on for a long time, where is Cas?” Sam picks up the nearest gun to him and searches for the salt rounds.
Dean flinched slightly before returning to his own weapon. “It’s not like I know where he is at all times, dude. I know just as much as you.”
“Just checking, jerk.”
“Bitch.” Sam punches Dean lightly in the shoulder and turns back to the fairgrounds they were supposed to be hunting in.
“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate it when we have a job at a fair?”
“Like I said, you’re a bitch,” Dean replies before grunting lightly and starting to walk under the entrance arch of the abandoned lot. “So we’re looking for a banshee, right?”
“Sounds like it. Wailing sounds coming from an abandoned fairground? Rides that haven’t had working motors for years suddenly working on their own? I’m not really sure what else it could be,” Sam replies, spouting off the information without even thinking.
“Yes, thank you Captain Exposition. I was the one who answered the phone call, remember?”
As they walked around various abandoned rides, they both begin to lose their sense of fear for the area. After half an hour of pointless touring, Dean sticks his gun into his pocket and walks up to one of the many booths along the edge of the grounds.
“Hey, we don’t even have to play the games!” he jokes as he reaches out to one of the old, dust-covered toys still attached to the back.
“Come on man, cut it out,” Sam insists as he continues to survey their surroundings.
“What, you mean in case it’s haunted?” Dean laughs as he snatches the toy from its nail. “I’m pretty sure our set of loaded guns and various knives could take on a teddy bear, Sammy.” He brings the toy closer to himself, inspecting it from various angles. “I never did manage to win anything back when I was a kid.”
“We were never exactly visiting carnivals for our amusement, Dean,” Sam retorts with a slight huff of annoyance. Couldn’t they just finish this job and be on their way?
“Yeah, but that doesn’t stop them from being called amusement parks. It would have been a nice change,” Dean replies noncommittally. “They’re pretty shoddily made anyway.” He demonstrates by pulling lightly on the arm of the toy, which almost immediately begins to tear off at the seam.
“That, or it’s been sitting here in the open air for over 10 years. It hasn’t exactly been kept in collectible-ready conditions.”
Whatever reply Dean had was cut short by the light sound of wings and the appearance of Castiel in front of them.
“Good timing, Cas! We were just about to stand around for another three hours twiddling our thumbs and waiting for a monster to politely ask us to salt and burn its bones!”
“That doesn’t sound very efficient,” Castiel replied, turning to Sam for an explanation.
“We’re here looking for a banshee. There have been some complaints from locals, so we got a call from one of Dad’s old friends.” Sam gave his brother an exasperated look as Castiel again turned toward Dean.
“I am not here to help you with your hunt, in any case.” He began to stare at Dean with an irregular intensity, and took a few steps in his direction.
“Well then, what are you here for?” Dean said with a slight hitch in his breath. He was used to the staring and closeness, but something was different this time. It was putting him on edge. Even through Dean’s nervousness, Castiel could hear the edge of annoyance.
“Am I not allowed to be here for my own purposes?” he countered, moving closer to Dean and slightly tilting his head. The movement, despite its familiarity, seemed to be somewhat forced.
A sudden screeching emitted from the nearby carousel, breaking the silence that had fallen over Dean and Castiel. Sam couldn’t stop the slight sigh of relief that escaped him. He hated being around for the staring matches.
“Are you joking?” Dean lamented. “No kidding people were complaining. That’s-“
“Ear-splitting,” Castiel interrupted. They were almost yelling at each other despite the distance between them. Sam could only barely hear them at all.
“We need to finish this thing off fast if I’m gonna keep my eardrums intact!” Dean yelled. He glanced at Sam, who nodded. They both held their weapons up, ready to shoot. Castiel, as usual, did not seem perturbed by his lack of weapon.
They advanced upon the carousel, searching for the source of the noise. Dean furrowed his brow slightly and turned to Sam.
“Is it-“
“Saying something? I think it might be,” Sam replied. He had been about to ask the same question. They both attempted to listen more closely, turning their heads slightly.
“I think it’s saying ‘Oh, myfield’?” Dean ventured. “What the hell is a myfield?” He alternated looking at Sam and Cas, waiting for a reply.
“No,” Castiel admonished. “It’s saying ‘my feels’.” He seemed certain.
“What does that even mean?” Sam replied, facing the carousel once again.
Before either of his companions could reply, the spirit came into view. It appeared to be wearing some sort of flowing, orange-coloured cape. Sam considered for a moment the colour. He couldn’t recall ever seeing another ghost looking anywhere similar.
The creature stopped screaming the moment it saw them, staring at them with wide eyes. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be female, its long hair seemed to flow in all directions around its head, even though it was in a ponytail. Its face seemed to be lined with dark streaks, just under the eyes, and some sort of dark substance was smeared around the mouth.
“Looks like you when you used to eat Nutella out of the jar, Sammy,” Dean murmured to his brother. Now was really not the time for jokes.
