The Exorcist (Los Desaparecidos, Chapter 2 of 6)
Title: The Exorcist (Los Desaparecidos, Chapter 2 of 6)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel (eventually); Sam, Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Crowley
Warnings: AU. Cursing. Some hints of Dean/Jo, so if you loathe that pairing, steer clear.
Word Count: 5,000 for this chapter.
Summary: A dystopian AU where the United States is an authoritarian regime run by mysterious overlords. John Winchester disappeared when Sam and Dean were very young so the boys were not raised as hunters. Then one day Dean has a chance encounter with a strange homeless man who may be more than he seems.
Notes: I think this will be five or six chapters total. Unless people have already quit reading. Which is fine. Just don’t go off and read Fifty Shades of Grey, OK? Because that would depress me.
“Keep your hands were I can see 'em!” barked a tall, dark skinned guy: the dude who happened to be, at this very moment, pointing a loaded shotgun at Dean’s head.
He wasn't wearing the uniform, nor even the wraparound shades, so he wasn't a cop. But this didn't give Dean much comfort.
“Cas?” pleaded Dean, madly looking around. “I thought you said you knew these people?”
“Rufus! Did I tell you to blow the head off my guests?” came a gruff voice from across the yard. It sounded like the guy Castiel had been talking to over the walkie talkie.
“Bobby, my friend!” sang Castiel, who had alaready popped out of the passenger seat, seemingly oblivious to murderous dudes.
“I don't know this guy,” said Rufus, who took a careful half step back from Dean, but didn't lower his weapon.
“Stand down, ya idjit,” said Bobby. “He's just one of Cas' friends,” said Bobby, who carried a rifle, but had it pointed at the ground.
“Is that good or bad?” scowled Rufus, who finally lowered his weapon.
Dean, keeping his hands up, carefully exited the Impala.
“What is it today, Cas?” asked Bobby. “Stray kittens? Did some baby fucking birdies fall out of the nest.”
“Bobby,” said Castiel. “This is Dean Winchester.”
Bobby knit his bushy brows. “Dean Winchester? John's boy?” he asked.
“You're Dean Winchester?” asked Rufus, who was now cradling his weapon and looking slightly flummoxed.
“You wanna see my fucking papers?” Dean grumbled.
“As I live and breathe,” said Bobby, stepping forward wide-eyed, hand outstretched. “Any son of John Winchester is welcome here. Always.”
Dean took the hand and shook.
“And this gun-toting shithead is Rufus,” said Bobby. “I have no goddam idea why we keep him around.”
“Because you don't have any other friends, asshole,” said Rufus, now reaching out to shake Dean's hand.
“How the holy hell did you find Dean Winchester, Cas?” asked Bobby.
“He is interesting in learning of his father's work,” said Cas evasively.
“You knew my father?” Dean asked Bobby.
“Did I know your father? Better than I knew my fucking self!” said Bobby.
“I have some things to attend to,” said Castiel, “so I will leave you for a while, Dean. I will be back later.”
“What the hell kinda business do you have Cas?” asked Bobby, as Castiel had already started to walk off. “Wait, can I at least get someone to drive you?”
“I know the way,” smiled Castiel.
“You better be back for dinner, Cas!” Bobby shouted after him. “Else Ellen will have my head!”
Castiel waved over his shoulder and vanished into the woods.
“That is one strange little motherfucker,” said Rufus.
“You tell me,” said Bobby as they both watched him go.
“He's … interesting,” said Dean, wondering why Castiel had chosen not to pull his disappearing trick here.
“I got booby traps up the yin-yang set up out there. I don't even know where all of them are any more. The fool is lucky he's never set one off,” said Bobby.
“Some day, maybe, we'll hear a boom,” smiled Rufus, who seemed to think that would be a good thing. “And then, Cas bits everywhere.”
“How do you guys know Cas?” asked Dean.
“Oh. He just showed up here one day,” said Bobby. “A couple years back. Some kids down the road lost their folks. It was some damn police raid, I don't know. Anyway, he just asked us to feed 'em. Well, I told him I'm not running a fucking charity, but Ellen overruled me on that one. So, we got 'em sorted out, some neighbors to watch over them. I guess you gotta take care of each other out here.
“And then he turns up like that from time to time, just shows up. But it's always for someone else. Never asked for anything for himself, not even a bite to eat. So that's why I guess I trust him. As much as I trust anybody, anyway. And he looks like he could use a decent meal. When Ellen's around, she insists we feed him. She's got a soft spot for strays I guess. Ellen Harvelle, is who I’m talking about? She knew your dad real well too.”
“I guess I'm the only one who didn't,” said Dean sadly. He didn’t recognize the name.
“So, you've decided to take up the life?” asked Bobby.
“I'm sorry. The life?” asked Dean. A survivalist nutcase in the woods?
“We're hunters. Like your papa,” said Bobby, indicating himself and Rufus.
“Hunters?” asked Dean. He vaguely remembered a couple of hunting trips with his dad. But that was long ago.
Bobby and Rufus exchanged a glance. “You really don't know shit, do you?” said Rufus.
“Rufus, get Ellen on the horn and tell her John Winchester’s boy is here,” said Bobby. Rufus nodded and disappeared inside one of the structures.
“Walk with me,” said Bobby. Dean nodded and followed the older man along. “I guess you were kinda young when your old man was taken from us.”
“You think he was taken?” asked Dean.
“You don't think so, huh? I know he was taken. Sonsabitches disappeared him. He was one of the very first of the disappeared. That's how important your dad was.”
“So, what exactly did he do? What do you do?” asked Dean, hoping he would get more satisfying answers from Bobby than he had from Castiel.
“Easier to show you,” said Bobby. They had just arrived the door of a low building that resembled a bunker. Dean noticed the door had weird writing all over it. He had taken it for graffiti, but he didn't recognize any of the symbols. Bobby opened a lock and, with Dean’s assistance, pulled open the heavy door. Dean peered inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw the entire interior had been painted with the strange symbols. The floor and ceilings had especially elaborate markings, with more weird symbols inside of five-pointed stars.
Bobby went to an interior door and slid open a small window. He looked inside, and then closed the window. “What I'm gonna show you, you can't tell anybody. Anybody. Ever. Understand me?”
Dean nodded. What choice did he have?
Bobby opened at least three locks, and then pulled open the door. Dean slipped inside after him, wondering what was up with all the paranoia and crazy graffiti.
Dean gasped. And shrank back.
It was one of them. Chained to a chair. And he was smack in the middle of one of those crazy designs, which had been painted over half the floor.
It was still wearing the helmet, but he could feel it staring at him.
“You got one of them?” asked Dean. “A cop? What the hell?”
“You think that's a big deal?” grinned Bobby.
“Yeah it's a big deal!” said Dean. “Fuck. Bobby. What if they catch you? They'll level the compound!”
“Let me show you something,” said Bobby. He marched over to the black clad figure and wrenched off the helmet.
It blinked, obviously stunned by the dim light in the room. Dean, against every instinct, leaned forward. He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected to see under that helmet, but this looked like … a guy. A perfectly normal guy.
“Help me! Please! These people have kidnapped me!” the cop dude pleaded.
