A/N: This fic is just a short, three-chapter fic. Some of you may recognize this plot idea from an episode of Charmed. That's where I got it from.
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!
Chapter 1
"Yeah, we're just pulling up," Sam said, then disconnected the call as Dean parked along the curb in front of the county morgue for Hastings, Kansas, a town right in their own backyard. "Cas is here," Sam relayed, scanning the street for the angel's truck.
"Good. Let's do this," Dean grumbled, and got out of the car.
Sam followed. He understood why his brother was so tense. A report of a victim found with his insides completely burned but no sign of damage to the outside, save his eyes, suggested angel. And there was only one angelic being currently burning his way through vessels across the country. The fact that Lucifer might have worked his way back to Kansas and so close to Lebanon was definitely cause for concern. Maybe the Devil wanted some revenge after what happened at the night club with his last vessel, the rock star Vince Vincente, burning out.
Sam and Dean headed up the walkway, slowing when they spotted Cas coming toward them from a side parking lot.
"Hey," Dean said. "You got anything?"
Cas shook his head. "I haven't been inside yet. I did talk to the sheriff, and so far there haven't been any other incidents like this one."
Sam didn't know whether to be relieved by that or not. Did it mean Lucifer had moved on? Or that he'd found another vessel to hold him over for a bit, and was now making plans against the Winchesters? Not that they knew for sure it was Lucifer. Sam shouldn't let himself jump the gun.
He pulled out his fake credentials to be ready to show the attendant inside the morgue. That got them easy access, as usual, and the three of them were then led down the hall to the examination room where the victim, Keith Reynolds, was still laid out. The medical examiner wasn't in at the moment, but they were given a copy of the report and then left alone.
Sam quickly scanned the findings. Internal organs vaporized. Eyes burned out. Yet no exterior trauma.
Cas went around the other side of the slab and leaned over the body, squinting at it in deep scrutiny. Sam tried not to fidget while he waited for a pronouncement.
Finally, Cas straightened. "This wasn't an angel."
Sam's brows shot upward. "Wait, it's not? How can you tell?" He didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed. After all, they still had to find Lucifer and figure out a way to lock him back in the Cage. They really needed a lead on that.
Cas pursed his mouth. "It's…different on the molecular level," he struggled to explain. "When an angel possesses a vessel, their grace fills every pore. There should be degradation within the blood and skin cells if the vessel isn't compatible. Not visibly noticeable, but there. I don't sense that here. The internal damage is centralized."
Sam frowned as he glanced at the victim's eyes. It certainly looked like an angel burning out. "Okay, so, could this be an angel's doing, just not from possession?"
Cas furrowed his brow. "I suppose. But most of the angels have chosen to stay in Heaven, and Lucifer would be searching for a vessel."
"Maybe he found one," Dean put in. "We should check the vic's place, see if someone else was there who might now be Lucifer's latest prom dress."
"And if he did," Sam said, "don't you think he's being kind of obvious?" He gestured to the body.
Cas's eyes narrowed. "Sam's right. It could be a trap."
"We'll go in ready for one," Dean replied.
Sam's stomach tightened, but they needed to do this. They headed out, dropping off the file with the attendant before returning to their respective vehicles and then driving over to the vic's place. Dean parked across the street from the house, Cas's truck pulling up behind them. Everything seemed quiet, a solemn hush on the neighborhood probably triggered by the yellow police tape across the front door as a stark reminder of recent events.
Sam and Dean retrieved their angel blades from the trunk, along with the Enochian handcuffs, not that they'd ever had much luck getting those on Lucifer. Holy oil only worked when setting up a trap, not potentially walking into one, and they couldn't use an angel banishing sigil because the whole point was to capture Lucifer, not blast him halfway across the world and start the hunt all over again.
"Think we should have called Rowena?" Sam asked uncertainly.
"Rowena won't come unless we have confirmation it's Lucifer," Cas replied, pulling out his own angel blade. "I'll go in first."
Dean shot a hand out to stop him. "Nuh-uh. We do this together."
Cas gave him a brief scowl, but Dean was already starting across the street. Sam followed. He kept his eyes peeled on the area while Dean made quick work of the lock, and then the three of them silently swept inside, weapons up at the ready.
The foyer was empty, as was the living room. Nothing seemed out of place, either. Sam strained to listen, but couldn't hear anything. He glanced at Cas questioningly, but the angel just gave a slight head shake, indicating he wasn't sensing anything either. Cas and Dean split off to check the rest of the house.
