Chapter Three

The sterile, white environment of the emergency room was hectic as doctors and nurses rushed around. In a far corner near one of the many large square windows, Dean and Sam sat together, waiting to hear news of Bobby. So far, no one had come out to tell them anything. Sam's eyes were stuck to the double doors that led to the theatres and the many rooms beyond.

Dean on the other hand, looked around the emergency room at all the people still waiting to be seen. Blood spotted the pristine white floor in places here and there, while others were unable to stay still from the pain they were in. One of them Dean knew was from a broken arm. It made him scoff at how the man was acting. He'd had worse before.

Feeling he was being watched, Dean turned his head to the person sitting on his other side. The man was looking at him through the bloody tissue he held to his nose. Dean managed a lopsided smile as he nodded his head. Turning to look at Sam, he leaned over a little.

"This won't take long will it?"

"I don't know, Dean," sighed Sam, sounding somewhat bored.

"You know we've still got a werewolf in the trunk," Dean whispered.

"I know," said Sam. "I could go and take care of it if you want."

A splutter of air left Dean's mouth making Sam's attention on the door fold. He looked beside him and frowned. "What?"

"Come on, Sam," said Dean louder than intended. "You think after all this time I'm gonna leave you alone with an alpha, especially one that could have killed you."

"What?" repeated Sam, shifting in the hard plastic chair.

"Sam, you walked right up to that werewolf, knowing that it still could move its arms freely. We didn't capture it. It let itself get caught."

The chair beside Dean creaked and a body passed his vision as he turned his head. The man that was sitting beside him moved to the other side of the room, throwing both of them curious looks. Dean's face lit up with amusement and he chuckled lightly.

"And because of that, I'm not about you let you be alone with it," continued Dean, turning his attention back to Sam and lowering his voice. "We make sure Bobby's alright and then we'll deal with it. It's not getting out of that trunk until we let it out," he added firmly.

"That's if the silver in there can hold it long enough," muttered Sam.

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, annoyance clear in his tone.

"Do you remember the alpha shapeshifter?" reminded Sam. "It wasn't affected by anything that we did. It took a lot more to hurt it than its children. I'm just saying that it's probably the same with the werewolf."

"Well, as I said before, it let itself be caught," said Dean sharply. "Why would it run now?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed heavily.

With that the conversation ended and both brothers stared at the white doors. An hour passed before someone came to them. The man stood in a long white coat, a clipboard in hand and a frown on his tired, lined face. He looked the two over before reading his notes again.

"Dean and Sam... Here for Robert Singer?"

"Yes," said Dean, standing up, Sam following his movements.

"He's doing well," said the doctor with a faint smile. "The bleeding has been stopped, no major arteries were hit and he's more than awake, barking orders to see both of you."

They followed the doctor through the white doors and down a wide, almost empty corridor and into a small, private room near the end. A machine beeped in the corner and the dusty white blinds were closed, giving the room a closed in feeling. A single bed sat directly in the centre and wrapped within the white blankets they saw Bobby, sitting up, wide awake and watching them. As soon as the doctor left, he spoke.

"So, where is it, boys?"

"In the trunk," replied Dean instantly.

"In the trunk?" repeated Bobby with a little disbelief. "It's gonna take more than all the silver you've got in there to hold it, or kill it."

"What will?" asked Sam quickly, looking ready for a fight.

"Iridium," said Bobby confidently. "It's the same thing that hurt the shapeshifter."

"The same thing would work?" asked Dean slowly, a frown forming. "They're two different beings."

"Iridium is one of the rarest metals on earth and it's hard to forge," said Bobby. "And there may only be one place you can get one."

Dean sighed as he hung his head. He knew where they could possibly get one but he was now dead. He met Sam's eye and it was clear he knew too. "Crowley," said Sam with a shake of his head.

"We're gonna need Cas," said Dean instantly, walking towards the door. "I'll go call him."

Without waiting, Dean left the room and the hospital. He stood the most vacant spot of the parking lot and looked up. He scoffed lightly as his eyes wandered over the twinkling stars. Calling the angel had become beyond difficult as lately, he'd been too busy to come down and help them.

"Hey, uh, Cas, we need a little help with the werewolf alpha," he said, feeling stupid. "Want to come down and give us a hand?"

A few seconds passed and Dean looked ahead of him. Nothing. Then to the sides. Nothing. Then behind him. Nothing. A sharp breath left his mouth. Somehow he wasn't surprised. As he turned back to look at the hospital, something shiny caught his eye. The silver glint came from a small car driving through the emergency exit and out through the other side without slowing down or stopping.

Feeling his patience run out, Dean looked back up and decided to try again, his voice much less polite than before.

"Come on, Cas," he started, clearly frustrated. "We just need help getting one item. Don't be a dick." He paused, looking around again. Nothing. "Oh, you know what? I-"

"I'm here, Dean."

The hunter spun on his heel at the sound of the deep, raspy voice. The usual appearance of a man dressed in a black suit, blue tie and tan trench coat stood there, seemingly out of thin air. For a moment, Dean felt his annoyance evaporate as relief replaced it at seeing the angel. But it soon returned.

