A/N: This story is fifth in the arc that started with "The Collector" and last ended with "Venom." On Ao3, I labeled the series Catch Me When I Fall because each of the stories deals with Cas being cut off from Heaven and slowly falling. So Team Free Will's bond is a lot stronger in this fic compared to regular episode AUs.
Please note: in all of my season 5 stories thus far, my head canon has been that Cas being cut off from Heaven means he can't hear prayers, but for the purposes of this fic, he *can*. (Yes, I've committed the sin of inconsistency in my own series. I'd fit right in with the show writers. ;p)

Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading, and for another awesome piece of cover art!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 1: Well, It's Got Teeth

Sam watched the plate of leftover pasta go round and round inside the microwave. Monotony at its finest. Kinda like his life the past few days. Detoxing from demon blood the second time around was no easier than the first. And the fact that Famine and a bunch of kamikaze demons were to blame for Sam falling off the wagon didn't make him feel any less disgusted about it.

But he was doing better now, had gotten his appetite back yesterday, which had prompted Dean to whip up some version of pasta fettuccine. Without any vegetables or meat, unfortunately. Sam didn't complain about the carb heavy meal, though; he found it rather amusing that his brother was being sensitive to Cas, who couldn't look at a cut of beef without turning a bit green. None of them had come out of that encounter with Famine unscathed.

It sucked, too, because the Winchesters had gradually been getting Cas accustomed to various foods. Being cut off from Heaven left the angel in an odd state of slowly falling. Cas didn't need to eat…yet. So Sam wasn't the only one who needed to get his appetite back. But Cas had adamantly refused to touch the pasta, and last Sam saw of him the night before, he was out sulking in the salvage yard.

The microwave beeped, and Sam pulled out his steaming plate. To be honest, all three of them had been melancholic the past several days. Sam had his own inner demons to deal with, and he suspected Cas was upset over succumbing to Famine's influence. Dean was strangely quiet. Sam had assumed it was due to his detoxing, but even though he was feeling better, Dean still seemed distant, almost robotically focused on two things: getting Sam (and Cas) to eat, and working on the Impala. What they needed was a case, something to get them out of this funk and back into the game.

Well, ask and you shall receive.

Sam had no sooner sat down to dig into his pasta when Bobby wheeled into the entry. The older hunter watched him take a few bites—seriously, it was creepy how overbearing they were all acting—before he cleared his throat.

"I think I found a hunt close by," Bobby began. "You feel up for it?"

Sam let his fork drop with a clatter. "Hell yeah. What is it?"

Bobby eyed him with a flicker of skepticism, but ended up nodding toward the window. "Grab your brother and I'll fill you in."

Sam was out of his seat in a flash and striding outside. He found Dean where he expected—out front working on the Impala. Cas was there, too, standing stiffly at the hood with brow creased, trying to follow Dean's explanations of the engine parts. They'd also started teaching Cas to drive, though Dean's idea of a proper auto education included all aspects of a car, including maintenance.

"Hey," Sam interrupted.

Dean paused in his instruction and straightened. "Hey. Something up?"

"Bobby might have a case."

Dean frowned slightly, and Sam hated that familiar, wary look. He was fine for cryin' out loud.

"He said it's close by," Sam continued before Dean could protest or ask if he was okay. "I think we should check it out. Not to mention it'd probably do us all some good to get out for a bit."

"You wanna get out, we could go to the movies," Dean argued. "What was that sci-fi one, with the blue alien dude?"

Sam just gave him a pointed look. "Avatar. And that was a couple of months ago; it's not in theaters anymore."

"Oh."

Sam crossed his arms. "I appreciate the concern, really, but I'm good, man. I wanna get back to hunting, to normal."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah." He didn't sound very enthusiastic, though.

"What is the creature?" Cas asked.

"Dunno yet. Bobby's waiting to fill us in." Sam lifted his brows in question at his brother. "So?"

Shaking his head, Dean moved to close the Impala's hood. "Alright, let's talk monsters."

Sam felt a surge of relief to finally be doing something that didn't involve languishing around Bobby's. Granted, they'd deserved a break after everything they'd been through, but Sam was definitely ready to get back in the saddle.

