DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters.

WARNINGS: Spoilers for "The Song Remains the Same", Castiel Whumpage and slashy innuendo ahoy!


CHAPTER 3- Madness... Pt. 1

Lawrence Park- 1978


Slowly Castiel became aware of several things: He was lying slumped over on an uncomfortable concrete surface, propped up against the cool metal of some kind of vehicle. He could still taste the tangy flavor of blood and feel it dripping from the corner of his mouth. Not a good sign. His body was growing weaker with every flight. He'd have to be careful to reserve his energies from now on if he was ever to find the Winchesters and be able to take them back to the year 2010 once Anna was defeated. He groaned thinking of the danger his friends were in and instantly felt a pair of hands tugging at his clothes, holding him up and patting against his chest reassuringly.

"Hey, hey, hey! You all right? Just take it easy!" he heard a male voice above him say.

"He's breathing... Sort of..." another male voice spoke closer to his ear. "What should we do?"

Something about this scenario felt very familiar to the angel. He had a vague recollection of Sam and Dean hovering over him upon his first landing just before everything went black. Perhaps his friends had actually found him. Or perhaps they had never left him at all and his entire 70's experience thus far; the quaking bed, the shiny Tyrone, the smelly motel clerks and the hostile strangers with the Gran Torino, had just been some fevered nightmare. He tried to speak out, but only wound up coughing up more blood. He strained to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt too heavy to move. Instead he reached out with a shaky hand and felt the face of the man kneeling before him. The man had a strong jaw line and a thick mop of longish hair surrounding his cheek. Castiel managed a slight smile.

"Sam..." he thought. And that must be Dean standing just to his left. All was well, they were safe. He was safe. Perhaps this was why he could sense Dean's presence in spite of the Enochian Sigils. His friend had been right by his side all along.

"Should we move him?" the man at his right asked softly.

"Yes, of course we should move him!" the man to his left scoffed, "He's getting blood all over the Gran Torino!"

Castiel's eyes flew open at once. He saw instantly that he was pressed up against the red and white striped car he'd seen earlier. It didn't take long for his vision to focus on the faces of the hostile men he'd encountered before, although the blonde at least seemed to have softened up considerably.

"Have a heart, Starsky," the blonde addressed his partner, "He's in a bad way. We should probably get him to a hospital!"

"I don't like it, Hutch," the brown haired man said, shaking his head, "Guy shows up out of no where and falls right into your arms? Feels like a set up. How do we know he's not one of the turkeys we're looking for?"

Castiel frowned and began to feel around the back of his trench coat. Were his wings showing? Why did this man think he was a turkey?

"It's obvious someone's worked him over," Hutch insisted, then noticed Castiel was awake and looking around in confusion, "Hey, hey buddy. Just relax, ok? We just wanna ask you a few questions. No one's gonna hurt you..."

"Speak for yourself, Florence Nightingale!" Starsky snapped, shoving his partner aside to glare down at the angel, "Why don't you tell us exactly what's going on, huh? Where'd you come from? Who sent you? Are you a pusher? A junkie? You on something right now?"

"I'm... I'm on the ground right now..." Castiel answered honestly.

"Oh, a wise guy, eh? How 'bout we take you down to the station see if you're more willing to talk there, huh?"

The angel shrank back. If he wasn't still so dizzy, he would have flown away from these men immediately.

"Starsky, please!" Hutch hissed, "You'll have to excuse my partner, here. This case we're working has him on edge. He's not usually like this. He's usually kind and thoughtful and generous and... uhh... Well, never mind that. Who did this to you? Did someone rough you up? Can you tell us what happened? Just start at the beginning..."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say. Dean was always telling him that he needed to hide the truth about angels and demons from the general public. But lying did not come naturally to the angel. He chose his words carefully.

"I came here with my friends to try and stop an ang...I mean... an assassin who has betrayed us. She's out to destroy the entire family. But we were separated and I woke up surrounded by body parts..."

"Jeez, Starsky. Sounds like we're dealing with a Mob Hit here. I told you this thing was bigger than a couple Dope dealers fronting a motel!"

"I don't know," Starsky muttered, "I smell a rat. How do we know this kid wasn't sent here just to throw us off track? We should wait for Huggy Bear. He's got the real scoop!"

Castiel's eyes lit up. That was what Dean called him whenever they sent him to track down a demon or gather information about the angels' next move.

"That's the name my friend gave me!" he told the men enthusiastically, "Huggy Bear!"

"So you're friends wanted you to get in touch with our informant?" Hutch concluded, "Or were you expecting to meet Huggy Bear here?"

Castiel felt confused again. But surely these men had had some contact with Dean if they knew the nickname he'd given the angel.

"Please, you must be able to help me." he insisted, "I was sent to this park because I was thought I would find the Winchesters here!"

"Winchesters? You mean rifles?" Starsky scowled, "So are you a gun runner? Are these friends of yours smuggling weapons into Lawrence?"

"We didn't bring any guns with us." Castiel frowned again. "Just a knife and sword and some oil from Jerusalem..."

"I knew it! This is big!" Hutch gasped, "We've stumbled right into the middle of a Mafia Family war dealing in Foreign Oil Trade. I told you we should have brought back-up!"

"You've seen The Godfather too many times," Starsky rolled his eyes, "The kid's story is all over the place. I'm gonna get to the bottom of this madness! Who are these friends of yours? What are their names and where are they stashing all the guns?"

"I told you, the Winchesters," Castiel repeated, rubbing at his temples, "And their guns are still locked up in the trunk of their car. A black '67 Chevy Impala. Their father has the car in this time... Please. I have to get to them... They're all in danger..."

"It'll be ok, pal," Hutch said, stroking the angel's shoulders comfortingly, "We'll protect you from these mobsters or whoever's ordered the hit on the Family. Any friend of Huggy Bear's is a friend of ours!"

"Yeah, well, you don't gotta get that friendly," Starsky sulked, knocking Hutch's hand off Castiel's shoulder, "I'm gonna get on the horn and figure this mess out. Don't you two start picking out china patterns while I'm away!"

Starsky stomped over into the driver's side of the Gran Torino leaving Hutch to tend to the frazzled angel. He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and began to wipe the blood from Castiel's face.

"Sorry about my partner's attitude," he said sheepishly, "He gets moody sometimes. But he's really a great guy... It's just… it's complicated… him and me… Say… Are you into Italian food…? 'Cause I know a place around here…"

The blonde was interrupted as the moody brunette stepped back out of the car.

"Ok, at least part of this guy's story checks out." Starsky said, glaring at his partner until the man put his handkerchief away, "There is a black '67 Chevy Impala registered to a John Winchester, ex-Marine. Wife, no kids, currently residing at 485 Robin Tree. Works as a Mechanic at Woodson's Garage. If what your new best friend is saying is true, it sounds like our resident Grease Monkey has decided to supplement his paycheck with a little mob money. I say we get a Search Warrant for this Impala and check it out. In the meantime, we oughta take Mr. Informant here into protective custody... Where'd he go?"

Hutch jumped back startled. The man who had been lying bleeding in front of him just an instant ago was gone!

"I don't know!" he gasped, "I never even took my eyes off him, I swear!"

"Uhh, yeah, I noticed that," Starsky huffed, "Couldn't keep your eyes… or your hands off him, could you?"

"Must we always fight," Hutch pouted, turning his head away.