"We are not watching this," Dean snapped. He could sense his little brother was rolling his eyes. Any further back in their sockets and Sam could see him grimacing as he stood in front of the couch. Dean held a DVD case in his hand, turning it over to examine it in disinterest.
"It's Cas' pick, and after we went through four stores, he felt like this was the one movie that he really wanted to see," Sam said, standing up from the television to see his brother lighten at knowing it was Castiel's decision.
"Fine, I'll watch it," Dean said, tossing the movie onto the coffee table.
Sam looked cross at him and said, "Don't break the thing."
"I didn't," Dean said defensively.
Castiel stepped into the room with three bottles of beer. "You didn't what, Dean?"
"Nothing, Cas," Dean said, taking a bottle and popping off the cap.
Sam took his own beer from his friend. "He knocked down the movie you picked."
"This one?" Castiel reached down and picked up the plastic DVD case, examining the front cover as he did earlier that day at the store. "But, it's a comedy, Dean. You like comedies."
"But, it's," Dean started to say. "It's gay."
"Dean," Sam scolded. He glared at his older brother for the remark.
"Well, it is, Sammy," Dean replied.
"Okay, but it's hilarious, and you're sitting through it," Sam said.
"Fine," Dean said as he slumped into the sofa. "Why can't we watch an action movie or something?"
"Just shut up." Sam settled down in his arm chair. He clicked the play button on the remote. The opening menu for the movie appeared and with one last click the movie began. When the opening song came on, Dean groaned. 'We Are Family' started to worm its way into his brain, ready to be stuck on repeat for the rest of the night.
"Why'd you pick this movie again, Cas?" Dean asked, rolling his head towards the angel.
"I saw Robin Williams in another movie last weekend," Castiel began to say.
"Yeah, Jumanji," Dean cut in.
Castiel finished, "And I thought this would be a funny alternative."
"Would you two just watch the movie?" Sam pelted the two men on the couch with pieces of popcorn. Dean decided to suck it up and watch the film. The Birdcage was an entertaining movie, he conceded. Sam didn't need to find that out. He wouldn't hear the end of it.
-spn-
"I think I found a case," Sam said. His laptop was opened in front of him in the library of the bunker. Dean gripped the back of the chair and leaned over his brother's shoulder to look at the newspaper article displayed on the screen. "A couple died one week after they had been married," Sam paraphrased.
"A couple killing psychopath? Not our problem." Dean said.
"This isn't the first," Sam continued. "After having been married at this little bed and breakfast by the water, they died a week later in their homes. All four couples have died the same way."
"How?" Dean asked.
"Brutally murdered in their beds," Sam said. He clicked around on his laptop and pulled up the webpage from the Lexington police where the last murders had occurred. Sam had easily hacked his way into the department's files and had windows opened of the scene. Each picture was gruesome. The couple's bodies had been decimated in their own bed. Dean could barely make out any details of their facial or gender specifics as they had been covered with white sheets by the police. Dean couldn't help but cringe at the sight of the surrounding blood loss.
"And you think this is something supernatural, how?"
Sam closed out the windows. "No forced entry, no signs of another person in the house, no known weapon, all killed in the same manner, and the cops are all confused as to how this happened in several different states across the country. But, they did learn that they all got married at the same B&B in Massachusetts."
"Okay," Dean said. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Yes," Sam said outright. Dean crossed his arms against his chest and waited for his little brother to elaborate. Sam turned around and opened another minimized window on his laptop. The bed and breakfast had a website. Sam clicked around and came to a series of wedding photos. "This is the last couple that was killed, a week prior to their death, at their wedding." Sam pulled up another photo. Two men were dressed in tuxedos while feeding each other pieces of wedding cake.
Dean swallowed. "They're all gay couples, aren't they?"
"And that's why I called Cas," Sam said.
"Son of a bitch."
-spn-
Sam had called in ahead to set up a quick meeting time for, "the happy couple to make arrangements for their upcoming nuptials." The woman on the line was ecstatic about having another wedding at her bed and breakfast. She gloated in her description of where they would set up the wedding. The backyard overlooked the water and was a beautiful place for photo opportunities. She led Sam to the website to see photos of her last clients who had been married here. Weddings were her biggest draw, and with same sex marriage being legal in the state she saw more interest in her business. Sam said he was highly interested in having his brother and his brother's partner visit the property as soon as possible.
Dean cringed at hearing his brother plan a meeting for a mock wedding for himself and Castiel over the phones speaker. Sam was having a riot at watching his brother flinch when the words Dean, Castiel, couple, partners and wedding were uttered. Dean was ready to sock his brother in the face for finding this case. Couldn't they find some other hunters to take this on? Perhaps there were some gay hunters around who wouldn't feel so put off at creating a false wedding. Or perhaps they would want to get married themselves, and this could be their means to make that happen. Dean could get down with that.
"Do we seriously have to do this?" Dean asked after Sam hung up the phone.
