A/N: Thank you to my Anonymous guest who reviewed the last chapter of "Just An Asset"! (And for the reviews on "Take Me Home," or at least I assume it was the same Anonymous person!) Glad you enjoyed the fics. ^_^
This is the third and final story for this verse. Supernatural isn't mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!
Chapter 1
Castiel stared at his evidence board as though it would miraculously present something new that it hadn't already in the past hour he'd been sitting in front of it. Or the weeks it'd been in the bunker's war room, accumulating absolutely nothing on Kelly Kline's whereabouts. Castiel's shoulders sagged another fraction under the weight of this failure. He'd let Kelly get away from him, and the only reason she was carrying Lucifer's child was because he'd let the Devil out of the Cage in the first place. Just mess upon mess that was his responsibility to clean up.
He ran a hand down his face and finally decided to get up, move around. Staring at the evidence board wasn't helping. Perhaps he should have accompanied Sam and Dean on their latest hunt, but it had sounded like a simple case, and finding Kelly was a top priority.
Except, the lack of progress was beginning to weigh on him. Castiel could really use a win, as the brothers would say.
His phone beeped with a text notification, and Castiel reached for it, wondering if the Winchesters' case had ended up more complicated and they were contacting him to come help. It might have been wishful thinking.
The message was from a Winchester, just not the one Castiel had been expecting.
"Hey. I know Sam and Dean are still mad at me and ignoring my calls, but I found a lead on Kelly Kline. I understand if you're angry with me, too, but this is important enough I hope we can work together."
Castiel pressed his mouth into a thin line. Yes, the brothers were still upset that Mary had chosen to stay with the British Men of Letters, even after some questionable actions recently, including Ketch trapping Castiel in a cave with a sea witch that had tried to drain his power. Castiel didn't really expect any different from that abhorrent man, though he was saddened that Mary hadn't chosen to come back to the bunker with her sons. He saw how deeply that had hurt them.
Which was why Castiel was torn as to what to do now. He didn't want to go behind Sam's and Dean's backs, but if Mary really did have a lead on Kelly, then they would have to put aside their differences and work together. The lead was probably also time sensitive, and the boys were already away on a case…
Castiel typed out a response. "Where should I meet you?"
A moment later, his phone pinged with a reply containing an address that was only a few counties away. Castiel grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and wrote out a note for the Winchesters, letting them know where he was headed, but leaving out that he was meeting Mary. He would wait to see what she knew about Kelly before involving Sam and Dean, if necessary. Although, Castiel hoped he might be able to find Kelly and convince her to come back to the bunker on his own, thereby finally being able to deliver a win to the Winchesters.
He grabbed his keys and headed out.
An hour later, he pulled onto an old farm road. Could Kelly have been hiding out here? It was certainly isolated enough, though Castiel worried how she was taking care of herself. Carrying a nephilim wasn't exactly a normal pregnancy.
He slowed his truck to a stop halfway down the dirt drive when he came across a black van parked in the middle of the road. Castiel wondered why Mary wasn't driving her blue coupe, but perhaps she had transitioned to using the British Men of Letters' vehicles, along with their other resources. It didn't seem her style, though.
Castiel turned his truck's engine off and climbed out. The van door opened, and he stiffened when it wasn't Mary who exited.
Ketch, dressed in full black leather, turned to regard Castiel coolly. "Well, that was easy."
Castiel drew his shoulders back, severe dislike for this man bristling his spine. "Where's Mary?"
Ketch smirked. "Not here."
Had she told the British Men of Letters about Kelly and Lucifer's baby? Well, she had no reason not to, though Castiel had no illusions that these people wouldn't employ any means necessary to stop Lucifer's offspring from being born—including killing Kelly. Did Mary really not see that? But why wasn't she here after asking for Castiel's help?
Ketch's smug mien deepened as he studied Castiel. "It was easy to clone her phone since she's in our employ," he said, somehow having guessed Castiel's thoughts.
Unease prickled down his neck. Then, Mary hadn't sent that message? The British Men of Letters had lured him out here…
"Do you even have a lead on Kelly Kline?" he asked.
"Unfortunately, no," Ketch replied. "Though our people are working on that mess. Something the Winchesters should have taken care of from the get-go."
"They were otherwise preoccupied in a government detention center," Castiel retorted sharply, as Ketch knew full well about that.
The man's mouth pursed in distaste. "Yes, well, it's time to make sure they don't continue to get distracted."
Castiel furrowed his brow. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Ketch's expression turned flinty. "It's clear that Sam and Dean have become too…attached. To you."
Castiel blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're a hindrance rather than an asset to them, and we've decided that it's for the best to remove you from the equation."
Castiel's back straightened sharply in indignation, but underneath the fury was a flicker of wariness, because the British Men of Letters did possess weapons that could be used against angels. He considered drawing his blade and putting this mortal in his place, but before he could, the back doors of the van burst open, revealing a team of three men armed with guns. There were several soft clicks and swishes, and Castiel felt the forceful sting of darts striking his chest.
