Chapter Three
"I'm at the corner of Locke and-" Sam's voice suddenly cut off as the line dropped.
"Hello? Sam, you there? Damn it!" Dean hit redial on his phone, hoping to get Sam on the line again, but it immediately went to his voicemail. "What the hell, Sam!"
From the lobby, Finnegan stared disapprovingly at Dean as he paced the parking lot, racking his brain for his next move. He had no idea how to deal with the situation, so he did the only thing he could do. He called Bobby. In a haste, Dean found Bobby's other other cell in his contacts list and pressed send. He waited, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently as he listened to the ringing on the other end.
"What do you need this time?" Bobby answered on the fifth ring in a bitter tone.
"How did you know I needed help?" Dean asked, though he was hardly surprised at the old coot's quick wit.
"You never call to just sing Happy Birthday," came the sarcastic retort from the other end of the line.
"It's not your birthday." Dean could hear the distinct clanks and chatter of a bar in the background.
"Enough small talk. What are you calling for?"
"The impala came to life with Sam in it and just drove off. Do you know what could do something like that?"
"A real powerful ghost with a vendetta."
"Can't be, it happened at our motel. Besides, we're not even hunting a ghost. I'm telling you the car just straight up came to life!"
"What, like Christine?" Bobby said skeptically, then burped loudly.
"Yes, like Christine," Dean snapped impatiently.
"This ain't some suspenseful crime drama on TNT, you know. Cars don't just drive off on their own."
"Well this one did, and with my kid brother trapped inside!" Dean yelled then, knowing he would probably have to be nicer to Bobby to recruit his help, he asked with slightly less attitude, "where are you, anyway? Some bar?"
"Just finishing up a werewolf hunt in New Jersey. The bastard-"
"New Jersey! That's pretty close, right? Why don't you swing by Wayfield, Massachusetts?
"I don't know if I can..." Bobby hesitated, the line going quiet.
"I could really use your help here, Bobby, and maybe a ride," Dean pleaded.
"I can be there in an hour," Bobby complied. He had never been able to refuse giving Sam and Dean help when they asked. Those boys were like sons to him. They're idjits, and'll probably be the death of me someday, but they're damn good hunters, he admitted to himself. "I'll put out a hunter APB on the impala and be right over. Do you know which way they were headin'?"
"It's hard to tell. The car drove like a maniac. It almost ran me over. It went North when it left our motel, The Lazy Lobster."
"Alright. I'll make a few calls. In the meantime, why don't you call up angel-face Cassidy? I bet he'd have more luck in findin' the impala than me." With that said, Bobby hung up the phone.
Finnegan, now engrossed in Dean and his outrageous gestures as he spoke on the phone, leaned forward in his chair, wishing he could hear whatever conversation he was having. The irresponsible manager's issue of Dog Fancy magazine was completely forgotten and flopped carelessly on the floor.
Dean gave his phone a loathing look at having been hung up on yet again, then he called Castiel. Cas, who was definitely not number two on Dean's speed dial, picked up instantly. He didn't say anything, but Dean could tell the phone had been answered when the ringing abruptly stopped.
"Cas...?" Dean said slowly, half expecting it to be someone else.
"Yes?" came the reply in a stoic voice that distinctly belonged to Cas.
"You're supposed to say something when you answer the phone."
"I apologize. This cellular device is difficult to use. I still have not learned all of the customs to making and receiving proper phone calls."
"Yeah, you can work on that later. I need you to help me-" Dean stopped at the sound of wings as Cas suddenly appeared behind him. Through the glass doors, in the brightly-lit motel lobby, a certain motel employee could be seen falling out of his chair, startled by the unforeseen appearance of another man in the parking lot wearing a long, tan trench coat.
In a rage, Dean whipped around to face the angel, and shouted, "Why do you always do that?! You didn't even let me finish talking!"
"I don't understand. Did you not call because you require my help?" Cas stated, confusion clearly evident in his expression.
"Yes! I'm just sayin' you could use some social skills, Cas."
"Dean, I thought promptness would be preferred," Cas unknowingly sent Dean the old 'I don't understand why you are mad at me' puppy face. "Why did you call?"
"Sam. He's been kidnapped by Herbie on a rampage. Please, just find him and zap him back here!" Dean commanded in a panic and wildly pointed in the direction that the impala had sped off in. Cas flickered as if he was in an old film then shook his head.
"The car has been warded against angels. I can't locate it." Cas's expression remained unchanged as he continued to stare fixedly at Dean. He stiffly went to touch Dean's shoulder in an attempt at comforting him, but Dean took a slight step back and was able to dodge Cas's awkward, but thoughtful gesture. "I do know a spell that can help us locate your brother. It works much like a compass but it will take time to gather the ingredients."
"How much time?" Dean gave Cas a hopeful look, imagining that in an hour or two Sam would be safe and working on the Wayfield case.