He and Dean headed inside with Cas trailing behind them. Bobby was at his desk in the study, making some notes in the margin of a newspaper.

"Body was found last week over in Worthington, throat ripped out," he said without preamble.

Dean quirked a brow. "Just one?"

Bobby leveled a peeved look at him. "It's an hour drive. If you don't find anything, you can be back before nightfall."

Hm, maybe they were starting to drive Bobby a little crazy with their cabin fever. In any case, Sam was just glad to have the excuse.

"Could be a vampire," he said. "Wouldn't hurt to check it out."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, fine."

"You wanna come, Cas?" Sam asked. If Bobby did want some alone time, he most definitely wouldn't want the angel hanging around. "A vamp usually means a nest, so the more help the better."

Cas gave a measured nod. "Alright."

"Great. Dean and I will grab our gear and meet you out front in ten." Turning on his heel, Sam headed upstairs to throw some clothes and weapons into his duffel, an easy task since he and Dean more or less lived out of a travel bag. On his way back down, he passed the kitchen and his plate of pasta abandoned on the table. Sam could tell his brother was a little reticent about this, and if scarfing down a meal would help alleviate some of that worry, Sam would do it. He detoured into the kitchen and scooped the pasta back into the tupperware container, and then decided just to take the whole thing. He could eat it cold and plaster on a genuine smile for Dean if that's what it took.

Worthington, South Dakota was an hour east of Sioux Falls—less with Dean's driving. Sam had been right that after sitting in the passenger seat and eating a good portion of the leftover pasta, Dean seemed to loosen up a bit about going to check out the case. They stopped at a gas station a couple of blocks from the city morgue to change into their FBI threads, and then headed over.

"Remember," Dean was saying to Cas as they pulled into the parking lot. "Don't mention vampires. Or anything else supernatural." He shut off the engine and climbed out, Sam and Cas following suit.

Dean came around the rear of the Impala and gestured at the angel. "Hold up your badge."

Cas glanced at the agent creds Dean had given him, and then held the wallet up, the flap falling open upside-down. Dean rolled his eyes as he snatched it out of Cas's hand and turned it around.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Cas said hesitantly.

"You just have to get the hang of it," Sam encouraged. "You did fine the last time we checked out a morgue together." Except for a little awkwardness that thankfully no one had witnessed, but Sam could give the angel a break. He wasn't just learning the hunting ropes, but also human mannerisms.

Dean adjusted his own tie. "You know what, just let me and Sam do all the talking here, okay?"

Cas's mouth was pressed into a doubtful line, but he nevertheless followed Dean toward the door. Sam got his own fake FBI credentials out and ready to flash.

Bobby had already called ahead, so the coroner was waiting for them when they arrived, a mid-forties man with a rounded face. He eyed them guardedly when they came through the glass doors.

"Afternoon," Sam greeted, quickly showing his badge. "Agents Bradshaw, Newman, and Moscone."

"Dr. McGee," the guy replied. "What's the FBI's interest in an animal attack?"

"Just being thorough," Dean said with a genial smile. "So what makes you think it was an animal?"

Dr. McGee canted a dry look at him. "Well, it has teeth."

Cas's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth as though to say something, but then seemed to think better of it.

"Mind if we take a look at the body?" Sam asked.

McGee shrugged and turned to head down the hallway. "Sure, why not?" He lowered his voice to a mutter, "Big city feds think we don't know how to do our jobs."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look; playing federal agents was the best way to cross jurisdiction lines, but sometimes they encountered hostility from lower law enforcement agencies.

"We're not doubting your judgment," Sam put in. "But we're looking into the possibility of a killer who covers up the cause of death with an animal attack."

McGee threw a frown over his shoulder. "How so?"

Dean pursed his mouth. "Uh, suppose a killer slits someone's throat, but then lets a rabid dog loose on the victim. You probably wouldn't find the original cut under all the teeth marks."

McGee's frown deepened. "I suppose not." He turned right and headed through a set of double doors that led into the main morgue. The slabs were empty and pristine at the moment, and McGee bypassed them to reach the storage units along the side wall. He unlatched the third one from the bottom end and pulled the drawer out.

Sam grimaced at the shredded remains of the victim's neck. Yep, definitely looked like a vampire attack.

