Grand Theft Vessel

A Supernatural FanFiction

A/N- Seven Seas of Rhye goes to Queen. Neal Schon is a guitarist for Journey. For those who are like Jimmy: AFK = Away From Keyboard. IM = Instant Message. MMORPG = Massive, multiplayer, online role play game.

Also, I made a pic to go with this story. There's a link to my deviantart through my profile page if you want to see it.

GTV: What's a little B&E Between Friends?


Five days, almost a week since Sam heard the squeal of tires announcing Dean's departure, and he hadn't slept since. Well, that wasn't completely true statement. He had a short nap the second night when exhaustion won out over worry and caffeine tablets, and that had ended when stalk-you-in-sleep-Lucifer showed up.

Five days, and Sam felt like he was running on fumes and momentum.

Dean was gone. His big brother, who happened to be Heaven's most wanted, was missing and the last sign they had of the self-sacraficing idiot was a liquor store clerk's hazy recollection. Dean could be anywhere.

"From the hills of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli..." Sam hummed subconsciously as he tapped away at his laptop in the motel room. For all he knew, Dean could be trapped in Heaven while Zach and the Evangelists did a reenactment of Dean's time Downstairs.

His fingers froze over the keys, curling into a shaking, white-knuckled fist.

"Sam. This isn't helping." Jimmy growled in a voice that sounded so similar in pitch to Castiel's that for a brief, glimmering moment Sam thought the angel had returned. Jimmy shut the laptop with a glare forcing Sam to jerk his hands back or risk them getting crushed.

"James!" The youngest Winchester hissed in tired annoyance.

Christ. What kind of person lost not only their big brother, but their big brother's angel as well?

Not to mention the Impala was MIA, too. If Dean did manage to come back, he was going to flay Sam alive. Hell, after all the blood, sweat, and tears Dean had put into rebuilding her time and again Bobby might do it just on principle. She was practically family.

"It's Jimmy." Jimmy stated absently while nimbly maneuvering to put his smaller body between Sam and the Internet. "What do you think you're going to do? Google 'angel abductions' and hope that something will magically pop up? No. If Zachariah has even a drop of the creativity he claims to have he'll be watching for something like that."

"How do you even know Zachariah? I thought you couldn't remember anything while possessed." Sam said with veiled suspicion.

"Bits and pieces. And trust me, I remember exploding. And I remember who did it," Fear shone out of his eyes, and not for the first time Sam noticed how much dimmer they were. Castiel's had been blue, bright blue, and Jimmy's... weren't. Jaded, and at times so dark they were very nearly black. "And I know that if Raphael gets his way, Amelia and Claire die. I know they'll go to heaven but... "

Deep breath. Castiel never talked about things like this. Dean never talked about things like this. Neither did Bobby, or John, or anyone he knew.

Jimmy was so very human, and Sam was grateful that he wasn't alone in his panic. Hostages.

"We'll stop it."

Jimmy grunted. "Should probably avoid Mormons, though that's standard procedure back home."

"You have a plan?" Sam asked, surprised and curious. He'd picked the guy up from a hospital just yesterday under the name of N. Schon -He couldn't believe it at first. He leaves Dean alone for two weeks and the man goes and makes fake ID's for the angel? What the hell?- and didn't expect much.

"Call Bobby." Jimmy leaned backwards, butt on the table and a foot balanced on the back of a chair. In that moment, for all the physical resemblance Sam knew he would never confuse the two men. "Isn't that what you normally do?"

Sam swallowed. "I can't. He's already done enough for us-"

"And if we lose, everyone loses. Call. Bobby." Jimmy closed his eyes, his whole body trembling. He breathed out, eyes tight, wearing the face of a man ready to face death head on. "Bits and pieces. I remember. There's a spell, I don't know what it is, but Castiel used it to call Raphael back to his vessel."

"So we can use you to contact Cas!" A lead. An actual, solid lead...

Jimmy nodded, and it occurred to Sam just how much he was asking of the man. He had a family, a wife and daughter, and he was giving it all up.

Sam used to hate John for how the man had raised them. He had blamed the man for a lot of things. Looking at Jimmy, now, Sam could easily see the man packing a tiny blonde baby into the family car and running. Swearing vengeance.

Jimmy held out his hand. "Phone."


Bobby, despite the loss of his legs, was still one of the most active members in the hunting community. He had a reputation for the esoteric, of figuring out how to kill the formerly-thought-to-be-extinct man eater of the week, and if he didn't know how he could find out. Quickly.

As it was, Bobby was busy staring suspiciously at the apple pie on his counter, silver knife in hand. The crust was a perfect, a flaky golden color that Karen used to make. Hell, the pie itself with the slightest dusting of cinnamon smelled exactly like the kind his wife used to make. Looking at the pastry made his throat clench and his heart ache, because she was dead and her ashes scattered around the yard for the second time. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her soft, off-key humming.

He still had the last pie she made wrapped and buried deep in the freezer.