Sam roved his gaze around the living room. Statements said Reynolds lived alone, and there weren't any pictures to suggest he'd been in a relationship with someone who might have been staying here when he was attacked. The body had been discovered by a mail carrier hiding a package behind the bushes beneath the window. Sam started trying to think of other motives, like maybe this guy had something someone wanted. He went to a desk in the dining room to go through the drawers, yet wasn't finding anything related to the supernatural.
Until his fingers brushed against a soft pouch. He lifted it up to get a good look. That hadn't been what he was expecting.
He made his way back to the foyer, scanning for other items of the same type as the small sachet in his hand.
Dean and Cas joined him a moment later, their weapons down.
"Place is empty," Dean reported.
"I found this," Sam said, and held up the hex bag. "Looks like it's not Lucifer at all."
Dean's eyes darkened at the pouch. "Witches, awesome."
Cas let out a small breath, seeming almost disappointed and relieved like Sam had been earlier. "I suppose I should have asked the sheriff when I talked to him whether our victim had any enemies."
"None of us were thinking that at the time," Dean said, then turned to Sam. "We sure it doesn't belong to our dead guy?"
"I haven't seen any other witch paraphernalia. You?"
Dean shook his head.
Sam stepped around his brother to check the hall closet. Maybe their victim was a closeted witch. Sam mentally shook himself at the unintentional pun. He opened the door, and let out a startled yelp as something small and dark immediately leaped out at him. He backpedaled, but had nowhere to go in the small hallway, and his back hit the wall just as the thing landed on his shoulder, a spindly tail curling around his neck for balance.
Dean had whipped his gun up, but his expression quickly shifted from kill-it to bewildered. "What the…"
The monkey clapped a hand over Sam's mouth, and he jerked his head away. It let out a chittering screech in response.
Dean started to lower his weapon and let out a chuckle. "Aw, Sam, you made a friend."
Sam shot him a dark glower, but before he could respond, the monkey launched itself toward Dean, deftly landing on his shoulders instead.
"Hey, get off!" Dean flailed at it as the monkey curled around his head and clung its paws against his ears. Dean let out curse as he finally smacked the creature, and this time it jumped to Cas, letting out an irritated shriek as it clapped its hands over the angel's eyes. Then it leaped down and took off around the corner.
Dean gave himself a sharp shake. "Filthy thing."
Sam smirked at his brother. "You know that monkey could potentially be a witness. Maybe it saw what happened to its owner. You should do that spell to communicate with it like you did with the German Shepherd." He folded his arms across his chest, already imagining Dean taking on some of a monkey's mannerisms.
Dean's eyes darkened as he fumed back at Sam. "Or Cas can just interrogate the monkey, angel style," he snapped.
Cas gave them both weird looks before apparently deciding it wasn't worth it, and stalked off after the animal.
Sam gave the closet a cursory once-over, since that's what he'd intended to do in the first place. But there weren't any witch materials to implicate their victim as one. Sam paused. Nor were there any pet supplies.
Cas came back a few moments later. "The monkey disappeared."
Sam's mouth turned down. "Think it was a witch's familiar? I don't see any pet supplies."
Cas canted his head. "Perhaps it was here to finish something."
"Awesome," Dean grumbled. "I hate witches. And I hate monkeys."
Sam rolled his eyes.
Cas shifted his weight. "Since this isn't Lucifer…I should get back out there looking for him. You don't need my help for this case anyway, do you?"
Dean shrugged. "Not like there's much to go on. But yeah, we can handle it."
"Cas," Sam interjected. "You know we can help you look for Lucifer, too."
Cas nodded. "I know. But this is your thing here. And finding Lucifer is mine."
Sam held back a sigh. Cas was too stubborn sometimes. "Okay, well…call us, alright?"
Cas met his gaze and gave him a subtle nod. One of those that Sam could tell had the silent caveat, 'if necessary.' And Cas's definition of necessary was far different from theirs.
They headed outside, and Sam and Dean watched Cas get in his truck and drive off.
"Now what?" Sam said out loud.
Dean sighed. "Go back to the bunker, see if there have been any other witchy happenings in the area. Research our dead guy."
Sam glanced back at the house. There really hadn't been much to go on. So they headed toward the Impala. Sam paused just as he was opening the passenger side door, something prickling the hairs on the back of his neck, like he was being watched.
He slowly turned to scan the area, but it was just as quiet and empty as when they'd arrived.
"You comin'?" Dean said, shattering the silence.
"Yeah." Sam slid into the passenger seat, and they got on the road to head home.
Castiel drove west out of town. Not that he had a destination in mind, or any lead whatsoever on Lucifer. These constant fruitless endeavors irked him. This had been the only lead on the Devil's whereabouts since Los Angeles, and while Castiel had been desperate for one, he'd also been terrified when he got the message of Lucifer potentially being so close to the bunker. Thanks to Castiel letting the archangel possess him, Lucifer now knew exactly how to gain entrance to the Winchesters' home.
