Chapter 9
"Whoa! This ain't no innocent little girl y'all are running with," Benny exclaimed. The vampire, the angel, and the brothers Winchester leaned on the doorframe to the dark warehouse office, gazing at six headless bodies with a mix of admiration, astonishment, and horror. The smell was atrocious. Flies swarmed the carcasses, feeding on any exposed skin or spilled blood.
Dean watched with growing dismay. "Hey, when flies drink vampire blood, do they turn?"
"I think we're OK, as long as there are no mosquitoes," Sam said. "Hey! Check this out." He crouched next to an antique letter opener. He picked it up gingerly by the handle and examined the blood-soaked blade. "You think this did all that?"
"No, I think one pissed off chick did all that," Dean said.
"She's a bad ass, that's for sure," Benny said, obviously impressed.
"That's my girl," Cas stated proudly. He stood and made a beeline for the parking lot. The others hurried to catch up and found him examining dirt outside. "Look! Tire tracks."
"He's right," Sam said, examining the tracks himself. "These were made recently. They seem to head south."
"Let's go," Cas said, heading for the Cadillac before he finished the first syllable.
"Wait, Cas!" Dean called.
"What for? We know where to go!" Cas said.
"Do we?" Dean retorted.
"Yes. South," Cas said.
"South. South to where?" Dean asked.
"He makes a good point, Cas," Benny said. "They could've headed to Nevada, Utah, or Wyoming from here. We need a little more to go on than just 'south.'"
"Then, what are we supposed to do? Just sit here?" Cas asked, clearly frustrated.
"Why don't you have another vision? You know, connect with her or whatever?" Dean suggested.
"They are very difficult to control," Cas said.
"Well, try!" Dean insisted.
Cas squeezed his eyes tightly shut and attempted to seek out a connection with Evie's soul. Two pictures crashed into his mind, flashing one after the other: Evie choking on blood, and then breaking through her ropes in one burst of inhuman energy. Cas' knees fell from under him. He pushed himself onto all fours. "We have to hurry! She's in trouble."
"OK, how, Cas? What do we do?" Sam asked.
Cas plopped down on his bottom. He placed his hands in his lap and looked around the dirt parking lot helplessly. "I don't know."
"OK, we start driving south," Dean said, once again putting on the leader hat. "One of you'll see something that leads us to her."
"Benny, this may be stupid, but can you, like, mind meld or something with those dead vamps?" Sam asked.
"Great idea, Mr. Spock," Dean said sardonically.
"Nah, nah, but … I wonder …" Benny said. He paused, thinking. "I may have an idea."
"Don't hurt yourself," Dean quipped.
They followed Benny back inside. "So, are you really gonna do a mind meld?" Dean asked, intrigued.
"I don't know what that is," Benny said. "But …" he said, picking up the letter opener. "I can do this."
Benny licked the sharp end of the blade, cleaning every drop of blood from it.
"Gross," Dean said.
"That is pretty gross," Sam agreed.
Benny closed his eyes. Images flowed across the backs of his eyelids like a movie reel—images seen by every vampire whose blood coated that letter opener. He saw the massacre from the perspective of each of the six vampires Evie beheaded, as well as the seventh that she didn't. Benny opened his eyes; they almost didn't look like his. He was soaked in sweat and didn't appear to be breathing.
"Benny?" Sam called.
"Hey, man! You OK?" Dean asked.
"They went south, to Nevada, on Route 93," Benny heaved.
Jackpot 20
"Jackpot!" Cas exclaimed. He sat forward, eyes wide, like a schoolboy.
"Cas, we're not here to play blackjack," Dean said.
"No, Jackpot!" Images flashed in Cas' mind: that sign, a turn onto a backroad, a dashboard clock that read 5:45, the old gas station.
"She's there! Ten miles past the town of Jackpot, take a left," he said urgently.
"Where?" Dean asked, flooring the gas pedal.
"I'll tell you when we get there," Cas said.