"I think we have a case," Sam said as he pocketed his cell.
Dean sipped at his glass of whiskey. The decanter was nearly empty. He was nursing what little was left in hopes of it lasting longer, knowing that once it was gone, it was gone. This trip across the country would hinder him from buying more liquor to stock the bunker for the next month. When shit hits the fan, Dean wanted to make sure that he could piss away the apocalypse on a continuous bender. Like hell he'd be the chosen one the next time around. Someone else could shoulder the burden.
"So, the big question is, does Cas know?" Dean swirled around the amber liquid in his glass.
"Yeah, I actually got his okay before I even mentioned it to you," Sam said.
"Bitch," Dean muttered. "Why would you even tell him first?"
"Because, I knew if I told you before him, you'd bail," Sam replied. "So, I got him to agree, knowing that it'd take you longer to go along with this."
"Go along with this? So, was this planned or something? Were you tip toeing around me, waiting for this case to present itself?" Dean asked, his voice rising with each question.
"Only for a few days," Sam said. He held up his hands in defense. "I didn't expect you to agree so easily, thinking you'd put up a shit fit faster than a two year old."
Dean dragged his hand down his face. "Can I take it back and put up that shit fit?"
Sam laughed. He took out his phone and shook it in the direction of his brother. "Too late."
-spn-
"Come on, Dean," Sam whined behind his brother and the angel as they walked on the gravel driveway towards the house. "At least put some effort into this. You're supposed to be a couple, act like it."
Dean turned around and stopped. He pointed his finger at Sam. "Screw you."
"Dean," Castiel said. "I think Sam's right. We should at least attempt to make this look natural."
"Fine," Dean sighed. He placed his arm around Castiel's shoulders as they continued to walk. "Just no girly pet names, no overt touching, and no kissing; unless we fucking have to do any of it under duress. I don't need to officially lose my reputation in one weekend."
"And what reputation is that?" Sam asked. "You've barely had sex since the whole Lisa mind erase."
"Shut up, Sammy," Dean grunted as he made his way up the wooden veranda to the front door. "You want to ruin this case before it even gets started? You did pick it, by the way."
"It will only be ruined by you if -" Sam was cut off when the front door was opened. All three men plastered smiles onto their faces. The woman who stepped onto the veranda clapped her hands at seeing the two men standing before her.
"You must be the lucky couple that called ahead for a tour last week," she said, her voice glazed in pure happiness. If her smile didn't give it away, her beaming eyes told of her excitement at seeing a possible new marriage between two lovers. She was in the right business.
"Yes," Sam piped in behind Dean and Castiel. "I called last Monday, I believe I talked with you. Sam Winchester." Sam stuck his hand out for the woman to shake. She obliged.
"Martha Blanche," she said.
"And this is my brother Dean and his long-time partner, Castiel," Sam said.
"Oh," Martha exclaimed. "How long?"
"I pulled him out of perdition in 2008," Castiel deadpanned.
Dean laughed uneasily, shaking Castiel playfully by the shoulder. "He jokes. But he did save my ass from my own personal hell. And we've never been happier. Right, babe?"
"Yes, Dean," Castiel said with a look of confusion on his face.
"So, how about that tour of the place?" Sam interjected. Martha led the men around the back to explore the possible wedding spots that her property held.
Castiel asked once out of earshot, "I thought you said no pet names."
"Duress, Cas, duress," Dean replied. He let go of Castiel's shoulder and grabbed the angel's hand in his. Castiel furrowed his brow. "Fake it 'til we gank it."
-spn-
Once inside the house, after the quick tour of the premise, Martha showed the men the inside of the bed and breakfast. "The Cat's Cradle," she began. "I named it so after I found that I had seven cats running around the home. It seems fitting, yes?"
"It does," Castiel said. He stopped at a photo of Martha that hung on the wall. She looked a few years younger. Her grey hair was less sparse. Five cats of different colored coats were sitting with her on a couch. The shaggy looking grey cat looked rather depressed sitting on her lap. Though, he could have been pissed about the bright pink collar around his neck.
"That one is Mr. Kitty," Martha pointed out. "I miss him the most, but he still shows up on raining, dreary days."
"What do you mean?" Dean chuckled. "Ghost cat on the prowl?"
She looked at Dean with sincerity in her eyes. "Precisely." Martha went around the desk she had set up for her office space. She pulled down two keys from the corkboard where they were hanging on thumb tacks. "Sam can have the smaller room, number five. And you two," she smiled wider at seeing the couple standing in front of her, "you can have one of my suites. Room number two." The men smiled, thanked the woman and made their way to their respective rooms.
"I think the ghost of Mr. Kitty scratched the shit out of the victims. Case done. Let's go home," Dean said to Sam as they made their way to the second floor.
Sam scoffed. "Don't you think that perhaps Mr. Kitty would claw to death his owner before he high tailed it cross country to murder newlyweds in their martial beds?"