"What took you so long?" asked Dean harshly.

"I'm sorry," said Castiel quietly. "Things have become difficult."

Suddenly, Dean detected a noticeable change in the angel. He looked tired, beaten, and worn-out. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking the angel up and down a few times.

"Raphael is about to win," he said, his shoulders slumping. "What do you want?"

"I, uh, we need..." Dean trailed off, wondering if he should say something about the angel's civil war. "We need Crowley's iridium knife and we thought you might have taken it after cleaning the place out," he said without faltering, deciding against saying anything.

"I have it," said Castiel, pulling out a blade from inside his trench coat. "I meant to hand it over but forgot. Is there anything else?"

"Um... no," said Dean, feeling a little too lucky. "Actually, yes, will this work against the alpha werewolf?"

"Yes," said Castiel, nodding. "It should."

"Okay," he said, shrugging. "Thanks for the help."

Dean turned back towards the hospital but stopped suddenly as a flutter of wings sounded and Castiel appeared in front of him. The hunter's face lit up with obvious surprise but before he could get a word out, the angel spoke.

"You need to be careful, Dean," said Castiel, his blue eyes shining unusually bright.

"The werewolf let itself get captured, I know," he said walking past the angel.

"That's not what I'm talking about," said Castiel. His words made Dean stop and turn to look at him. "You and Sam are being stalked, by a woman."

"We would have noticed," said Dean dismissing it.

"Don't be so sure," said Castiel quickly. "Who left the picture of Sam's girlfriend Jessica on the door of the motel? It's someone personal, someone after revenge. You need to be careful."

"You know about the picture?"

"Of course," said Castiel as though the answer were obvious. "Check your car."

"Then you know who's doing-"

Dean's sentence was cut short as the wings fluttered again and the angel disappeared into thin air. Dean muttered under his breath, cursing the angel's indirectness and went to check on his car. The Impala gleamed spotlessly under the white light it sat beneath. And there was something stuck to the windshield. It looked to be a piece of paper that started to rustle at the corner as though threatening to blow away.

At reaching the car, he yanked the paper off the windshield and looked at it. Dean sighed, but it wasn't in irritation, it was in dismay. It was like the one on the motel door all over again. Pulling out his phone, he brought up Sam's number and sent a text: outside.

It only took a few minutes until he saw his brother's tall frame walk from the main entrance and towards him. "What is it?" asked Sam, stopping a few feet from him.

Dean said nothing but held out the paper. With a frown, Sam took it and casted his eyes down. His features instantly hardened and Dean looked away, suddenly feeling as though he were intruding on something private. When he looked up, he noticed that Sam hadn't moved nor had his features changed. After a couple minutes, Sam handed the piece of paper back, turned and walked back to the hospital.

"I want this person's head," he said coldly.

Dean nodded as he folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket. Part of him agreed with his little brother but he knew there had to be a reason Sam was being targeted this way. It couldn't just be anybody.


The black iron gate creaked as it was opened, making Sam roll his eyes. It was clichéd. He pushed the werewolf through the available space, Dean following behind. He moved ahead, opening the heavy iron door. Surprise registered across his face as it wasn't locked. Once inside, he closed it and locked it. As Sam secured the werewolf in a metal chair with silver chains, Dean got to work, lining the church walls with protection.

When finished, Dean turned and looked over every inch of the place, just to make sure. The cold stone walls were sprawled with ancient writings that Dean had looked up, on the door there was werewolf blood smeared across each column and the windows had been splattered with what was left. The thick silver chains they'd dragged from the car were tied around the werewolf's body, holding it to the thick metal chair in front of the altar.

"Looks good," said Dean, admiring his own work.

For the second time Sam rolled his eyes and said nothing, standing beside him. They both looked at the creature before them. She was back in human form, looking up at them with wide, ocean blue eyes. Her pale skin was flecked with red spots and Dean's jaw clenched, knowing it was Bobby's blood on her face. Her tattered clothes barely covered her and at Sam's wandering eyes, she smiled, showing her razor sharp, sparkling white teeth.

"What should we play first?" she asked teasingly, her eyes focused solely on Sam.

"How about let's neuter the puppy when it doesn't behave?" suggested Dean, cocking his eyebrow.

"Ooooh, kinky," the werewolf said, smirking. "Might work better if I were male."

"Oh, trust me, it'll work," said Dean confidently. "Now, why did you let us take you?"

The slender female shrugged, a smile of indifference on her face. "Who says I did?"

"I do," retorted Dean. "After shooting you, which you seem to have recovered from, you went down but still had use of your claws and you didn't do anything. You surrendered."

A sudden bout of laughter erupted from the werewolf's mouth, visibly startling both Dean and Sam. The sound echoed off the stone walls several times over. Once it died down, Sam watched as Dean took a step forward, pulling a dark knife from his jacket pocket. Sam decided to let it play out a little before getting involved. He took a step back and leaned against the altar.