About ten miles past the outskirts of Jackpot, Nevada, the Impala speedily approached a dirt road with no signs. It was barely even a road; it could easily be missed unless someone knew where they were going.
"There!" Cas yelled.
Dean jerked the wheel hard. The tires squealed and the engine groaned, but Dean's baby deftly made the near right-angle turn. Dean maintained eighty miles per hour for five miles.
"That's it! Up ahead," Cas said, pointing to the tiny, two-pump gas station. The car came to a screeching halt. Dean threw the car in park, but didn't bother turning off the ignition. The four men rushed the building, all dangerous and armed: two with guns, one with monstrous strength, and one with divine powers – the last possessing the most dangerous weapon of all: wrath.
Dean kicked in the front door, stirring up dust that looked like it had been there for decades. They found themselves in a shoebox of a convenience store: not very convenient, but probably the best the sticks of northern Nevada had to offer. Sam and Dean coughed into their sleeves. It was dusty, dirty, and dark, although there was one beam of moonlight creeping in from the one window not totally boarded up.
"Dean," Sam whispered. He held up a yellowed newspaper in the moonlight. The date read 'February 14, 1959.'
"That explains the stale air," Benny whispered.
"You should look at this," Cas said somberly from a room behind the service counter.
Dean looked at Cas, then behind them at the blank space where Cas had been, then back at where Cas was now, confused. "I teleported in before you. Just come look."
"What is it?" Sam asked. "Oh!" He exclaimed as they rounded the corner and saw what had dampened Cas' optimistic mood.
Cas illuminated the room with a flashlight, bringing to light the oddness of the events that had likely taken place here and bringing into question exactly what he had seen during his last vision. It appeared that a man had had his head shoved straight through a cinderblock wall; he was stuck in a standing position, his head perfectly centered inside a gray rectangle.
"Looks like he's a chop off the old block head!" Dean delivered with a smile, then stood back, waiting to bask in the comedy glory. This was a good one. He got an ashamed grin from Sam, a 'got caught messing around in church' look from Benny, and absolutely nothing from Cas.
"Let's pull him out and see who it is," Sam said.
"Alright," Dean sighed. "Benny, you've got face. You know, in case he's one of yours."
"Uh," Benny grunted.
Each man took a place on the side of the block head.
"One, two, three …" Dean counted down.
They all looked at each other and at block head, who was still lodged in the wall. "Did you pull?" Benny asked.
"Did I pull? Yes, I pulled!" Dean said. "Sam, did you pull?"
"Yeah! Cas?"
Cas was examining various pools and smudges of blood on the floor.
"Cas! You were supposed to pull on three!" Sam said.
Cas stood without saying a word, grabbed block head from behind by both arms, and pulled effortlessly. The man dropped to the floor, taking most of his head with his body, but some of it remained in the wall, dripping sloppily from the hole, and some of it literally melted to the floor. Everyone stared, revolted, as block head's ear plopped wetly into the mess of blood, brains, and skin on the floor.
"I'm glad I haven't eaten recently," Dean said, dry heaving a little.
Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, Sam said, "Who … or what could have done this?"
"Probably another one of these," Benny said, flipping the body over, pulling back the lip, and revealing vampire teeth.
"Hey, you OK around all this blood?" Dean asked Benny.
"Yeah, sure. But, still, I'm gonna go get some air," Benny said quietly as he stood and walked outside.
Cas stood in stunned silence. He thought he knew what had happened to Evie … mostly. The revelation that this man shoved into the wall was a vampire filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle, and the picture it formed wasn't pretty.
"Hey, look at this," Dean said. He was crouched near pipes that jutted clumsily from the ugly, painted cinderblock wall. Sam crouched next to his brother; they both examined something on the ground.
"Cas, come see this," Dean said, carefully scrutinizing every inch of the thick rope. It was just the right length for tying someone's hands, exactly the amount Dean would use. The weird part was the rope was busted in two places; it wasn't sliced as if with a knife but more like unraveled as if it had been pulled apart.
