As they passed into Eaton, the mid-sized tourist town Doug suggested they start with, Castiel extended a fraction of his grace, reaching out to search the town.
"I don't feel any demonic presence here," he said. He was rewarded with a pair of large, green eyes flicking up to the mirror to delve into his own. It was the first time Dean had looked his way the entire drive, a fact Castiel was keenly aware of.
"Your mojo isn't always spot-on though, right? I mean, demons have been able to hide from you before."
"I suppose," Cas admitted with a frown. A gloom settled over him—yet another confusing endocrinal reaction in the brain of his vessel. Castiel wasn't sure when he'd begun having such strong emotional reactions to things that, as an angel, shouldn't give him a moment's pause. For millennia up in heaven, he didn't have to endure these crippling sensations humans call emotions. All those years he felt, but now he felt. Even after his time in Jimmy's body, Castiel still wasn't accustomed to how one word or look could completely turn his mood around, make him feel powerful and profound things that he neither predicted nor understood.
As much as he tried to tell himself that emotions were nothing more than an involuntary chemical reaction in Jimmy's brain, triggered by external factors perceived through Castiel's eyes, it was undeniably Castiel that was feeling these things. And he was hopelessly confused by them. It started, he supposed, when he took this body…when he met Dean and Sam.
But why should he be upset about Dean's question? Dean was only being practical, exploring all possibilities like a good hunter should do. And it was true that demons have hidden their presence from Castiel in the past.
Castiel scowled out the window, narrowing his eyes. Five years was nothing to Castiel, a mere blink of an eye given how long he had lived. While he sometimes felt he had experienced more in the past five years than the rest of his life combined, this…sorting through emotions was still new to him. All he wanted was to understand where this sudden agitation was coming from…
Even though the apocalypse was over, Castiel still felt he needed to watch over Dean Winchester, his Righteous Man. When Cas gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, he formed a profound bond with Dean, one that would never fade. At least, that's how Cas saw it. And he didn't like having Dean think Castiel couldn't protect him. Castiel wanted to be able to protect Dean from everything.
Dean's question…well, it brought to light some of the shortcomings of Castiel's powers. It made Cas…he didn't want to say angry, but…he wasn't sure what it was. If it was anger, it certainly wasn't Dean he was angry at. If anything, he was angry at himself. For not being able to be Dean's everything.
"You okay back there, Cas?" Dean asked, looking back at the angel again.
And what was that? That jump. The subtle, confusing flutter of his own—or Jimmy's—heartbeat. He looked down at his chest, approximately where his heart was located beneath layers of bone, flesh, and clothing. Perhaps it was Jimmy's love of red meat…He narrowed his eyes.
No. He would know if it was a physical ailment. A neurological response, then. Sometimes, when he was in a particularly dangerous situation, his heart would take to beating faster. Often, when these situations arose, Dean was by Castiel's side. Perhaps this heart palpitation he experienced when Dean looked at him was the byproduct of a mental association—his mind associated Dean with dangerous situations, and his body reacted accordingly.
Castiel smiled to himself, pleased at his thorough grasp of human emotions.
They pulled up to the only hotel in town—a nicer place that they were used to. Rather than a dingy motel, this was one of those quaint, home-run touristy "inns."
"Oh no," Dean groaned as they got out of the car.
"What's wrong?" Castiel asked.
"This is going to be one of those places where everyone is way too nice about everything," he explained with a grimace. He looked like he was going to be sick.
"I think you're right," Sam looked up at the inn with a sour expression.
.
.
Dean was right. The woman behind the front desk was an older woman, plump, matronly, and way too cheery to be human. She greeted them with bright eyes, a huge smile, and a twitchy wave. If this case wasn't a demon thing, she was the first one Dean was going after.
"Welcome to the Fairy-tale inn!" she chirped, beaming at each of them in turn, "Are you checking in?"
"Uh….yes?" Dean said, because what the hell would they be doing here otherwise?
"Brilliant! My name is Macy Hornwater! I own the Fairy-tale Inn with my husband. Do you have a reservation?"
"No."
"Oh, dear," She frowned. Even when she frowned, though, something about her was still too smiley for Dean's taste. "I'm afraid we only have two open rooms right now."
"That's fine. We only need one," Sam interrupted.
"Oh. One room for all three of you?" she clarified, "I see. But you're all so…large. You're all going to sleep in the same bed?"
Dean blinked at her. He was so done with this entire situation. Every. Single. Time. Whenever he went anywhere with one of them, people were always assuming he was either with Sam or with Cas. And this…What did she think this was, anyway? Some creepy ménage a trois kind of deal? Geez, Wisconsinites are kinky bastards.
