AN: Nothing much to say. :T Oh! Just to let you guys know, I don't know anything about Hotevilla, Arizona, so I'll probably be making some stuff up about it as I go. Also, this story takes place somewhere in between the beginning and end of the Apocalypse.
Story Title: Castiella
Story Summary: Sam and Dean are on another run of the mill creature call in Hotevilla, Arizona about an Incubus that's draining the life out of women all over town. Castiel has been MIA for a few days, but finally shows up again after a... surprising change. What happened to his original meat suit, and how did he get into the body of a young woman? How will all this confusion effect the case? Find out!
Chapter Summary: Dean and Sam head into Hotevilla and start doing a little digging in order to find out where the Incubus will strike next. Cas makes his appearance, but not as someone who the boys recognize!
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Chapter Two: Digging
Hotevilla wasn't a huge town, but at least it had an all around view of some classic earthy landscape going on for miles. Out here it almost seemed like the end of the world didn't exist. Sam wished they could keep driving and enjoy the scenery, but when was that ever an option? Besides, there wouldn't be any scenery left in a few months unless they were able to find a lead on how to kill Lucifer.
The Chevy Impala rolled into town at a steady 30 mph, bits of gravel popping underneath its tires. Dean scoffed when he saw yet another speed limit sign that had a big, bold number twenty on it.
"Aw, c'mon! What is it with these small towns? It's like the cops got nothing to do in their spare time but ticket a guy driving a reckless twenty-two." As soon as he said that, both boys saw a police car planted on the side of the road, just waiting for a chance to pounce.
Sam shrugged. "I don't blame them. It must get pretty boring around here when you don't get many visitors."
"Yeah, well now that we're here maybe this joint will liven up a little."
Dean took a left turn at the first intersection they saw and kept coasting down the street to see if there was a bar where they could gather information about recent happenings.
"So did Bobby say anything about what the Incubus looked like?" Sam asked while observing a few of the shops on this block.
"Yup. Surprisingly, the thing can take on human form." Dean had laid the sarcasm on real thick.
"Which means... it could be any of these people?"
" 'Fraid so."
Sam made eye contact with a couple of dark-skinned folks (no doubt of Indian descent) who were swaying in their rocking chairs outside an antique store. The mens' faces scrunched up and gave him a sour look until they were out of sight. Sam decided it was best to keep his eyes forward for the rest of the ride.
"Great."
Finding a good bar in this town wasn't a difficult task in the least. There were bars lined up along every street they came across, some right next to each other. No wonder the speed limit dwindled down to twenty.
Dean smirked as he admired this lovely phenomenon. "You know what? I think I like the natives."
They found a parking space outside of a place called Bilagaana and made their way in. They weren't wearing any disguises this time. Dean was afraid that if they suited up in their FBI uniforms it'd spook the residents, since they probably never saw much action around here anyway. They couldn't take the chance of everyone clamming up about the incidents. Once inside, Sam and Dean were mildly confused by how many caucasians were in this bar. For a town full of Native Americans one would think it'd be the opposite. Nonetheless, the boys walked up to the counter and took a seat, making sure to be out of earshot from other customers.
"Toto, I don't think we're in Arizona anymore." Dean mimicked the famous Wizard of Oz line.
"Yeah, I kno- hey wait, why am I Toto?"
Before Dean could answer with another playful remark about his younger brother, the bartender showed up while cleaning one of the beer glasses.
"What can I do for you fella's?"
"Couple of your Dos Equis, compadre." Dean shifted in his seat and glanced around to see if the coast was clear. "And uhh, we were wondering if you could help us answer a few questions we got."
The bartender nodded, "I'll do my best."
"Okay, first thing's first... what's with all the white people in here? Last time I checked this wasn't exactly a multicolored town. No offense." The bartender was Native American as well and Dean didn't want the guy to get the wrong impression about him. The only racism Dean harbored was towards the hell spawns they fought every other day.
The bartender chuckled and rested an arm on the counter. "I'm guessing you two aren't fluent in the Navajo tongue." Sam and Dean looked at each other as if one of them happened to know the language, but of course neither did. "The word 'Bilagaana' means 'white person'. This is a bar mainly for the pale skins, namely you and your brother and everyone else in here."
Sam chimed in, "Sooo the bars here are segregated?"