"The rope is half an inch in diameter, natural fibers. It would take over two thousand pounds of pressure to break it like this," Sam said learnedly.
Dean shot him a raised-eyebrow look.
"Remember that time when I didn't have a soul and didn't sleep … for a year?" Sam asked, sarcastically. "I studied stuff."
"You would," Dean said. "Cas, come see this."
"I know what it is, Dean," Cas replied, "and I know who broke it. We have to find her. Now!"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Evie awoke with a start. She looked around, not sure of where she was. It looked like a cheap motel room: same, old story. The blinds were drawn and the curtains shut, but it seemed to be late in the day.
Thud. Thud.
"Hey, lady!" a man's voice called from outside. "You only paid for one night. If you want to stay another night, it'll be thirty bucks."
She propped herself up on her elbow, intending to reach for the motel's cardboard advertisement on the bedside table, but something felt strange. The bed felt sticky. It was dark; all she could see was a dark spot—a really big dark spot—but she knew immediately what it was: blood. The bed was covered, she was covered. What had happened?
"Come on, lady! You got one minute before I'm coming in, decent or not."
She reached over and grabbed that advertisement: White Pine Motel. Her bloody left thumb print covered the 'W.' Replacing it on the table, she knocked a man's wallet onto the floor.
Thud. Thud.
"Alright, lady, that's it! I'm getting my key!"
Evie dug through the wallet with haste and turned up five twenty dollar bills. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she pulled out forty dollars with the tiniest tip of her fingernails to avoid staining the bills with blood. "Coming!" Evie called. "I'm coming!"
She crossed to the door and slid the bills under. "For tonight. Keep the change."
"Yes, ma'am," the man's voice said. "Please remember that checkout time is eleven AM."
Evie turned away from the door and flipped on the nearest lamp. The lamp did what it could, but even pure light can only do so much with darkness. The darkness of the room and an inarticulate darkness of spirit overtook her; she fell to her knees and slumped against the wall, helpless and utterly alone.
Covering her eyes with her hands, she began to contemplate all the bad things she had ever done, all the wrongs she had ever committed. Copious amounts of blood spread across the room tinted everything a deep claret. Blood was splattered on the curtains, the mirror, the door, and tables; it was pooled and sticky in the bed, and it soaked through the carpet in three places.
The room may have been tinted shades of red, but all she could see was gray, as if storms loomed over her. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to the White Pine Motel or anything that had happened since the vampire made her drink blood at the gas station, but she had a really bad feeling.
"There's no way Evie did that," Dean said. "You heard Benny. It had to be another vampire or a … a car."
Hanging his head like a beaten dog, Cas said, "I wish it wasn't her. I would start praying again to make it so."
"Cas, Evie's not a vampire!" Dean yelled.
"Dean." Benny appeared in the doorway, wiping blood from his mouth. "I don't want to be a Negative Nancy—I know my thirst is already bringing down the mood—but I found about twenty of these tossed out back." Benny handed Dean an empty, plastic water bottle; the inside was coated with tacky blood.
"What does this mean?" Sam asked.
"She was forced to drink his blood," Cas stated. "A lot of it."
"Is that what you saw back at the warehouse?" Dean asked, panicked.
Cas opened his mouth to speak, but no words were good enough. Dean lunged at Cas, grabbing the lapels of his coat. "Did you see that in your vision? Why didn't you say something?!"
"Dean! It wouldn't have mattered," Sam insisted, pulling his brother off Cas.
"What do you mean 'it wouldn't have mattered'?" Dean hissed.
"We couldn't have gotten to her any faster. We couldn't have stopped it," Sam said.
"If she has turned …" Benny said.
"No, we can reverse it," Dean said.
"… If she hasn't fed," Sam interjected.
"She hasn't," Dean said shortly.
"Oh, she has," Benny said. Fielding the 'Go to Hell' looks, he amended, "Speaking from experience."
"I didn't feed," Dean said, jaw set in stone. Benny raised an eyebrow.
