Sam padded sleepily into the kitchen to see his mom pouring over a newspaper and Dean leaning back in his chair, one hand over his eyes. His brother had hit the bottle hard last night, which was ironic seeing as it was Sam who'd been through the wringer. But he was honestly too glad to be free of Lady Toni Bevell and her cronies from across the Atlantic to complain too much about Dean's drinking habits today.
He located a clean cup and helped himself to coffee from the pot. As he did so, Mary thumped one hand onto the newspaper she was reading and grinned as her boys jumped in surprise. She spun it around on the kitchen table and tapped at it vehemently.
"Anyone fancy a werewolf hunt?"
Dean's gaze immediately shot to Sam, who pulled a face at his brother's scrutiny. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Cas healed me up."
"Dean's more worried about the psychological effects," Mary said gently. "That bitch did quite a number on you."
Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at her. "I said I'm fine."
"All right," she said, holding her hands up in surrender. "So, werewolf. In Oberlin." She shoved the newspaper forwards and pointed at the story again.
Sam skimmed the article and then passed it to Dean. "Three bodies, heart's missing, it's pretty textbook."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "And it's less than two hours drive. Works for me."
In retrospect, Sam thought, it was kind of like the plot of a bad sitcom, him and Dean, their mom and their resident angel all in one car driving to Oberlin. Cas and Mary seemed to have found a kind of understanding and even a shared sense of humor to some degree. Sam was glad for it. Dean seemed to find it a little weird but for the life of him, Sam couldn't figure out why. He let the miles whizz by, only half listening to an amusing conversation in the back about the annoyances of modern technology.
"OK, we can't all go piling in there," Dean said when they crossed over the city limits. "Sam and I will hit up law enforcement. Why don't you and Cas go talk to the families?"
"Sure," Mary said. "We can handle that."
Dean dropped Mary and Cas at the home of the first victim and then drove over to the police department, an Art Deco brick building with green colored windows on the upper floor and Masonic symbols everywhere.
"That some weird-ass architecture right there," Dean said, climbing out of the car and eying the strange building curiously. "All right, let's do this."
The desk sergeant was a rotund woman in her mid-forties with close cropped blonde hair and a permanent sneer. She scrutinized their FBI credentials with a jaundiced eye.
"Feebies, huh?" she said. "Russell's not gonna like it."
"Russell doesn't get a say when the feds show up," a man with a bushy red beard said as he emerged from a room behind her. He held out his hand.
"Brady Russell, Police Chief of Oberlin. I understand why you're here."
"I'm Agent Lynott, this is Agent Downey," Dean said, flashing the badge once more. "We're here about the murders."
"Of course you are. Come on in," Russell waved them through to his office and closed the door behind them. "Honestly, I'm just as glad. Don't mind Viv, she's territorial."
"Glad?" Dean asked.
"Look, Oberlin's a quiet town. Not much happens here. DUIs, the odd assault, mostly domestic disturbances and now and again we pick up a kid for pot. These murders have upset the whole town and we just don't have the experience or the manpower to work the case properly. Especially since we found Marie. Three means it's a serial killer, don't it?"
"Maybe," Dean hedged. "So what can you tell us?"
"Not much," Russell frowned. "The first victim, Jenna Walker, was actually the second body found. She'd been missing for about a week when she was found in a dumpster outside a pizza joint. She was just seventeen, for Christ's sake, still in high school. The second victim, Boris Karpov, was a Russian immigrant who moved here in the late nineties. He was sixty-three and was working as a landscape gardener." He stopped and took a deep breath.
"And the third victim," Dean prompted.
"Yeah," Russell said heavily. "Marie van Sant. My sister-in-law. She was a nurse practitioner at Decatur Health Systems. Last night she didn't come home from work. My niece called me at 11pm when she couldn't get a hold of her."
"And her spouse?" Dean asked. He wondered why Sam was so uncharacteristically silent.
"Denny? He passed away last year. Anyway, we found Marie in her car outside a gas station on West Frontier Parkway. It's not even nearly on her way home, so we figure the perp drove her body there." Chief Russell pulled some manilla folders from a pile on his desk and passed them over to Sam. "Everything we know, which isn't much, is in there. I've called Katie down at the morgue, so they're expecting you. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."
"Thanks," Sam said, breaking his weird silence. They stood and shook hands with the weary looking police chief and then headed back to the car.
"You OK?" Dean asked when they pulled away.
"Yeah," Sam said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just tired. I didn't sleep well last night."
"OK," Dean replied. He let the matter drop for now but resolved to keep a closer eye on his brother.
Cas knocked smartly on a pale blue door as Mary straightened her shirt and fussed with her hair The faded red door cracked open and a middle aged woman with chestnut hair and soft brown eyes peered out.
"What do you want?" she demanded. Her face was pale and her eyes were reddened.