"No, not all of them, but sometimes you like mixing it up with your own people, you know what I mean? As you can see, we don't all speak the same language, so it's more convenient for travelers and other white residents to be able to sit down at a bar and know what the hell everyone's saying. Simple as that." The brothers nodded slowly, glad that the city where their job was didn't have any racial tensions. "Although..." The bartender continued. "... there are a few locals here who don't take kindly to strangers who suddenly show up at their doorstep, especially two white young men such as yourselves, driving a car like that..." He pointed to their Impala outside. "... and whose intent by stopping here is shrouded in mystery."
The tone in the bartender's voice wasn't threatening or accusing, but the boys could tell that he knew they didn't show up out of nowhere just to throw back a few bottles.
Dean put on his best business deal smile and leaned forward. "Look, uh... we're just passing through, kay? We don't want no trouble or nothing."
"Hey, don't worry, buddy." The bartender reassured. "The only way any real trouble could stir up some dust here is if the Apocalypse was coming. Ha!" The man guffawed.
The irony of that joke was too cruel for the boys to respond properly, though they tried their best with a breathy half-hearted laugh.
Sam finally cut to the chase. "Right, well my brother and I overheard a few things from a town or two over that some crazy stuff was going on here?" It didn't take long for the bartender to figure out what he was referring to, and his weathered face became grim. "We were just curious to know what exactly happened?"
The bartender said nothing for a moment, but didn't stop cleaning the beer mugs. A long, tired sigh escaped escaped his lips, as if he had just accepted an unwanted fate. "There's not much to tell, really. I haven't heard of this many people dying in town since... well, ever. And they're all women, too!" Sam and Dean listened carefully. "One day they're as healthy as a horse. The next..." He set down the glass he was holding and shook his head. "I just don't get it. How did they end up like that?"
"Let me guess." Interrupted Dean. "The bodies looked like beef jerky when they found'em?"
The bartender raised his head and stared at the boys with wide eyes. "Yeah! How'd you know?"
"Word spreads fast." Dean gave a curt nod.
"... Right."
Sam asked the next question. "Do the police have any leads on what did this?"
Those broad shoulders shrugged. "Their guess is as good as all of ours. Some say it was mosquitos that suddenly attacked them during the night; sucked'em dry of all their blood." Dean wanted to laugh at the theory, but respectfully held back. "Others think it was a disease they all shared, although I haven't ever seen a disease that acted like that. I used to be a doctor here, and we never had patients who ended up as a skeleton in human's clothing."
"What do you think it could be?" Dean could tell this guy was pretty sharp seeing as how he didn't sound like he quite believed the rumors going around, so perhaps he had some useful ideas of his own. Plus, he wanted to see just how much Mr. Bartender knew.
It took a moment for the guy to answer, probably because he didn't want to look like a lunatic in front of his customers, but what did he have to lose? "To be honest, I think there might be higher powers at work here. I'm no believer in black magic or anything, but it's days like these that I ponder what things we don't know about the world we live in."
Sam and Dean couldn't have agreed more.
"Ah! You two ordered drinks! Sorry, boys, I'll get those right away." The bartender obviously wanted to steer clear of this conversation, but there was just one more thing the Winchester's wanted to know in order to start their investigation.
Once the bartender came back with their beers, Sam spoke up. "Uh, Mr...?"
"Ralph. Call me Ralph."
"Ralph?" Dean smiled. "That's not a very native name."
"My mother was Native American and my father was white. I'm named after my grandfather. The name goes back six generations." He wiped the table down where some Dos Equis spilled. Dean retreated from the subject and mouthed the word "oookay" to himself in an incredulous manner.
"Well, Ralph..." Sam continued, "... Did you happen to know any of the victims? I'm just asking because this seems like such a small town where everyone might know each other."
Ralph gave another heavy sigh. "Yeah... Unfortunately, I did know one. A daughter of my friend, Carlos, and his wife. She was only 18." The boys looked at one another with sympathy in their eyes. They knew how hard it was to loose someone so young in the family. "This shouldn't have happened. Not to Elise. She was a good girl."
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The Winchesters knocked on the door of Mr. and Mrs. Ortega's home later that afternoon. They had said their goodbyes with Ralph the bartender and gave him their regards. He thanked them for listening to his troubles, saying that it was originally supposed to be his job. Sam and Dean got a good kick out of that.
This time the boys were locked and loaded in their standard black tie FBI uniforms, complete with fake badges and astute expressions. The door opened to reveal a fifty-something year old man with mussy black hair and droopy eyes. He looked in no mood to have visitors, but two FBI agents was a whole new bowl of wax for him.
"Hello, Mr. Ortega?"
