This is just a fanfic I've been thinking about writing for a while. I probably won't have regular updates between this and my other Avengers fanfic, but I'll definitely keep it going. This begins at the beginning of season 5 when Cas first starts looking for God, and is AU from then on. So enjoy this first chapter and I'd love to hear what you think!
CHAPTER ONE
Dean sighed and took a big bite of his juicy bacon cheeseburger. The greasy taste of beef and melted cheese exploded in his mouth. He grunted in satisfaction.
"You know how to we long it's been since I've had a burger this good?" Dean said through his bite of cheeseburger, waving it gently for emphasis. He grinned, shaking his head a bit. "Way too long." He took another big bite.
His brother, Sam, who was sitting across from him in a rowdy bar in the middle of an insignificant town in Montana, rolled his eyes at Dean's loud chewing noises and obvious enjoyment of the greasy food.
"What?" Dean said, his mouth hanging slightly open. "I'm allowed to enjoy myself. Just because we're on a job doesn't mean I can't relax and eat some of the best food ever created on Earth."
"I thought pie was the best food on Earth," Sam stated, his eyebrows raised.
"Depends what mood I'm in. Right now, this bacon cheeseburger is really hitting the spot," Dean grinned, leaning back lazily in his chair and taking a long drink of his beer. Sam looked away for a second, slight frustration written across his face. He watched a pool game going on across the bar, the balls clacking sharply against one another.
Dean heaved a breath and set his half eaten burger back in the plate. He let his chair fall back forward with a slight creaking sound. "What is it this time?"
"Well, it's just that we're on an important job right now, and all you care about is bar food and beer," Sam said, waving a hand toward Dean's plate. Dean set down his beer bottle sharply on the scratched wooden table.
"Fine. What do you got?" Dean relented. "Heard anything from Cas?"
"He said he wanted to go out and check up on some places in town. He'll be back as soon as possible," Sam supplied.
"Who knows when that'll be," Dean grunted. "Besides, this job just feels a little off to me."
"How?"
"It's just the way Cas is acting. Like something else is here that we don't even know about. I mean, is this even our type of job? We don't work for heaven."
"It is," a gruff voice broke in next to Dean. He jumped, splashing some of his beer across his arm.
"God, Cas. Don't do that," Dean admonished the angel. He pulled a couple rough brown paper napkins from the dispenser and soaked up the spilled beverage. He balled up the napkins and dropped them on his plate.
"What have you found?" Sam cut in, leaning over the table expectantly.
"You were right. There have been a slew of strange deaths over at one of the schools," Cas reported. He paused for a second to look around the bar, taking in the neon lights and loud conversations.
"They all exploded?" Sam said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Cas nodded slightly. "Internal organs liquified, then splattered all of the premise."
"What could do that?" Sam wondered. Dean let his beer bottle fall onto the table. He shrugged. "Demons?"
"Seems like it," Cas said, pulling out the empty chair next to Dean and sitting down in it.
"What do they want here? It's in the middle of nowhere, and as far as I can tell, nothing big or historic has happened," Sam said, his voice tinged with frustration. Cas only studied a group of men and women who were talking and laughing loudly over at the other end of the bar.
Sam reached down underneath his chair and pulled his silver laptop out of his backpack. He flipped the lid up, the screen lighting up his face.
"Let's see. Evan Holmes, David Creevy, and Sarah Mitchell. Silver Bow County, Montana," Sam muttered under his breath as he typed the information into the search bar on his laptop. He clicked search and quickly scanned the websites that popped up.
After a couple minutes of award silence from Cas and the downing of two beers curtesy of Dean, Sam found the information he was looking for.
"Guys," Sam said urgently, pulling Cas out of his stupor.
"What do you got?" Dean prompted. Sam spun the computer around so Cas and Dean could read the information Sam had pulled up on the three kids.
"They all go to the same school," Dean noticed. "St. Michael's?"
"Yeah."
"So what? Just another run-of-the-mill demon infestation?" Dean mused. Sam shook his head.
"I don't think so. Get this," Sam said, turning the computer back towards him and clicking on a couple links. He swung the laptop around and pointed to a list of names. "These are the kids in the school orchestra, and as you can see Evan Holmes was her stand parter. Not only that, but Sarah Mitchell was her cousin, and David Creevy was her best friend."
"Was who's best friend?" Cas broke in.
"A girl named Madeleine Smith. She has connections with all of the victims," Sam answered, shutting the laptop's lid with a snap.
