3
Son of a bitch has put a leash on me. I never should have let hunting go. I should of stayed with Ca- Angry horns interrupt Dean's personal bashing, the intersection light has turned green. He looks in his mirror and sighs sadly, his face hold more wrinkles than Bush senior and his eyes have moved to a dusty green. The drinking has taken a toll on him, maybe he needs to go back home. Home? Does he even have a home anymore? He smiles a little and rolls slowly off the line, several drivers honk and curse at him, only two cars make it through the intersection. A small laugh rises out Dean's throat, he quickly wipes it away and turns on the radio.
"Lean on me when you're not strong and I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on."
"Jesus Christ." Disgusted, he turns off the radio. "Okay Crowley, I get it asshole!" He looks up at the roof and punches the gas passing Tukwila's welcoming sign.
The usual weather is settling in the town when Dean pulls up to a curb in front of a motel. The only problem with doing a job in the big city is the big prices; luckily, King's Inn is a little under a hundred a night with free wifi. The lobby has two plush, green chairs that sit around a light wooden table in the middle of the lobby, underneath them is a dusty red oval carpet. The travelers brochures wait patiently to be picked up by passing tourists. They face the door next to the elevator on the far back wall, a couple plants crowd the staircase that is to the left of the brochures. The front desk is directly right as you pass through the doors and standing there to great Dean is a pretty red head with a splatter of freckles.
"Hey cutie, I need a room." She smiles and searches her computer, her name tag says Alison with a blue bow. "You're looking very pretty today, Alison." She smiles without looking up and proceeds to write something down.
"A man said you would be coming by, he booked you a room, number forty-five. It's a single bed with a view of the river. He said that should bring back some good memories." She hands him the paper with the room number and some sloppy directions. When he doesn't answer her she asks nervously "You are the man, right?" Her red hair looks frazzled, like the straightener gel has lost effect. "Mr. Jolson?"
"Yes, that's me. Say, ah did this man look about yeh high?" Dean waves his hand around his shoulders and tries to get the hostess to understand. "Older, in a suit, maybe? British accent, arrogant, and crotchety as hell. Well, he is hell, so-" Dean stops and puts the paper in his coat pocket.
"Yes that was him, very nice man." She hands over a couple of papers and a pen. "Just sign these, please." She hands over a key with a key ring that's tagged with the motel's jolly king masscot. Dean looks at it momentarily before putting it down to sign papers.
"Thank you, miss." Dean smiles as he hands her the papers, he takes his key and walks out of the lobby. "Why is he doing this? Why can't he just leave me be. After Delaware and leaving Cas, I thought I was away from this bullshit." He bites his lip and closes his eyes to recover from the pain the memories are bring back. He gathers himself and walks across the road where a gold forty-five is written on the white motel door. The lock wiggles and protests and the tumblers turn, it opens with a quiet creak and releases stale air from the room. "So far, not so bad." Dean tilts his head as he examines the room and dumps his gear in the corner. On the bed is a card and a case of beer along with a bottle of Craig, Crowley's favorite. "Great."
"Cheer up mate. Have a couple of beers on me as you research Seattle tonight, the room is on me this time. I thought maybe you would like the river view, it reminds me of Delaware, remember? Moose's fall and angel flake's falling out, that was quite a day. See you in Seattle!
Xoxo, Crowley."
Dean grinds his teeth and grips the card angrily, the paper folds together into a mash. He tosses it into the trash and violently walks out of the room slamming the door behind him. The windows rattle and a couple of pass-byers eye the scene suspiciously. His hands shake as he fiddles to unlock the impala and start her. I just need to go to town, I need to go to town. The tears slowly fill his vision and the dashboard looks blurry. He screams loudly and slams his hands down on the steering wheel, he pulls out of the lot with squealing and smoking tires.
His breath comes short as he sobs with his hands on the wheel. He's not drunk, he hasn't been pulled over, no, he safely parked in front of a Rite Aid and is grieving properly. The incident in Delaware comes at Dean like a tidal wave.
Delaware
Sammy, Cas, and him went into Delaware for a job. Cas was learning how to be a prober hunter after he recovered from being rejected by his angel mojo. He normally stayed behind or waited in the car if there was any danger, Dean didn't want to see his partner get hurt.
The three were staying at a motel just like the one in Tukwila. A view of the river and two twin beds. Cas slept by himself in a second room, a single twin bed with a view of the river. Five people were found dead in the woods, three women and two men. The first couple of days in town, Cas did research on the case while Dean and Sam went out to talk to the victim's family. It all boiled down to one murderer; the Crocotta, a viscous son of a bitch that lures their victims by calling out their name. Cas mentioned that it was Crocotta, but they should be careful because the trail of bodies were never in one spot, not normal for a Crocotta.
"The police usually finds the bodies in one place all at the same time. Back in 1992 there was a string of murders and all the bodies showed up at the same time in a pile out in the woods. It's been four weeks and five bodies, all showing up at different time." Cas introduces this fact to the two brothers and smiles, pleased with himself.