"We only have one bed in each of the rooms here," she explained, mistaking Dean's disdain for confusion. "Destination honeymoon spot and all that."
"Ew, no. No thanks, sweetheart. We'll take the two rooms." Freaking bed-and-breakfasts. He had done a lot of messed-up things for the job, but he wasn't sharing a bed with Sam. And not just because Sam kicked violently in his sleep.
"Cas can sleep on the floor or something," he nodded at Cas with a smirk and a nod.
"Actually, do you know what? I think I have something that might work for you boys!" she winked with an obnoxious chortle, "You can have our suite—it might actually be bigger than you need, but no one's using it right now, and well, that just seems like a darn shame. We were supposed to have a family staying there for the week, but they cancelled early this morning. Car troubles," she prattled on.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Dean said. Anything to get her to stop talking. "We'll take that."
"How long are you planning on staying?" she asked cheerily as she ran Dean's card.
"A week, tops," Sam answered. "We're just sort of passing through."
"Ooh, a road trip? Touring the great Wisconsin wilderness, eh? That's always buckets of fun. I know I speak for everyone here in Eaton when I say we do everything we can to make our tourists feel special and welcome," she said with a flourish of her hands and a bright smile.
Dean groaned inwardly.
"There you go, Mr. Hanson. If you ever need anything during your stay, there's usually someone at the desk here or wandering the halls. If not, my and my husband's room is just at the end of that hall, there, and either of us would be happy to help you with whatever you need!"
"That is just so thoughtful," Dean forced a smile, trying to extricate himself from the conversation, "we will definitely let you know if we need anything. For now, though, we're, uh, just gonna go get settled in."
"Have fun! Enjoy your stay! Oh, and if I don't see you around, I highly recommend you check out the State forest before you leave. There are miles of hiking trails and oh, everything is so beautiful at this time of year. It's only a block or so north of here."
"Will do," Dean promised, pulling Sam away. Little brother had perked up at the words hiking trails. Cas followed behind them.
"It's her," Dean said in an undertone when they were far enough away. "She's the thing we're hunting. Call it a hunter's instinct."
"I knew you were going to say that," Sam snorted.
"It's always the creepy, happy ones, Sam!"
"That woman was human, Dean," Cas said.
"You're positive?" Dean sounded disappointed.
"Yes. She seemed strange to me at first, too, but she was absolutely and completely human," Cas shook his head, eyebrows raised. "She is just a genuinely enthusiastic person."
"See, Dean? What did I say?" Sam asked, pulling his best bitch face. Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, shit. Dude, I forgot my laptop in the Impala- I'll meet you guys in the room."
.
.
The room was awesome. Dean almost didn't regret spending the extra money—he and Sammy deserved to treat themselves every now and then, after all. Four private bedrooms branched off from the cozy living room area, complete with fireplace. There was even a freaking mini-kitchen.
Dean dropped his bag at the door and headed straight for the couch, collapsing onto it face first. It was long enough to fit all six feet of him. He let out a pleased sigh, snuggling into the cushion.
"This is nicer than your usual accommodations," Castiel observed.
Twisting so he was laying on his back, he saw Cas standing uncomfortably in the doorway, watching him. "You can say that again. Jesus, Cas, relax. This is our home for the next week, which means it's your home too. Settle in. Home, sweet home and all that…" he drifted off, closing his eyes.
He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes, Sam was in the room. "Dude. This couch alone is worth putting up with Mrs. Way-too-happy," he said.
Sam snorted.
"I'm not even kidding, man. I'm excited. I can't even remember the last time I've had my own bedroom. No offense, but you snore. Loudly."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
"He hasn't even seen the fridge yet," Cas smiled at Sam.
"Mmm. I like the sound of that," Dean murmured from the couch. He cracked an eye open. "Are you seriously still lurking in the doorway?"
Sighing, Cas walked toward the couch Dean was stretched out on. Dean eyed him, eventually shifting his legs with a grumble to give Cas room. As soon as the angel was seated, Dean extended his legs again, resting his feet on the opposite end of the couch and trapping Cas underneath his legs. He was careful to touch the angel as little as possible. He wasn't comfortable with the rush of electricity that coursed through him whenever he and Cas touched.
Cas didn't move or protest, but he glared at Dean with an openly offended expression. Dean, eyes shut, didn't see the glare, but he could feel it. He smiled.
Across the room, Sam wanted to bang his head against the table. That entire scene was painful to watch. The entire drive, Sam had been wracking his brain for a way to get Cas and Dean to admit their undying devotion for each other.