Dean drained the last few drops of his beer. "Where does she live?"
"7816 Mockingbird Lane," Sam recited. Dean stood up, pushing his chair back with a harsh scraping sound that could be heard even over the loud country music that blared in the bar. He dropped a wad of cash onto the table. He shrugged on his worn leather coat. "Then let's blow this popsicle stand."
"Blow what?" Cas asked, confusion evident on his face.
"Nothing. It's just an expression," Dean said, striding out of the bar. "Let's go."
{~~~~~}
Dean pulled the Impala up in front of a blue house. He quickly checked the address then swung out of the car, the old doors creaking. Leftover flakes from last night's snowfall swirled through the air. Dean's breath rose in frosty clouds in front of his face. He adjusted the black coat over his neatly pressed suit and tie. Sam stood behind him, his long brown hair catching stray snowflakes. He fiddled with his dark purple tie, pulling it tightly around his neck. He looked around the snow encrusted street, letting a slow breath out. Cas appeared beside him, snow covering his usual trench coat in a soft fluffy layer. He was studying the deserted street with searching eyes, taking in every detail of the road. Houses lined the street in varying sizes. Snow covered everything in a smooth white layer. Dean faced the blue house in front of them, taking a deep breath before stepping forward across the street, Sam and Cas following close behind.
Dean walked up the wooden front steps slowly, placing his feet to avoid patches of slippery ice. He paused for a second in front of the white pristine front door. He checked behind him to make sure Cas and Sam were there, then knocked crisply against the door several times. They waited tensely, Dean's hands tucked deep into his pockets and his ears red with cold.
Dean jumped when the door finally swung open to reveal the face of a girl about fifteen or sixteen, her hair long and a dark caramel color. Her eyes were dark brown and dull. She looked tired, a small flicker of sadness and fear appearing when she took in the two suited men and a man in a trench coat standing on her front porch.
"FBI," Dean said, pulling his fake identification out of his jacket with the smooth grace of someone who has done this a million times. Sam did the same. She leaned in, reading the ID's with narrowed eyes.
"Nice try," she said, her voice accusing. "Those are fake."
"What?" Dean feigned surprise. He flipped his badge around to look at it. Sam frowned slightly.
"The number is wrong. The format was changed last year, too," she said. Dean looked at Sam. That's exactly what another kid had said to them a long time ago.
Dean sighed and flipped the ID shut and tucked it back away into his jacket.
"You're right. We're not FBI," Sam conceded. The girl shifted back onto her heels, leaning against the open door. She wore a black shirt that read, come to the nerd side, we have pi. Her face was free of any makeup, which Dean thought strange for a high school girl. She was tall, about 5'7, and had a softly rounded face. A silver chain hung around her neck and was tucked in her shirt. Dean assumed she was Madeleine.
"Then what are you?"
"Hunters," Cas said. Dean resisted the urge to face palm.
"Really, Cas?" He muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Cas just looked back at him innocently.
"No, it's okay," she said. "You guys must be investigating the demon attacks."
"You know that they're demons?" Sam questioned incredulously. She looked down for a couple seconds.
"Yes."
"How?" Dean stepped forward. Madeleine hesitated. Dean could practically see the memories replaying behind her eyes, the sadness that filled them.
"Um," she stammered.
"Why don't we come in?" Cas said, his voice gentle. Dean looked at him in surprise. Cas had a small, soft smile on his face. His blue eyes were filled with compassion.
"Yeah," Madeleine said. She stepped back to allow them into the house, a cold winter wind shoving at their backs as she swung the door shut. The house was warm, and had the slight scent of vanilla. There was a staircase in front of them, with a living room off to the left. Hannah led them through, gesturing for them to sit on the leather couches arranged so people could talk to each other comfortably.
"There's some coffee in the kitchen, if you want some. My foster parents won't be home for a while," she said. Sam nodded, Cas smiling in response. Dean adjusted his jacket, having taken his coat off earlier. He sat down in the couch and opened his mouth to respond.
"Do you have any-"
"Beer," she said, cutting him off. Dean could only stare, surprised.
"How did you know?"
"You look like the beer type," she answered simply. She turned away, only to return a minute later with a frosty beer for Dean and two cups of steaming coffee for Cas and Sam. She settled into the couch across from them, clutching a green chipped mug of tea in her hands.
"So Madeleine, how do you know about the hunters?" Dean prompted.
