A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. It means a lot. Warning: there is a plot. *runs and hides*
Chapter 2
Dean slammed the door to his beloved Impala, immediately regretting his action. After all, it was not her fault he had been so agitated these last few days. He walked across the parking lot in a steady pace, until he reached the door to the crappy motel he and his brother were staying at.
Opening the door, he asked Sam, who was sitting behind his laptop, "Anything?" Sam turned to face him when he replied, "No, nothing yet. I just get off the phone with Bobby though, he has no new info but he did say he was going to call some of his contacts. Maybe they know something."Dean let out a sigh of annoyance. "Well, that's a whole pile of nothing."
He walked to the little fridge in the corner of the room. "You want one too?" He asked Sam, who was stretching his muscles, sore from doing research all night and day. 'Sure' he replied. Dean grabbed two beers and sat down at the table, facing his brother. "Look Dean," Sam began and Dean could tell from a mile away that he had been rehearsing this speech when he continued. "We've been in this town for four days now, and we're nowhere near figuring out where the witch is hiding. I just thought, maybe it's time we ask Cas for help." He looked expectedly at Dean, but his voice was resolute when he said "No."
Sam rolled his eyes. This had happened every time he had brought up the angel's name lately. He didn't know what had happened to make his brother react this way, but then again, Dean wasn't exactly one for talking about his feelings anyway."I am just saying, this isn't one of our normal gigs, nothing we've tried has worked. Don't you think it's about time you shove aside whatever reason you have for not asking the guy for help before another innocent person gets hurt?"
Dean saw the concerned look on Sam's face and couldn't help but smile a little. He had missed his brother being this way, compassionate and well…soulful. That didn't mean, however, that he wanted to go along with his idea. Sam gave him a scrutinizing look, trying to figure out what was going on that made Dean not want to ask Castiel for help.
Truth was, Dean would not even allow himself to think much about the angel, because that always resulted in one of those chick-flick moments he hated so much. But after the events of last week, Dean, normally the master of burying stuff deep inside and never talk about them again, had a hard time not thinking about what had happened.
Castiel had been genuinely angry with him, and Dean supposed he could sort of understand that, not that he would let Cas know that. Not after pushing him against the wall and especially not after the confusing stuff he had done. Like almost kissing him, and him almost kissing back….
"Stop right there!" He told himself. "You were not almost kissing an angel of the freakin' lord! You aren't even sure what the hell happened. It has just been another time Cas had misunderstood the concept of personal space. Yes, that must be it." Dean was pretty happy with the conclusion he had reached, but why did he still feel so confused…agitated even?
All these thoughts transpired in a matter of seconds and Dean found Sam was still looking at him, so he averted his eyes while saying, "Fine, pray to him all you want." "I doubt he will even show." He added in a sour tone. Sam scoffed a bit but closed his eyes.
"Castiel," he began, "Uhm, so we've been working this case involving a lot of blood-drained bodies and this witch we can't seem to track down. Basically, we have no new leads whatsoever and we could really use your help, please. We're staying at the Oceanic hotel in Omaha, room 16." Sam opened one eye, glancing around the room and he smiled appreciatively when he saw Castiel had appeared in the corner.
He turned to his brother with an "I knew he'd come!" But Dean was not paying attention to him. He was wrapped up in another one of those intense gazing contests with Cas, who refused to look anywhere else but directly at the hunter. From the look he was giving him, Dean could clearly see some of the hostility still lingered in his blue eyes. Cursing himself, Dean was the first one to break the eye-contact. Staring at the angel for even just a second more had somehow become too uncomfortable to stand.
Sam didn't seem to notice the awkwardness but was waiting for Castiel to step a bit closer to the table. Cas, however, remained stoically standing in the corner, eyes fixed on Dean at all times. Even though Dean was now staring at a stain on the wall as if it was the most intriguing thing he had ever seen, he could still sense the Cas' eyes on him.
Dean jumped from his chair, knocking it over in his anxiousness to get away from the stare. "Just getting a drink" he grumbled as he hastily put the chair upright again. He walked to the fridge, planning to grab a beer but remembered he still had a full bottle on the table, so he settled for a glass of water instead.
In the meantime, Sam had finally succeeded in getting Cas' attention and was now bringing him up-to-date on their latest case. "So far there have been eight dead bodies in the last two years. Gender, age, ethnicity, they don't have anything in common. Except for one thing: all the bodies were completely drained of blood. And get this, we found hex-bags at all the sites, but have no idea what to make of them."
"May I see them?" Castiel asked, after he had stepped closer to the table. Sam nodded and placed the bags on the plastic surface. Castiel carefully opened one of them and intently stared at the content for about five minutes.
Even while standing next to the sink, Dean could hear him softly muttering words that sounded a lot like Enochian. He secretly loved it when Cas was wrapped up in angelic language, eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his lips. Dean shifted uneasily, he had just looked at the angel for a little too long.
Finally Castiel opened his eyes, a dazed look on his face, as if his thoughts were still miles away. "I believe I know what creature is murdering these humans." He paused, fingers absent-mindedly tracing the bags. "Care to enlighten us?" Dean shot at him. Cas ignored him as he turned to Sam. "Bacchae, that's the creature you are searching for." Sam looked confused. "From ancient times? I thought we were dealing with a witch." "Well you are," Castiel replied, "Bacchae are one of the oldest, most powerful types of witches. Little is known about their existence nowadays."
Sam nodded understandingly. Dean, however, was still very much clueless. "Sorry to interrupt on your little nerd-conversation, but I have no idea what you're talking about." He said annoyed, as he walked back to the others. He looked expectedly at Sam, who immediately launched into explanatory-mode.
"Okay, so according to the myths, Bacchae were female followers of the Roman god Bacchus. You would have liked him, Dean, he was kind of the party-god. So these woman would lose themselves to pleasure until they basically went insane. It is said that some of them went so far, they lost their humanity and were forced to wander the earth, trying to satisfy their desire."
Dean sighed, "Okay, great but what's the deal with the blood then?" Sam was lost in thought for a moment until he said, "No idea, I come up blank" and looked at Castiel who had picked up his favourite activity of staring at Dean in the mean time. "Uhm, Cas, do you maybe have a theory?" Dean said, feeling uncomfortable again."I do but I cannot be certain until I visit the location of the probable enchantment." Castiel replied. Dean, eager to get out of the room, grabbed the keys to the Impala and shouted "Alright, let's go!"
A/N: I know, not a lot of Destiel in this chapter. I am just really trying to write in character. As much as I want Dean to run to Castiel while shouting "I love you!" it would just not be believable. So bear with me on this one. There will be a lot of Destiel to come, I am just trying to write the story in character as much as possible. If you could review and let me know what you think, that would be so so so great!