Ezekiel/Gadreel isn't possessing Sam in this fic.
Dead ends and brick walls. That's all humanity seemed to hold for Castiel.
He'd lost his Grace. He was basically useless now. His brothers and sisters had fallen; lost and confused, to an earth that wasn't ready for them. They were fighting and killing one another.
And it was all his fault.
According to the Angel Tablet, there was no way to reverse the spell. Metatron, the only person who knew if that was true, was nowhere to be found. Sam was still healing from the Trials, Kevin was stressing over the Angel Tablet; trying desperately to find something helpful, and Dean was worried about them all. (And probably the fate of mankind as well)
Dean. Those infuriating green eyes and freckles and-
Stop.
Oh, and Crowley was locked in the bunker's dungeon, doing nothing but making smart remarks every time they questioned him.
Add all this to learning how to be human, and it was safe to say Cas was a little stressed.
Which is why he was relieved to hear that Dean had caught wind of a case. He was dying to get some fresh air. They'd been cooped up in the bunker for almost a week.
Kevin was happy to stay behind, but it took a little more convincing to get Sam to stay put. (Dean's idea of 'convincing' was to dose his brother with a sleeping pill while they snuck out.)
They left the prophet with strict instructions not to let Sam go anywhere. He could barely walk in a straight line, let alone work a case.
Cas rode up front for a change, which was nice. He was secretly relieved that Sam was staying behind. Dean seemed more open when his brother wasn't around. He rolled down the window and leaned into the wind. It almost felt like he was flying. God, he missed flying.
"Put your damn head back in the car, you look like a dog."
"I take that as a compliment. Dogs are wonderful creatures."
Dean rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "Don't you wanna know what we're walkin' into?"
"I suppose that would be helpful." Cas reluctantly rolled up the window and took the file from Dean. "Thinman?" He opened the folder and found himself looking at a photo of a teenage girl with a faceless figure standing ominously behind her.
"Yeah, locked house, no sign of forced entry; the usual. That selfie was posted around 2am, a few hours after she'd been killed, but way before anyone found her body."
"Selfie?" Cas squinted. "I'm unfamiliar with that term."
"It's uh, it's when people take pictures of themselves. They call 'em selfies. I dunno, man. This new generation is weird." Dean cringed. "God, I sound like an old man."
"It's okay. Compared to me, you're an infant. I have been alive for centuries." Cas said absently. "Have you researched the lore?"
"A little. Apparently this 'Thinman' dude pops up in people's pictures and then they die. Most of the photos online look fake though, and I wasn't able to verify any of the deaths."
"Except this one." Cas said, flipping through the crime scene photos.
"Yep."
"So...ghost?"
"I dunno, maybe. Ghosts are usually tied to one place, there's reports of this guy all over the world."
"Tulpa?"
"Maybe. Let's see what we can find at the crime scene."
Cas fidgeted with his tie. He was never entirely comfortable impersonating law enforcement. Dean, however, wore the FBI suit with confidence. He made it look good. He held himself straight and tall, and Cas felt inadequate standing next to him.
They were in the home of Casey Miles, the girl who had died. Her mother was a nice woman, and he could sense her grief even without the help of his angel powers.
She led them to Casey's room, and it was immediately evident where the girl had met her demise. There was a large bloodstain around the closet. Her mother turned away and pressed a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry...I can't..."
"It's okay, Mrs. Miles. Agent Rogers and I will take it from here." Cas said sympathetically.
Once she was out of sight, Dean smiled. "You're getting better at this, 'Agent Barnes'."
Cas blushed at the praise. "Thank you."
"Alright, let's get this show on the road. You scan for EMF, I'll look for hex bags."
"Well, that place was clean. No hex bags, no EMF, no sulfur...no sign of anything supernatural." Dean sighed, going to the motel's minifridge for a beer.
"There are other possibilities we haven't considered, for example; a Tulpa." Cas said, frowning. "Dean, you really shouldn't be drinking on the job."
"It's fine, man. I can handle my liquor. This isn't my first rodeo." Dean rolled his eyes and took a long drink.
Cas shook his head. "It's not that. I can't heal your liver anymore." He said sadly.