"She does seem bat shit crazy, doesn't she?"
"Aren't all cat people?" Sam asked.
Dean and Sam stopped in the middle of the hall to turn and see Castiel at the foot of the stair case. He held in his arms a ginger cat with beautiful brown eyes. It was purring rather loudly. "I think I'm a cat person."
-spn-
"Fuck," Dean said, dragging his hand down his face.
"What? I think it's big enough," Castiel said.
"That's not the problem," Dean said.
"Is it too small?" Castiel asked. "I'm sure we can make it work."
"That's still not it, dude."
Castiel shifted himself on the bed. "I think we can manage."
"Maybe if you just," Dean started to say, trying figure out how to make this less uncomfortable. Castiel gave him a funny look.
"Like Sam said, 'Suck it.'"
"You need to stop repeating whatever Sammy tells you." Dean sat down on the bed next to Castiel.
Castiel said after a moment of silence, "I think we can manage to sleep next to each other for two nights."
"Yeah, two nights." Dean sighed. He grabbed the flask out of his pocket only to hear unmistakable silence. There was barely a drop left of hunter's courage in the silver container. Dean doubted he could find anything in this seemingly dry house. He stood up, placing the flask back in the inside pocket of his green canvas jacket. "I need booze."
"Do you think it's wise to head out to a bar while I'm here alone? Dean, we are supposed to be partners."
"Yeah, partners in this case, not partners in life." Dean heaved a sigh. "Come on." Castiel stood up from his seat on the bed. Dean walked down the hall towards room number five. He knocked. In an accented, womanly voice he called out, "Room service, here to service you." Sam opened the door to see his brother standing in the door way. "Happy ending, yes?"
"Screw you, Dean." Sam made to shut the door on his brother's face. Dean stopped it from closing his with boot.
"Heading out to a bar, Cas is coming along. Want to join the happy couple?" Dean shrugged his shoulders with his palms towards the ceiling, grinning like a moron. "Engagement party?"
"Now you're just having too much fun with this," Sam said.
"Come on. New bar, new faces, same ol' liquor. You in?"
Sam scrunched his face in annoyance. "Take your boyfriend and enjoy a night out together. Date nights are rare after you're married," Sam said, offering sage wisdom to his older brother.
"Fine, bitch. Get some sleep."
-spn-
Dean sat down at a high top with two beers and two shots of some liquor mixture that the beautiful blonde bartender recommended was delicious. It was pink in color and smelled like candied watermelon. He hoped it tasted as great as it smelled. "Drink up, Cas," Dean said, tilting the shot towards his friend.
"Wait, aren't we supposed to toast before we take a shot?"
"We can," Dean said. "To, um, to…"
Castiel lifted his shot glass, clinking his with Dean's. "To our future happiness."
Dean thought that a little odd and vague, but he took it. "Here, here." Both men downed the shots in one go. It did in fact taste as fruity as it smelled. Dean sipped his beer to chase back the burn of the tequila. He could taste it a mile off.
"Can I ask you something," Castiel said.
"Shoot."
"If these people are being killed after they get married, are we supposed to as well, in order to figure out what is causing their deaths? Or do you think we'll find the cause before then?" Castiel asked relatively sound questions that hadn't yet occurred to Dean.
"I hope we find it before it leads to that," Dean said. He then back tracked at seeing Castiel's expression. "I mean, you're a great guy and all, but I can't see myself getting married."
"Getting married, period? Or marrying me?" Castiel asked.
"This life doesn't call for a happily ever after. I tried it for a whole fucking year with Lisa and Ben, and see where that led me."
Castiel started to peel back the corners of the beer's label. "So it's not the marrying me that is hard for you to fathom?"
Dean sighed. "It's the whole life commitment shit that has me concerned. It's not the way of the hunter." Dean laughed. "That sounds like a movie tag line. Supernatural: Domestic Winchesters. It's not the way of the hunter." Dean noticed Castiel smiled at his joke. "Hey, I got you to laugh."
Castiel's smile dropped a little at the corners. "You still didn't answer my question, Dean."
He took a rather large gulp of his beer. "I'm avoiding your question, Cas."
"Why is that?"
"Because," Dean said.
Castiel looked visibly frustrated at that remark. "Sam says you're hiding something behind your façade. That you're putting up a front, and I think I'm starting to believe him."
Dean attempted to flag down a waitress for another beer. This conversation was heading down a road that he was afraid to travel. None of the waitresses in their tiny, black cheerleading shorts noticed the man's futile attempts. Dean heaved an audible sigh. "Why can't they just get me another damn beer already?"
"Dean," Castiel said sternly.
"What?"
"Are you opposed to the prospect of marrying me?"
"No, I'm not opposed to it, okay? Is that it?" Dean leaned onto the table towards Castiel. "You gonna go off and tell Sammy that he's actually right this time? That his big brother isn't all that he makes himself out to be? Huh? Is that what you want to hear?" Dean blurted out in exasperation. Castiel's patented head tilt of confusion stared the man down across the table. Dean sat back in his chair. "Dude, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Dean," Castiel said in reassurance. "I understand."