That was the thing with monsters. Very, very few people go out wanting to be a vampire, werewolf, zombie, or demon, but it happens and nature had a hell of a lot more sway than nurture when it came to what one wanted to eat.

But none of the lore he had studied over the past decade or so prepared him for the damn thing sitting oh-so-innocently on his counter, or the momma-weird out sunning itself in his yard. The phone rang as a welcome distraction, and he wheeled on over to it. "Singer."

"Bobby!" The other man spoke with way too much emotion to be Castiel, and the old hunter hazarded a guess even though he had never met the man.

"Jimmy?"

"Yes! Listen. Dean and Castiel are missing." There was a mutter, the sound that Bobby assumed was Jimmy batting away at another's hands, and he could already feel the head ache coming on. "So is the Impala, even though Sam doesn't want you to know that."

Bobby rolled the knife handle between his fingers and sighed. "The Impala is gone? Shit. Could have used it to track Dean. Whoever took him knows what they're doing."

"Don't forget Castiel."

"Well, was he jacked out of your body like last time, or was he killed?" Bobby asked while pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder to free up his hands, so he could roll into the den. The problem with having an actual live angel to answer any questions about angels, was that when it went missing you were screwed, but Cas had gone missing before, had gotten brainwashed before, and Bobby had been preparing for Worst-Case-Senario's ever since he first saw black eyes staring out at him from his wife's face.

"If he was killed, I wouldn't be here. He's just... gone."

"But how?"

Jimmy sighed. "I don't remember! I'm not all that aware when Cas is in the driver's seat, okay? I think... he was in shock. I can remember him feeling that. It actually woke me up for a second. Listen, there's a spell-"

"Got it. Say's here once a vessel is occupied there's a connection between angel and host that stays open even if the angel leaves. Kinda like an AFK on IM, I think."

"...what?"

Sam's voice, a dry chuckle, echoed over the line. "Oh, God. I just got this image of the Apocalypse as the worlds biggest, deadliest MMORPG."

"Quit using acronyms I don't understand!"

"Seriously?"

"Hey, I'm from small town Illinois. Give me a break. We were still using a modem last I was conscious."

"Hey!" Bobby yelled into the phone, shifting in his seat with the urge to stand. They just were like Sam and Dean, minus ten years of maturity. "Listen, I'm up to my eyeballs in weird-ass omens. How long have they been missing?"

"About five days." Sam answered as he took the phone from Jimmy, and Bobby heard a "Don't kick me you emo vampire!" in the background.

"Perfect. Just perfect." Bobby leaned over to glance through to the door to the pie that hadn't moved. "Five days ago a wildfire in California died overnight."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah, but only if you can explain how everything that was burning suddenly became covered in ice instead. Then there's the psychics that dropped whatever they were doing two days ago, all over the damn country, and simultaneously broke out into the renditions of the Seven Seas of Rhye. In France there's a private plane that had to make an emergency landing because, and this is a translation mind you, they 'Had to avoid the big fucking muscle car in the sky'. Both of the pilots are having their licenses suspended. Oh, and then there's the huge ass tree that's growing out of the '64 I had in back." Bobby growled darkly.

"Wait, a tree? A big tree? Maybe... maybe Cas Fell like Anna did and it has his Grace..."

"Not unless his Grace is freaking pie flavored. It's a pie tree, Sam. Has these big-ass nuts you crack open to find crust inside. I've counted apple, blueberry, and peach so far. Stab the trunk with silver and it bleeds honey, anything less and it just bounces off the bark. If I didn't know better I'd think that Trickster-Angel of yours decided to get drunk and went a little miracle-happy."

"Yeah," Bobby could practically see Sam's nostrils flaring. "That doesn't sound quite like him..." As the boy trailed off thoughtfully, Bobby gave a mental groan. "...actually, it sounds like something Dean would do. If he, you know, could. Pie trees, anyway. Not sure about the rest."

"I'd make burger trees. And they would bleed ketchup. With fries for leaves."

"Your obsession almost got us killed by Famine." Sam's voice cut across the phone, even with his hand to muffle the speaker.

"Hey, you try eating nothing for a year and lets see how you feel about food, Mr. Oh-Salad-How-I-Love-You. Lettuce has no flavor. Maybe if you ate real food once in a while you wouldn't have those creepy vampire tendencies."

"CHILDREN!" Bobby hollered, and there was blessed silence. He would have to edit his earlier thought. Sam and Jimmy were like Sam and Dean minus twenty years maturity and if this kept up he was going to have to turn them both over his knee, grown men or no. "You're going to stop acting like little girls, get in whatever car you stole, and get your asses down here. In case either of you forgot, there's a damn good chance Jimmy doesn't have Enochian graffiti on his ribs. Cas probably didn't need it."

"...Sorry Bobby. We'll be there by morning."


Ben Braeden was biking home when he saw the big, black, beauty of car out in front of his house. He immediately reversed the pedals to break, and let out a soft, awed breath as his hands fluttered over her chassis like hesitant butterflies. He knew this girl. She was burned into his memory, deep, where monsters were flambéed and immortal father-figures lurked with righteous indignation.