“Yeah, you poor bastard,” grumbled Bobby. “Watch this, Dean.” Bobby repeated a few words in what sounded like Latin.
The guy twisted, and then he emitted a small scream.
“Bobby!” said Dean. “What did you-?”
“Look!” ordered Bobby.
The creature stopped seizing and blinked. The eyes! They were now terrible black pools, shiny as beetles.
“You'll pay for this,” it told Bobby. The voice had completely changed, as had the body language. It made Dean think of a coiled snake.
Dean's fascination overcame his fear. “It looks human.”
“It is human,” said Bobby. “Somewhere underneath. This man is possessed.”
“Possessed? By what?”
“Demons! What else?” asked Bobby.
“Wait. Demons exist too?” asked Dean.
Bobby roared with laughter. “What the fuck did John teach you, boy?”
“Not a lot, obviously,” said Dean, who had sidled over to be nearer the demon.
“John?” said the demon. “You're John Winchester's boy?”
“What, has everybody heard about him?” asked Dean.
“Mind yer bidness, asshole” barked Bobby, who scrunched the demon back in the helmet, giving it a solid smack as it clicked into place. “C'mon,” he said to Dean. They exited the building as carefully as they had entered, Bobby checking and double checking to see everything was secured.
“Bobby, what are you going to do with that thing?” asked Dean.
“If all goes well, we're gonna have ourselves a good, old-fashioned exorcism!” said Bobby.
“Wait, like in the movies?” asked Dean, who suddenly had visions of Linda Blair vomiting pea soup. But Bobby was now paying attention to a vehicle that had just arrived, kicking up a cloud of dust. “Ellen!” he hailed. “Did you bring it?”
An attractive middle aged woman emerged from the passenger’s seat. She was clutching a package wrapped up in a cloth. “Did I ever. Me and Jo just picked it up!”
“That’s the book?” asked Bobby, putting a hand reverently on the package. Ellen peeled back the top flap and she and Bobby leaned over, two kids in the candy store. To Dean, who wasn’t much for books, it looked like the oldest, crumbliest one he had ever seen. He didn’t recognize the lettering on the outside, but he did recognize the pentagram symbol. Dean glanced over at the girl who had just hopped out of the driver’s seat, noticing that she was awfully cute.
“Oh, hey, Ellen, look who the cat dragged in,” said Bobby. “This is Dean Winchester!”
“That's what Rufus said! You're John’s boy?” she asked. Dean nodded sheepishly.
Dean suddenly felt himself engulfed in Sam-style bone-crushing hug. Ellen pushed him back and gripped his chin. “Dean Winchester! Why he's the spit and image of John.”
“Yeah, both just as ugly,” agreed Bobby.
“Hi Dean!” said the young blond girl who also grabbed him for a hug. Dean did not object to this in the least. “If you’re John’s boy, you’re practically family!” she gushed.
“This is my girl, Jo!” said Ellen proudly.
“Uh, you guys knew my dad?” Dean, who may have been blushing a little, asked Ellen
“I did,” said Ellen. “He's a fine man.”
“I didn't know him well,” said Dean, who was intrigued that everybody around her still referred to his father in the present tense.
“Let's get some grub, and then we'll talk,” promised Bobby. “It's just about time for the dinner bell.” The group headed inside the main building.
But they didn't talk. Well, not about anything Dean was curious about. Rufus was there, plus a few other people Dean hadn't met. And then some more stragglers wandered in as the evening progressed. Bobby or Ellen or Jo or Rufus would give Dean a name, and Dean would promptly forget. Ellen kept him running around shelling peas or gathering firewood or drawing water from the well. Wherever he was, he noticed Jo would just happen to come by and chat. Or come by and flirt, to be honest. Dean was definitely flattered, though he found himself also a bit uneasy about the whole thing. After a lifetime of people treating him with suspicion, here was a group - a highly paranoid group, judging from his welcome - that instantly trusted him.
By the time dinner was prepared, there may have been two dozen people crowded around a large table. Dean had expected the picking to be slim, but if anything, it was the opposite. Here, away from the rationing coupons, the table was laden with a savory smelling stew (venison, Bobby told him), fresh baked cornbread, mashed potatoes and gravy, and heaps of fresh vegetables (Dean hadn't remembered that carrots could be crisp).
But none of this is for me, Dean thought as he watched another steaming pot emerge from the kitchen. This is all for my father.
“Cas! Where the hell you been, boy!” said Bobby as the angel appeared in the doorway.
“I hope I'm not intruding,” Castiel told Bobby.
“You're going to sit your skinny butt down and let me feed you,” said Ellen.
“I do not need food, Ellen,” said Castiel.
“You better do what Ellen wants!” said Bobby, throwing up his hands. “That's what we all do!”
Ellen pulled a mildly protesting Castiel down into to a seat next to Dean. Dean noticed with a bit of amusement that Jo had already grabbed the chair on his other side. Dean smiled at Castiel. It was relief to see a familiar face, even if it was one he had only met a few hours earlier than the residents of Bobby's compound and a weird supernatural being to boot.
It had been a strange day.
“How are you, Dean?” Castiel asked. Dean couldn’t find the words, so he just nodded.
“So, what do you think, Dean?” Bobby asked him after plates had been heaped more food than Dean had seen in a month.
“So, are all of them like that? The cops? Demons, I mean?” Dean asked.
“We think so,” said Rufus, helping himself to more stew. “But nobody knows for sure.”
“They managed to snatch a bunch of hunters, back when they took over,” Bobby told him. Bobby leaned back and wiped some gravy off his chin with a corner of the tablecloth.
“There's not a lot of us left,” said Ellen
“But things might be changing, thanks to Ellen!” said Bobby. “I think we have the key! The book we’ve been looking for.”
Castiel, who had been quietly pushing food around on his plate, glanced up at Dean, worried expression on his face.
“What do you think, Cas?” Dean asked him. Dean looked around, confused, as several people started laughing.
“Cas wouldn't know. Would you, dear?” asked Ellen.
“No, Ellen,” said Castiel distractedly, regarding his stew as if it were a specimen. “I wouldn't know.”
Dean frowned, but then everyone was distracted by the appearance of Jo's carrot cake. She made sure Dean downed at least two slices before she would let him leave the table. Dean protested, but only mildly. It was delicious.
Bobby then called a couple of them out for a drink on the porch. “You don't have to clear the table, hon,” Ellen told Dean, smiling genuinely. “But beware of Bobby’s rotgut!”
Dean slid the pile of dishes he was carrying into the sink and turned to go. He nearly bumped into Castiel, who was laden with what looked like every serving dish on the table.
“Cas,” said Dean, pulling the angel aside while trying not to send the various dirty pots and pans Cas was clutching crashing to the floor. “Is something going on?”
“Dean. Bobby is going to invite you to witness an exorcism,” whispered Castiel.
“Yeah, he mentioned that.”
“You need to be … careful,” said Castiel vaguely?
“Why?” asked Dean.
“Cas, get you skinny ass in here with my dishes!” yelled Ellen. Castiel shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen.
Bobby's liquor turned out to be a toxic moonshine. Dean sat down hard on the front porch and let his head swim.
“What do you think?” asked Bobby, slapping him on the back.
“This is awesome!” declared Dean, reaching out his shot glass for another splash and wondering how long it would take his esophagus to quit burning.