"You can call me Maddy," she began, sitting forward in her seat and turning her mug of tea in her hands slowly. Finally, she answered softly.
"My mother was killed by a demon when I was five years old. I think he was called Azazel."
"The Yellow-Eyed demon," Sam realized. "But I thought he only killed the parents of psychic six-month-olds."
"I don't know," Maddy said, shaking her head. "I only know that my mother was killed, and I almost was too. I walked into my bedroom one night to see a black figure standing near my bed. I was young, so I froze, not knowing what to do. Then I felt something drop onto my forehead and looked up to see my mother with a red stain spreading across her shirt." Maddy then paused, as if she were thinking about what to say next. "Then she burst into flames, screaming. The fire was all around me. The heat made my skin burn and the smoke choked me. I was stuck until a bright light came into my bedroom, saving me."
"What?" Sam said, his nose wrinkling. "What was the bright light?"
"I don't know. There was a voice that accompanied it, though. It was almost like singing, and clear as bells. That's all I really remember."
"Friggin' angels," Dean muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
"But if it's angels, then how could you hear them? And look at their true form without your eyes burning?" Sam wondered.
"I don't know," she said, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Some people have the gift," Cas said. He looked into Maddy's eyes, unblinking. "You must be able to interact with angels safely."
"Maybe." Maddy shook her head. "So, why were you guys here originally?"
"Uh, the demon attacks," Sam recalled. She nodded.
"I knew all of the victims. One of them was my best friend, the other two people I'd interacted with on a daily basis."
"How did you know they were demon attacks?" Dean inquired.
"The way they behaved before they were killed. Suicides, everyone called it. But they exploded. Like they couldn't contain the demons. The smell of sulfur was everywhere where they died."
"Is there any reason that demons would be targeting you?" Cas said.
"Besides my mother being killed by a demon, I don't think so." Maddy responded, shrugging.
"What about your father?" Sam put in. "Where is he?"
"I don't know. I never met him. I always assumed he was dead, though."
"Why would you assume that he's dead?" Dean asked, confusion tinging his voice.
"Because my mother would always say that he was watching over me. But she would never tell me who he was, or what happened to him. Then she died, and I had no way of finding out. No one could remember him, not even my mother's parents."
"You said you stay with foster parents," Dean said. Maddy nodded. "Yeah. I lived with my grandparents for a few months, but they died soon, one after another. So I was sent off, and I've been with this foster family ever since."
There was a tense silence in the living room for a couple seconds. Sam broke it by setting his coffee cup down on the table.
"Thanks for letting us talk to you," he said. Maddy got up and set her own mug down, Cas and Dean following suit. She the two men and angel out of the house, holding the front door open for them as they left.
"No problem. I hope you catch those demons," she said. Dean saw her grin softly once more before shutting the door with a click. He turned around, leading Sam and Cas down back towards the Impala. He opened the driver's door of the black car and slid in. Sam was already sitting in the passenger seat with Cas situated in the back. Dean turned the keys in the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
"You're awful quiet, Cas," Dean said after a couple of minutes of driving down snow-covered streets.
"It's just... There's something about that girl," Cas said thoughtfully.
"Good something or bad something?" Sam wondered.
"I'm not sure," Cas mused, staring out the window. "She reminds me of someone."
"Who?" Dean asked.
"I don't know," Cas said angrily. "But it's bothering me."
"Well, you'll want to find out quick. These demons are after this girl, and we need to know why," Dean said, flicking his right blinker on automatically as he spoke.
"Hold on," Sam pulled out his laptop and connected it to the hotspot on his phone. He typed in a couple things and scanned whatever popped up quickly.
"We know that she goes to St. Michael's Catholic High School. She's a freshman, fifteen years old. And Catholic," Sam read off, scrolling down whatever he was reading on the laptop. "Was adopted by the Millers' when she was six. Has lived here her whole life. Her mother was killed just across town."
"I'd like to know why the Yellow-Eyed demon killed her. She breaks the pattern. Five when her mother was killed, and as far as we know, she's not psychic," Dean said, frustrated.
"I'm going to search around in heaven, see if anyone knows anything," Cas said.
"Wait, Cas-" Dean began. But he was interrupted by the sound of rustling feathers that usually accompanied the disappearance of an angel.
"Why does he always do that?" Dean said in exasperation.
"Well, while he's searching in heaven we can be looking down here. I can do more research at the motel if you want to go search the school," Sam suggested.
"Why not," Dean said. "Let's catch these sons of bitches."