Chapter Four

Of course, the Winchesters are not known for their luck. At least not the good stuff, anyway. They spent the afternoon in the motel room and left only when they were hungry to hunt out a half-decent diner, no doubt named after a girl, as was often the case.

They saw the sirens on their way back, and that was that. Escape over. Back to work.

The girl had been found decapitated, her heart missing and her whole body lacking say… four pints of blood.

FBI Agents Young and Cobain took the case. The death was in connection with a hush-hush string of murders in Kentucky, apparently.

They played their parts, danced the dance, and soon were back at the motel. Sam dropped onto his bed with a groan, leaving Dean to tangle with his tie. His older brother was always desperate to get the damned thing off as soon as he could, loosening it with wide, arcing motions and tugging it over his head. Sam opened one eyes to catch the strip of fabric's path as it was tossed, knowing Dean would forget where he'd dropped it.

Dean would insist it was put in his duffel, or that Sam had swapped their ties and lost his open, or something of that ilk. Best for Sam just to make a mental note on it's location. Which was down the back of the dresser this time. Again.

"Man, this is one messed up monster. I don't think he can decide what he wants to be." Dean snorted, dropping on the end of his bed to scrub at his hair and reach for the TV remote.

"Or she." Sam added, just because it was the easiest thing to say and because sometimes it made him feel better to point out his brother's blinkers.

"Or she." Dean conceded, and Sam didn't need to look to know he'd rolled his eyes.

Hypocrite.

"But I mean come on." Dean spoke up again, flicking through channels he wasn't really watching, his light tone unable to cover up that he was thinking pretty deeply on it, "Takes the heart so it looks like a Were, but it's missing blood so it looks like a Vamp. And it's head lopped off? I mean, is this a Hunter's kill?"

"Pretty lousy Hunter." Sam yawned, pushing up into a sitting position against the headboard and stretching out his legs.

"You can say that again." Dean snorted, derision clear in his tone.

Sam didn't blame him, a Hunter who couldn't cover his kills was a problem to everybody. He sorely hoped it was a monster, sadly, because at least their path was straight-forward there. Define it, Find, Kill it. They couldn't just go about offing Hunters, though. Even terrible ones. It just wasn't how they did things, not to mention how pissed other Hunters would be if they found out.

And they were Human, Sam reminded himself, wishing he could just go to sleep for a few days until this awful heaviness in his chest left, Human. That means something, remember.

He brushed a hand over his face and looked over at his brother. Dean was sitting, elbows resting on his knees and TV remote in his hand, but he was miles away. His eyes were deep and thoughtful and Sam was certain he wasn't even aware of where he was right then. He'd want a beer when he came to, though.

Sam pulled out his laptop with a sigh, logging into local security cameras and flicking through them to see if any had a good angle on the alley the body had been found in. When that turned up nothing he switched to lore, and when Dean finally announced he was going for a drink Sam barely heard him, as deep into the lore as he was.

Dean gave him a long hard look before leaving, knowing it was best not to mention that he knew Sam was only trying so hard because the alternative was to wallow in grief like he'd been doing for weeks now. Dean, on the other hand, would curb his own secret guilt by drinking and having a good time.

Who knows? Maybe there'd be a nice blonde at the bar to pass time with. Or a red-head, they were often feisty.

It didn't matter that girls in bars held less hold over him in recent years. And that had nothing to do with Angelic interference or the Apocalypse or Demons or anything Hunter related. He was just maturing, that was all, God forbid. Yeah, that was it. It wasn't anything to do with him, his body was just looking for something a little more, maybe. All of Sam's bollocks about Cas was just that, bollocks.

"Psssh." he muttered to himself as he passed the Impala with a fond glance and headed down the street to the bar he'd spotted on the corner, "I need a drink."

And drink Dean did, with a cute brunette who had a killer smile and a devious twinkle in her eye. It had been just after dinner when they got back to the motel but Dean drank like it was night already, and very soon it was. He and… Janine? Lucy? Nope, wait…

Well, Dean had forgotten her name. When she wanted to head off somewhere and Dean had been happy to stay they had parted ways with a final shot, and Dean had yet to check out anyone else. For now he'd stay at the bar where he was, drinking like he didn't have to be up in the morning, drinking to burn away the coldness that lingered in his system from their failure with Lucifer, from the loss they'd taken and from worry over Sam, who was taking it harder than Dean had expected.

It wasn't like they'd lost Cas, was it? Sure, Gabriel had turned from the Dark Side in the end but he was still a major pain in the ass and after what he'd put Sammy through? He was lucky they hadn't ended him themselves for all his bullshit. And sure, it sucked that they'd lost someone on their side, but it wasn't like it was the first time, was it? It always sucked. But Sam had grieved before and seemed to hold up better then than now.

What the hell was it that was different about this time, huh?

Why was Sam so cut up about losing the lousy Archangel?

He hated the guy, didn't he? He'd told Dean as much. Many times. Dean had seen it in play, too. When they cornered him, when they caught him in that stupid fake hospital. When they'd dumped him in a Fire Ring. There was no love lost there.

But still, when Gabriel had faced off against Lucifer Sam had been reluctant to leave, following Kali with a look on his face that Dean hadn't tried to decipher at the time, too busy thinking about getting the fuck outta there. But had Sam lingered? Dean frowned, trying to think through the pleasant fog in his brain. Had he? He wasn't sure.

Sure, Gabriel had come round in the end and he'd given it his best shot. And he'd gotten them outta there, listened when Dean dressed him down about those Gods still being his friends, his family despite trying to kill him. Sam hadn't been keen on the idea, but Sam was rarely keen on any idea and…

And what? He couldn't remember.

But it wasn't like they'd lost Cas, was it? Or Bobby or Ellen or Jo. Or even Rufus. It was only Gabriel. It sucked, but it wasn't like they'd lost family, right?

Dean waved his hand absently for another drink, taking a long swig from the bottle as soon as it arrived, his gaze wandering the the crappy TV on the shelf behind the bar, some out-of-date dude in a cheap suit giving them the late weather report. Dean drank his beer and watched the colours move as the man spoke words he couldn't hear.

Imagine being on TV at this time of night. Who's paying attention now, huh? Insomniacs and old ladies.

And him, he supposed.

The screen wavered, changing to a chocolate bar commercial. Dean gave a weak smirk. He knew the jingle to this one. It drove Sam crazy, but Dean kind of liked it. Because it drove Sam crazy. He watched the sock puppets dance across the screen, and then it faded out to be replaced by some other late-night commercial for…

Aww, cumin! They'd replaced the Pepsi guy. Why would you do a thing like that? He was a legend. Well, in the commercial world, anyway. Then again, there was all that scandal about-

Hey, wait.

Dean lowered his beer so hard the bottle hit the bar top and sent an uncomfortable jarring through his arm. Dean barely noticed, staring up at the screen as he watched in disbelief as a guy they knew was-

Couldn't be. Could it?

The screen flicked to a commercial about some medical cream at a snap of the fingers, and Dean was sure.

Holy crap.

It was a good thing he'd settled with the barman already, not that he thought about it as he grabbed his jacket and headed out of the bar.