Dean pushed back his chair and stood. "I need another fucking beer."
-spn-
"And here's the bed problem again," Dean muttered in the passenger seat. He had drank one too many shots and downed one too many bottles of beer after his small confession. Castiel thought it wise to drive the Impala back to The Cat's Cradle. "You should definitely sleep in the same bed as me. I mean, where else are you gonna go?" Dean burst out laughing. "You could sleep on the floor, but that wouldn't be right." Dean shot up in his seat as if he finally figured out the meaning to life. "I know! You could be bed buddies with Sammy! I bet that bed's big enough for his Moose-ness and you're," Dean paused, "you're angel-ness."
"I don't think that would work out."
He was quickly saddened by that remark. "Yeah, mooses are too big."
"You're right, Dean. Moose are too big."
Dean turned to see Castiel better in the darkened Impala. He could barely make out his face, what with little streetlights dotting the road. "You don't love Sammy like you love me."
"We do have a profound bond that I don't share with Sam," Castiel said, wondering where this new line of questioning was headed.
"You love me, don't you?" Dean asked. He reached over to touch Castiel's trench coat clad arm. Even drunk, Dean recalled saving that thing in his trunk for the return of his angel in all his glory. "You really do look like a fucking tax accountant in that trench and suit. And why the fuck is that tie always backwards?"
"I hate ties," Castiel said. "Too constricting. I don't know why humans choose to wear them."
"It's true," Dean said behind a yawn.
"We're almost there," Castiel said upon glancing at Dean's drooping eyes.
"I love you, Cas," Dean confessed. "I love you like I love my baby, and pie, and Sammy, and whiskey, and beer, and Led Zeppelin, and anime porn, and…" Castiel didn't get to hear Dean finish his list. The drunken man in the passenger seat had lulled himself to sleep.
-spn-
Dean awoke to a pounding headache. He couldn't recall anything past an awkward conversation that he had with Castiel at the bar. From how he felt, he had obviously drowned out the discussion with more than just beer. He rolled over on the bed, the white sheets bunching under his movements. Dean groaned at feeling the pounding behind his eyes intensify. He slightly opened them to see Castiel's concerned expression. The angel was sitting on the bed next to Dean's hip.
"You okay?"
Dean groggily said, "Just peachy."
"Sam informed me that you should drink a lot of water, and take a few pain killers. He explicitly told me to not heal you of your hangover."
Dean moaned in agony. "He's such a little bitch."
"And he also said that we need to occupy Martha with wedding plans so he can check out the place. The other patrons should be out of the house and in town for antiques shopping and other such activities."
"Don't tell me that you want to do that shit," Dean said. The sunlight that streamed in from the window was glaring in his eyes. He rolled over to face away from the angel.
Castiel prodded Dean in the back with his finger. "I already went out to find you a wedding gift."
Dean turned around to face his friend. "You know this is fake, right? We're not actually getting married."
"I know," Castiel said. "I just thought it nice to get you something." Castiel stood to retrieve a parcel that he had propped against the dresser. He sat back down on the bed and handed it to Dean who had finally sat up, leaning his back against the headboard.
"You didn't need to buy me anything," Dean said as he took the package.
"It's nothing, really. Just something that reminded me of you, and Sam approved."
Dean looked into Castiel's eyes. "What time is it exactly?"
"Around one," he replied.
"Shit, I did sleep half the day away."
"It's okay. I actually enjoyed my time with Sam this morning. He's good company," Castiel said. Dean lightly chuckled at the remark. Sam really wasn't all that bad of a guy to hang around. But, Castiel seemed more apt at sticking close to Dean whenever they had free time during cases. There really was something to this profound bond.
Dean reached into the brown paper bag. He felt a familiar thickness between his fingers as he slipped the present out of its packaging. Dean easily recognized the cover art of the album that Castiel had found at the antiques store. It was one of his favorites. Led Zeppelin III. The record was in pristine condition, and clearly not a re-mastered edition that the band had recently produced. He slid the black disk out of its cardboard covering. The record was a thing of beauty. Not a scratch on its surface. Dean was baffled at how little this master piece had been played. He was honestly afraid of putting a needle to its grooves.
"I hope you have a way to play it. I didn't think past knowing how much you love this particular rock'n'roll band," Castiel said.
Dean's grin was wide. "The Men of Letters left a pretty sweet record player in the bunker. All I need is an updated stereo receiver and some speakers, and I should be up and running." He set the record next to him on the bed. "Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it."
"It's no problem, Dean."
Dean scooted closer to Castiel. Quickly, before he changed his mind, he threw his arms around the angel. The two men had hugged many times before, but there was something more behind this embrace. Dean had heartfelt gratitude towards Castiel for all that he had done for him. This record was the last piece that Dean needed to express how he really felt about his best friend. When Dean finally let go of Castiel, he looked directly into those blue eyes that he had grown fond of seeing. "This really means a lot to me."