“So, what's your brother up to, Dean?” asked Bobby. “Sam? You were saying he has a job?”
“He's a researcher for a biotech. Out on the coast,” Dean added. Folks out here tended to view city dwellers with suspicion.
“Done good for himself, huh?” said Bobby.
“Yeah,” said Dean.
“And you, kid?”
Dean shrugged. “I dropped out freshman year and never quite made it back. I'm a mechanic now. Mostly.” When I can keep a job, Dean mused.
“Ah, so you're actually doing something useful!” laughed Bobby.
Dean didn't laugh. His mind drifted to Sam and what his brother had told him. It seemed a long time ago now. “So our dad - he fought demons?”
“That's part of what we do. Hunters,” said Bobby, helping himself to more rotgut. “Or at least what we used to do. Before the dark times,” he grinned.
“There's terrors in the world. We keep it safe,” said Rufus, who had been standing silently up until now.
“Ghosties and ghoulies and long legged beasties,” chuckled Bobby. “So, you're gonna lend a hand now? Follow in your dad's footsteps?”
Dean shook his head.
“No?” asked Bobby.
“Not no. It's just, I'd have no fucking idea where to start!” said Dean. “There's so much I don't know.”
“I'll tell you where we'll start. In a bit, Ellen and I are gonna cast out that demon. We want you to come in and watch.”
Dean frowned, recalling what Castiel had said. He wondered why the angel was skeptical. “You want me to watch an exorcism?” said Dean.
“But it ain’t just any exorcism,” said Rufus, looking smug.
“Yeah, this is our magic bullet,” said Bobby.
“Our nuke,” said Rufus.
“What?” asked Dean, looking at his shotglass.
“You seen the cops,” said Bobby. “You know how many of them there are? And how few of us?”
Dean nodded.
“Before this, we’ve had to cast out demons piecemeal, one at a time.”
“Or more often just kill them,” sighed Rufus. “Or kill the people they possessed.”
“If they don’t kill us first, added Bobby. “But this is like, what did they call it?” he asked. “The neutron bomb. You mouth some Latin, add a pinch of myrrh, and boom! Every evil black-eyed bastard for fifty miles is cast out!”
“That sounds useful,” said Dean.
“So, you with us?” asked Bobby. Bobby and Rufus stared at him.
Dean sipped at the moonshine, and then downed it. Or what? Against you? he wondered.
“Well, yeah, OK,” said Dean.
“Attaboy,” said Bobby. He whacked Dean on the back.
Dean choked.
Ellen had Dean running around again, grinding powder and picking leaves. He was wondering if this was an exorcism or baking a pie.
At last they carried the supplies out to the bunker-like building where the demon was being held. Dean had tried to catch Castiel to talk to him, but the angel, maddeningly, had disappeared once again.
They unlocked the room and Ellen began to set things up on a low table: she had the ingredients, and also the crumbling leather-bound book. “What is this?” asked Dean.
“Arcane wisdom,” said Bobby, who was carrying his shotgun. He had armed Dean as well, after ascertaining that he knew how to shoot. Oddly enough, though, his weapon, as well as Bobby’s, was loaded with salt, and not buckshot. Dean was pondering this when the demon began to laugh.
“Idiots!” it told them.
“Ah, shaddap,” grunted Bobby. “Help me with this?” he asked Dean, and together they once again wrested off the creature's helmet. This time it did not even pretend to be human.
“You have the wrong book!” said the demon.
“Well, thanks for the advice,” said Bobby.
“Enjoy this night,humans. It will be your last,” warned the demon.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Dean, trying to be casual. Even though the thing was chained up, he felt somehow vulnerable. He pulled Bobby aside. “Bobby, are you absolutely sure about this?” he whispered.
“I’m sure about one thing, kid,” said Bobby. “You don’t trust a fucking demon.”
“OK, we're set,” said Ellen. While Bobby and Dean stepped back, Ellen began throwing a pinch of this and a hint of that into a bowl. After a splash of what seemed like everything, she tossed in a match. It flared up, stinking of something awful.
Ellen then picked up the book and began reading something. Dean listened, but it didn't sound like English. Latin? Yeah, it sounded like something a crazy monk would chant.
Ellen turned a crumbling page and chanted the ancient sounding words. The demon-possessed cop glared at them, the horrible beetle eyes flickering. And then suddenly it let out a high pitched wail and it's head shot back. Its mouth opened, and to Dean’s astonishment, a cloud of toxic black smoke balled out while the creature retched.
“It's working, Ellen!” said Bobby. “Keep reading, girl!”
Ellen bent her head lower over the ancient volume and repeated the words. More smoke oozed out of the demon, but then it seemed to stop, swirling over the thing's head. The demon babbled something muffled: Dean thought maybe it was the same language. It writhed and groaned, and there was a great snap: the chains on one of its arms had snapped. And then the creature sucked in, gobbling back all the black smoke into itself.
“Bobby, it's getting loose,” warned Dean.
“Keep reading Ellen!” urged Bobby, who wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of a cuff.
Ellen paused one fateful minute as she glanced up. The demon's free arm whipped out, and the book flew out of her hands. And then it whipped again, and Ellen herself flew back. Dean heard a sickening snap as Ellen smacked to the wall, and then fell, limp as a rag doll, her head now at an impossible angle to her body.
She's dead, Dean thought in horror. The demon killed her.
“Bastard!” screamed Bobby, who raised his rifle. The demon arm flew out, and Bobby, looking terrified, turned the muzzle under his own chin.
“NO!” screamed Dean.
He threw an arm over his eyes. A gunshot sounded.
“No,” he whispered.
He turned towards the demon.
Now the metallic black eyes were on him.
The demon's arm snapped up. Dean was pushed back, the rifle knocked away. He landed on the floor. He threw up a protective arm, waiting for the killing blow.
He heard a voice and looked up.
And there was Cas, right between Dean and the demon, standing straight, repeating some ancient words. The angel seemed to give off a soft glow in the dim light. There was a strange shadow gatheing around him, stretching out on either side.
Two dark wings.
The demon shrieked, a terrible sound, and then the room was filled with the horrible sulphurous black smoke. The demon spit out the last, and then went limp.
Dean sat on the floor, too terrified to move. Castiel approached the demon, holding up its head to stare into its now lifeless human eyes. “Dead. His body was too badly damaged by the demon,” he said softly.
“It killed them. Cas. It killed Bobby and Ellen,” sobbed Dean.
Castiel looked at Dean. He had a smile on his face. “It's all right, Dean. They're not gone,” he told Dean.
“What?”
Instead of answering, Castiel went over to Ellen. He gently pulled her head around so it faced the correct direction. Dean heard a very small pop. And then, to his astonishment, she sighed.
“Cas?”
Castiel then went over to the mess that had been Bobby singer. He knelt for a moment, two fingers on the ruined face. And then there was the popping sound, and Bobby's head had reassembled.
Dean was down on his knees, next to Bobby, feeling for a pulse. “You.... You brought them back?”
“They will be unconscious for a little while,” Castiel told Dean.
“You knew this would happen?” Dean asked Castiel.
