Disclaimer: I own nothing, sigh…
Summary: Lucifer's put a bounty on Dean's head and it's down to Sam and Castiel to keep the hunter safe… Set after Swap Meat so possibly a few spoilers. Warnings for bad language. Dean/Castiel, but nothing graphic. Please read and review: you'll encourage me to write even quicker… haha! =)
'Hell's Most Wanted'
Chapter Three
Lucifer sensed the moment his spell was triggered. The pure rush of adrenaline that flooded his system as his vessel absorbed the Winchester's blood was… heaven. He laughed at his choice of words, the crackle of electricity thrumming through his bones making his teeth chatter as the primordial blood magic finalised its hold on him.
He spared a moment to wonder if the magic's effect was so pleasurable for Dean. Ha, he hoped not… But now the key part of his plan was in place and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it. Who would have thought trading blood could be so much fun…
Turning to the demon standing before him, the fallen angel couldn't help but grin at the look of utmost terror on the man's face. Was he really that scary, little old him?
'Do you understand what I need you to do?'
His only answer was a slight nod; the demon's face growing paler as he watched the Devil himself hold out a wicked looking blade as an offering.
'Use it well. I won't give you this opportunity again.'
Castiel shook himself off and reached for the thrashing figure on the bed, holding the hunter down as he placed two fingers upon the young man's head and compelled him into a deeper sleep.
Dean's body immediately relaxed, his sudden stillness in the now quiet room more terrifying than the seizure had been, and Castiel had to fight against the need to wake him up again, just to be sure he was okay.
When Sam arrived back at the motel room half an hour later carrying a brown, greasy bag he found the angel sitting awkwardly in a chair alongside Dean's bed, watching intently as his brother slept soundly.
'How's he doing, Cas?' he whispered so as not to disturb the slumbering hunter.
Shutting the door quietly behind him, Sam watched the look of uncertainty momentarily cloud the angel's features before his stoic mask fell quickly back into place.
'There is no change.'
It was a lie, but Castiel had no other answer. Not yet.
Dean chose that moment to stir, the hushed whispers prickling at his senses. He couldn't help the slight groan that escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to the bright glare of the light bulb hanging directly above his head. Blinking to clear his vision, he felt the twin stares directed at him from the other two occupants in the room.
'Dude, take a picture. It'll last longer,' he croaked grumpily, his throat dry. Sitting up quickly, he glared as the angel attempted to help him stay upright. 'I'm fine, Cas.'
Castiel bit his tongue at the angry remark that threatened to escape, the need to smack his charge upside the head almost becoming an overwhelming urge. A shudder ran through him at the memories of the strange images that had befallen him, his skin crawling, and without realising it he moved away from Dean and settled himself over the other side of the room.
Dean frowned, but thought nothing more of it, resuming his attempt at getting to his feet. 'You heard from Bobby yet, Sammy?' he questioned, before looking down at himself and realising he was dressed in only his boxers. 'Dammit, Cas. What have I told you about taking my clothes off?'
Sam laughed and rolled his eyes at the angel's almost guilty look, grabbing Dean's bloodied shirt from the floor and throwing it at his brother who caught it one-handed. Spying the bloodied mess, the shirt beyond repair, Dean threw it over his shoulder onto the bed and headed into the bathroom.
'Bobby's got a lead on Lucifer,' Sam remarked casually, catching his brother's eye as he returned from the bathroom fully clothed in jeans and a white T-shirt. 'And he's confirmed the information Cas gave us about the bounty on your head.'
'I guess we'll have to watch our backs a bit more than usual, then.' Dean shrugged, grabbing his bag from beside the bed and checking that he'd packed everything that he came with. 'We ready to leave?'
Castiel looked ready to say something but seemingly thought better of it. He was getting better at the whole 'biting his tongue' thing, Dean thought with a chuckle.
'Cas, would you mind taking me back to my motel room? We left in a hurry and I didn't get a chance to grab the laptop.'
The angel nodded his consent at Sam as Dean agreed to meet them by the car in ten minutes.
Striding purposefully over to the younger Winchester, Castiel took one final look at Dean before pressing his fingers to Sam's forehead, the pair disappearing with a flutter of wings.