"Do you know what this is?" asked Dean, waving the knife in the woman's face.

"Your daddy's little plaything?" she said cheekily, the smirk growing wider.

Dean's lower lip twitched at the mention of his father but he swallowed it and took a step closer and bent over, leaving their faces only inches apart. "It's iridium," he whispered smugly. "Got it from a demon who tortured an alpha shapeshifter mercilessly with it."

The smirk faltered somewhat but the attitude didn't. "You know from here I could bite your nose off..." she murmured vaguely.

"And if you don't tell us what we want to know, we're gonna use it the same way on you," continued Dean, ignoring the empty threat.

Suddenly, the werewolf's demeanour changed. The chains rattled as she slumped in the chair, her head tilting to the side as she continued to look at Dean. Slowly, a grin developed on her face. Dean's hard green ones still stared into her blue orbs, refusing to look away.

"I have to wonder... why you are still looking for purgatory," she said slowly in a bored tone. "I mean, Crowley's gone. There's no need for it to be found."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You know of Crowley?"

"Of course I do, you arrogant sap," snapped the werewolf curtly, suddenly becoming angry. "All alphas know of Crowley! He's the reason most of us fear for our lives. Once he has an alpha they're never seen again. You and other hunters were doing his bidding but he's now gone. There's no need for the search to persist. It can all stop now."

"We don't think so," said Dean, standing tall.

"And why is that?" she asked quickly.

"Our grandfather was one of the hunters helping Crowley and he won't stop until he finds the location," explained Dean.

"He'll fail!" barked the werewolf. "The only person that was ever interested in purgatory was Crowley. Now that he's gone, the whole idea of it goes with him."

"So, how-"

"Tell us where purgatory is then, if it doesn't matter," interrupted Sam, finally speaking, pushing himself off the altar, standing beside his brother again.

"I'm not telling you," said the werewolf, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"But if it doesn't matter..." said Sam, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Then you can tell us."

"No."

"That's it," muttered Sam, moving forward. "Tell us now or-"

"What are you doing?"

The new voice gained the attention of all three and inside the front door, someone stood. A look between confusion and anger coloured his features. Dean swore under his breath and stepped halfway between him and the werewolf.

"Cas, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," asked the angel roughly. "This is a house of God."

"Seriously? That's why you're here?" asked Sam, leaning to the side to get a clear view of Castiel.

Castiel's jaw clenched but he kept his focus on Dean. "I'm not here about... this," he said emphasising the last word. "I have an idea on how you can get Sam's soul back."

"You have no soul?" muttered the werewolf, her head snapping around to look up at Sam, a look of pure curiosity on her face. "How interesting..."

"You shut up," said Dean, pointing at her. "How?" he asked the angel.

"I will not speak in front of that thing," hissed Castiel. "Go to the motel. I'll explain there."

With a flutter, Castiel was gone, leaving the three alone again. Dean and Sam exchanged questioningly looks and without words, they both knew what the other was thinking. Dean walked back over and looked down at the beast in the chair.

"Well, looks like you're gonna have to wait for us to return," said Dean with a fake but seemingly delighted smile. "Come on, Sam."

Without a word, Sam followed Dean back to the car and they left. Halfway there, Sam heard Dean sigh and shift beside him.

"What time is it?"

"Just after two thirty," replied Sam, looking beside him. "I know its late man but you're the one saying we'll find another way."

"Yeah, and now we have," said Dean. "Cas said he'd look and he's got something."

The inside of the car turned quiet. In silent frustration, Dean looked back to the black road ahead and sighed. It had already been a long day that was turning into a long night. He was sure things couldn't get any worse.


They pulled into the parking lot and parked in the vacant spot directly in front of their door. Getting out of the car, Sam straight away looked at the green door a few metres away. There was nothing stuck to it except for the two faded brass numbers. He caught Dean's eyes but looked away instantly, grabbing a bag from the back seat.

Dean followed suit and together they walked to the door. Dean pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door before pushing it open. The hinges creaked with strain but stayed open until they'd entered. Sam closed the door behind them and Dean reached over and turned the light on. The room lit up in a dull glow but instantly they both froze at the state it was in.

The bed covers were pulled off and left on the floor, books lay strewn across the floor, some open and some with missing or ripped pages, furniture and small appliances were turned over and photocopied white papers littered the floor, the tops of the beds and table as well as being glued to the walls. Dean spluttered air in confusion, unable to make sense of it and walked towards one wall, ripping a page off.

It was the exact one that had been on the windshield of his car. It showed Sam and Jessica in happier times, a smear of a thick red substance across the page and a single word; murderer. Dean glanced across the room at his brother who had dropped his bag and picked up a piece of paper, something close to shock filling his features. He scrunched the paper up in one hand and threw it to the ground. He wrenched the door open and stormed out.

"Sam!"

But Dean's shout went ignored and in defeat he let the paper in his hand float to the floor. With another, long look around, he realised that Castiel was right; this wasn't some horrible, cruel joke but someone who was angry and wanted revenge. They needed to find out who before it went too far.