"... Yes?" Dean was thankful that the man could speak English.
"Hi, I'm Brady Castro, and this is my partner, David Hussler. FBI." The brothers whipped out their shields and resumed the procedure.
"We understand that you've recently had a loss in the family?"
Mr. Ortega didn't know if he should respond at first, but it was the FBI after all. "... Yes. My... my daughter." His eyes were glassy with the promise of tears, but none would fall. The poor man had probably done enough crying for the entire two weeks his little girl had been dead.
Sam's voice softened and he folded his hands together. "We're very sorry to hear that." He received a nod in return.
Dean forged on. "You mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?"
"The police... they came a few days ago. They have already asked us about everything we know." Mr. Ortega's hispanic accent was thick, but nothing that needed repeating.
"Yes, but we're not the police, Mr. Ortega. We've been filled in on what happened and my partner and I think that there are..." How was he to explain it? "... higher powers at work here." Ralph had been pretty darn accurate in his assumption earlier.
Mr. Ortega looked at them with skeptical eyes, but the boys could tell he was interested in hearing more. After Sam did some research on the family, they figured, with the mother and father being so heavily catholic (and superstitious), that mentioning something about "evil forces" just might be believable.
Once the Winchesters were invited in, they entered a sort of parlor room where Mrs. Ortega sat in a pastel-colored arm chair that had a hand-made lace cover thrown on the back of it. A box of Kleenex sat nearly empty on the coffee table in front of her, one of the tissues clutched within her hand. Her deep brown eyes, having been glued to the picture frames before her, fluttered up to see her husband and two strangers standing in the entryway. Her face was one of confusion.
"Hello, ma'am." Dean re-introduced themselves and showed their badges once more. "We're here to gather information on the late death of your daughter." There was never an easy way to say things like this, but getting to the point was a top priority for these boys.
Mrs. Ortega directed her gaze at the husband and started speaking in rapid Spanish. Whatever she was saying, it didn't sound happy. Mr. Ortega responded in a soothing voice, but it wasn't enough to calm her down. After a few more sharp phrases, the woman huffed up and stormed out of the parlor. Her sobbing could be heard from in the kitchen.
Dean leaned over and whispered to Sam, "Did you catch any of that?"
Sam hesitated. "A little..."
"And?"
"You don't really wanna know."
"I didn't ask you to tell me what she called us, I'm asking did she say anything about our case?"
"Not from what I was able to decipher."
Mr. Ortega wanted to go after his wife, but knew that he needed to tend to the agents first. He turned around to face the boys and this time he couldn't help but let a single tear roll down his cheek.
"Please, senors. I beg of you. We have already told the police everything we know! If there is nothing more to be said, then my wife and I would like to be left alone."
"And what did the police say exactly?" Dean pressed forward. There was no way they were leaving here without a lead. "That your daughter's death was caused by mosquitoes? A deadly disease? Dehydration?"
No answer. Looks like he wasn't buying into the rumors either.
"Mr. Ortega," Sam took over, "we know this is hard for your to talk about, and we're sorry if we upset your wife, but if you want to find out what really happened to Elise, then we need your help to do that."
The man's eyes fixated on Sam's, and a brief flash of pain flickered in his eyes at the mention of his daughter's name. He nervously fiddled with his hands a bit, exchanging glances with both agents before finally resigning himself to reason.
"My Elise... she was always a good girl. Never unkind, always responsible. As a child, she wanted to grow up and be a veteranarian. Her love of animals was unlike any other." Mr. Ortega smiled as he said this. "We just wanted her to be happy... but..." He paused. "... One night, two weeks ago, I come home late from the barber's where I work. My wife was already asleep. I go upstairs to check on my little girl, and... and..."
"It's okay. Just take your time." Sam put a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.
Mr. Ortega settled down for a moment and kept going. "Well... I... saw something... hovering over Elise while she's in her bed. I thought it was my wife, but, after I make a sound, it turned around and I saw it was a man. But this was not an ordinary man! It's eyes and mouth... they glowed! It was a demon I saw!"
Sam and Dean gave each other that knowing look.
"Mr. Ortega, did you see what the de- I mean, what the man looked like?"
"It was dark. I could not fully see him. Tall, thin, young with short hair, and those eyes... I tried to tell police about this, but they..."
"Don't believe you?"
"No. Why would they? I'm not sure I believe it either, but I cannot erase what I saw!" He said in a determined tone.
"What did you see, Mr. Ortega?" Sam felt there was something more to the story.