"Good job, Cas." Dean hits him on the shoulder and sits down to watch Asian porn. Sam gives a tight smile and sits down on one of the two beds.
"I think we have something different. I think-"
"Cas. We get what you're trying to say, we'll look into it tomorrow, right now," Dean sloshes his beer and smiles. "Beer, porn, pie. A man's basic elements."
"Dean, I think Cas is right, but Cas, I also think Dean is right." Sam brushes his mammoth hair out of his face and looks up. "Good work." Cas looks down disappointed and nods. Sam starts undoing his mokey suit while Dean soaks up the alcohol.
"Good night then." Cas whispers and shuts the door behind him.
The next morning the Castiel wakes at around seven, the sun is shinning brightly and drying out the grass around the river. On the radio there has been another murder so Cas heads out to the brother's room to inform them of the latest victim. Dean is lying on his stomach, his hands are under his pillow and his finger is probably hugging the trigger of his gun. He's in his underwear and a gray shirt, Cas feels disturbed when a new human emotion rises from inside him. It's soft and warm, but unfamiliar so he shoves it back down. Sam is snoring loudly, his face is half hidden from the pillow, his hands folded neatly next to his nose. The sheets have been kicked off of both the beds and there are burger wrappers spread all over the floor. Living life on the lamb hasn't been fun or easy. If it wasn't for Cas, Crowley would have found the boys by now. Unfortunately, the brothers don't seem grateful for his help. Again, another feeling arises, this time he can place it; resentment. He shakes the feeling off and goes over to Dean's bed side, he slowly rubs his shoulders then shakes them. The first reaction Dean gives is drowsiness, then awareness, and finally a gun in the intruder's face.
"Dean, please, it's time to get up." Cas moves over to Sam and does the same thing except rougher. Dean shuffles some pants on and grumbles about the sun.
At breakfast the three have coffee and breakfast sausage. Cas's introduces yesterday's concept again and hopes Dean or Sam will acknowledge him this time.
"I think Cas is right, this doesn't seem like a Crocotta. The kills and marks on the victims are the same of previous kills caused by Crocotta, but like he said; They are not in a pile, they're stringed out. And get this, they are all around an abandoned ranger's cabin." Sam says, he unfolds his hands from the coffee cup and dumps a packet of sugar in his mug.
"Something more? Something more such as a two-faced, douche bag named Crowley and his Blues Brothers group?" Dean takes a sip of coffee and looks at Sam. "Yes, I agree that this isn't a normal Crocotta attack, but I don't agree that Crowley has nothing to do with this."
"Dean, we didn't say Crowley isn't involved. There hasn't been any sign of him recently and thanks to Cas we haven't been spotted yet." Sam tries desperately to calm Dean down. On the other side of the table Cas smiles a little, he finally got an accolade, it was from Sam, but it was a damn accolade.
"He's been on our ass since we tried to close Hell and you tried to turn him human." Dean looks away and points a finger to make a point.
"By your suggestion!" Sam argues back.
"Whatever, I think we need to be careful, he probably knows we're here, he's probably waiting to feed our souls to his bitches." Dean rolls his eyes and leans back.
"I really think we need to see that a Crocotta is doing the killing, but he or she is under the order of something much more powerful than he or she. I doubt it it Crowley, he isn't that sloppy in fact he is smart enough to cover up his mistakes if he makes any." The waitress dishes out the food and nods at Dean before leaving. Dean admires the view from behind and Cas looks out the window.
"Again, I agree and that was what I was trying to tell you, Dean." Sam folds his hand out towards Dean, palm up. His hair falls forward again a he takes a bite of his eggs and a sip of his coffee. Dean nods dismissively and that was the end of breakfast.
Later that night Sam and Cas decide to capture the Crocotta. "It's too dangerous." Dean protests.
"It might be our only choice." Cas replies from the small table in the hotel room. Dean paces with his hands on his hips, Sam has his arms crossed and his eyebrows up. Dean grumbles and tries to think of a point that will make Cas or Sam change their mind. Oddly enough there's an abandoned ranger hut in the woods, most of the bodies were found near there and the police have searched it, but they found nothing as usual; with this being said, Cas has a fire proof feeling that the cuprit is holed up there.
"Alright, fine, but you bone heads better be right and you better keep smart out there. This time Cas is not staying in the car, an unpredictable Crocotta is too dangerous for two I think we will need all three of us out there." Dean walks over to the table and pulls his gun out to check it over. Sam smiles at Cas and begins examining the desired weapons needed for the hunt.