“I knew it would go wrong. I honestly had no idea it would go so wrong, Dean. Or else I would have tried to prevent it.” He looked apologetic. “The book they obtained: it was the wrong one. It was a small error. But you cannot make an error when dealing with such beings.”
“Why didn't you just tell them?” asked Dean.
“They wouldn't have believed me,” said Castiel glumly.
“Why wouldn't they believe you? You're a fricking angel!” Castiel looked at Dean, and suddenly Dean understood. “Wait. None of them know, do they?”
“Only you, Dean. I am your guardian. The guardian of the Winchesters. I have revealed myself only to you.”
Dean nodded. It suddenly made sense how they had been treating Cas all evening. The way Dean had treated him at first, before Cas had showed up in his car: the slightly crazy homeless guy.
“Why don't you just tell them?” Dean persisted. “You could help them!”
“It's … complicated,” said Castiel, who looked very unhappy. “I am afraid they wouldn’t understand.”
“Exactly how complicated?” asked Dean.
Bobby moaned. Dean and Castiel’s attention immediately refocused. “What the blazes?” grumbled Bobby.
“Are you all right, Bobby?” asked Dean.
“Cas, what the fuck are you doing in here?” demanded Bobby, who seemed to have made a remarkably fast recovery. From being dead that is, Dean thought wryly.
“I heard noises,” said Castiel, nodding towards the now opened door.
“Shit! How did that happen? Ellen!” said Bobby, as Ellen too moaned and regained consciousness.
Fortunately for Castiel, neither Bobby nor Ellen seemed to have clear memories of what had gone on. Dean decided to play along, for now, and told them some folderol about how he had also blacked out, only to wake up when Castiel entered. There was a heated discussion, especially as more residents of the compound came by to hear the story.
“I think we all need to sleep on this one,” said Bobby finally.
“Yeah, I should probably get going,” said Dean, who had been looking for a polite time to take his leave. He really wanted to get away alone and think for a long while.
“I should be going as well,” said Castiel.
“I’ll drop you,” said Dean swiftly.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’ll drop you,” said Dean insistently. Castiel flicked his eyes at the group, but then nodded, evidently deciding this wasn’t worth a fight.
“Let me pack you a lunch, Cas,” said Ellen.
“I don’t require your food,” Castiel told her.
“Shut up and follow me,” said Ellen. Castiel, with a heavy sigh, followed Ellen back into the main residence, and the group started to break up. Dean went over to his car, leaning against the hood to wait for Cas. He felt a small hand entwine with his, and looked over to see Jo was standing there, smiling at him. He smiled back, and then she had gone up on tiptoe and was kissing him on the lips.
Dean grinned. She was a pretty good kisser.
“I like being direct,” smiled Jo. “I like you.”
Dean shrugged and nodded. “You don’t know me, Jo. You seem like a nice kid-“
“KID?” asked Jo, crossing her arms and scowling at him.
“Jo. You just met me, and there’s a lot of shit about me you don’t know.”
“Well, let me learn then,” she grinned.
Dean and Jo turned to the soft throat clearing. “Um, I don’t wish to intrude,” said Castiel, standing with his arms laden tinfoil-wrapped treats.
“You’re not interrupting,” laughed Dean, but he noticed Jo glared pretty fiercely at Castiel. “Look. Jo. I’ll see you later. OK?”
“Is that a promise?” she asked.
“Yeah. OK,” said Dean. He went around to the other side of the Impala to open the passenger side door for Castiel, partly to avoid another kiss goodbye.
Jo looked dubious, but nodded and departed. Dean smiled at Castiel as he put the car in gear. The angel looked baffled by the embarrassment of leftovers he carried on his lap.
They rode in silence until they reached the main highway and had Bobby drop the barrier.
“You realize that I do not require transportation? As I do not require the contents of Ellen’s larder,” Castiel told Dean as they turned back onto the main highway.
Dean laughed. “I like having someone in the passenger seat with me. I dunno. It feels right.”
“I am not the one meant to be here with you.”
Dean looked over, surprised at this. “Well, isn’t that up to me to decide?”
Castiel shrugged awkwardly. “It is your fate,” he explained. “Dean, I should confess something to you.”
“What’s that?”
Castiel sighed. “The exorcism today. I knew it would end wrong. I let it go on, partly as a lesson to you. To show you how dangerous this life can be.” The blue eyes were on Dean now, beseeching.
“I thought my destiny was to become a hunter?” asked Dean.
“It is! It is….” Castiel seemed to grasp for words. “I just… I would be upset, if you were to be hurt.”
“Well, that’s nice of you,” said Dean. “Look, from now on, you can just tell me this stuff, OK? I’ll believe you.”
“I did not want to chance it. Angels are not … well regarded. In the hunter community.”
“You’re worried I would be prejudiced?” asked Dean, who found himself baffled.
“Yes, Dean. Something like that.”
“Well, I like you OK,” said Dean.
“You do?”
Dean grinned and looked over. It had been said with such sincerity.
“Yeah, I like you Cas.”
“And I like you, Dean!” said Castiel, his smile lighting up like the sky. “Do you have need of baked goods?” he asked, indicating the pile of food he was still clutching.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a piece of pie or something,” said Dean. He glanced back over.
But Castiel wasn’t there any more. There was just the pile of food.
And the lingering scent of a soft summer breeze.
Sam grinned. He had always had a talent for getting where he wasn’t supposed to be. It had driven Dean crazy when they were kids. But it had proven useful now.
He had to be very careful. He had picked the time with care: after the last janitors had made their rounds, but before the first regular security guards were on duty. In this stretch of the morning, there was no one around but a few bored night watchmen, who tended to nap through their shifts. He knew this. He had spent many nights watching. And Jess…. Well, Jess just didn’t seem to care any more. Maybe she suspected he was having an affair. Maybe all this would finally be what she needed to leave him.
He shouldn’t be hoping this was true.
There was something very wrong with him these days. That last time he’d spoken to Dean he had gotten the mad impulse to bring his brother in on this. Dean, the grumpy drunk, here going all cat burglar with him! It was ridiculous of course.
But as he had explained to Dean there were some things he just needed to know.
He stopped at the last doorway. He pulled his selection of stolen security badges from his pocket and fanned them out. He couldn’t believe how lax people were with these things. He pulled out the one he had been saving: an administrator who was bound to have a high clearance. The dumb ass didn’t even realize his badge had been stolen.
Sam held the badge to the door, and there was a comforting buzz. He opened the door as the green light came on, and hurried down the corridor. He knew exactly what he was looking for. The administrator had a computer that was purposely kept off the networks, so there was no chance of hacking into it from the outside. Sam booted it up and prowled around the desk. He opened one drawer, and then another. He frowned. And then he looked at the yellow sticky note pasted on the bottom of the screen, one word scrawled out on it, and grinned. When the password prompt came on, he typed the word in, “CROATOAN.” He grinned smugly as the desktop came up.
He looked over the desktop, and immediately clicked on the file also labeled “CROATOAN.” Boy, these guys were obvious, he would give them that.
And then he started reading. And reading.
He soon became caught up in it all, too caught up, unfortunately, to hear the very soft creak behind him. It was too bad, in retrospect, that he hadn’t brought his brother along. It was too bad he didn’t have someone to watch his back.