Dean watched the empty space they'd occupied moments before, the angel's searing glare freezing him in place. The 'be careful' remained unsaid but Dean heard it perfectly clear. Snapping out of his daze, the hunter headed for the door. Just how much trouble could he possibly find in ten minutes, anyhow?
Dean whistled tunelessly to himself as he loaded his gear into the car, enjoying the first signs of the impending sunshine peeking through the clouds and reflecting off the shiny black metal of the Impala. It was set to be a bitchin' hot day, he thought, grinning at the realisation that sun meant half-naked girls in bikinis and little else.
He'd parked his precious baby adjacent to a nearby alley those few short hours ago that he'd arrived here. Maybe when they reached Bobby's he could spare a few minutes to give her a clean. All these hours driving along hot, dusty roads were a bitch on the paintjob.
Dean caught a glimpse of movement behind him in the car's shiny surface, distracting him from his perverted thoughts, instantly on alert as his hand went for the gun at his waistband. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he whirled to face whoever was behind him, gun cocked and ready to fire, but even with his well-honed hunting skills he was a moment too slow.
The dull thud as the knife buried itself hilt-deep into the shoulder of his gun arm made him jerk in surprise, knocking him back against the car, his grip loosening on his gun as it clattered to the floor. His suddenly off-balanced body joined it an instant later.
Cursing furiously, Dean scrabbled to regain his gun from his awkward position on the rough ground but his fingers refused to gain a grip, the sound of heels crunching on gravel ringing in his ears.
Looking up, the hunter was stunned by the leather-clad woman before him. She was a demon, that much was obvious, but she emitted an aura of pure power, sex and one hell of an attitude.
She was tall and slim, with startling green eyes and unnaturally fiery red hair that billowed in the slight breeze as she stalked towards him. Dean's eyes fell upon the gun in her delicate hands, the powerful weapon aiming directly at his head. She was close enough that even being the world's worst shot would still guarantee a direct hit.
'Well, well, well… Dean Winchester,' she drawled as she stopped before him, one slim leg kicking out to knock his gun into the alley and further out of the hunter's reach. 'Where have you been, doll? We've all been looking for you.'
Dean scowled at the demon with contempt, eyeing the knife sticking out from his shoulder as he dragged himself upright with his good arm and rested his back against his car. At least it didn't hurt… yet.
'Hey there, have we met?' He gave one of his most dazzling smiles as he reached for the blade buried in his shoulder.
'Tut tut, not so fast, cutie pie,' she growled, her leg lashing out again to pin him by the throat, her gun now aimed squarely between his eyes.
Although her sandaled foot wasn't crushing hard enough to cut off his breathing entirely, the pressure was enough that Dean struggled to draw in a breath without a large amount of effort on his part. Freakin' demons…
'A little birdie told me Lucifer has a plan for you, Deano,' the woman taunted, flexing her brightly painted toes to caress the underside of the hunter's chin. 'He's finally going to get little Sammy to say yes…'
'Over my dead body,' Dean snapped, wheezing as her foot pressed down harder. Black spots danced before his eyes, his vision blurring. If the bitch didn't have that damn gun in his face, he'd have kicked her ass already.
'He's been clever this time, Dean,' she confided. 'Soon even you will beg your brother to say yes.'
Her words ringing loudly in his ears, the demon lowered her foot and gripped the hilt of the knife in her slim fingers. With a malicious smile she ripped the blade from his shoulder and took a step back. 'Well hell, take a look at that…'
Dean was long accustomed to pain, trusting it to be a part of his everyday life. Hell, he'd spent long enough on the wrong end of that sadistic bastard Alistair to know every possible definition of the word, intimately.
But this time he felt nothing.
Investigating his shoulder with trembling fingers, Dean found the rip in his shirt. Pulling the torn fabric away, he was amazed to discover his shoulder was whole; completely unmarked.
'What the hell…'
'Watch your back, Deano,' were the demon's final words before she turned and disappeared down the alley.
Climbing gingerly to his feet, dusting off his pants, Dean barely had time to throw on his jacket to cover the torn shirt before Castiel and his brother arrived.
To be continued…
