Disclaimer: all rights go to the creators of Supernatural and others involved in the show
A.N. Hey guys this is my first fanfic so ya know, critiques are welcome :) Hope y'all enjoy!
'It's clean,' Dean cursed, throwing down his gloves in fury, 'completely fucking clean.'
'Well of course it's clean,' an old man in a ratty baseball cap wandered in, staring over at the other as if he were completely insane. 'The god dammed Feds got here first. What, you were expecting it would all be laid out like a platter?'
Dean shrugged, turning away from Bobby. Of course he was right, but he figured there would be at least something. But not even a hair left? This was a better job than the Feds could manage.
'Dean, I'm working.' His brothers' irritated voice greeted him. 'Make it quick.'
'Hello to you too,' Dean looked over the apartment, trailing his path as he talked to his brother.
'I'm not giving you evidence, are you crazy? That's illegal.'
'Come on, lawyers always break the law.' Dean read the book titles on the suspects' shelf, trying to persuade Sam.
Most of it was religious bull-crap. Are you on the righteous path? What's Gods plan for you? They already knew he was some bible-thumping freak, call yourself The Angel, it just gets assumed.
'I'm not a lawyer anymore, Dean. I can—
'Stop being a bitch, just giving me a little lead. That's all I'm asking.'
There was a long pause of silence in which Dean could hear Sam muttering to himself bitterly.
'A name, we got a name.'
Dean motioned to Bobby; he grabbed the pen out of his friend's pocket and urged his brother on.
'Kevin Tran. I've got no idea what it means, man. I searched the kid, he's clean, honor rolls, no felonies…'
'So what, next victim?'
Dean wrote the name sloppily on his palm, the kid didn't sound like the usual victim, but then again, everyone has their dirty little secrets. He could've killed his grandma.
'I don't know, I gotta go, Dean. Hey, if you get anything you'll call me?'
'Of course,' Dean lied. It's not that he didn't want to help out Sammy, but when it's Fed against Bounty Hunters, well, Dean needed all the help he could get.
When Bobby and Dean stepped out of the house, the sun had dipped behind the trees of the secluded house. This had been the first lead in months, it should've been big. The first known address of a mass murderer, the place should've been filled with evidence. But The Angel was good, too good to be working alone. A single murder, Dean could handle that, but when it came to a group, that's when he started getting freaked out. A whole group of people thinking about different ways to gank someone, that was just unnatural.
'We gonna go after this kid?' Bobby looked over at Dean with an unmistakable giddy.
Dean laughed, shaking his head.
'I'm gonna go after this kid, you're going home to your wife.'
It didn't take much convincing after Dean had mentioned Ellen. It wasn't that Bobby was a bad husband, he just got caught up in the game; they all did.
The two parted ways at the interstate, Bobby would call Dean when anything came up on the news, Ellen would probably call when he got home. Dean set off to Michigan, driving until he was too tired to remember to change lanes; he pulled off into a dingy motel. He always felt anxious leaving the Impala out in the open in these sorts of neighbor hoods, but he was too tired and too poor to find anywhere better. Sam had tried to persuade him to sell the old thing, get something cheaper, easier on gas. But the Impala was his baby; it would be like cutting off a limb. Besides, the thought of learning a new car and all her tricks was too much work for Dean to bother.
Dean didn't sleep much that night; he stayed up thinking about The Angel, Kevin Tran and how they could be connected. The Angel usually went for low-lives, scum-bags, the ones nobody really cared when they disappear. It wasn't until a few months back did he start going for the big game. The politicians, the police officers, later it was found out (but never revealed) that these guys had their hands in something dirty. Of course that didn't matter, The Angel was public enemy number one. No one knew what he looked like; no one even knew if he was a he. But every time, at the end of all the killing, was a single white feather in the middle of all the gore and blood. Dean had to admit, even if the guy was full on American Psychopath, he was poetic.
…
'The Angel?' Balthazar looked up from the newspaper and back at the man in front of him.
His trench coat drenched from rain, his blue eyes dull from exhaustion. Balthazar smirked.
'Come now, Cassy, your just getting cocky now. Not that it would be that hard for you.'
Cas rolled his eyes; he slumped down in the diner booth, looking longingly at his friends coffee.
'I didn't decide it.' Cas grumbled, the waitress came over, jotting down a quick order.
'How long have you been driving?' Balthazar asked, traces of humor gone from his eyes, Cas gave him a weary smile.
'Long enough,' the waitress brought over his coffee and Cas smiled gratefully at her.
He took a long, burning gulp of the coffee, ignoring the fact that it was bitter and burnt.
'This place is shit,' Balthazar mused; the quiet diner was not even half full.
The hostess at the front kept snapping her pink gum, twirling a poorly dyed string of hair between her fingers as she waited for something to do.
Balthazar had picked it for its reclusiveness but would now take the business of a Denny's over the smell of burnt coffee and death.
'I need to go,' Cas announced, standing up.
His ocean-like eyes focused over Balthazar's head and on the TV, there the latest crime scene in The Angel's seemingly endless murder spree on rerun. If anyone has any information on this murder they should contact local authorities immediately—blah, blah, blah.
'Fair enough,' Balthazar stood with him, dropping a few bills on the table. He guided Cas out of the diner and back into the rainy weather. 'Has Gabriel called you yet?'
Last they had spoken, Cas was given a name, nothing else, but Kevin Tran. They hadn't told him if they wanted this man dead, if they wanted him saved or if they just wanted intel, but Cas was sure he would find out soon enough. The Angels were nothing if not diligent.
'No,' Cas looked around, squinting through the rain. 'But I'm sure I'll get a call soon.'
'Then I should go, be safe out there, Cassy.'
Balthazar leaned in, giving his friend a quick kiss on the check before leaving. Cas, feeling rather exhausted, found his way to a motel. Floral patterns covered the walls and a rough, weirdly stained red carpet on the ground. Cas hated motels, he dreamed of the day he would be able to sleep in the same bed for more than two nights.