He was supposed to be the smart one, but he had nothing. He came up with dozens of ideas, of course, but half of them Dean would see through in seconds. The other half were either too simple or too elaborate.
"I'm sorry, did you want me to give you two some privacy?" Sam snapped.
Dean shot up like a bullet, shifting as far from Cas as he could without falling off the couch. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, never mind. Forget I mentioned it. The Wi-Fi here is just making me want to shoot something."
"Hey, just because you're upset with your bad Wi-Fi connection doesn't mean you can take it out on us," Dean said, rising to his feet.
"Whatever man," Sam shook his head.
Dean let out a surprised shout at the shelf of El Sol beer in the mini-fridge.
"Hey, the police database is taking forever to load, so I'm going to head down to the lobby. Maybe see if I can ask Macy if she knows anything about the disappearances," Sam continued.
"It kills me not to be going with you, Sammy, but somebody had better stay back here. You know, make sure Cas doesn't get in trouble," he graced Cas with a half-smile.
"Yes," Cas jumped in, playing along. He didn't particularly like Macy Hornwater either. He also would say anything that might get another smile out of Dean. "It is possible that I may, in fact…get into trouble if Dean and I don't stay here."
Dean's eyes widened a fraction as he turned to look at the angel. Taking a deep breath, he managed a nod in Sam's direction, though his eyes never left Cas.
"Right."
.
.
The lobby was empty when Sam got down there. So much for that plan. He sighed and wiped his hands absentmindedly on his jeans, looking around. Between Dean and Cas' annoying behavior and loads of research to do with shotty Wi-Fi, this was going to be a long case.
He walked over to a small rack on the wall, packed with brightly colored tourist brochures. There wasn't really a lot going on in this town. Sam grabbed the pamphlet on the hiking trails for himself and the one on local eateries for Dean.
On his way back to the room, he ran into Macy. She was dusting off an old grandfather clock in the hallway, a cart full of cleaning supplies next to her.
"Hey. Slow day?" he asked, nodding at the already-clean clock she was dusting.
"Oh! You scared me!" Macy laughed, "Not slow, I just like cleaning a bit to wind down in the evenings. I know it's a bit odd, but I enjoy it," she smiled up at him, having to crane her neck to do so.
"I don't think it's crazy," Sam laughed. Macy wasn't so bad. "I can see where you're coming from, actually."
"You know, I feet just awful—I didn't catch a single one of your names."
"No worries. I'm Sam. The dark-haired one is Cas and the grumpy one is Dean."
"It's very nice to meet you, Sam. You just wandering, or…?"
"Actually, I was coming down here to ask about restaurants, but I found this," he held up the brochure with a sheepish smile, "Which would you recommend we try first?"
Macy was more than happy to help, pointing out the pros and cons of the various restaurants.
"Alright...Which would you say has the best Wi-Fi connection?"
Macy smiled. "Really, Sam? You're one of those tourists? I hadn't pegged you for the type."
"We've all got to work," Sam shrugged.
"I can't argue with you there. If I were you, I'd try the Brooks' Diner down on Main street." Something in Macy's cart caught Sam's eye. He felt a massive, dopey grin spread across his face. "You okay, sweetie?"
"Yeah. Absolutely. Um, I just…that air freshener…is it cinnamon?"
"Apple cinnamon. It's one of my favorite smells—it reminds me of warm pie and thanksgiving. That and the smell of fresh laundry are my top two favorite scents. You like it?"
"Wow. Yes," Sam said, giving Macy a thoughtful smile. For once, it seemed like Sam and the Universe were working together on something. He never would have guessed a deliciously beautiful solution to his dead-end plan would come in the form of an aerosol can. Not too simple, not at all elaborate, and Dean would never see it coming. "Listen, I know this is a weird question, but do you mind if I borrow it? I can bring it back in two minutes."
"Go ahead and take it. And don't even worry about getting it back to me right away—just leave it at the front counter whenever you're done with it."
"Thank you so much," Sam said. "Hey…do you mind if I ask you something? I don't mean to pry, or to be rude or anything, but in the last town we stopped in, we heard a lot about how…how people were going missing in the area?"
Macy nodded. "It's a real shame. I hate to say it, but a few boys have gone missing from the area in the past two or three months."
"It's always hard—not knowing, you know? Do the police have any idea what's going on?"
"Their excuse is different for every poor gentlemen that goes missing. Usually they say animal attacks."
"You don't think that's true?" Sam asked curiously, giving her his best puppy-face.
"Well, I'm good friends with Carol Baker—her older brother, Joshua, disappeared over twenty years ago. It was devastating, of course. And then he came back three months ago."