Dean frowned. He hadn't thought about it like that. "Hey, it's okay. A couple beers every once in a while isn't gonna kill me."
"No, but you have more than just a couple."
The hunter sighed. "Liver failure isn't exactly on my list of concerns right now. Hunters don't have much in the way of a life span."
"So you're planning to die young?" Cas questioned angrily.
"No! It's just sorta...being realistic."
Cas was quiet. He felt awful. Dean was right, most hunters didn't live to see old age. But there had been a time when Cas could have made his friend immortal with a single touch! Now he was human...and he too would die; very likely sooner rather than later.
"Alright, so maybe it's a Tulpa. Let's read up on the lore and see what kills it." Dean brought his attention back to the case.
But before they could find anything helpful, their police scanner picked up something.
"I've got another body..."
"Let's roll." Dean said, finishing off his beer.
They arrived at the crime scene to find a bloody mess. The victim, a local bartender, had his throat slit while cleaning up after hours.
"Any security footage?"
"Yeah, you're gonna wanna see this." The detective said shakily.
He played the tape, which showed a figure move from the parking to the inside of the bar within seconds. The thing snuck up behind the victim and cut his throat without hesitation.
"Can you zoom in?"
The officer complied, and zoomed in on the creature's face. (Or lack of one.) It had no discernible features; no eyes, nose, or mouth. Its skin was bumpy and disfigured, almost like a burn victim's.
"What the hell is that thing?" The detective asked in horror.
"Thinman." Came the dramatic reply from behind them.
They turned to find two men standing with smug looks on their faces. Cas didn't recognize them, but Dean obviously knew who they were.
"Dammit, what are you doing here?" He growled.
"What we do best. Investigating the paranormal." The dark haired man said, folding his arms across his chest.
"Wait...Dean?" The one with the beard squinted.
"Excuse us for a moment, officers." Dean said, pulling them away from the scene. "Alright, I'm not in the mood to deal with your bullshit. You're gonna turn around and leave town. Got it?"
Cas raised an eyebrow. Who were these people?
"Come on, don't be like that! We've got just as much right to be here as the fake FBI does."
"Hey, keep it down." Dean glared.
"Or what, you'll arrest us?" The shorter one smirked. "Hey, where's your brother? And who's your boyfriend here?"
"Sam is otherwise occupied. I'm Castiel. Dean and I are not romantically involved." Cas clarified, hoping the twinge of sadness didn't show in his voice.
He had rebuilt Dean's beautiful body when rescuing him from Hell. They had worked side-by-side through the years, and grown close. Cas wasn't quite sure when the feelings had turned from platonic to romantic, but he tried not to dwell on them. Given Dean's obvious interest in women, he didn't want to ruin their friendship by making a move. But becoming human had changed things. His feelings towards the hunter intensified, and got harder to ignore. But he was managing.
"One name, huh? Like Beyoncé. Interesting."
"Well, this has been fun. But it's time for you to go." Dean started shoving them towards the exit. His face was slightly flushed. Was he blushing? Was it because the man had assumed they were a couple?
"Hey! We could help you-"
"I highly doubt that." Dean snorted as he shut the door in their faces.
"Who were they?"
"Harry and Ed. The 'Ghostfacers'."
"I'm sorry, the what?"
"Basically camera whores. They like to try and get the supernatural on tape. Me and Sam have run into them before, and they just get in the way."
Cas nodded. "I see."
"Alright, I think we've learned everything we can from the dead guy. Let's head back to the motel."
Dean sighed. "Bad news, I don't think it's a Tulpa."
"I agree. The lore is too inconsistent. This 'Thinman' is described differently on almost every website."
"Yeah...another weird thing; it looks like this guy didn't exist until a couple years ago. There's nothing about him prior to 2013."
"That is strange."
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Dean frowned and reached for his gun as he looked through the peephole. When he saw who it was, he holstered his weapon and groaned. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." He opened the door. "What do you want, Ed?"
Cas looked past Dean and saw the golden haired 'Ghostfacer' standing uncomfortably on their doorstep. "I have something important to tell you." He said, not meeting their eyes.