Quickly, he headed for the door, glanced around the street to see if anyone was watching, before jiggling the handle. Ben wasn't a latch-key kid for nothing, though, and entered the house with hesitation because you never really knew what it was until you did. Not that he ever told his mom, but sometimes he woke at night, sweating, with the image of not-Ben leaving him locked in a cage dancing before his eyes. "Dean?"

Everything was still. Quiet. Metal warmed by prolonged contact with his skin dropped into his hand, and Ben stepped lightly around the house. His mother would kill him if she knew he had the knife, if she knew he even talked to Harry behind the Stop-and-Go, but better safe than sorry, right? It wasn't paranoia. It was precaution.

Ben entered the hallway, wincing as the wood floor squeaked against his sneakers, and did not scream as body emerged from the kitchen, head tilted curiously. "Hello, Ben."

Ben whirled, knife hand close to his body and free hand out, lips pressing together. It looked like Dean, and had Dean's ride, but it was so obviously not Dean. "Who are you? Why are you in my house? How did you get inside?" Then he noticed the wet drops hitting the wood flooring, and frowned. "Are you bleeding?"

Maybe it had eaten Dean, and assumed his form. Ben took a step back, ready and willing to run for the window if need be. The flower garden would make an excellent break for his fall even with the rose bush.

Eyes brighter than Ben remembered blinked, then glanced at the injured arm. "Only temporarily. I will have to make a fresh incision soon enough."

"You aren't Dean." But he slid the knife back up his sleeve, into the home made holster he'd asked Alice to make for him during homeroom. The girl was adorable, and talented... boy was she talented.

"No. I am Castiel... but Dean is here. With me."

"So... you're like a body-snatcher?"

Castiel frowned. "I'm... not entirely sure I understand that reference. But no. I am an Angel of the Lord." The lights flickered, Ben's breath froze in his throat, and honest-to-God wings seemed to briefly flutter into existence behind the man. Massive wings, raptor wings, wings too big to fit in such a small human body joined the collection of images Ben didn't talk about, but would stay with him forever.

"Uh-huh." Ben coughed as he brushed past the guy wearing Dean's appearance. Maybe he was a fairy casting a... what did the book call it? Veil? Whatever. He headed for the paper towels and froze when his eyes finally took in the state of his mother's kitchen. Blood. The windows looked like some kind of demented serial killer had taken up finger painting on all the windows. Even the tiny useless squares over the stove top. "Oh. My. God. Mom's going to kill you!" He blinked. "She's going to think I let you inside! She's going to kill me!"

"No, she won't." The so-called angel blinked. "She might ground you, though I think it unlikely. This is protection. Once I have finished applying it to the rest of the house, I will be able to sink it into the foundations. It will then be invisible."

Ben hesitated. On the one hand, there was a supernatural being of unconfirmed origins in his house making a, literally, bloody mess. On the other hand, the guy hadn't done anything overtly threatening, and actually claimed the finger painting was protection. The bit of Ben that was hard-core maleness grinned.

There was an aspect to this that was so damn cool, if strangely terrifying. At least when Ben checked Castiel's reflection against the back of a CD he didn't look like a creepy leech thing. Or have glowing eyes.

"So, how long will this take?"

"An hour at the most." Dean's doppleganger went over to the backdoor and began drawing symbols against the glass panes. "It is complicated spell work. If I make it too weak, it may not give enough protection should you require it. If I make it too strong, it may draw the attention of forces best left alone. Curiosity has killed more than cats."

Ben pretended he understood it, and he sort of did. Despite knowing he was going to get them on the 25th, Ben didn't stop looking for where mom hid his Christmas presents every year. "Okay. I'll make some Mac-and-Cheese. You want a root beer?"

Pressing the play button, the comforting sounds of Aerosmith filled the house, and Ben watched interestedly as Castiel went back to his self-mutilation.

His life was so weird.

"So." Ben hedged. "Since you're obviously busy, do you think I could, maybe, take the Impala for a drive?"

"No."

Damn.


Lisa juggled the groceries as she bumped the backdoor closed with her hip. "Ben, honey, could you-"

She almost dropped the bag with the eggs, but managed to shove it onto a counter while going for the knife drawer at the same time. Dean was sitting at the table holding Ben's DS, but his eyes were wrong and his body was too formal and stiff, and Ben was sitting by his side pointing out things on the screen. The two boys looked up, and there was a flair of... something... in those bright blue eyes.

What did Dean do?

"Hi, mom!" Ben grinned. "This is Castiel. He says he's an angel. I think he's a pod-person. But he said he's not here to kidnap anyone or suck out their body fluids, so it's okay."

The creature's expression seemed to soften with amusement, lips twitching into a smile, and Lisa let out a shaky breath.

"Hello, Lisa." It was deeper than she remembered. Rougher. But under the other was the same thing that had caused her to shiver with anticipation all those years ago when a handsome bit of Trouble handed her a drink and a smile.