CHAPTER FOUR: CASTIEL
Dean stayed on the rickety old couch at Bobby's place. Carly had offered him the couch, which apparently had a fold out bed, which was probably much more comfy than Bobby's old dinosaur of a couch. But Dean had turned down the offer. It would've been too damn depressing to be out on the couch while his little brother was sleeping with the girl Dean still loved curled up to his side.
Besides, Bobby and Dean both agreed they needed to keep Dean's mysterious reincarnation in mind. So they sat up with a couple of beers until midnight, going over what they could do.
With a plan in mind to go visit some psychic named Pamela in Missouri, Dean finally dropped his head back on a pillow and allowed himself to rest for the first time since coming back to life. Every other night since his reincarnation he'd been squatting in old abandoned houses. Now he was in a familiar place and, no matter how uncomfortable the couch was, knowing that everybody he cared about was safe put his mind at ease.
When he woke up and looked outside, Bobby and Sam were getting everything prepared. Dean sighed, tugged on some clean jeans and an old shirt with his jean jacket, and made his way outside.
"I take it Bobby told you about today's little road trip," he said conversationally. Still, it was a tone familiar to both brothers. Dean didn't want Sam to go.
"You're not talking me out of this," was all Sam said back. "You just reappeared from Hell, and for all we know it was just a streak of luck. No way am I letting you out of my sight."
Dean merely shrugged, knowing how stubborn his brother could be when he got his mind set on something. He felt bad making Sammy leave Carly less than a day after he got back from his last "business trip".
"Let's hit the road, boys," Bobby ordered.
Sam and Dean loaded up in the Impala and set off behind Bobby. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both grinned at the normalcy of the situation, and how much they'd missed it.
Following the disastrous séance with Pamela Barnes, the Winchester boys sat on their beds in a rundown motel in a tiny town in Missouri. Sam had his head in his hands and Dean was continually running his hands through his short hair.
A powerful psychic had tried to get a glimpse at whatever had brought Dean from Hell, and she'd been blinded. Her eyes had burned out of their sockets. If Sam or Dean thought this was a joke before, they knew better now.
But they had a name. Castiel.
And Dean had a plan. A way to summon this Castiel and figure out what the hell was going on, why Dean was so special. And what Castiel was, because from what research they'd dug up, he wasn't a human, psychic, demon, or any other creature they'd heard of before.
All he needed to do was wait for Sammy to fall asleep. No way was he going to drag his little brother into this when he was more than willing to bet it would end badly. He wouldn't risk Sam getting hurt, not now, not as soon as he was finally getting over Jess.
A cell phone in the motel room chimed. Sam, recognizing his ringtone for Carly, immediately calmed himself down and answered it with a cheery voice.
"How's the business trip going?"
"It's going." Sam kicked off his boots and laid back on the bed, eyeing the ceiling, which had dirty mirrors on it. "I still don't know how long I'll be. Shouldn't be more than three days, but you never know. How was work?"
"Ugh, don't ask," Carly groaned. "That old pervert Herman Wallace can't take a hint. I would still be stressed over it, but when I got home Mrs. Cook had one of her apple pies waiting for me. She was disappointed she didn't get to talk to you before you left again, but I told her you'd be sure to stop by when you got back. How's Dean? Back from the dead and all." She chuckled lightheartedly at her joke, not realizing that it was a reality.
"He's-" Gone. Sam had glanced over to where Dean was sitting, only to find the bed unoccupied and the motel room empty aside from himself. "He's great. Can I call you back tomorrow? It's late and-"
"Sure, sure. Love you."
"You too." Sam hung up and looked again at the empty motel room. "Son of a bitch."
Considering it was almost one in the morning and Carly was sitting on the couch in her flannel pajamas and a bowl of puppy chow, she nearly jumped out of her own skin when there was a knock at the front door. She yawned and paused her movie, setting her junk food aside and standing up.
Who the hell is knocking on my door this late?
She would say it was Sam, as it wasn't a rarity for him to get back home at ridiculous hours, but she'd just gotten off the phone with him and he'd left just this morning.
She pulled the door open to see Laurel Cook standing outside. The old woman had her hair curled up in bright rollers and had on a long nightgown, and she grinned and held a pie out to Carly as if this was a normal thing.
"Uh, Mrs. Cook? Do you realize what time it is?" Carly took the pie from the woman and put it on the counter, next to the three others she'd delivered so far today.
She really was worried about the old lady.
She turned back, ready to escort Mrs. Cook back to her apartment, but instead screamed and backed against the kitchen wall at what she saw.
Mrs. Cook's eyes were solid black.
The ride back to Lawrence in the Impala was tense. For most of the three-hour ride back Dean blasted his music and Sam shuffled through their father's journal. Anything to avoid speaking to one another.
Sam was livid. Dean had run off to conjure this Castiel figure, only to leave Sam behind? He was sick of being treated like he was the little brother that was such a responsibility. He didn't need taken care of.
But that wasn't what he was furious about. Dean had been raised from Hell by an angel, and wouldn't face the fact that this obviously meant something huge. He was too busy being pissed at Sam because he'd channelled into his psychic abilities a little in the past four months.
It wasn't like Sam was hurting anybody. If anything he was doing more good than harm. But Dean didn't understand it. He saw it as evil, as something that symbolized the demon blood in Sam's veins.
Which Sam also hadn't shared with him prior to this trip.
All in all, they were pissed and neither was going to cave first.
Sam had called Carly every night, if not to speak to her to at least let her know they would be one day extra. But following their first day away she didn't answer the phone. He was starting to get worried. His first priority once they got back to Lawrence was to check on her.
Dean, of course, could sense his brother's distress. "What's the problem?" he finally asked, cranking the volume down so that they could hear each other.
"Carly hasn't answered her phone since the day we left. I'm getting worried."
"She's probably just enjoying the single life while you're gone," Dean told his brother with a grin. It was an attempt at a joke to ease the tension, but Sam's worry lines didn't fade away.
"No, it's not like her to not answer. She usually calls me every night. Something has to be wrong."
"So call her dad," Dean suggested. Even though the relationship between Carly and her father Butch was rocky, in all honesty he was the only family she had. She was an only child and her mom ran out before she could even walk.
"He didn't answer either." Sam laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "That one doesn't worry me. He probably just got himself thrown in jail again. It's Carly that has me worried."
Dean pressed his foot on the gas pedal, edging the speedometer up to 75. "In twenty minutes time we'll be in Lawrence, and we'll stop by Carly's first thing."
Yay, the excitement begins! I know this chapter's pretty choppy with all the time and location skips, but I didn't want to repeat the entire beginning of season 4 because we've already seen it, and I had to keep us up to date on what's going down with Carly and Mrs. Cook!
Is Carly likable?
-J