One instant too late, Sam sat up and turned around.
And all was blackness….
This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/113649.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel (eventually); Sam, Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Crowley
Warnings: AU. Cursing. Some hints of Dean/Jo, so if you loathe that pairing, steer clear.
Word Count: 5,000 for this chapter.
Summary: A dystopian AU where the United States is an authoritarian regime run by mysterious overlords. John Winchester disappeared when Sam and Dean were very young so the boys were not raised as hunters. Then one day Dean has a chance encounter with a strange homeless man who may be more than he seems.
Notes: I think this will be five or six chapters total. Unless people have already quit reading. Which is fine. Just don’t go off and read Fifty Shades of Grey, OK? Because that would depress me.
“Keep your hands were I can see 'em!” barked a tall, dark skinned guy: the dude who happened to be, at this very moment, pointing a loaded shotgun at Dean’s head.
He wasn't wearing the uniform, nor even the wraparound shades, so he wasn't a cop. But this didn't give Dean much comfort.
“Cas?” pleaded Dean, madly looking around. “I thought you said you knew these people?”
“Rufus! Did I tell you to blow the head off my guests?” came a gruff voice from across the yard. It sounded like the guy Castiel had been talking to over the walkie talkie.
“Bobby, my friend!” sang Castiel, who had alaready popped out of the passenger seat, seemingly oblivious to murderous dudes.
“I don't know this guy,” said Rufus, who took a careful half step back from Dean, but didn't lower his weapon.
“Stand down, ya idjit,” said Bobby. “He's just one of Cas' friends,” said Bobby, who carried a rifle, but had it pointed at the ground.
“Is that good or bad?” scowled Rufus, who finally lowered his weapon.
Dean, keeping his hands up, carefully exited the Impala.
“What is it today, Cas?” asked Bobby. “Stray kittens? Did some baby fucking birdies fall out of the nest.”
“Bobby,” said Castiel. “This is Dean Winchester.”
Bobby knit his bushy brows. “Dean Winchester? John's boy?” he asked.
“You're Dean Winchester?” asked Rufus, who was now cradling his weapon and looking slightly flummoxed.
“You wanna see my fucking papers?” Dean grumbled.
“As I live and breathe,” said Bobby, stepping forward wide-eyed, hand outstretched. “Any son of John Winchester is welcome here. Always.”
Dean took the hand and shook.
“And this gun-toting shithead is Rufus,” said Bobby. “I have no goddam idea why we keep him around.”
“Because you don't have any other friends, asshole,” said Rufus, now reaching out to shake Dean's hand.
“How the holy hell did you find Dean Winchester, Cas?” asked Bobby.
“He is interesting in learning of his father's work,” said Cas evasively.
“You knew my father?” Dean asked Bobby.
“Did I know your father? Better than I knew my fucking self!” said Bobby.
“I have some things to attend to,” said Castiel, “so I will leave you for a while, Dean. I will be back later.”
“What the hell kinda business do you have Cas?” asked Bobby, as Castiel had already started to walk off. “Wait, can I at least get someone to drive you?”
“I know the way,” smiled Castiel.
“You better be back for dinner, Cas!” Bobby shouted after him. “Else Ellen will have my head!”
Castiel waved over his shoulder and vanished into the woods.
“That is one strange little motherfucker,” said Rufus.
“You tell me,” said Bobby as they both watched him go.
“He's … interesting,” said Dean, wondering why Castiel had chosen not to pull his disappearing trick here.
“I got booby traps up the yin-yang set up out there. I don't even know where all of them are any more. The fool is lucky he's never set one off,” said Bobby.
“Some day, maybe, we'll hear a boom,” smiled Rufus, who seemed to think that would be a good thing. “And then, Cas bits everywhere.”
“How do you guys know Cas?” asked Dean.
“Oh. He just showed up here one day,” said Bobby. “A couple years back. Some kids down the road lost their folks. It was some damn police raid, I don't know. Anyway, he just asked us to feed 'em. Well, I told him I'm not running a fucking charity, but Ellen overruled me on that one. So, we got 'em sorted out, some neighbors to watch over them. I guess you gotta take care of each other out here.
“And then he turns up like that from time to time, just shows up. But it's always for someone else. Never asked for anything for himself, not even a bite to eat. So that's why I guess I trust him. As much as I trust anybody, anyway. And he looks like he could use a decent meal. When Ellen's around, she insists we feed him. She's got a soft spot for strays I guess. Ellen Harvelle, is who I’m talking about? She knew your dad real well too.”
“I guess I'm the only one who didn't,” said Dean sadly. He didn’t recognize the name.
“So, you've decided to take up the life?” asked Bobby.
“I'm sorry. The life?” asked Dean. A survivalist nutcase in the woods?
“We're hunters. Like your papa,” said Bobby, indicating himself and Rufus.
“Hunters?” asked Dean. He vaguely remembered a couple of hunting trips with his dad. But that was long ago.
Bobby and Rufus exchanged a glance. “You really don't know shit, do you?” said Rufus.
“Rufus, get Ellen on the horn and tell her John Winchester’s boy is here,” said Bobby. Rufus nodded and disappeared inside one of the structures.
“Walk with me,” said Bobby. Dean nodded and followed the older man along. “I guess you were kinda young when your old man was taken from us.”
“You think he was taken?” asked Dean.
“You don't think so, huh? I know he was taken. Sonsabitches disappeared him. He was one of the very first of the disappeared. That's how important your dad was.”
“So, what exactly did he do? What do you do?” asked Dean, hoping he would get more satisfying answers from Bobby than he had from Castiel.
“Easier to show you,” said Bobby. They had just arrived the door of a low building that resembled a bunker. Dean noticed the door had weird writing all over it. He had taken it for graffiti, but he didn't recognize any of the symbols. Bobby opened a lock and, with Dean’s assistance, pulled open the heavy door. Dean peered inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw the entire interior had been painted with the strange symbols. The floor and ceilings had especially elaborate markings, with more weird symbols inside of five-pointed stars.
Bobby went to an interior door and slid open a small window. He looked inside, and then closed the window. “What I'm gonna show you, you can't tell anybody. Anybody. Ever. Understand me?”
Dean nodded. What choice did he have?
Bobby opened at least three locks, and then pulled open the door. Dean slipped inside after him, wondering what was up with all the paranoia and crazy graffiti.
Dean gasped. And shrank back.
It was one of them. Chained to a chair. And he was smack in the middle of one of those crazy designs, which had been painted over half the floor.
It was still wearing the helmet, but he could feel it staring at him.
“You got one of them?” asked Dean. “A cop? What the hell?”
“You think that's a big deal?” grinned Bobby.
“Yeah it's a big deal!” said Dean. “Fuck. Bobby. What if they catch you? They'll level the compound!”
“Let me show you something,” said Bobby. He marched over to the black clad figure and wrenched off the helmet.
It blinked, obviously stunned by the dim light in the room. Dean, against every instinct, leaned forward. He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected to see under that helmet, but this looked like … a guy. A perfectly normal guy.
“Help me! Please! These people have kidnapped me!” the cop dude pleaded.
“Yeah, you poor bastard,” grumbled Bobby. “Watch this, Dean.” Bobby repeated a few words in what sounded like Latin.