-spn-
"Is your brother joining us today?" Martha asked as she led the men to the backyard of the Cat's Cradle. She informed them that she'd show them the gazebo first which sat close to the water. It was the same gazebo that Dean recognized from the photos that Sam had shown him a week prior.
"No," Dean said. "He's busy with work stuff. Sammy wanted us to scope the place out ourselves." While Sam scoped out the interior of the home by himself.
"Well, at least you both can find out exactly what might suit you for your wedding." She stopped under the gazebo. "Most of my customers prefer this spot the best. Many of my couples have enjoyed the craftsmanship of this structure as the perfect place to recite their vows."
It was truly a work of art. The railings that led up the steps and the wooden support beams that held up the roof were all hand carved. Dean slowly ran his fingers along a wooden beam. The intricacies of the flower design were impeccable. Dean was good with his hands, but he could only marvel at whose steady hand had carved such precise detail. "I can see why," Dean said.
"It truly is beautiful," Castiel agreed.
"If you choose this site, I can arrange the set up in several different ways," Martha began with zeal. She walked around the gazebo and pratted on about where the seats could be arranged as well as where the men and the minister could stand during the ceremony. Castiel seemed intrigued. Dean barely listened. "So, do you have any questions?" Martha asked when she finally finished speaking.
Dean stopped next to the lady with his arms crossed. "Have you heard about any of the murders that have occurred recently?" Martha looked rather confused at what the man had asked. "When my brother stumbled onto your website, he noticed that one of the last couples, the Grayson-Turner party, had been murdered in their homes."
"And how did that come about?" Martha asked.
"Google searching. The newspaper article that Sam found had mentioned the Cat's Cradle as the place where the men had been married a week prior," Dean said.
"Well," Martha smiled, "I can assure you that their death does not in any way coincide with their choice to wed here." She made to head back to the house.
"It seems a rather odd coincidence, though, what with the others," Dean said.
Martha stopped in her tracks. She had meant to end the conversation here, but faltered at Dean's remark. "What others might that be?" She still spoke in her sickly sweet voice.
"The Mark-Whites, the Fergusons," Dean paused and turned to face Castiel, "Beth took her partner's last name." Castiel nodded in understanding. "The Harrison-Marshalls…"
"Okay," Martha cut Dean off. She spun on her heels to look Dean in the eye. "So, a few couples had been here and then had their untimely departure from this world. Is it so hard to separate their fates from you both wanting a memorable beginning to a future together?"
"We're just concerned, is all," Castiel spoke. "If this is the place, which it could very well be, then we'd like to know about your other patrons."
"Fair enough," Martha said with a clap of her hands. "How about we head inside for sandwiches and lemonade?"
-spn-
Inside the bed and breakfast, Sam had started to rifle through Martha's bedroom. It was similar to the others. The walls were painted an off white and were lined with a sickly sweet, and rather old fashioned, flowered pattern along the ceilings edge. It represented a fifty-something lady with multiple cats quite well.
Sam started with her dresser where she had mail stacked. It was mostly bills, advertisements for chain stores and a few religious mailings. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sam moved on to the closet. In the past he had found that people tended to hide odd goings on behind their clothes. He shifted around dresses, pants, shirts and shoes to find nothing out of the ordinary.
Sam then made his way down the hall to the front entrance of the home. Martha had a desk set up here as the bed and breakfast's lobby. This is where she had handed off the keys to the boys the day before. Sam flitted through more mail and paper work before concluding that there was nothing here as well. He ran his lanky fingers through his hair. This was turning into a difficult task. Though, he didn't really know what he was expecting to find. Coming here was just mostly on a hunch. With deaths in different states, all related evidence pointed to this place. Logically, there should be something tying the deaths together. Sam was hoping that this search wasn't in vain.
"Great," Sam muttered to himself in exasperation. He wasn't sure where to look around next, so he began to check out the rest of the first floor. Out the sliding glass doors in the kitchen, he saw Dean and Castiel with Martha near the gazebo. Sam had, maybe, another ten minutes. In hast, he started to open any doors that he came across. The one in the hall was his lucky door. Sam found the basement. He turned on his flashlight as he slowly crept down the wooden stairs, unsure about what he'd find.
-spn-
Dean threw his arm around Castiel's shoulders when they entered the kitchen. Castiel didn't hesitate to place his arm around Dean's back. Neither man flinched at realizing how close the other was, letting the case be the reason behind this sudden closeness. "So, Cas," Dean said nonchalantly, "how do you feel about his place?"
"It's nice enough, I suppose," Castiel said.
Martha began plating sandwiches for the men and for the returning patrons who had spent the morning shopping. She stopped placing cheese on top of slices of ham and turkey to cut in to their conversation. "I don't believe either of you mentioned when the lucky day will be."