"Pretty grisly, huh?" McGee said, almost as though he took pleasure grossing out the FBI agents. Too bad Sam and Dean had actually seen worse.

Dean angled his head to get a better look at the wounds. "Yeah, if this guy's throat was slashed, you wouldn't be able to find evidence of it."

McGee crossed his arms. "Or it could just be an animal attack."

"Get many of those, do you?" Dean responded with an irreverent smirk.

"There's no evidence of foul play."

Sam had to resist shaking his head. Given the nature of the death, he doubted the police had looked very hard for other means or motive.

Cas was staring intently at the body—he often did that—but finally lifted his head to catch the hunter's gaze. "Sam." He hesitated, casting an uncertain look toward Dean.

"Have something to share with the class?" McGee asked.

Cas opened his mouth, closed it again, and then stiffened his jaw. "I'm not allowed to."

Dean shifted away from McGee to roll his eyes peevishly before turning back with a fake, 'what-are-you-gonna-do?' shrug. "We can't comment on an open investigation."

McGee's frown morphed into a scowl. "That's the line you give to the press, not fellow investigators."

"It's really too soon for us to be discussing theories," Sam put in. "Thanks for your time, though." He shot both Dean and Cas pointed looks before exiting the morgue. He would've liked to get a look at the full report, but McGee's tolerance level had been plummeting fast.

Sam waited till they got back to the Impala, and then turned around in the front seat to face Cas. "You pick up something back there?"

The angel nodded. "The victim was a werewolf."

Dean twisted around in surprise. "What, really?"

"Yes."

Dean glanced at Sam, and then turned the key in the ignition. "Okay, so, what? Vampire vs. Werewolf? Some kind of territorial dispute?"

Sam frowned as he pulled out his phone and checked the calendar. "It was a full moon last week. Could it have been another werewolf?"

"Heart wasn't eaten," Dean came back with. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Or, do werewolves just not eat each other? I mean, they're sorta cannibals, eating humans, but maybe they're not hardcore cannibals."

"Could it really have been another animal?" Sam put out there. "My money would've been on the werewolf, sure, but if something else got the drop on it…"

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. "What do you think, Cas?"

The angel's brow creased in concentration. "All of your theories have merit."

"Okay, but you like one over the other?"

Cas's expression pinched. "One can't show preference to facts. They are either valid or false."

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, whatever. So is this a case or not? I mean, werewolf victim ain't exactly something we investigate."

"We should stick around," Sam said. Even if the case turned out to be nothing, he wasn't ready to go back to Bobby's yet. "Poke around a little more. Just in case there is a second monster running loose."

Dean shrugged. "Alright, but I'm hungry."

Sam snorted, but didn't protest. Dean would likely try to shove a huge meal down his throat, and Sam knew he had to be enthusiastic about it if he didn't want Dean worrying again. Sheesh, any outsider would think he was a recovering anorexic.

The leather in the backseat squeaked as Cas shifted. "When should I return?"

Dean whipped his head around. "What? No. Come eat with us."

Cas clenched his jaw. "I'd rather not."

Sam craned his neck to give the angel a sympathetic look. "Come on, Cas. It's been long enough—food won't make you sick again. Dean and I won't order any meat, either."

Dean shot him an annoyed glare, but Sam merely raised his eyebrows pointedly. If they wanted Cas to stick around, they'd have to be a little more patient with him.

"Damn Famine for ruining perfectly good burgers," Dean muttered as he pulled into a twenty-four-hour diner.

"You should be able to eat what you want…" Cas started.

"Dean can broaden his palate," Sam insisted, and pushed his door open.

Cas reluctantly followed, eyeing the restaurant as though it were enemy headquarters. The three of them headed inside, and at least the blonde waitress managed to lift some of the scowl from Dean's face when she batted her eyelashes at him. Sam slid into the booth next to Cas and scanned the menu, trying to pick out selections that didn't have cooked meat in them. Granted, there wasn't a ton under the entrees, though there were house salads. No way Dean would go for that.

"Seriously, Sam…" his brother grumbled.

"Chili," he suggested.

Dean considered it for a moment. "Yeah, okay. What are you getting? Better not just be rabbit food."

"That so-called rabbit food is more healthy than anything you'd pick off the menu."