"He came back? What did he say happened to him?"
"Poor Joshua doesn't even know who he is anymore. They found him on the side of the road, completely out of his mind. He doesn't talk about what happened, doesn't recognize his own family. But that's not even the strangest part. The strangest part is—well, it sounds crazy, but everyone in town will back me up- he hasn't aged a day, not since he disappeared. He should be fifty, but he still looks like a young man."
"Really? So what's he doing now?"
"He lives with Carol on the other edge of town. We all pitch in to take care of him around here," Macy smiled sadly.
"That's just a terrible situation," Sam nodded. "I wish I could help in some way."
"You're a sweetheart," Macy grinned.
"Uh, thanks, Macy," he tilted his head to the side, "I should probably stop asking you depressing questions, huh? Dean and Cas will be wondering where I ran off to, anyway. Have a great night, and thanks again for letting me borrow the air freshener."
.
.
Sam returned to their room, gripping the febreeze can tight. For once, Sam Winchester was about to do something really good. No way in hell was it making up for all the bad he'd done, but hey, it was a start. He was bringing two good, deserving people together, and that had to count for something.
Sam was selfish. He knew it. He was the typical youngest child, taught growing up that he was the most important being in all the universe. Not that John ever taught him that. No, dad was too obsessed with revenge and the job. But Sam was always the most important thing in Dean's life. Always.
Growing up, when Dean would take the blame for one of Sam's mistakes, Sam let him—even when John would shout and swear at Dean until his face turned blue. When Dean would go without fo od for several days so Sam wouldn't be hungry, Sam pretended not to notice. He knew if he said anything, Dean would just argue, anyways. But it was mostly because Sam was selfish. He'd learned a lot of lessons and had done a lot of wrong in his past, but this is what he regretted the most—never giving anything back to Dean after everything his brother had done for him.
It was finally time to give back.
He took a deep breath and walked into the room. Dean was at the table, scowling at his laptop, and Cas was over by the couch, only partially paying attention to the TV.
"Hey, how'd it go with Mrs. Crazy?"
"She's actually really nice, Dean," Sam sighed.
"Yeah, I got that much."
"Well, she didn't tell me much more than we already know. People have gone missing, the police don't know what's going on, when they come back, they're insane. Although apparently, there's this guy named Joshua in town that disappeared thirty years ago. He was discovered on the side of the road three months ago. Get this: Macy says he hasn't aged a day. He still looks like a twenty year old. When they found him, he was even wearing the same clothes he disappeared in."
"Huh. So you wanna go talk to him tomorrow?" Dean asked.
"I was thinking we could split up. One of us can go FBI, the other one can take Cas and go see Joshua. I was thinking maybe Cas can fix him, or at least squeegee something helpful out of his brain?"
"That works for me. What is that?" Castiel asked, nodding at the bottle in Sam's hand.
"Uh…febreeze? It makes rooms smell better," Sam shrugged, "I noticed a weird smell in my room earlier, and Macy said I was free to borrow it, so…"
"Okay, Samantha," Dean chuckled.
Sure, Dean. Go ahead and laugh. Because soon, Sam would have a lifetime of gay jokes for ammo.
And it's all because Dean Winchester has a cinnamon kink. Sam used to wish he didn't know about it, never thinking that it might someday come in handy. The thing is, Dean had a really weird thing about the smell of cinnamon—more specifically, people who smell like cinnamon. Dean probably didn't even realize it.
One time, they were at a diner. Their waitress—well, she wasn't ugly, per say, but she seemed kind of…unhygienic. However, she smelled strongly of cinnamon, which made Dean think she was one of the hottest women he had ever laid eyes on. The sheer amount of eye-fucking that went on during that meal still made Sam shudder.
Lisa smelled faintly of cinnamon. It wasn't as obvious as it was with the waitress, but Sam suspected it was part of what drew Dean to her in the first place.
Point is, Dean had never been able to resist a woman that smelled like cinnamon. He was hoping that rule applied to male angels as well.
"I'm going to go unpack some of my stuff," Sam said, excusing himself into his room.
He waited only a minute. He stood in the middle of the room, finger on the trigger of the spray bottle. "Hey Cas, can you come in here for a minute?" he called.
As he'd hoped, Castiel appeared in the room half a second later, a foot away from Sam's face. Feigning surprise, Sam jumped at Cas' sudden appearance and pulled the trigger. The spray struck Cas right in the chest.
The angel's reaction was almost comical. He froze, eyes wide, as the small droplets of liquid settled on his trench coat. He looked down at his coat and inhaled hesitantly.