Castiel turned to Dean and waited for a response. Dean took the hint. "September 18th."
"Ah, so you two have another month or so," Martha replied. She started to place a second bread slice on the sandwiches. "Trying to find a place rather quickly, I take it."
"Yup," Dean replied as he popped a chip into his mouth. Martha carried the plated food to the picnic table she had in her backyard. Dean ate a few more chips before hearing heavy footsteps working their way to the kitchen. Sam came in to see Dean and Castiel looking rather comfortable with their arms around each other. He didn't want to intrude on their cozy embrace.
"If Bobby was still alive, he'd owe me twenty bucks."
Dean let go of Castiel and quickly stepped towards his brother. "Screw you, Sammy."
Sam chuckled at how defensive Dean was getting. It seemed like every time his sexuality was in question, he'd start to get flustered and angry. "You know, they do have a name for this."
"We're not discussing that again," Dean said, pointing his finger at Sam.
"I think the Supernatural fan girls refer to this as, 'Destiel'," Sam said tauntingly before laughing at how red Dean was getting. If he was a teapot, there would be steam emanating from his spout. Just the thought of seeing steam drifting out of Dean's ears turned Sam's laughter into an uncontrollable fit.
"Shut up, bitch," Dean said, trying to regain his composure.
"Don't be a jerk," Sam said once he got his laughing fit under control. "I'm just messing with you."
"Alright, out with it," Dean said. "Did you find anything?"
Sam coughed in an attempt to get himself together. "I did."
"And?"
"And, I think I should show you."
-spn-
"You have got to be kidding me," Dean said. He sat down on the bed in his room with his hands gripping the back of his neck.
"You really hate witches, don't you?" Castiel asked.
Dean huffed through his nose. "They're always throwing their fucking bodily fluids everywhere. Of course I hate them." Castiel sat next to Dean. "This was the last thing I wanted for this case."
"Much easier than trying to gank an unknown monster," Sam offered.
"Yeah, I guess," Dean sighed, facing his younger brother who was standing next to the dresser. "We sure that Martha is it? No other person that it could be, like how the first suspect in murder stories is always the wrong guy?"
Sam shrugged. "Seems like it's her. She runs this place practically on her own."
He had shown Dean and Castiel the basement at the next opportune time. Martha had been busy with her patrons on the back porch, having served them a simple meal of sandwiches, chips and lemonade. The boys had snuck away and slowly made their way down the stairs. Dean was first into the basement. He had trained his flashlight down the darkened room to the far wall. A metal folding table was set up with paraphernalia that the Winchesters had seen many times before. Candles were surrounded by a few different books written in a foreign tongue. The typical witch's starter kit.
"The deaths were violent, you really think she is capable?" Castiel asked the Winchesters.
"Let's hope so," Dean said. "I want to head back to the bunker and put this case behind us."
-spn-
Dean was woken up when he felt something soft and fury rubbing against his face. It was walking back and forth along the side of the mattress. Dean flung his arm out and pushed the mass onto the floor. He heard a screeching yelp from the ground that brought him around to full consciousness. "Cas, buddy, get up."
"What is it, Dean?" Castiel rolled to face his friend. Dean reached over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. A soft light enveloped the room, revealing what startled Dean. A massive grey cat was sitting on the carpet by the door.
"Why is that thing in our room?"
Castiel got off the bed. He quietly worked his way to the cat and crouched down before it. The animal wasn't startled or frightened of the angel. As easily as picking up a baby, Castiel took the cat in his arms. "He's just a sweet boy, is all. Aren't you?"
"Do you have to talk to it like that?"
"Like what, Dean?"
"Like it's a child," Dean said.
Castiel looked at the hunter with his questioning head tilt. "You don't like cats either, I take it."
"What kind of a pet is a cat? They sleep, eat and shit in a box. And," Dean said, emphasizing his next point, "they don't care if you're even home. Now a dog, there's a loyal companion."
"But, look at this face," Castiel said, holding the cat in Dean's direction. "He's adorable."
Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not looking at that thing."
"Oh, come on," Castiel said. He sat on the bed with the animal. "Just pet it. He's soft."
"Fine." Dean gave in and scratched the cat behind the ear. Purring, the cat extended his neck in satisfaction. "Wait, what's this?" Dean noticed the collar around its neck. It looked familiar.
"The grey cat in the photograph had a pink collar just like this one," Castiel said. At the mention of the picture, the cat jumped off of Castiel's lap and darted out of the door like it understood his implication.
-spn-
"Mr. Kitty?" Sam asked under his breath. The three men had met in the dining room for breakfast. Martha had whipped up some scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon. "Are you sure, Dean?"
"I'm sure. Me and Cas petted the thing," Dean said behind a mouth full of bacon. He swallowed. "Have you seen a grey cat around here? Nope. But he sure decided to stick its butt in my face last night."
