Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended, everything belongs to Eric Kripke.
A/N: my first Supernatural fic, written in present tense because I'm feeling edgy. This hasn't been proof-read, but I'm fairly certain there's no mistakes. Hope you enjoy, please R&R! If people like it I'll write more :)
SET IN SEASON 5, WHEN CAS IS SEARCHING FOR GOD. MAY BE SLIGHTLY AU.
Something's Changed
Dean should probably be used to the way Castiel just appears by now, but that doesn't stop him from starting when the angel appears in the middle of the motel room.
"Holy crap, Cas," he huffs out, putting a hand over his hammering heart. "Maybe give a little warning next time, huh?"
Castiel frowns and looks around the room, his forehead creasing. "Where is Sam?" he enquires, paying no heed to Dean's incredulous expression. After waiting a moment for Cas to notice and cursing when he doesn't, Dean sighs.
"Out," he says abruptly, striding past Castiel and over to the dresser. A slew of weapons lie across the scarred wooden top, knives and silver bullets and the Colt laid out haphazardly beside two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. Dean picks up the vodka and pours two glasses, swigging down one and handing the other to Cas. The angel looks at it in, missing a beat, and Dean rolls his eyes. "Drink it."
Castiel looks at him and then shrugs, raising the glass and sniffing it. "It smells like–"
"It doesn't matter what it smells like," Dean interrupts. "Just drink."
Castiel complies and makes a face, prompting another eye roll from Dean. The angel wipes his lips and raises his eyes to meet Dean again, repeating his earlier question as he pushes the glass into Dean's hands. "Where is Sam?"
"Library," Dean says. "Looking through the local archives. We've got a vengeful spirit on our hands."
"You are not helping him?"
Dean gives Castiel a look. "Sammy's a big boy," he says gruffly. "He can handle a little research on his own." He doesn't mention the argument that they had about Michael and Lucifer. Those kinds of arguments are getting more and more frequent lately. Dean rubs his temple and then turns his attention back to Cas, pushing Sam out of his mind for now. "So what's the word? Have you got any info on the man upstairs?"
Castiel's face drops. "I have found no information on my father's whereabouts," he says, slumping into one of the vinyl armchairs that seem to decorate every motel room the Winchesters have ever stayed in. Dean gives the angel a long, calculated look and pours another glass of vodka, pressing it into his hands.
"So," Dean says. "If you don't have anything to tell us, why are you here?"
Castiel blinks and looks hurt. "I – I was under the impression that when one was downcast, he turned to his friends for comfort. Am I mistaken?"
This time, Dean is the one who blinks. He stares at Cas for a moment and then laughs, causing Castiel to frown confusedly.
"Oh, man," Dean says weakly, still chuckling. "Angels."
Cas gets to his feet and downs his drink, eyebrows furrowed. "I was mistaken," he says lowly. "Forgive me."
"No, no," Dean says hurriedly, before Castiel can disappear. "You weren't – uh – oh, man, just sit down and have another drink."
Castiel looks suspicious but sinks back into the armchair, allowing Dean to pour him a third glass of vodka. Dean settles himself into the other armchair and raises his own glass, clinking it against Castiel's with a wry grin. They knock back the drinks at the same time, though Dean doesn't shudder the way Cas does.
"So," Dean says, wondering if he should refrain from mentioning Cas's quest, but deciding that it's better just to push ahead. "How is the search for God going?"
Castiel visibly slumps. "Abysmally," he announces, holding out his glass in indication that he wants more. "There is no sign of him, on this plane or any other. My brothers are hunting me down. And this–" he reaches into the pocket of his dirty old trench coat and removes Dean's necklace, the one he borrowed to search for his father "it's useless. No amount of faith or magic can point me to my father's location."
Dean watches him, mulling over Castiel's words. The angel's quest for God isn't just important to him – it's also Dean and Sam's best chance of avoiding the apocalypse. Dean thinks about how if God can't be found, he and Sam will eventually be forced into accepting their roles as vessels for Michael and Lucifer. He wishes he could help, but he doesn't know where to begin searching for God. Until Cas pulled him out of the Pit, Dean didn't even think he believed in God.
He opens his mouth to say something to make Cas cheer up, realising now that he was stupid to bring it up again – but before he can get the words out, he hears the scratch of a key in the door. It swings open, catching on the scratchy motel carpet, and Sam walks in, carrying an armful of papers. Dean scrambles to his feet, feeling for some reason like he's a teenager who's been caught doing something he shouldn't. Cas hardly notices Sam's arrival, too busy staring sorrowfully at his empty glass.
"Castiel," Sam says, closing the door and looking from the angel to his brother. "What are you doing here? Did you–"
"No word on the big man," Dean interrupts quickly, glancing at Cas. He gives Sam a meaningful look, hoping that his brother understands that his furrowed brows mean don't say anything stupid, Sasquatch. To his credit, Sam doesn't press the matter. He nods almost imperceptibly at Dean and a silent agreement passes between them not to mention their earlier argument. Grateful, Dean focuses on the papers in Sam's arms. He perks up. "Anything on our spirit?"
