"Any new freaky deaths lately?" Dean asked, before taking another swig of his almost empty beer bottle. The blond hunter sunk even further into his chair, a gruff whine escaping his throat as he got comfortable.
"Nothing yet, just a couple murders and kidnappings but nothing worth checking out," Sam sighed, re-reading the local Oregon newspaper. Sam was sitting at the end of one of the old motel beds, unknown colors staining the barely clean sheets. "Maybe all the monsters and Demons are taking a break?"
"Well, don't get too hopeful," Dean grunted sarcastically, setting down his beer on a nearby table, "I'm sure those Sons-of-Bitches are out there somewhere, just waiting for us to find them." Sam folded up the paper and threw it on the floor. He sat up from off the motel bed and stretched his arms, letting out a small groan. He then glanced at his older brother, giving him an apologetic look before grabbing both of them another beer from the motel's mini fridge.
"We just saved the world, Dean. Again," Sam said, handing his brother the cold canned beverage, "we could use the break."
"We've had a break, Sammy! We haven't left this freakin' hotel room in two weeks! I am itching to get back out there and hunt something!" Dean threw his hands up in obvious frustration, eyeing his taller, little brother with the 'are-you-serious' look.
"I may be able to help with that." A deep, almost robotic voice sounded from the corner of the room, causing both Winchesters to spin around on their heels to face the direction of the new sound. Standing stiffly before the brothers was an expressionless, dark haired man in a trench coat, staring stoically at the two men in front of him.
"Cas!" Dean just about jumped for joy when he saw his angel friend, leaping out of his chair and wrapping him in a tight hug, patting his back. The casual male hug. "Where have you been? I tried praying for you but you never answered." Dean stepped back to meet Castiel's icy blue eyes, hands still on the trench-coated man's shoulder, his own green eyes searching for a hint of emotion on the angel's face. Castiel kept Dean's gaze, his lips parting slightly, ready to speak, but he hesitated with a loss for words. "Come on, man, spit it out," Dean huffed, taking his hands back and putting one hand to his hip and the other scratching his stubbly chin.
"I may have found a case that you and Sam could partake in, but…"
"But?" Dean pressed his lips together in annoyance.
"But you wouldn't like," Castiel finished, breaking away from the older Winchester's stare.
"And uh, why exactly wouldn't we like it?" Sam asked, stepping into the conversation. He crossed his arms and gave Castiel an accusing look. The angel sighed then straightened himself out, making him look for confident.
"There has been recent sighting of a group of middle aged men seemingly holding a child hostage," Castiel's jaws clenched as he searched for words to finish the story, "I have reason to believe that this…child is my nephew." Cass, again, met Dean's Gaze, this time holding it sternly.
"Y-your nephew? But Cass, you're an angel! You have brothers and sisters, and last time I checked angels don't have babies!" Once again, Dean threw his hands in the air to emphasize his sentence. Castiel shifted slightly from one foot to another, but never looked away from Dean, hoping to find signs of approval in the human's eyes. Sam stepped in between the two, shoving Dean back with a hand to his chest and stepping forward to get closer to Cass.
"We aren't going anywhere until you start explaining," Sam huffed.