"Mrs Walker?" Mary said, flashing her brand new fake badge Dean had presented her with that morning.
"FBI?" the woman said suspiciously. "Is this about Jenna?"
"Yes," Mary said gently. "Can we come in?"
The door opened and Louise Walker showed them into a small living room stuffed with heavy ornate furniture. Cas sat gingerly on the edge of a loveseat and Mary perched on an armchair. Louise didn't sit but instead began adjusting the pictures and ornaments on the mantlepiece.
"I just wanted Jenna to be a normal girl, you know," Louise said shakily. "But she wasn't interested in being a cheerleader or boyfriends or any of those normal teenage girl things."
"So what did she like to do?" Mary asked.
"Hiking. Swimming. Rock climbing. Said she wanted to be a volcanologist," Louise told them. "She was really bright. I know all parents say that about their kids, but she really was. And it wasn't like her not to call if she was staying late at school. So when it got to 7pm and she hadn't called and we couldn't reach her, I called the police. I don't think they took me too seriously. The officer who called at the house thought she was probably out with a boyfriend. I told them she didn't have a boyfriend but he just dismissed me."
All the energy seemed to drain out of her body and she slumped down on the loveseat next to Cas. Mary exchanged a glance with him. She didn't think there was much they could learn here.
"Do you know if she knew either of the other two victims?" Cas asked.
"Sure," Louise said. "Boris used to do most of the landscaping around the school. All the kids knew him. He's a nice man, very jolly. Was a nice man, I should say." She drew in a shuddering breath. "And Marie's kid is in Jenna's class at school. They're not close friends or anything, Suzanne likes ballet and is a very girly-girl if you know what I mean. They just had nothing in common."
Louise covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook as she sobbed silently. Cas patted her awkwardly on the arm and made a face at Mary, who shrugged. She was no more use with weeping women than he was.
"Thank you, Mrs Walker," she said. Louise looked up, her ravaged face making a lump in Mary's throat.
"Promise me you'll find whoever did this to my girl," she demanded.
"We're doing everything we can," Mary promised evasively.
Outside, the quiet town seemed almost oppressive. Mary sighed and walked down the street away from the Walker house and Cas followed her, not speaking.
"It's the hardest part of the job, you know," she remarked. "Not just for hunters, I mean. Anyone who has to deal with death and the like. Doctors, police, Hell even insurance adjusters. The ones left behind… You never seem to be able to say the right thing."
"There is no right thing," Cas said gently. "Nothing you can say can lessen the pain of loss." It seemed a very human statement to Mary and she said so. Cas smiled at her, a bitter smile that made her heart hurt. "I've learned a lot since I came to walk the earth with Dean."
"It's not all about pain I hope," she said, aiming for a lighter tone but failing miserably.
"No," Cas agreed. "Friendship, loyalty, trust, love. I never truly understood those things until I came here."
Mary opened her mouth to speak when her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket with a grimace and answered it.
"Mom? We're done at the station, do you want us to pick you up before we go to the morgue?" Dean said without preamble.
"We still have the daughter of the third victim to talk to," Mary told. "I don't suppose Boris Karpov had any family here?"
"No," Dean replied. "OK, well call us when you're done talking to Denise van Sant. Is Cas there?"
"Sure," Mary said, handing the phone over.
"Hello, Dean," Cas said. She couldn't hear what her son was saying so she concentrated on watching the angel's expression.
"No," Cas was saying, his expression concerned. "What do you mean?"
She frowned, wishing she could hear what Dean was saying.
"That is odd," Cas agreed. "I'll look out for anything unusual." He hung up and handed the phone to Mary, who cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dean thinks somebody is watching him and Sam. He asked if there were any other angels in town. I told him I had not detected the presence of any of my brothers and sisters."
"Hmm," Mary said. "Well, let's get this over with."
Dr Katie Wenceslas was an older woman of average height and slight build. Her iron gray hair was neatly tucked into a bun and her lab coat flapped over a well-tailored suit. She spoke with a slight accent that Dean couldn't quite place.
"Agent Lynott, Agent Downey. Chief told me you would want to see bodies." She turned and strode briskly over to three bodies on portable trolleys. Pulling disposable gloves from a box on a shelf, she shoved her hands into them and then offered the box to Dean.
"Yeah," Dean said, blinking at her brusque manner. He grabbed two pairs of gloves and handed some to Sam. Dr Wenceslas pulled back the sheet on the first body and flipped through the papers on her clipboard.
"Here is Boris Karpov. Russian immigrant, male, five feet nine inches tall, one hundred forty five pounds. Cause of death is exsanguination."
"What?" Dean said sharply. "Not having his heart ripped out?" He indicated the gaping wound in the man's chest.