"Oh God. Sorry, Cas! I was kind of expecting you to use the door, like a normal person…my bad," Sam said, still laughing at Cas' reaction, "But hey, at least you smell nice, for once."
"For once?" Cas asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. "Are you implying that my natural scent is unpleasant?"
"Well, no…but I think this might be an improvement," Sam joked, pretending to read the bottle, "now you smell like apple cinnamon. I know Dean loves the smell of cinnamon."
Castiel's head tilted even further to the side. It looked like he was working hard to formulate a sentence, and he finally settled on: "Why did you call me in here?"
"Um…you know what? I don't even remember. I'm sure it'll come to me," Sam said, heading back out into the living room. Cas followed.
Now it was time for stage two: leave Dean alone to catch his prey's scent.
"Hey Dean," he began, grabbing his laptop "I'm going to head to the diner down the street for a while, do some research. Macy said the Wi-Fi there is the best in town."
"Uh…okay?" Dean said, confused by the speed with which Sam made his getaway. He practically ran out the door. "Did that seem strange to you?" Dean asked Cas, who was walking out of Sam's room.
"I didn't see," Cas said, pouting.
"What's your problem?"
"Sam sprayed me with the febreeze."
"Did you do something to deserve it?"" Dean laughed, closing the computer and turning completely to Cas, who was narrowing his eyes at Dean.
"No. I startled him."
"That'll do it. But hey, at least you probably smell good now," Dean stood up and stretched.
"Sam said the same thing. Do I not smell good normally?"
"Nah, you smell incredible normally."
Dean cringed. Where the hell did that come from? Real smooth, Winchester. Cas cocked his head to the side, expression vaguely amused. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he found himself approaching Cas, stopping when they were about a foot apart. Cas watched curiously as Dean took a deep breath.
His brain shut down. Dean suddenly found himself unable think of anything but that smell... It was cinnamon mingled deliciously with pure Castiel. Cas' natural, clean scent and the faint smell of ozone mixed with the heavy, sensual smell of cinnamon, it was…seriously sexy. It was a promise of everything Dean never even knew he wanted, and it smelled like home. He leaned forward, his face mere inches away from Castiel's, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Holy shit, dude," he groaned, taking another whiff.
"Dean?" Cas' voice came out even rougher than usual, and Dean felt a familiar feeling twist his gut. A feeling he should not be having. His eyes snapped open, shocked at how close he and Cas were, but unable to pull away. Castiel's eyes were wide and dark, his lips parted slightly. He looked like a deer trapped in a car's headlights, shock and confusion rooting him to the spot.
And damned if it wasn't the hottest thing Dean had ever seen.
"Cas…"
Castiel's eyes lowered to Dean's lips, inciting another round of that intense, throbbing desire. Dean reached a hand up, gripping Castiel's arm to keep himself grounded. He looked with wide eyes at the hand that clung tightly to the trench coat, the reality of what was happening hitting him like a semi. He tried half-heartedly to shove Cas away, but Cas didn't budge. Instead, the angel reached up and placed a palm on Dean's chest, right above Dean's heart. A soft moan escaped Dean's lips as he leaned into the touch.
Cas stared at his hand, as if he could see through Dean's chest to the frantically beating heart within it.
Shit. Maybe he could.
"Your heart does it too," was all Cas said, still staring intently at Dean's chest.
"Does what? Cas?" Dean blushed at how breathy his voice sounded. Castiel's electric blue eyes snapped up to Dean's and the angel moved—if possible—closer still, so that Dean could feel the angel's breath on his jaw.
Dean's thoughts were nothing more than a rush of confusing emotions and desires at this point- forming a coherent thought was completely out of the question. Want. Need. Now. Cas. Wrong. Impossible.
"You aren't in any danger," Cas promised eyes taking in every detail of Dean's face.
"Good to know, Cas," Dean said brusquely, trying to think beyond the haze cinnamon-laced Castiel put his mind in.
Cas nodded slowly, his fingers brushing lightly down Dean's torso as he let his hand drop. Dean fought off a shudder and closed his eyes at the feathery touch. He needed more than that- more than he could get.
Dean shoved Cas away, gasping at the sudden fresh air and trying to ignore how much tighter his jeans suddenly felt. Cas, thankfully, didn't notice—he was giving Dean his large, confused eyes, clearly trying to decide whether or not he should be offended.
And it was just too damn adorable.
"Sorry, I..." Dean passed hand over his face. Breathe, Winchester. His eyes roved over Cas, taking in the trench coat, the slightly askew tie, the messy scruff of black hair, "I was just…" He was backing up as he spoke, and he nearly tripped over the table. ""Yeah. I'm, uh, gonna go take a shower."