Sam grunted. "So you're ghost theory is true? He just sneaks into suitcases, waits a week, and murders the couples in their sleep? That doesn't seem like a sound story."
"Well, what else could it be?" Dean asked.
"A familiar," Castiel said. His food was untouched. Dean reached over and took the strips of bacon from the angel's plate.
"That makes a hell of a lot more sense." Sam took a sip of his coffee. "I mean, Martha is a witch."
"And it would explain the intelligence behind the murders," Castiel added.
Dean smiled, nudging his friend in the arm. "I knew you'd make a good hunter."
Castiel returned the smile. "I've learned from the best."
"Oh, god," Sam moaned. "Bobby better have some cash on him when I find his ass in heaven." The younger Winchester stood from his seat and left the room.
-spn-
He found the grey cat sitting on the veranda on the porch swing. Dean quickly shot a text to his brother. Found the thing. Front porch. In an attempt at keeping the cat from fleeing, Dean slowly approached the animal, sitting down in a chair near the swing. Castiel came around the corner.
"Dean, Sam sent me." The hunter put his finger to his lips to hush Castiel who nodded in understanding. Castiel slowly walked down the veranda to join him in a chair on the opposite side of the cat. The grey fluff ball sat in his seat in relative comfort, his tail swishing back and forth behind him.
"Cas, buddy, when we get home I was thinking that we could have another movie night," Dean said casually.
"I think you should pick the next movie," Castiel said, following Dean's line of conversation.
Dean smirked. "So, if I pick that DiCaprio flick, what's it called," Dean said, pondering on the title. "Catch Me if You Can?"
"I think we can do that," Castiel said.
"Or how about," Dean said, leaning forward in his chair, "this kids movie, That Darn Cat."
"I think I'd actually like that one." Castiel began to inch off his seat.
Both men started to ease themselves off of their chairs towards the porch swing. The cat perked its ears. Dean nodded at his brother who had slowly turned the corner. It hopped off its perch at realizing that the men were making their way closer. The cat attempted to duck and scoot off the veranda, but Sam closed the forward flank, trapping the animal against the side of the house. Castiel grabbed the cat as it meowed its protest.
"Gotcha, you little bastard," Dean said.
-spn-
"Fucking hunters," the man said. He was sitting naked on the bed in Sam's room. Dean groaned as he chucked a few towels at the guy. He should have figured as much with any human that could change shape into an animal. There was no way he'd look at the guy until he was covered modestly.
"Yeah, well, fucking witches," Dean replied. "And fucking familiars."
"Hey, it's not my choice at being what I am," the man said, "and it's definitely not my choice at picking Martha as my companion. These bonds are just formed."
Sam said, "Okay, let's just cut to the chase. Do you know anything about the murders?"
The man said, "Yes, I do."
"So, is it Martha?" Sam asked. "Is she causing the deaths of the couples who get married here?"
"No," the man sighed. He looked down at his hands. "I should just come clean."
"Please, do," Dean said.
"It was a year ago when I tried to run away from here. She lost me, but most importantly, she lost her favorite cat. Mr. Kitty, she calls me," the man laughed in disgust. "I'd rather be called Fluffy. And this?" He gestured to the pink collar around his neck before pausing to stare out the window. The trees were swaying in the summer breeze. "I came back here a few months ago when I found out that she was letting gay couples get married here. I was pissed. Not because of the fact that gays can get married, but because of what had happened to me years ago."
"What happened?" Sam asked.
The man smiled as he reminisced about his past. There was a hidden sadness gracing his face. "I was engaged to my partner five years ago. We were in love, ready to start our lives together, hoping to eventually start our own family. I ended up finding out that he had cheated on me a few months after our engagement. Within the next five months they were married. I was furious when I found out," the man said. "After a few weeks of wandering the streets, I found Martha, and she offered me a home. Shortly thereafter I became her familiar. I knew I could change into a cat, though I didn't know that I could form a bond with a witch. The only upside to it was that I got a roof over my head and food. It was a pretty good set up."
"What changed it?" Sam asked.
"Have you seen how she is?" the man whispered. "She's nuts, the epitome of a crazy cat lady." The men chuckled at this statement. "I left, found my way around the state, but ended up coming back here when I saw her bed and breakfast was mentioned in a newspaper regarding her very first gay wedding.
"I found the couple before I came back here. They lived a few hours outside town. It wasn't hard to slip into their home and kill them in their sleep. As a cat, people barely notice you when you prowl around the neighborhood. Or if you've got a bit of blood in your fur."
"Let me get this straight," Dean said. "You killed these newlyweds because you're a jilted lover? Revenge against all happy couples because of the fact that you didn't get your happy ending?"
"Don't worry," the man said. "I wasn't planning on killing you two. It's pretty obvious to see that you aren't actually dating. More like a sexual tension that keeps the show running."