"It vanished! It vanished right before my eyes! That's when I was certain it was no man. I turned on the lights, and nobody was there, except for... my daughter." His voice wavered. "What that man... what that thing did to her. I do not understand! Why? Why did it do this to us? We have done nothing wrong!" Mr. Ortega finally broke down, placing a hand over his face to hide his anguish.
All Sam and Dean could do was stand there and listen to this man's cries.
'Why did this happen to us?'
'We didn't do anything wrong.'
Those were questions that even the Winchesters still needed answers to.
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At the hotel, Dean had just gotten out of the shower, put on some jeans and threw on any old t-shirt that was stuffed in his bag. Sam was still busy working away on his lap top, trying desperately to find more folklore about their illusive Incubus.
"How's the search going?" Dean asked why rubbing his hair dry with a hand towel.
"No luck so far." His brother laid back in his seat and shook out his hands. All this typing was giving him carpel tunnel.
"Figures." Dean muttered. "The thing up's its tactics and now it's not even a blip on the map anymore. What about Bobby?"
"Haven't heard from him since this morning."
"Well that's just superb." He threw the towel onto the table.
Sam quickly moved his papers out of the way. "Dude, watch it! What's your problem?"
"I'm sick and tired of not having a lead to go on. It seems like every time we try to save the day, the villains keep finding more and more ways to outsmart us, like in some crappy Saturday morning cartoon."
"Well, yeah. I mean, that's kind of the routine our business is based on. I thought you'd be used to that by now?"
"I'm too used to it! The Apocalypse is coming, Sam, and we don't have time for these small fry. We need to move on asap!"
"I agree with you, Dean, but what do you suggest we do? Abandon these people?"
"No!"
"Then what?"
Dean placed his hands on the table and let his head hang between his shoulders for bit. "I don't know. From what we've learned, it doesn't look like the bastard has a pattern, or a preference for that matter. Every girl is just as different as the next. Little to nothing in common. The families all check out as honest citizens... what are we missing?"
Sam thought for a while until realization hit him. He snapped his fingers. "Dean. What's something you noticed as soon as we came to town?"
"For a town full of such good folk, they sure have a lot of liquor stores?" He mused.
"The age difference. I've hardly seen any children or teenagers except for the Incubus' victims."
"Well the little rascals are around somewhere. There are tons of young families here."
"Exactly. During the day we don't see them, so we can only assume they like to hang out at night. This would be the perfect time for a 'tall, thin, young' man to make his move on a pretty, young girl."
"Right, I see where you're going with this. The Incubus comes out at night to suck the girls dry of their energy, but it won't just go into anybody's house until he knows his prey is there."
"So he has to spot his next victim at a place where lots of girls go at night, follow them home, and do his dirty work."
Dean was glad everything was starting to come together. "Alright then. The thing is, where is this oh-so-special hangout where all the high school sweethearts are hookin' up at?"
"Annnd that's the million dollar question of the day."
In other words, no clue.
Sam and Dean put on their thinking caps, but without knowing if Hotevilla had any teen get-aways nestled somewhere, how were they supposed to track down their monster?
"... Maybe we should try Cas, again." Sam suggested.
"Ha! Right. He's already not answered our calls for the tenth time this week. I'm sure he'll come now." Dean rolled his eyes.
Sam didn't listen and decided to give it one more shot. If their angel couldn't help them, then it'd all be on foot from here. He took Dean's cell phones and tried contacting Cas. One ring. Two ring. Three ring. -Click-
Bingo!
"Hello, Cas? You there?" No answer, but Sam could tell that someone was on the line. "Cas? It's me, Sam. We need your help on this Incubus case, and we're kind of stuck. Maybe you might know something we don't know about these guys? Hello?"
Still no answer. A split second later, the sound of a dial tone was all Sam heard. He closed the phone and sighed.
Dean smirked. "Like I told ya, he ain't coming. I don't know if angel's get holidays off or whatever, but last time I checked it wasn't Christmas yet!" Dean fumed. His younger brother wasn't sure what to think. Had something happened to Castiel? Was that really him on the line? Maybe the other angels had gotten to him, or maybe Lucifer himself? It was a little worrisome, truthfully.
All those doubts were washed away when the boys heard a familiar whoosh of air behind them.
But the looks on their faces were far from pleased once they saw who was actually standing there.
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AN: Sorry for the cliffhanger. :T Hope this chapter was interesting enough to keep your attention! Cas will most definitely be the star in the next chapter. ;) Look forward to it!