“DESTIEL,” the creature cried, elongating the vowel sounds to the point of incomprehension. One long hand reached from within the cape, which Sam could now see was being held in place with the other, almost the way one would hold a blanket while standing up.
“What the hell did it just say?” Dean yelled over the creature. None of them really knew why they hadn’t fired yet.
“It sounded like some kind of angel name,” Sam ventured. “Cas?”
“From what I can tell,” Castiel ventured, “it appeared to by both mine and Dean’s name.”
“What, you mean, as one word?” Dean asked, lowering his gun in indignation.
That was enough for the monster they were facing. It lurched forward, in a manner that almost appeared to be stumbling, aimed at Dean and Castiel. Sam wondered idly if he had ever seen a ghost stumble before.
Dean, coming back to his senses, attempted to shoot the spirit and missed. The gunshot appeared to startle the enemy, but it didn’t slow in its journey. Falling just short of Castiel, it threw some sort of substance on the angel and then disappeared.
“What the hell was that?” Dean demanded, eying the spot where the substance landed on Cas.
“I am not sure,” Cas replied. He attempted to wipe the small amount on his neck off, but promptly froze. He looked up, appearing startled, at Dean.
“What’s wrong, Cas?” Sam asked, attempting to figure out what the dust-like matter was on Cas’ coat.
“Dean,” Cas said.
“Yeah?” Dean replied. He wasn’t liking the change in Castiel’s mood. He seemed… determined.
“Dean,” Cas replied, and threw himself into Dean’s arms and kissed him.
Dean stood shocked for a few seconds, eyes wide and posture rigid. Once he came to his senses, he pushed on Castiel’s shoulders, away from himself. “What the hell was that?” Dean cried, wiping his mouth. “Are you insane?”
“Dean,” Cas insisted, attempting to break Dean’s hold and reach him again.
“I think it’s the powder!” Sam said when Dean looked at him imploringly. “I don’t know how to get rid of it!”
“Find some bones! Stab the thing! Recite Mary Had a Little Lamb in Latin!” Dean yelled, “I don’t care, just kill it.”
“Right,” Sam murmured, looking around desperately. Maybe this would be simple now that they knew where the spirit was hanging out. He ran around the carousel, attempting to find some indication of where bones might be found. He spotted a small door on the central column of the ride, but before he could make his way to it the ghost appeared in front of him once again.
The demented smile on the pale creature’s face was none too comforting, but as Sam reached for a knife the wide mouth opened and it began screeching once more.
“MOOSE,” was the cry this time, and Sam could barely resist the urge to cover his ears. He fumbled for his hunting knife, secured around his waist, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Guys, come on,” Gabriel said, exasperated. “Did you really have to summon me? You know how much I hate it.” Sam turned to the archangel in confusion, and promptly received a handful of dust in his hair.
“Goddamn it,” Sam cried, attempting to shake the substance out of his long hair before it started to do… Whatever it was that it did.
Gabriel, in the meantime, looked around in bewilderment.
“This isn’t my usual greeting after being summoned,” He began, looking around the ground at his feet, “But then again, this doesn’t appear to be a summoning.” He looked up to Sam, expecting an answer. Instead, he got an intimate view of Samuel Winchester’s eyes before being kissed squarely on the mouth.
Gabriel, not one to be taken off-guard, simply smiled. In a moment of pause in the kiss, he muttered, “Now that’s more like it,” before continuing the task at hand.
Meanwhile, Dean was never one to give up on his heterosexuality.
“This needs to stop,” he muttered, as he continued to hold off Castiel. Cas, facing the evidence before him, had instead decided to pull two of the fingers holding his head away from Dean into his mouth and begin sucking. Dean had decided to live with it.
Dean stared at the structure beside him, attempting to glean what he could do without allowing the angel before him any closer to his person. Studying the structure, he noticed that the decoration along the edges was not normal carousel fare. Instead of horses or clowns, Dean could see only slightly crude drawings of various couples kissing, holding hands, or doing some other romantic activity. (He also noticed that most of the couples were two men, but he figured that had little to do with it.) As he reached into his pocket with one hand and held Castiel off with the other, he decided burning it was as good an option as any.
He scrambled with the lighter, failing to light it as easily as usual since his strong hand was currently being sucked on by an Angel of the Lord. He tried not to think about that too much.
The creature reappeared just as the carousel was beginning to light on fire. Its wide, manic eyes stared at Dean. He worried it was going to lurch toward him again, but it only raised its eyebrows at the hand in Castiel’s mouth. Dean turned to the angel and back to the monster. He looked at it for a moment, shrugged his shoulders and allowed Castiel to fully enter his personal space again, now that he was confident the spirit was about to be destroyed. “Might as well enjoy the ride,” he murmured just before the impact of Castiel’s lips on his.
“MY OH TEE PEES,” the creature screamed, and Dean decided that he really didn’t give a rat’s ass what that meant. He wrapped his arms around Castiel and deepened the kiss.