The guy twisted, and then he emitted a small scream.
“Bobby!” said Dean. “What did you-?”
“Look!” ordered Bobby.
The creature stopped seizing and blinked. The eyes! They were now terrible black pools, shiny as beetles.
“You'll pay for this,” it told Bobby. The voice had completely changed, as had the body language. It made Dean think of a coiled snake.
Dean's fascination overcame his fear. “It looks human.”
“It is human,” said Bobby. “Somewhere underneath. This man is possessed.”
“Possessed? By what?”
“Demons! What else?” asked Bobby.
“Wait. Demons exist too?” asked Dean.
Bobby roared with laughter. “What the fuck did John teach you, boy?”
“Not a lot, obviously,” said Dean, who had sidled over to be nearer the demon.
“John?” said the demon. “You're John Winchester's boy?”
“What, has everybody heard about him?” asked Dean.
“Mind yer bidness, asshole” barked Bobby, who scrunched the demon back in the helmet, giving it a solid smack as it clicked into place. “C'mon,” he said to Dean. They exited the building as carefully as they had entered, Bobby checking and double checking to see everything was secured.
“Bobby, what are you going to do with that thing?” asked Dean.
“If all goes well, we're gonna have ourselves a good, old-fashioned exorcism!” said Bobby.
“Wait, like in the movies?” asked Dean, who suddenly had visions of Linda Blair vomiting pea soup. But Bobby was now paying attention to a vehicle that had just arrived, kicking up a cloud of dust. “Ellen!” he hailed. “Did you bring it?”
An attractive middle aged woman emerged from the passenger’s seat. She was clutching a package wrapped up in a cloth. “Did I ever. Me and Jo just picked it up!”
“That’s the book?” asked Bobby, putting a hand reverently on the package. Ellen peeled back the top flap and she and Bobby leaned over, two kids in the candy store. To Dean, who wasn’t much for books, it looked like the oldest, crumbliest one he had ever seen. He didn’t recognize the lettering on the outside, but he did recognize the pentagram symbol. Dean glanced over at the girl who had just hopped out of the driver’s seat, noticing that she was awfully cute.
“Oh, hey, Ellen, look who the cat dragged in,” said Bobby. “This is Dean Winchester!”
“That's what Rufus said! You're John’s boy?” she asked. Dean nodded sheepishly.
Dean suddenly felt himself engulfed in Sam-style bone-crushing hug. Ellen pushed him back and gripped his chin. “Dean Winchester! Why he's the spit and image of John.”
“Yeah, both just as ugly,” agreed Bobby.
“Hi Dean!” said the young blond girl who also grabbed him for a hug. Dean did not object to this in the least. “If you’re John’s boy, you’re practically family!” she gushed.
“This is my girl, Jo!” said Ellen proudly.
“Uh, you guys knew my dad?” Dean, who may have been blushing a little, asked Ellen
“I did,” said Ellen. “He's a fine man.”
“I didn't know him well,” said Dean, who was intrigued that everybody around her still referred to his father in the present tense.
“Let's get some grub, and then we'll talk,” promised Bobby. “It's just about time for the dinner bell.” The group headed inside the main building.
But they didn't talk. Well, not about anything Dean was curious about. Rufus was there, plus a few other people Dean hadn't met. And then some more stragglers wandered in as the evening progressed. Bobby or Ellen or Jo or Rufus would give Dean a name, and Dean would promptly forget. Ellen kept him running around shelling peas or gathering firewood or drawing water from the well. Wherever he was, he noticed Jo would just happen to come by and chat. Or come by and flirt, to be honest. Dean was definitely flattered, though he found himself also a bit uneasy about the whole thing. After a lifetime of people treating him with suspicion, here was a group - a highly paranoid group, judging from his welcome - that instantly trusted him.
By the time dinner was prepared, there may have been two dozen people crowded around a large table. Dean had expected the picking to be slim, but if anything, it was the opposite. Here, away from the rationing coupons, the table was laden with a savory smelling stew (venison, Bobby told him), fresh baked cornbread, mashed potatoes and gravy, and heaps of fresh vegetables (Dean hadn't remembered that carrots could be crisp).
But none of this is for me, Dean thought as he watched another steaming pot emerge from the kitchen. This is all for my father.
“Cas! Where the hell you been, boy!” said Bobby as the angel appeared in the doorway.
“I hope I'm not intruding,” Castiel told Bobby.
“You're going to sit your skinny butt down and let me feed you,” said Ellen.
“I do not need food, Ellen,” said Castiel.
“You better do what Ellen wants!” said Bobby, throwing up his hands. “That's what we all do!”
Ellen pulled a mildly protesting Castiel down into to a seat next to Dean. Dean noticed with a bit of amusement that Jo had already grabbed the chair on his other side. Dean smiled at Castiel. It was relief to see a familiar face, even if it was one he had only met a few hours earlier than the residents of Bobby's compound and a weird supernatural being to boot.
It had been a strange day.
“How are you, Dean?” Castiel asked. Dean couldn’t find the words, so he just nodded.
“So, what do you think, Dean?” Bobby asked him after plates had been heaped more food than Dean had seen in a month.
“So, are all of them like that? The cops? Demons, I mean?” Dean asked.
“We think so,” said Rufus, helping himself to more stew. “But nobody knows for sure.”
“They managed to snatch a bunch of hunters, back when they took over,” Bobby told him. Bobby leaned back and wiped some gravy off his chin with a corner of the tablecloth.
“There's not a lot of us left,” said Ellen
“But things might be changing, thanks to Ellen!” said Bobby. “I think we have the key! The book we’ve been looking for.”
Castiel, who had been quietly pushing food around on his plate, glanced up at Dean, worried expression on his face.
“What do you think, Cas?” Dean asked him. Dean looked around, confused, as several people started laughing.
“Cas wouldn't know. Would you, dear?” asked Ellen.
“No, Ellen,” said Castiel distractedly, regarding his stew as if it were a specimen. “I wouldn't know.”
Dean frowned, but then everyone was distracted by the appearance of Jo's carrot cake. She made sure Dean downed at least two slices before she would let him leave the table. Dean protested, but only mildly. It was delicious.
Bobby then called a couple of them out for a drink on the porch. “You don't have to clear the table, hon,” Ellen told Dean, smiling genuinely. “But beware of Bobby’s rotgut!”
Dean slid the pile of dishes he was carrying into the sink and turned to go. He nearly bumped into Castiel, who was laden with what looked like every serving dish on the table.
“Cas,” said Dean, pulling the angel aside while trying not to send the various dirty pots and pans Cas was clutching crashing to the floor. “Is something going on?”
“Dean. Bobby is going to invite you to witness an exorcism,” whispered Castiel.
“Yeah, he mentioned that.”
“You need to be … careful,” said Castiel vaguely?
“Why?” asked Dean.
“Cas, get you skinny ass in here with my dishes!” yelled Ellen. Castiel shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen.
Bobby's liquor turned out to be a toxic moonshine. Dean sat down hard on the front porch and let his head swim.
“What do you think?” asked Bobby, slapping him on the back.
“This is awesome!” declared Dean, reaching out his shot glass for another splash and wondering how long it would take his esophagus to quit burning.