Burning fire immediately followed, and he staggered under the shock of it. What…? Liquid lava coursed through him, and he tasted sulfur in the back of his throat.
Demon blood?
The foreign substance seared through his veins, lashing at his grace like molten brimstone. Castiel took a stumbling step, trying to muster the focus to fight back, but his vision was already blackening. His heart gave a leap of fear as he collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, chest burning and limbs going weak. The last thing Castiel saw was Ketch's blurred visage standing over him before he pitched onto his side and fell into darkness.
Dean shoveled another chunk of dirt over the decapitated corpse he and Sam had dumped in the conveniently open grave where they'd finally tracked down and killed the ghoul that had been eating its way through the town's cemetery—and a few of the living residents. It felt good to get a win, even if it was rather easily won. But with their inability to find Kelly and Satan Jr., Dean needed to feel like he was actually accomplishing something, and ridding this town of its ghoul problem fit the bill.
Too bad his happy high was steadily being dragged down by exhaustion and a queasy feeling in his stomach. As he tossed another shovelful of dirt into the hole, his muscles twinged, and a chill started to ache in his joints. Dammit, he'd better not be coming down with something.
He sucked it up and continued the work until the corpse was fully buried and they'd smoothed the top layer of dirt out.
Sam planted the blade of his shovel in the ground and rested his forehead on his hands at the top of the handle, chest heaving as he seemed unable to catch his breath.
"Getting out of shape, Sammy?" Dean snarked.
"I think I may be coming down with something," Sam replied, voice slightly hoarse.
Dean frowned; his brother was looking a little pasty. "I'm not feeling too great myself," he admitted.
Sam shrugged. "We've been under a lot of stress lately."
Dean wasn't going to talk about that. As far as he was concerned, the issue with Mary was closed and done.
His expression hardened. "Or it's witches. We should look for hex bags." He hefted his shovel over his shoulder, wincing as his muscles protested, and headed back toward the Impala.
"There's been no signs of witches in this town," Sam countered, shuffling to keep up.
"Not taking any chances," Dean replied, and got down on his hands and knees to scan the undercarriage. Hm, no hex bags. He couldn't suppress a groan as he pushed himself back to his feet.
Sam gave him a sympathetically pointed look. "It's probably a cold or the flu."
"Both of us, though, really?"
"We both could have been exposed to something. There aren't any hex bags out here."
Dean went around to open the trunk anyway. After rifling through their bags, he checked under the Impala's hood, but Sam was right, there weren't any hex bags. Dean grumbled under his breath as he slammed the hood closed. The flu. Just great.
At least they'd finished the case, so they could head straight back to the bunker. They stowed the shovels in the trunk and climbed into the car. Dean cranked the heat up to high, only to turn it down three minutes later.
"Wanna stop at a motel?" Sam asked, looking no less miserable huddled in the passenger seat.
"No."
He wanted to get home to his own bed and sleep this damn bug off. Or, better yet, ask Cas to heal them. It wasn't taking advantage of the angel since Cas was always happy to rid them of their maladies, and Dean was more consciously aware of asking, not demanding.
So he focused on getting home as quickly as possible, trying his best to ignore the pounding in his head and sloshing in his stomach. At least it didn't get any worse on the drive, though by the time they pulled up in front of the bunker, Dean just wanted to collapse on his memory foam mattress. They left the gear in the trunk and headed inside.
"Cas, we're back," Dean called as they descended the stairs. The war room was empty, the evidence board on Kelly exactly as they'd left it. Dean veered into the library, also vacant. "Cas?"
"Look at this," Sam said, picking up a sheet of paper from the study table. "Cas found a lead on Kelly and went to look into it."
Dean took the note from his brother and skimmed it, then scowled. "Why didn't he text us?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want to interrupt the case."
"He still should have called," Dean groused. "Not left a note like a ninth grade girl."
Sam angled a bitch-face at him. "You're just mad he's not here to get rid of your flu bug. Which won't kill you, you know."
"Shut up," Dean grumbled. Okay, maybe he was a little grouchy because he was still feeling nauseous and feverish. He let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, let's go."
Sam shot him an incredulous look. "Go where?"
"Meet up with Cas, see if he found anything on Kelly."
Sam groaned. "Come on, man, I'm beat. We're both beat. We're not gonna be much use sick."
"Cas can heal us when we get there," Dean countered.
"I'm sorry, but I am not getting in the car with you again." Sam crossed his arms. "You ran three stop signs on our way here."
"I don't run stop signs, Sam."
His brother snorted. "See, that's my point. You didn't even realize it. Seriously, Dean, let's just go to bed. We can catch up with Cas in the morning after we've gotten some sleep."
Dean huffed, but he supposed he didn't have a very good argument not to do precisely that. He pulled out his phone. "Fine, I'll just text Cas that we're back and to let us know what he's found."
"Don't mention the flu," Sam said as he started toward the dormitory wing.
"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled, typing out a message. He told Cas they were home and gonna get some sleep, and to call them in the morning with an update on his lead. Then he also headed toward his room where he didn't even bother changing out of his clothes, and simply plopped on the bed where he promptly passed out.