"I cannot be sure. Most of the materials I need are simple, but it can't be completed until dusk."
"You're useless."
Cas gave Dean puppy face numero 5: 'you hurt my feelings, but I like you too much to say anything'. Dean, oblivious to the look, motioned towards the entrance of the motel lobby.
"Let's head inside then. Bobby should be coming in about an hour to give us a hand."
Forty five minutes later
Dean lay sprawled out on the bed, the laptop in front of him as he tried desperately to find some clues as to what might have caused his baby to act this way. It wasn't vampires that's for sure. Nor was it werewolves. Ghosts were off the list, leaving only angels, demons, witches, Gabriel messing with us again, or something only Sam could figure out by researching. I wish Sam was here to do this.
Cas randomly appeared at the tiny lobster themed table across the room. He placed an unidentifiable object in his steadily growing pile of ingredients and disappeared to go find something else. These arbitrary disturbances were beginning to irritate Dean, who had already begun regretting the decision to allow Cas to help.
When Cas popped in for the seventh time muttering something in angel speak, Dean roughly snapped the laptop shut and said, "Do you have to pop in and out like-" He trailed off when Cas disappeared without warning, evidently not listening to Dean, who finished his sentence in a fury when Cas appeared again seconds later, "-that!"
"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Cas tilted his head innocently at Dean.
"Yeah, I was." Dean scoffed. Cas waited expectantly for him to say more, not understanding his sudden gruffness.
"I've almost gathered all of the necessary materials for the spell," The angel informed, realizing after the long and somewhat awkward silence that Dean wasn't going to repeat what he had been saying before.
"You've been popping in and out for forty minutes now," Dean eyed the pile of seemingly random objects on the tiny motel room table, "and is that a rubber duck I see? Why would this spell of yours need a duck?"
"The recipe calls for a sacrificial duck. The person at the Quick-Petz-Cheap refused to sell me a real duck."
"Really? They refused? Or maybe they just didn't have any ducks because it's a pet store."
"Humans have many strange and exotic animal companions, why would a duck not be one of them? Is there a reason why some animals can be bought at a store, and others can't?"
"Because no one ever said a duck was man's best friend. Look, Cas, does it really matter why? We need to find Sam and find him fast. If your angel mumbojumbo can't do anything useful then why don't you flutter away to a library and do some research?" Dean went to the miniature fridge in search of beer, saw that there was still only that one bottle of water in it, and slammed the fridge shut, startling Cas. He sat back down on the bed and snatched Sam's laptop, opening it up to his inconclusive google search from earlier.
"Dean, I still need-"
"Well go get it, then! What's stopping you?" Dean snapped, silencing Cas. Before the angel could disappear again, Dean added, "and why don't you get me some beer?"
Cas made a hasty retreat leaving Dean to stew. With that annoyance gone, Dean hoped he could get at least a few minutes of peace and quiet. He expected whatever that last item was to be more difficult than the others to collect. Taking a calming deep breath, Dean lay back against the oak lobster headboard. While carefully balancing the laptop on his knee, he started a new search, but had no idea what he could search for that he hadn't already tried. Just as a thought occurred to him, Cas popped in again, this time right in front of Dean.
"Sorry Dean, but Quick-Liquorz-Cheap refused to sell me any of their products."
"Cas!" Dean exclaimed, surprised by the trenchcoated angel's sudden appearance.
"And I was unable to locate the item I needed," Cas continued solemnly.
"Yeah, well, you made me forget what I was going to look up." Dean stared at the empty search bar, his eye subtly twitching in synchronization with the cursor. Cas quickly changed the subject.
"How much time do we have until Bobby arrives?"
Dean looked at the cartoonish lobster clock hopefully, though Bobby hadn't given him an exact time as to when he would get there. "He said in an hour and, knowing Bobby, he's either speeding or passed out drunk at that bar."
"How long has it been?" Cas asked in his incessantly ever-questioning way, making Dean even more short tempered than usual.
"I don't know!" A car door closing could be heard through the still open window, making them both look up expectantly. "Wait, maybe that's him."
Dean rushed to the window to see Finnegan, who had just gotten out of his car. He was carrying a well-groomed West Highland Terrier in his arms and was partially covering the small dog with a jacket as he creeped towards the back of the motel. The suspicious manager then turned a corner and went out of sight.
"It wasn't Bobby," Cas said.
"Obviously." Dean grumbled under his breath as he shut the window and locked it. Dean sighed heavily and plopped down on the bed. He glanced again at the laptop, the screen shown brightly, and the cursor in the blank google search box continued to blink mockingly.
"Luckily, the item I couldn't find doesn't have to be added to the spell until it's ready to be cast. I can start making it now, and have a friend find it for me in the mean time." Cas wandered over to the pile of materials he'd gathered and started sorting through them.