-spn-
Castiel was in charge of carrying Mr. Kitty. Dean had rigged a rope around his pink collar and tied a loop around Castiel's wrist. The last thing they wanted was to have to catch the man again. The boys found Martha sitting on a love seat in the living room. She looked up from her needle work to gasp at what was in Castiel's arms. "Mr. Kitty?"
"We found him outside," Dean said. "He told us quite the story."
In a hushed voice Martha said, "You know?"
"That he's a familiar? Yes," Sam said. "He explained that he's the one killing off the couples."
"You're obviously hunters, I take it," she said in quick realization. "I should have figured when you two decided to bring up the deaths." Martha batted the cat on the nose with her finger. "Bad, Mr. Kitty. How dare you." He hissed, causing Castiel to relinquish the cat to his companion. "I shall deal with him myself. I didn't resist black magic and demons to have my Mr. Kitty become a killer."
Dean stopped the woman before she left the room. "Did you know that he had come back?"
"I wasn't entirely sure," she confided. "A few nights, during the dreary summer storms, I thought I saw Mr. Kitty wandering around the place. I thought little of it, knowing that he could have easily been killed living out on the streets. He prefers his cat form. Wouldn't put it past him to get into a fight or run down by a semi." She looked into his bright, yellow eyes. "You are a bad, bad kitty." She left, taking the cat downstairs.
-spn-
"I can't believe that ass hat," Dean said. He was driving the Impala back to Kansas. The men had stopped for gas, snacks and a case of beer to chill in the cooler for later. Dean wanted to get back to the bunker as soon as possible, and that didn't call for any stops at any bars along the high way. No matter how much he desperately craved for the atmosphere and willing young ladies to flirt with. "He had the fucking nerve to say that me and Cas have sexual tension. When, clearly, we don't."
Sam grinned and gave a slight chuckle. "Whatever you say, man."
"It's true," Dean said, using a finger to emphasize his point to his brother. "Cas is my best friend, nothing more."
Castiel spoke up from the backseat of the Impala, "But, don't people usually marry their best friends?"
"Cas, you're not helping," Dean said. Sam sat back in his seat, laughing at his older brother.
The men continued down the high way in silence. Dean began to scan the radio stations, searching for anything that sounded remotely like rock'n'roll. Anything but and he'd automatically change the station. He wasn't going to sit and listen to that computerized noise that seemed to plague the radio airwaves. If he heard that chick sing about how fancy she is, he was going to blow.
"Well," Sam broke the silence, "at least Martha dealt with Mr. Kitty in her own odd way."
Dean scoffed. "Yeah, cause tethering him to the furnace in the basement is such a productive way to discipline a serial killer."
"Do you think it would have been better to inform the local police?" Castiel asked.
Dean glanced at the angel through his rear view mirror. "And tell them what? That the cat did it? And he's not just a cat, but a man who can turn into one. Yeah, that'll go over well."
"Perhaps we just let her handle her pet, and move on," Sam said.
-spn-
Dean placed the needle to the record. He turned the volume knob to the right as the beginning chords filled the room. Dean had been continuously playing albums, much to the annoyance of Sam who was trying to catch up on some reading that the Men of Letter's had filed away on pagan gods. Dean had scoffed, "Nerd," to his little brother before cranking up the speakers. Led Zeppelin was the perfect after hunting band. And having listened to Zeppelin III on repeat, Dean was becoming grateful for their last case.
Castiel tilted his head in Dean's direction as he questioningly watched the man's odd movements while horribly singing out of key. He had seen the hunter act in this manner earlier in the day. Sam had explained that Dean was playing an air guitar which was the epitome of properly rocking out. Castiel found it entertaining, and was more pleased at watching the man's happiness than listening to the music.
Sam couldn't help but to catch glances at the way Castiel was looking fondly at Dean. After the case, Sam noticed a slight change in their relationship. Dean was no longer telling Castiel to move out of his personal space. He was becoming less defensive about his sexuality. It was progress in Sam's eyes. Perhaps Dean just needed to learn to be more comfortable in his skin. That he didn't need to continue his masculine façade around Sam and Castiel.
"Movie night tonight?" Dean asked, drawing his brother out of his thoughts.
"Got anything in mind?" Sam asked.
Dean sat down at the table with his brother and the angel. "I'm torn between two."
-spn-
The men gathered together in the makeshift living room of the bunker. Dean picked out which one he wanted to watch after a good long debate. It was between This is Spinal Tap and the second Terminator instalment. The former won out. Dean loved the music, even though it was poking fun at rock'n'roll. Well, the actors were jabbing more at the Moody Blues. Dean was never really fond of the band. It was their artsy music and poetry that wasn't appealing to him
Sam looked over during one song interlude to see something that put a smile on his face. Dean had his arm draped over the back of the couch. It almost looked like he had his arm around Castiel's shoulders. Whether or not the fan girls on the internet were correct in their assumption about the two, Sam didn't care. Just to see Dean with his guard down was perfectly fine.