"Uh, yeah," Sam says, sparing Castiel one more glance before rifling through the pages. "We're definitely looking at a vengeful spirit. I think I know who it is, too – Maria Lopez. Here." He hands Dean a sheet of paper with a photograph clipped to it.
Dean scans the sheet, trying to lose himself in the case – though it's hard when Cas is still slumped in the armchair, looking like a kicked puppy. Focus, Dean tells himself. Three murders in one week, all in the same abandoned apartment building. All victims killed by some form of cleaning equipment. Sam's suspect, Maria Lopez, smiles up at Dean from the page in his hands. She looks young – late teens, early twenties – and she's Hispanic. The lines of text beneath her photograph tell Dean that she was a maid in the building, who disappeared ten years ago. He checks the date of her disappearance and sucks in a breath. Last week – right when the murders began – was the tenth anniversary.
"Son of a bitch," he mutters. "So what happened to Maria Lopez?"
"My guess?" Sam says. "Murdered."
Dean stares at him. "No shit, Sherlock," he growls. "But where's she buried? Was she ever found?"
"Never found," Sam replies, "but I'm gonna take a wild guess and say she's buried somewhere in the building. I figure we can scope out the place in the morning, find the body and torch the bones."
"Alright," Dean says, tossing the paper on the table. He cracks his knuckles. "In the meantime–" he glances at Castiel "I think Cas could use a drink, and I need some food. Let's go." He grabs the keys to the Impala and pauses at the door to the motel room to look back at Sam and Cas. "Are you coming or not?"
Castiel raises his head and Dean notices for the first time how weary he looks. Sam shrugs and pushes past Dean, accepting the keys that Dean pushes into his hand. Cas looks bemused as Dean crosses the room and puts his hands under Cas's armpits, hefting him to his feet. "Alright, come on," Dean grunts. "Let's go."
He half-carries the angel out of the motel and pushes him into the backseat of the Impala. Sam is waiting in the passenger seat, knowing better than to try and drive Dean's baby without his permission. Dean slides into the driver's seat and they roar out of the parking lot, cruising down the highway until they come to a seedy looking diner that serves alcohol and promises the best burgers in town.
They choose a booth near the entrance and Dean prods Castiel into the seat before him. After a quick perusal of the menu, Dean decides on a bacon double cheeseburger with fries, while Sam opts for his usual salad. Dean also orders a beer for Cas and two Cokes for himself and Sam – he wants to stay alert tonight.
"So, Cas," Sam says carefully, once they've eaten and Castiel's beer is almost empty. "How are you?"
"Exhausted," Castiel says. "World weary." He pauses and then utters a single word, sounding utterly defeated: "Broken."
Sam and Dean exchange a glance.
"Alright, that's it," Dean says decisively. "You're staying in the motel with us tonight, Cas." Castiel starts to protest, but Dean cuts him off with a swift glare. "I don't want to hear it, Cas."
"It's for the best, Cas," Sam says, always the diplomat. "You can look again tomorrow."
The three of them know that Cas could just disappear in the blink of an eye if he wanted to, and they would be powerless to stop him – but he slumps down in the booth, accepting their decision. Dean drains his Coke, satisfied, and then they pay the bill and return to the motel. Dean opts to sleep on the floor, graciously allowing Castiel to take his bed. He thinks that it's the right thing to do at the time, but by three a.m., when Sam is snoring and Dean is tossing and turning on the uncomfortable carpet, he thinks it was just stupid.
Dean finally accepts that he's not going to get any rest and props himself up on his elbows. He's resigning himself to a night of surfing the web on Sam's laptop when he hears Cas's voice in the darkness.
"Dean?"
"Jesus, Cas," Dean whispers, mindful of Sam in the bed beside him. He gets to his feet and squints through the gloom, identifying Castiel's blanket-covered body on the bed. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
Castiel blinks. "Angels do not sleep."
Dean feels mutinous all of a sudden and now he really regrets his decision to give Castiel the bed, but he doesn't say anything. He glances at Sam's sleeping body and then back at Cas. "Outside," he says quietly. He slips out of the motel room, followed by Castiel, who seems to have sobered up quite a bit. They sit on the hood of the Impala and Dean thinks what a strange pair they make – the Hunter, in flannel and leather, and the angel, in a dirty brown trench coat.
They're silent for a long time.
Dean is finally the one to speak. "Listen, Cas..." he says. Castiel blinks at him once more. Dean shifts awkwardly. "I know you're beating yourself up about this whole... God thing... but you're doing all that you can." His cheeks burn. Dean isn't the emotional type, not usually. The fact that he's talking to an angel with a poor grasp of human emotions doesn't help. Castiel waits a long time before replying.
"It is... difficult," he says thoughtfully. Dean waits for him to elaborate. "I have always believed that when we needed him, my father would come. But now the world is burning, and he is nowhere to be found. Perhaps I have placed my faith in the wrong leader." He looks at Dean meaningfully.
"Maybe," Dean says, unsure of how to respond.