"What is it, anyway?" Dean asked. The angel had popped out and popped back in with a large cauldron in the middle of Dean's question, but he was too tired at this point to care much.
"It's the talon of a baby #^$&*!%." Cas huffed and let the huge pot clank loudly on the table as he set it down. Dean, feeling the beginnings of a headache, massaged his temples as Cas began to grind up something. The process erupted with a sound that imitated a construction sight.
"A what?" Dean yelled over the noise.
Cas began to explain what the item was, but he spoke at his normal volume even with the racket he was making. Dean could only catch one or two phrases in his long summary, and he didn't even attempt to piece together whatever stray words he did understand in the midst of Cas's strange gobbledeegook of angel talk. Finally, Cas stopped blending the items in the cauldron, just as he finished up his explanation, "...and as you can guess, it's very difficult to find one intact."
Dean grunted in response and closed his eyes, thinking he might as well get in a nap while waiting for Bobby to show up, but that was soon revealed to be impossible thanks to Cas, who had started loudly mixing the ingredients together and yelling things in italian. The noise he made was like a choir of elephants. Dean sighed in exasperation. He didn't know what the hell Cas was doing that would emit such a sound, but he did know that he didn't have to make the damn compass, or whatever it was, inside the motel room.
Over the noise a loud knocking could be heard, Cas stopped his rabid mixing to stare at the door. "I believe Bobby has arrived."
Dean eagerly walked over the door and opened it to find Finnegan with an odd moving lump under his jacket. "There's a trucker in the lobby, says he's a friend of yours. Is he?"
"You bet he is. Beam him up, Scotty." Dean smiled charismatically. The manager's squirming bulge grew a tail that began to wag, causing Finnegan to shift uncomfortably and attempt to adjust his jacket.
"That's Mr Finnegan, boyo. Don't be bringing anymore of your friends around here. We've got strict policies. It would do you well to look 'em up." With that Finnegan walked away from the door, and a slightly red-faced Bobby pushed past him roughly and stomped into the motel room.
"What have you boys gotten yourselves into this time? Have you listened to the news recently? A car chase involvin' a black chevy impala is all over the radio."
"What car chase?" Dean asked worriedly. Cas looked up from his cauldron and began to pay attention to the conversation.
"Turn on the news." In a flash the TV was flicked on and switched from some reality show about celebrity dogs to the local news station.
"At around eleven o'clock this morning, an intense police chase commenced right here in the small town of Wayfield, Massachusetts. The driver, one Sam Winchester, rudely ran over Old Woman Josie's floral mailbox and refused to stop when a police officer attempted to pull him over." A reporter stood in front of Old Woman Josie's house pointing to the mailbox that now lay in the street.
"Man, that reporter is cute." Dean commented as he oogled the twenty-something year old blonde with an unnaturally white toothy smile.
"Dean, pay attention." Cas said, not jealous at all. As an angel, it is scientifically proven that Cas is above all forms of jealousy.
"Just in, we are getting reports of several passengers in the impala that appear to be dressed as clowns. They are throwing paint filled balloons at the pursuing police. The police have already tried to shoot out the tires of the impala but so far have only managed to damage the trunk."
"They're shooting at my baby?!"
"Dean! Shh!"
"It appears the car has some kind of satanic symbol on the inside of the trunk, which popped open when an officer expertly shot the lock."
"Son of a bitch! They broke the lock!" Dean wailed in a pained voice.
"They are currently speeding down route 6, heading east."
"We'll try to cut them off at the interstate. I got this map from a convenience store called Quick-Storez-Cheap." Bobby pulled a crumpled up road map from his pocket and tossed it to Dean, saying with mock enthusiasm,"You get to be the navigator."
"But I wanna drive-" Dean started to whine, but Bobby stopped him with a fatherly look.
"My car, my rules. Now let's go." Bobby took the lead marching down the hallway with Cas stumbling behind holding his ingredients and cauldron, and finally Dean trailing in the back pouting slightly and grumbling to himself. The not so merry band paraded out of the motel and over to Bobby's rusty beat up old car. Bobby got into the driver's seat and Cas plopped awkwardly into the passenger's side leaving Dean with the back seat as his only option.
Authors' note
We would like to send a shout out to our awesome beta reader, you know who you are. Also thank you to those that reviewed, followed and favorited.
Disclaimer: We ship destiel just as much as the writers of Supernatural. Take that as you will.
Cas's Puppy Faces (Inspired by Lampito's Bitch Faces)
Puppy Face 1: "I am going to intensely stare at you for ten to twenty seconds if you don't do something."
Puppy Face 2: "I do not understand why you are mad at me."
Puppy Face 3: "Dean, your sense of humor troubles me."
Puppy Face 4: "I desire to join in on your conversation, but I have no idea what you are talking about."
Puppy Face 5: "You hurt my feelings, but I like you too much to say anything."