"No. Heart was removed after death," Dr Wenceslas insisted. She pointed to a large, rough incision on the man's neck with her pen. "Not just blood loss from wound. Body was completely drained. Probably deliberate."
Puzzled, Dean exchanged a look with Sam, who shrugged his own confusion.
"All three are the same," the medical examiner said. She pulled back the sheets of the other two bodies to demonstrate.
"Weird," Dean blurted out.
"Weird is right," Dr Wenceslas said. "I've never seen anything like it." She took off her gloves and tossed them in a trashcan. "I'll leave you to examine."
When the door had closed behind her with an audible click, Dean turned to Sam. "What the Hell?"
"I know," Sam said. He peered at the wound on Jenna Walker's neck. "Does this look like a vamp to you?"
"Yeah," Dean said, looking at where Sam was pointing. "If it wasn't for the gaping hole where her heart should be."
"Could it be a vamp and a werewolf working together?"
"Sure," Dean said. "I mean, anything's possible. But why?" Sam shook his head and walked over to the third victim.
"I don't know," he said heavily. "Maybe it's like whales and sharks?"
"What?"
"Some whales, like pilot whales, are messy eaters. They discard bits of fish as they swim along. Sharks follow the whales and eat what the whales discard," Sam explained.
"So you think some werewolf is following a vampire around and eating the hearts of the vamp's victims?" Dean said, looking thoughtful.
"Have you got a better theory?" Sam challenged.
"No," Dean said. He shivered and turned around suddenly. "Dammit."
"What is it?"
"I swear to God Sam, someone is spying on us." Dean said, looking around.
"Maybe it's the vamp?"
"Maybe," Dean replied but he didn't sound convinced. "We're done here. Let's go pick up mom and Cas."
The small diner was packed with the lunchtime crowd and the waitress was too harried to respond to Dean's almost reflexive flirting.
"Does he ever turn it off?" Mary asked Sam wryly when she'd left to place their order.
"Not if he's conscious," Sam grinned.
"OK, so what have we got?" Dean said, grumpily changing the subject.
"Not much," Mary told him. "I can't find anything much on the victims. They all knew each other, at least a little. But it's a small town, it might not mean anything. Jenna Walker was a good student. Boris Karpov was a nice man everyone liked. Bit of a loner but not in a suspicious way. And Marie van Sant was a reliable employee and well-liked. Her daughter was a sweet kid, and she's holding up well considering. What about the bodies? Any clues?"
Sam described the state of the bodies they'd examined and then outlined his theory. Mary gave him a considering look.
"What you're suggesting is pretty unusual," she said finally. "Wolves don't typically eat carrion unless they're desperate."
"Well maybe this one is desperate," Sam countered. "Maybe it's injured in some way it can't heal easily."
"Maybe," Mary said skeptically. The waitress arrived with their food and slammed it down unceremoniously and disappeared without a word. Dean fell on his food like he was half-starved. Mary watched him, an amused smile hovering around her mouth.
"You'd think we never fed you," she laughed.
"Hey, I skipped breakfast," Dean mumbled through a mouthful of cheeseburger.
"No, you didn't," Sam objected. "You had that muffin in the car."
"Doesn't count," Dean dismissed.
Cas had been very quiet through their entire discussion. In fact, Sam wasn't sure the angel was paying attention to anything they'd said. Instead, he'd been staring out of the window.
"Hey Cas," Sam said after a few mouthfuls of his salad. "You OK?"
"Dean said he thought you were being followed. Watched," Cas said. "I've also detected something."
"The werewolf we're tracking? Or vamp. Or whatever?"
"I don't think so. It seems… familiar," the angel rumbled.
Mary exchanged a look with her sons. "What does that mean? Another angel?"
"I'm not sure," the angel said.
Gabriel wiped his hands over his face and then raked them through his hair. This was not going to be easy, and the worst of it was, he had no idea how Sam- no, how both Winchesters were going to react. After all, it had been more than five years and he'd basically bailed on them after offering to help. Yes, Dean had bullied him into it somewhat, but he'd been right. Gabriel was a coward at heart, he was honest enough with himself to admit that. Someone needed to stand up to Lucifer. But that person had been Sam, not Gabriel. He'd known before the fight started that he couldn't beat his brother, because fundamentally he wasn't ruthless enough to kill him even after everything he'd done.
So he'd found a way to trick Lucifer, trick everyone into thinking he really was dead. He'd spent some time tooling around the universe, trying not to think about the responsibilities he'd left behind. Why was doing this to himself? He was trying not to think about that too. So he was back on earth and in trouble and his very first instinct had been to find Sam. He definitely was not going to examine that too hard.
He'd observed the Impala rolling into town that morning. Sam and Dean were doing what they did best, hunting a monster that was killing people. It was clear that they thought they were tracking a werewolf. Gabriel knew better. So that was a good reason to show up, right? Put them on the track of the creature that was unlike anything they'd ever encountered. He took a deep breath, not that he actually needed to breathe, but it did make him feel a little better.