"Perhaps it is time to end my search," Cas says. Dean thinks of what will happen if Castiel can't find God – he imagines Lucifer possessing his brother. He thinks about what it would be like to let Michael in. It makes his skin crawl.
"Don't give up yet, Cas," he says, a note of desperation entering his voice. "Keep trying."
They lapse into silence and sit that way for a long time, until the night begins to recede and an orange glow lights the horizon. Then they return to the room, where Sam is still snoring peacefully, and Dean collapses into the bed while Castiel takes up a position in one of the armchairs.
Dean manages to get about three hours of sleep before Sam shakes him awake, reminding him about Maria Lopez's ghost and the pressing search for her remains. Dean doesn't mention his late night chat with Castiel, though the angel is still exactly where he left him last night – sitting stock still in the armchair. While Dean gathers his things, Sam asks Castiel to come with him. He agrees.
They drive to the haunted apartment building, the Winchester brothers bickering over where to begin the search, while Castiel sits calmly – angelically, Dean thinks dryly – in the backseat.
"No, Dean, the basement is the best place to start," Sam is saying as they pull into the parking lot.
"Bullshit, we should work from the top down–"
"May I make a suggestion?" Castiel interrupts pleasantly. The brothers turn to look at him. "I read the files last night while you were sleeping. I believe the gazebo in the back yard is the best place to start."
"Gazebo?" Dean repeats, wrinkling his nose. "Are you sure, Cas?"
The angel nods. "It was built right after Maria Lopez's disappearance," he says. "Logic would dictate that her body is buried underneath the structure."
Sam and Dean look at each other, mouths hanging open. "I can't believe I missed that," Sam says.
"Can't win everything, Wonder Boy," Dean says. The Impala purrs to a halt and they clamber out, checking that they have lighter fluid and matches on hand. Sam carries a shovel. Dean carries a shotgun loaded with rock salt. He looks around warily as they make their way to the back yard – the building has been abandoned for five years, but that doesn't mean there's no-one around to see them.
As they slip through the gate that leads to the yard, there's a sudden drop in temperature. Dean and Sam share a glance. Sam's lips are flattened into a grim line. Dean cocks the shotgun, scanning the yard for any signs of Maria Lopez's ghost.
"Stay alert," Dean breathes. "Start digging."
Sam makes a beeline for the gazebo and starts digging, while Dean and Castiel keep lookout. Their backs are turned to Sam, so they're surprised when he gives a shout and is thrown across the yard. Dean whirls around, cocking the shotgun once more, while Sam hurtles through the air, followed by the shovel.
"Sammy!" Dean yells. He looks around wildly and catches a flash of dark hair and a blue chequered dress by the bushes. "Come out and play, bitch." There's a noise like a skipping record and then Maria Lopez appears by the gazebo, looking furious. Dean raises the shotgun and fires, catching the ghost through the stomach. She gives a hiss and vanishes. Dean glances back and sees that Sam is knocked out and curses under his breath. He turns his attention to Castiel. "Cas! Dig!"
Castiel looks alarmed, but shakes it off quickly and retrieves Sam's fallen shovel. He's faster at digging than Sam was – probably some angel thing, Dean concludes. By the time Sam is starting to come to, Cas has dug a deep trench.
"Anything?" Dean shouts, knowing that at any moment, Maria will reappear.
"Yes!" Castiel shouts back, and Dean's heart leaps. "A bag!"
"Take it out, Cas," Dean says. "Check for bones! Sammy, you okay?" Sam nods dazedly and struggles to his feet, joining Cas by the gazebo. Sam and Castiel root through the bag and give a shout of victory. Dean gives a sigh of relief as the smell of burning bones and plastic fills the air. He lowers the shotgun, feeling better than he has all day, and turns to his companions with a wide grin.
"Case closed," Sam says. Dean doesn't bother to point out how cheesy that is – he's too busy grinning at how much happier Cas looks. Apparently, a good ghost hunt was just what he needed.
Sam starts to close up the hole, but Dean stops him, handing him the keys to the Impala and the shotgun instead. "Go back to the car," he orders. "Me and Cas can take care of this, you need to sit down." Sam rolls his eyes but doesn't object. He strides away, leaving Dean and Castiel to refill Maria Lopez's grave.
Cas does most of the work, but Dean likes to think he's offering moral support. When the ground has been safely patted back into place, the angel straightens up, looking triumphant. Dean claps him on the back.
"Thanks for the help, Cas," he says sincerely. He means it – without the angel, they may not have been able to put Maria to rest. Castiel smiles widely, unusual for him. What's even more unusual is the fluttering in Dean's stomach that Cas's smile prompts.
"It was a pleasure," Castiel says, and Dean wills the fluttering to stop. "We make a good team."
"Got that right," Dean says, forcing a laugh. "Alright, let's get going. Sam's probably losing it out there."
They trudged back to the car together, not speaking, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Dean isn't sure what, but he thinks something has changed since last night. But there's no time to reflect on it – as they're roaring out of the parking lot, Bobby calls Sam and asks for help with a job in New Orleans.
Dean thinks that he can think about it later.
Hope you enjoyed it, please leave a review and thanks a bunch for reading! :)