Dean made a face and reached for the dessert placard. "At least they've got pie."

Sam glanced at Cas, who was staring at the menu in obvious discomfort. "How about pancakes?"

"I don't know…"

"I'll split them with you. That way Dean can shut up about both of us eating." Sam flicked a pointed look at his brother, who glowered in return.

"Al-alright."

Sam ordered a plate of pancakes with a side of salad instead of bacon, and didn't even care that the waitress arched her brows dubiously. Dean appeared slightly embarrassed by him and Cas, which just made Sam grin more.

When their food came, Sam dug into his salad, giving Cas a chance to try the pancakes stacked three high. The angel watched the maple syrup spilling over the sides for several long moments before he worked up the nerve to put a bite in his mouth. He chewed for an agonizingly long time before swallowing, but when it was clear the sweet pancakes weren't going to elicit the same reaction as consuming raw beef, he slowly went for a second bite.

Sam flashed Dean a surreptitious grin, and despite his brother's lingering discontent over the lack of burgers, a smile still tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth.

They weren't quite finished when Sam's phone rang, the number displaying the area code for Worthington. "Agent Bradshaw," he answered.

"It's Dr. McGee."

Sam straightened. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

There was a slight huff from the other end of the line. "There's been another killing."

"Another animal killing?" he clarified, catching Dean's gaze as his brother perked up.

"I'd say yes," McGee groused. "Except animals don't throw bodies in dumpsters when they're done with them."

Sam's eyes widened, and he gestured sharply for Dean to pass him a pen and napkin. "Where's the crime scene?"

McGee grudgingly gave him the address, and Sam snapped his phone closed.

"Another body dropped."

Dean scooted out of the booth, slapping a few twenties on the table. "Dammit, I didn't get my pie."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Priorities, Dean."

"We're going, aren't we?" he retorted.

They drove to the latest crime scene, a back alley behind a music store. Sam and Dean flashed their badges to the uniformed officer guarding the perimeter, while Cas's purposeful stride seemed to grant him unquestioned passage along with them. If he just maintained that stern look without ever opening his mouth, he could pass for their superior.

A body was laid out on a sheet of plastic while crime scene techs dug around inside a nearby dumpster. Dr. McGee stood up from examining the young woman's remains.

"Her throat was ripped out, just like the other victim. But there's no blood spatter inside the dumpster, so it didn't happen here."

"So someone dumped the body," Sam concluded.

McGee shrugged. "Guess your theory might be right after all."

Sam ran his gaze over the victim. Brunette, lithe frame, makeup done up.

Cas leaned into Sam's personal space. "Not a werewolf."

Well, that was good to know. So maybe the killer/monster didn't realize it was hunting a werewolf the first time. Although, there was something strange about this one…

"Do you smell that?" he whispered to Dean.

Dean took a moment before his face scrunched up in confusion. "Is that…?"

"Sulfur." So maybe their killer was a demon. But why would a demon be going around killing like a vampire would?

Cas stared at the deceased young woman for several long moments, to the point he was starting to draw attention, so Dean nudged his elbow and jerked his chin for them to move away from the center of activity.

"What is it?" Dean asked. "You said the vic isn't a werewolf."

"No," Cas said with a deep frown. "But I believe she was the demon."

Sam quirked a perplexed brow. "What? Something ripped out a demon's throat?"

Dean shook his head. "Huh. So demon's meatsuit gets torn up, and he dumps it in the garbage before smoking out."

"I…don't think so," Cas said carefully.

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there are fragments of the demon's essence lingering on the body, as though the demon also perished."

"How can you tell?" Dean asked.

Cas glanced at Sam guiltily before looking away. "When Sam was able to…kill those demons, they…they left a similar trace."

Sam's stomach churned unhappily at the memory, but he forced it down. "Okay, what's capable of doing that to a demon?" Angels could kill demons, but that involved burned out eye sockets, not ripped out throats.

Cas gave a small head shake. "I don't know."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "So, what do we know at this point?"

Sam glanced back at the crime scene. Two victims who were monsters themselves, possibly killed by another monster?

Cas glanced between the two of them. "We know it's got teeth," he said, quoting McGee from earlier.

Dean rolled his eyes.

Yeah, that was super helpful.