The drive to the woods is a little under ten minutes, Sam is biting his nails and Dean is strangling the Impala's wheel. On the other hand, Cas is happily sitting in the back seat watching the houses fly by like a like a picket fence. This is the first kill he has been on, he will be able to see Dean kill a monster, on other hunts he had to stay in the car while Dean and Sam go inside the suspected house. Even though he doesn't have his power any longer, he is somewhat capable with a knife, a gun is still a new concept. A formation was set up tonight as well, Cas will stand behind and in between Dean and Sam to protect their backs if they're ambushed, this is just to keep him behind and protected. Cas sighs and rings his hands. The Impala rolls to slow stop and Dean turns the engine off, the three sit and breathe for a couple of minutes before looking at one another. Was it such a good idea to jump the gun on this one? Sam is starting to reconsider coming out here, they know little to nothing about the monster or why he or she has changed their routine. Dean opens the driver door gently, the creak of the door's hinges comforts his nerves greatly. Will his brother and partner be okay?
The walk is cold, Cas hugs his blue coat closer to his thin body, as an angel the cold never effected him. The woods are dark, moist, and very slipper, dead leaves and moss cover the ground. Eventually they locate the old hut in the center of the woods, but they don't immediately move out into the open. The stay behind the tree line to watch for danger.
"This is it. The police report says the first body was found just ten feet from the door of this place. They thought little of it because it seemed likely the victim would try to hide from the attacker in some place that is familiar." Sam says as he stares at the mossy building.
"What?" Dean looks at Sam.
"You did hear that all the victims were related to a ranger or someone within that department." Sam looks over at his brother. Cas rolls his eyes and waddles over closer for more heat, his knees ache from crouching.
"Right. Let's move, I'm cold and hungry." Dean stands and holds his sawed-off in his right hand while the left hand mans a flashlight. In the clearing the forest floor is made of dirt or moss, no leaves or dead needles. Sam flashes the building as he proceeds foreword, everyone is hunched down slightly.
"I'm getting a very bad feeling, I don't know what you call that, instinct?" Cas looks up at Dean and lowers his light. Dean looks over and motions for him to shush then they continue on. One at a time they step onto the rotting porch, the stench is horrendous, something or someone was probably killed here just a couple of hours ago. Dean gags and covers his face with his shirt sleeve, Sam acts unconcerned and looks back at his buddies. One, two, three, Sam motions to them then opens the door. Guns are locked and flashlights dance in on the building's empty living room area. The smell stays strong, but doesn't change at all, maybe it's on the property instead of inside. Cas can't help but look over his shoulder and hug his knife closer. Dean and Sam fly in and search the place in case the Crocotta or anything else is actually there.
"It's empty, rotting and empty. I didn't hear or smell anything before we entered so I don't think our goon will be back with dinner for a while." Dean whispers and looks around. Sam nods and begins to search for clues that might help them understand the monster. Nothing is found and it's too far as well as too dark to hike back to the car.
"This was a horrible idea." Cas hugs his knees on the wet floor.
"I told you so." Dean puts a hand down so he can sit down as well.
"Now we wait." Sam says.
An hour? Maybe four? Who knows, but something wakes Cas. A rustling outside forces him out of his dream state in into a state of full awareness. Wasn't someone suppose to be on watch in case the monster came home?
"Dean." He hisses then leans over and shakes him roughly. "Wake up, it's here. Dean."
"I'm up dammit." Dean growls and shines his light. Sam wakes up slower, but soon turns his light on and joins the group. "I don't mean to comment on your gas, Sammy, but um.." Dean grins and looks at his brother.
Sam hits him in the shoulder. "Shut up, Dean. It isn't me, but I think you're right, the smell is worse. Do you think the smell is marked territory?" He looks at Cas then Dean. "Wasn't one of you on watch?"
"Normally an animal that marks territory knows when there has.." Cas peters out slowly and ends in a very scared little whisper "been an intruder, or three." He looks at Dean for reassurance, but is left to sit in a pile of muck and fear.
Now
Dean screams as loud as he could to push the memory out of his mind. That wasn't the end of what happened in Delaware, but he certainly wanted it to be. There were only trails of salt water on Dean's cheeks when he decides to drive himself to a nearby bar, he needs a drink and possibly a lobotomy. Why doesn't he just give up? What keeps him going? Every night he has a nightmare, a different play of how things went that night. He grinds his teeth and steps out of the car that's parked in front of the bar just one, he tells himself.
"I wouldn't be going there sonny boy." Crowley calls out from the other side of the Impala. He smiles and walks around to stand in front of Dean. He's wearing a black coat and a very dark purple suit.
"Did you just get home from the nineteen forties gay club?" Dean clenches his fists.
"Look at who's talking. No I'm just checking in, you seem to be just a couple dozen miles from Seattle." He says.
"Look you son of a bitch."
"Witch actually."
Dean's chest heaves, but he stands there. "You killed him. Why should I be listening to you or even following your dumbass instructions."
"Because you know in your heart that it wasn't me." Crowley smiles then disappears.
"He should of tuned you! He should of followed through! I'm going to put you in the ground you low life asshole!" Dean yells up at the blue sky.