“So, what's your brother up to, Dean?” asked Bobby. “Sam? You were saying he has a job?”
“He's a researcher for a biotech. Out on the coast,” Dean added. Folks out here tended to view city dwellers with suspicion.
“Done good for himself, huh?” said Bobby.
“Yeah,” said Dean.
“And you, kid?”
Dean shrugged. “I dropped out freshman year and never quite made it back. I'm a mechanic now. Mostly.” When I can keep a job, Dean mused.
“Ah, so you're actually doing something useful!” laughed Bobby.
Dean didn't laugh. His mind drifted to Sam and what his brother had told him. It seemed a long time ago now. “So our dad - he fought demons?”
“That's part of what we do. Hunters,” said Bobby, helping himself to more rotgut. “Or at least what we used to do. Before the dark times,” he grinned.
“There's terrors in the world. We keep it safe,” said Rufus, who had been standing silently up until now.
“Ghosties and ghoulies and long legged beasties,” chuckled Bobby. “So, you're gonna lend a hand now? Follow in your dad's footsteps?”
Dean shook his head.
“No?” asked Bobby.
“Not no. It's just, I'd have no fucking idea where to start!” said Dean. “There's so much I don't know.”
“I'll tell you where we'll start. In a bit, Ellen and I are gonna cast out that demon. We want you to come in and watch.”
Dean frowned, recalling what Castiel had said. He wondered why the angel was skeptical. “You want me to watch an exorcism?” said Dean.
“But it ain’t just any exorcism,” said Rufus, looking smug.
“Yeah, this is our magic bullet,” said Bobby.
“Our nuke,” said Rufus.
“What?” asked Dean, looking at his shotglass.
“You seen the cops,” said Bobby. “You know how many of them there are? And how few of us?”
Dean nodded.
“Before this, we’ve had to cast out demons piecemeal, one at a time.”
“Or more often just kill them,” sighed Rufus. “Or kill the people they possessed.”
“If they don’t kill us first, added Bobby. “But this is like, what did they call it?” he asked. “The neutron bomb. You mouth some Latin, add a pinch of myrrh, and boom! Every evil black-eyed bastard for fifty miles is cast out!”
“That sounds useful,” said Dean.
“So, you with us?” asked Bobby. Bobby and Rufus stared at him.
Dean sipped at the moonshine, and then downed it. Or what? Against you? he wondered.
“Well, yeah, OK,” said Dean.
“Attaboy,” said Bobby. He whacked Dean on the back.
Dean choked.
Ellen had Dean running around again, grinding powder and picking leaves. He was wondering if this was an exorcism or baking a pie.
At last they carried the supplies out to the bunker-like building where the demon was being held. Dean had tried to catch Castiel to talk to him, but the angel, maddeningly, had disappeared once again.
They unlocked the room and Ellen began to set things up on a low table: she had the ingredients, and also the crumbling leather-bound book. “What is this?” asked Dean.
“Arcane wisdom,” said Bobby, who was carrying his shotgun. He had armed Dean as well, after ascertaining that he knew how to shoot. Oddly enough, though, his weapon, as well as Bobby’s, was loaded with salt, and not buckshot. Dean was pondering this when the demon began to laugh.
“Idiots!” it told them.
“Ah, shaddap,” grunted Bobby. “Help me with this?” he asked Dean, and together they once again wrested off the creature's helmet. This time it did not even pretend to be human.
“You have the wrong book!” said the demon.
“Well, thanks for the advice,” said Bobby.
“Enjoy this night,humans. It will be your last,” warned the demon.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Dean, trying to be casual. Even though the thing was chained up, he felt somehow vulnerable. He pulled Bobby aside. “Bobby, are you absolutely sure about this?” he whispered.
“I’m sure about one thing, kid,” said Bobby. “You don’t trust a fucking demon.”
“OK, we're set,” said Ellen. While Bobby and Dean stepped back, Ellen began throwing a pinch of this and a hint of that into a bowl. After a splash of what seemed like everything, she tossed in a match. It flared up, stinking of something awful.
Ellen then picked up the book and began reading something. Dean listened, but it didn't sound like English. Latin? Yeah, it sounded like something a crazy monk would chant.
Ellen turned a crumbling page and chanted the ancient sounding words. The demon-possessed cop glared at them, the horrible beetle eyes flickering. And then suddenly it let out a high pitched wail and it's head shot back. Its mouth opened, and to Dean’s astonishment, a cloud of toxic black smoke balled out while the creature retched.
“It's working, Ellen!” said Bobby. “Keep reading, girl!”
Ellen bent her head lower over the ancient volume and repeated the words. More smoke oozed out of the demon, but then it seemed to stop, swirling over the thing's head. The demon babbled something muffled: Dean thought maybe it was the same language. It writhed and groaned, and there was a great snap: the chains on one of its arms had snapped. And then the creature sucked in, gobbling back all the black smoke into itself.
“Bobby, it's getting loose,” warned Dean.
“Keep reading Ellen!” urged Bobby, who wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of a cuff.
Ellen paused one fateful minute as she glanced up. The demon's free arm whipped out, and the book flew out of her hands. And then it whipped again, and Ellen herself flew back. Dean heard a sickening snap as Ellen smacked to the wall, and then fell, limp as a rag doll, her head now at an impossible angle to her body.
She's dead, Dean thought in horror. The demon killed her.
“Bastard!” screamed Bobby, who raised his rifle. The demon arm flew out, and Bobby, looking terrified, turned the muzzle under his own chin.
“NO!” screamed Dean.
He threw an arm over his eyes. A gunshot sounded.
“No,” he whispered.
He turned towards the demon.
Now the metallic black eyes were on him.
The demon's arm snapped up. Dean was pushed back, the rifle knocked away. He landed on the floor. He threw up a protective arm, waiting for the killing blow.
He heard a voice and looked up.
And there was Cas, right between Dean and the demon, standing straight, repeating some ancient words. The angel seemed to give off a soft glow in the dim light. There was a strange shadow gatheing around him, stretching out on either side.
Two dark wings.
The demon shrieked, a terrible sound, and then the room was filled with the horrible sulphurous black smoke. The demon spit out the last, and then went limp.
Dean sat on the floor, too terrified to move. Castiel approached the demon, holding up its head to stare into its now lifeless human eyes. “Dead. His body was too badly damaged by the demon,” he said softly.
“It killed them. Cas. It killed Bobby and Ellen,” sobbed Dean.
Castiel looked at Dean. He had a smile on his face. “It's all right, Dean. They're not gone,” he told Dean.
“What?”
Instead of answering, Castiel went over to Ellen. He gently pulled her head around so it faced the correct direction. Dean heard a very small pop. And then, to his astonishment, she sighed.
“Cas?”
Castiel then went over to the mess that had been Bobby singer. He knelt for a moment, two fingers on the ruined face. And then there was the popping sound, and Bobby's head had reassembled.
Dean was down on his knees, next to Bobby, feeling for a pulse. “You.... You brought them back?”
“They will be unconscious for a little while,” Castiel told Dean.
“You knew this would happen?” Dean asked Castiel.
“I knew it would go wrong. I honestly had no idea it would go so wrong, Dean. Or else I would have tried to prevent it.” He looked apologetic. “The book they obtained: it was the wrong one. It was a small error. But you cannot make an error when dealing with such beings.”