Castiel had berated himself for leaving them unprotected. Yet he couldn't not go out searching. Yes, Lucifer might want vengeance, but if his actions while possessing Vince Vincente were any indication, Lucifer was on some kind of mental downward spiral, and his grievance against God might be more motivating than two humans. Even if those humans had locked him in the Cage.
So Castiel couldn't stick around when the case had proven to be non-angelic in nature, despite missing the companionship of his friends. But he needed to find Lucifer. Needed to make things right.
The edges of his vision started to blur, and Castiel blinked a few times to clear it. It'd been a while since he'd experienced fatigue and nodding off at the wheel, but he didn't feel tired. With his grace restored, he could work himself nonstop without needing rest. Physically, anyway.
His vision blurred again, this time followed by darkness encroaching in around the sides. Castiel straightened in alarm. His grace felt fine, so why was he suddenly having trouble? He knew he should pull over, but too late, the road ahead made a sharp curve. Castiel slammed on the brakes just as his vision went completely dark, and the tires screeched as the truck started to skid. He instinctively cranked the wheel, but had no idea where he was headed.
He felt the vehicle careen off the road onto gravel, and a moment later the sound of crunching metal exploded around him as a jolting impact flung him forward against the wheel. And there was still nothing but darkness.
Dean carried the bag of Chinese take-out back to the Impala where Sam was waiting, already digging into the victim's history on his tablet. Kid had the WiFi password for every shop in the entire town saved to his device. Dean was content to wait until they got back to the bunker and had dinner before diving into research himself.
He slipped behind the wheel, passing the plastic bag to his brother and forcing him to set the tablet down. He was about to turn the keys in the ignition when his cell vibrated in his pocket. Dean paused to pull it out, Cas's caller ID on the screen. He swiped the answer key.
"Hey, forget something?"
Cas's voice was garbled on the other end of the line. "…ne…lp."
"What?"
Only muffled sounds came through.
"Dude, are you underwater?" Dean frowned. His own voice sounded oddly distorted. He reached up to rub his ear. "Cas? Hello? Are you there?"
Now he heard nothing, and Dean pulled his phone away to look at the screen. The call was still active.
He put the phone back to his ear. "I can't hear you!" Dean shouted. He still didn't get a response. Must have been a bad connection.
Sam suddenly yanked the phone out of his hand, giving him a weird look as he put it to his own ear and started to speak. Only, nothing came out. Sam's eyes blew wide, and he started moving his mouth more urgently, then shot Dean a frantic look.
Dean just stared at him incredulously. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Wait…why couldn't he hear himself speaking? Dean stiffened. What the hell? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't hear anything.
He twisted the keys in the ignition and switched on the stereo. Nothing. Panicking, Dean turned the volume all the way up. Sam flinched and whipped a hand out to crank it back down. Dean had felt the brief vibrations in his chest, but he hadn't heard a single thing.
"Sam," he gasped. "I can't hear anything."
Sam's eyes were saucers, and he gestured to his mouth and throat and shook his head.
Dean paused. "You can't speak?"
Sam nodded vigorously.
Dean blinked, and then snatched his phone back. "Cas, we've got trouble. Sam lost his voice and I'm deaf." It took him a moment to realize he couldn't hear Cas's response. "Dammit!"
Sam took the phone again and hit the speaker button, then shoved it in front of Dean's face with a pointed look.
"Cas," he started, "me and Sam got hexed somehow."
Sam held up a hand as he seemed to be listening to whatever Cas was saying, and his eyes widened in even further alarm.
"What's wrong?" Dean demanded.
Sam's mouth moved before he remembered he couldn't speak. Not that Dean would've been able to hear him if he could.
Shaking his head in obvious vexation, Sam jabbed a finger at the phone, then covered his eyes.
Dean gaped at him dumbly.
Sam repeated the gestures more urgently, ending with another insistent pointing at the phone.
Dean's stomach sank. "Cas lost his eyesight?"
Sam nodded sharply.
Dean reeled back against his seat. "Crap. Cas, where are you?"
He had to wait in mounting frustration while Sam listened to Cas's response, and then his brother was grabbing the notepad from his pocket and a pen to scribble something down. When he held it up, it was a mile marker and highway. Sam then quickly wrote down something else beneath it.
Cas, blind, car crash.
Dean's heart rate kicked up. "Cas, we're coming," he said, throwing the Impala into gear and careening out of the parking lot.