The Impala was parked in the lot of a small diner on the outskirts of a town in the middle of nowhere in Kansas. He peered in the windows for a moment, caught by an old memory of a young Sam climbing out of this very vehicle.
"There's nothing worth stealing in there, buddy," Dean's voice growled behind him and Gabriel spun around in consternation. All the breath left Dean's body at once.
"Son of a bitch," he hissed.
Gabriel looked around for the tall figure of Sam but he was nowhere to be seen. Castiel was here though, looking like he'd swallowed a lemon. And a woman he didn't recognize with long blond hair and a steely look in her eye.
"Hey," he said lamely. "Fancy meeting you here."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be dead. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."
"Woah," Gabriel said, alarmed. "That's not a very nice way to greet an old friend."
"An old friend, is it?" Dean said acidly. "Cas, what do you think?"
"I think faking your own death and leaving others to deal with the fallout is not the definition of friendship," Castiel replied, his voice cold.
"Dean, who is this guy?" the woman said.
"Now, just wait a minute," Gabriel said. "I did what I could. I put you on the path to stopping the Apocalypse, obviously."
"Oh, yeah, you did that," Dean said. "I mean, Sam had to go to Hell, but what's a little damnation between friends."
Gabriel faltered. Sam had gone to Hell? That wasn't the plan he'd outlined in his admittedly silly DVD.
"Look, you're alive, good for you," Dean said, sounding tired. "Now, fuck off before Sam sees you."
"Why?" Gabriel demanded. "Why don't you want Sam to know I'm alive?"
Dean looked at him like he was an idiot. "Like I say, because you ditched us, Sam spent time in Hell. In the Cage with Lucifer and Michael."
Gabriel winced at the thought. That did not sound like fun. But Sam was strong…
"We're lucky he survived," Castiel observed. His brother looked ill, Gabriel thought. There was more to this story than met the eye, that was for sure.
"Dean?" Sam's voice floated over from the diner. "You forgot your pie."
"Shit," Dean swore. "Get the fuck outta here, Gabriel. I mean it."
"No," the archangel said firmly. He could hear the crunch of gravel as Sam approached and he swallowed nervously.
"What's going on?" Sam asked. "Why are you-" He broke off as Gabriel stepped out from behind Dean. Sam inhaled sharply and his face paled in recognition.
"Hey, Sam," Gabriel said weakly. He looked different. Less young, less innocent. Harder, somehow. Gabriel wanted to weep for the sweet-faced boy he'd met all those years ago.
"Gabriel," Sam said. He sounded… horrified. This was not going at all as planned. OK, he'd hardly expected them to throw him a party, but he hadn't banked on being quite so unwelcome. The blonde woman took Sam's arm and looked at the tall hunter with concern.
"Brother, could we talk privately?" Castiel said suddenly. Gabriel turned his attention to the seraph, whose face could have soured milk.
"Yeah, sure," he agreed. He followed Castiel until they were out of earshot. "What's up?"
"Don't be facetious," Castiel said sternly. "I know for a fact you understand how unwelcome your appearance is. What do you want with us?"
"Nothing," Gabriel denied. Castiel leveled a look at him. "I swear. I decided to come back and I was curious to know what you guys were up to. That's it."
"I see," Castiel said coolly. "Well, we're hunting a werewolf. So, now you're up to date. Good to see you, brother. Maybe we'll see you again sometime." He turned to walk away and Gabriel grabbed the sleeve of his trench coat.
"Wait," he said. "Is that all you've got to say to me?"
"No," Castiel rumbled. "But for Dean's sake, and Sam's, I'm holding my tongue."
Gabriel stared at him in astonishment. "You've learned a lot about humanity in the past few years," he marveled.
"You have no idea," Castiel said bitterly. "Farewell, Gabriel." This time he did start walking away and Gabriel watched him leave. No, this had not gone as well as he had hoped. But who was he kidding? He was the black sheep, the fuckup. Nobody wanted him around. Been that way for millennia. He watched Castiel return to the car and bend his head toward Dean as he spoke to the group. Still riding that horse, Castiel, he thought peevishly. And then they all got in the car and drove away.
Gabriel kicked an unoffending trash can in frustration. What the Hell was he going to do now? He should just leave, he supposed. But he needed to straighten things out with Sam. If the kid had gone to Hell, and it had been even partially his fault, he needed to find out what happened. It wasn't the sort of thing you could apologize for. But that didn't mean he couldn't seek some kind of forgiveness. He pulled out his phone and called up Sam's number. Maybe if he gave them a tip, they could wrap up this case and Sam would see he wasn't the enemy here.
You're not tracking a werewolf exactly. Check out Max Schmidt.