“Why didn't you just tell them?” asked Dean.
“They wouldn't have believed me,” said Castiel glumly.
“Why wouldn't they believe you? You're a fricking angel!” Castiel looked at Dean, and suddenly Dean understood. “Wait. None of them know, do they?”
“Only you, Dean. I am your guardian. The guardian of the Winchesters. I have revealed myself only to you.”
Dean nodded. It suddenly made sense how they had been treating Cas all evening. The way Dean had treated him at first, before Cas had showed up in his car: the slightly crazy homeless guy.
“Why don't you just tell them?” Dean persisted. “You could help them!”
“It's … complicated,” said Castiel, who looked very unhappy. “I am afraid they wouldn’t understand.”
“Exactly how complicated?” asked Dean.
Bobby moaned. Dean and Castiel’s attention immediately refocused. “What the blazes?” grumbled Bobby.
“Are you all right, Bobby?” asked Dean.
“Cas, what the fuck are you doing in here?” demanded Bobby, who seemed to have made a remarkably fast recovery. From being dead that is, Dean thought wryly.
“I heard noises,” said Castiel, nodding towards the now opened door.
“Shit! How did that happen? Ellen!” said Bobby, as Ellen too moaned and regained consciousness.
Fortunately for Castiel, neither Bobby nor Ellen seemed to have clear memories of what had gone on. Dean decided to play along, for now, and told them some folderol about how he had also blacked out, only to wake up when Castiel entered. There was a heated discussion, especially as more residents of the compound came by to hear the story.
“I think we all need to sleep on this one,” said Bobby finally.
“Yeah, I should probably get going,” said Dean, who had been looking for a polite time to take his leave. He really wanted to get away alone and think for a long while.
“I should be going as well,” said Castiel.
“I’ll drop you,” said Dean swiftly.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’ll drop you,” said Dean insistently. Castiel flicked his eyes at the group, but then nodded, evidently deciding this wasn’t worth a fight.
“Let me pack you a lunch, Cas,” said Ellen.
“I don’t require your food,” Castiel told her.
“Shut up and follow me,” said Ellen. Castiel, with a heavy sigh, followed Ellen back into the main residence, and the group started to break up. Dean went over to his car, leaning against the hood to wait for Cas. He felt a small hand entwine with his, and looked over to see Jo was standing there, smiling at him. He smiled back, and then she had gone up on tiptoe and was kissing him on the lips.
Dean grinned. She was a pretty good kisser.
“I like being direct,” smiled Jo. “I like you.”
Dean shrugged and nodded. “You don’t know me, Jo. You seem like a nice kid-“
“KID?” asked Jo, crossing her arms and scowling at him.
“Jo. You just met me, and there’s a lot of shit about me you don’t know.”
“Well, let me learn then,” she grinned.
Dean and Jo turned to the soft throat clearing. “Um, I don’t wish to intrude,” said Castiel, standing with his arms laden tinfoil-wrapped treats.
“You’re not interrupting,” laughed Dean, but he noticed Jo glared pretty fiercely at Castiel. “Look. Jo. I’ll see you later. OK?”
“Is that a promise?” she asked.
“Yeah. OK,” said Dean. He went around to the other side of the Impala to open the passenger side door for Castiel, partly to avoid another kiss goodbye.
Jo looked dubious, but nodded and departed. Dean smiled at Castiel as he put the car in gear. The angel looked baffled by the embarrassment of leftovers he carried on his lap.
They rode in silence until they reached the main highway and had Bobby drop the barrier.
“You realize that I do not require transportation? As I do not require the contents of Ellen’s larder,” Castiel told Dean as they turned back onto the main highway.
Dean laughed. “I like having someone in the passenger seat with me. I dunno. It feels right.”
“I am not the one meant to be here with you.”
Dean looked over, surprised at this. “Well, isn’t that up to me to decide?”
Castiel shrugged awkwardly. “It is your fate,” he explained. “Dean, I should confess something to you.”
“What’s that?”
Castiel sighed. “The exorcism today. I knew it would end wrong. I let it go on, partly as a lesson to you. To show you how dangerous this life can be.” The blue eyes were on Dean now, beseeching.
“I thought my destiny was to become a hunter?” asked Dean.
“It is! It is….” Castiel seemed to grasp for words. “I just… I would be upset, if you were to be hurt.”
“Well, that’s nice of you,” said Dean. “Look, from now on, you can just tell me this stuff, OK? I’ll believe you.”
“I did not want to chance it. Angels are not … well regarded. In the hunter community.”
“You’re worried I would be prejudiced?” asked Dean, who found himself baffled.
“Yes, Dean. Something like that.”
“Well, I like you OK,” said Dean.
“You do?”
Dean grinned and looked over. It had been said with such sincerity.
“Yeah, I like you Cas.”
“And I like you, Dean!” said Castiel, his smile lighting up like the sky. “Do you have need of baked goods?” he asked, indicating the pile of food he was still clutching.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a piece of pie or something,” said Dean. He glanced back over.
But Castiel wasn’t there any more. There was just the pile of food.
And the lingering scent of a soft summer breeze.
Sam grinned. He had always had a talent for getting where he wasn’t supposed to be. It had driven Dean crazy when they were kids. But it had proven useful now.
He had to be very careful. He had picked the time with care: after the last janitors had made their rounds, but before the first regular security guards were on duty. In this stretch of the morning, there was no one around but a few bored night watchmen, who tended to nap through their shifts. He knew this. He had spent many nights watching. And Jess…. Well, Jess just didn’t seem to care any more. Maybe she suspected he was having an affair. Maybe all this would finally be what she needed to leave him.
He shouldn’t be hoping this was true.
There was something very wrong with him these days. That last time he’d spoken to Dean he had gotten the mad impulse to bring his brother in on this. Dean, the grumpy drunk, here going all cat burglar with him! It was ridiculous of course.
But as he had explained to Dean there were some things he just needed to know.
He stopped at the last doorway. He pulled his selection of stolen security badges from his pocket and fanned them out. He couldn’t believe how lax people were with these things. He pulled out the one he had been saving: an administrator who was bound to have a high clearance. The dumb ass didn’t even realize his badge had been stolen.
Sam held the badge to the door, and there was a comforting buzz. He opened the door as the green light came on, and hurried down the corridor. He knew exactly what he was looking for. The administrator had a computer that was purposely kept off the networks, so there was no chance of hacking into it from the outside. Sam booted it up and prowled around the desk. He opened one drawer, and then another. He frowned. And then he looked at the yellow sticky note pasted on the bottom of the screen, one word scrawled out on it, and grinned. When the password prompt came on, he typed the word in, “CROATOAN.” He grinned smugly as the desktop came up.
He looked over the desktop, and immediately clicked on the file also labeled “CROATOAN.” Boy, these guys were obvious, he would give them that.
And then he started reading. And reading.
He soon became caught up in it all, too caught up, unfortunately, to hear the very soft creak behind him. It was too bad, in retrospect, that he hadn’t brought his brother along. It was too bad he didn’t have someone to watch his back.
One instant too late, Sam sat up and turned around.
And all was blackness….
This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/113649.html. Please comment there using OpenID.