"Long story," Dean said. "It won't be a picnic getting these ingredients, but we've got most important and hardest to come by right in there … if you didn't drink it all." Dean cast a judgmental glare Benny's way.
"No, I didn't drain him," Benny answered, slightly offended.
"Dean, write down what we need. I'll get it," Cas said.
"No, Cas …" Dean argued.
"Dean!" Cas roared. "I have heard enough about my batteries. I will do whatever it takes to save her—whatever it takes."
Dean walked inside and found a piece of paper and a pencil behind the counter. He jotted down a list of rare items and handed it to Cas, who glanced at it absently and disappeared.
"Hey, since when do vampires feed on their own?" Sam asked.
"Desperate times," Benny said. "I gotta drink something or …"
"Or what?" Dean asked.
"I start seeing things, hearing things …" Benny cocked his head, thinking. "I reckon if a vampire went long enough without a taste, he might lose his mind."
"You think that's what happened here?" Sam asked.
"Maybe," Benny replied. "You don't need that much blood to turn a human."
"So this vampire takes Evie away from the safe house, goes crazy not drinking blood, then nearly drains himself dry so he can force feed her a gallon of his blood? Why?" Dean asked.
"Crazy begets crazy," Benny said.
"We know a person can turn from just a drop. What would happen to someone who drank that much vamp blood?" Sam asked hesitantly.
"I don't know, but it can't be good," Benny said heavily.
Sam and Dean perused the four dust-crusted shelves in the petite gas station. Relics of the past sat on powdery thrones of honor on the top shelves and hid in embarrassment in the darkness of the bottom shelves. "You think baby can drink this?" Dean asked, reading the back of a metal can of Rocket motor oil.
Cas appeared before Sam could answer, near the counter with five glass bottles filled with a variety of colored liquids and crushed substances and one bunch of herbs tied together with twine. Sam hurried over and added a large water bottle one-fourth full of the dead vamp's blood to the exotic spread.
Leaving behind the motor oil, which Dean fantasized would turn his Impala into a genuine flying, sound-barrier breaking rocket (hence the name), Dean said, "OK, let's brew us a cure."
As Sam combined the ingredients to the blood in drips and pinches, hoping his measurements were at least in the ballpark, Dean gently pulled Cas aside. "Any leads on Evie?"
"If you're asking if I've had another vision, no," Cas answered sourly.
"You always showed up in her dreams. Maybe you should go to sleep," Dean suggested.
"I don't sleep," Cas retorted.
"Right," Dean said. "Well, then meditate or something. We've got to find her quick, before she feeds."
Cas nodded and walked outside. The sun was about to rise over the horizon. Castiel, of course, had never experienced the wonder of sunrises and sunsets as humans did: worshipping the sun as a capricious deity, whose will was responsible for all manner of good and evil; believing in a geocentric universe in which all astral bodies, including the sun, rotated around the Earth; being to an extent dependent on the sun's light and warmth for life. Even modern humans – for all their scientific knowledge of the sun, a star whose mass holds nine planets in its orbit, a star that will eventually burn out and extinguish all life on Earth, a star that is small in comparison to the millions of stars viewed by human technology – still see something in the sun that Castiel had never seen.
He walked to the desolate road and stood like the statue he had always been: stoic, silent, still. For millennia he had been a statue, tasked to watch the Earth and the creatures his Father had placed on it. He didn't even begin to understand these creatures until he met Dean. This crude, wild, hopeless boy had helped him see what his Father saw in humans. Evie had taken that a step further: she had ignited the desire inside him to be part of it, part of humanity. He had learned many things when he had lost his grace and became human, but then he got his wings back, and, again, he was an outsider: walking with humans, but not quite belonging.
It was as if he had sat in front of a TV for two thousand years watching the static between channels. Then, he met Dean, who introduced him to basic cable. And, then, Evie came along and brought streaming HD with her. She had brightened Cas' world, just as the sun was now brightening this Nevada highway. He stared straight into the rising sun, never blinking, and saw the sun for the first time … the way humans saw it: Beautiful, haunting, hopeful.
Suddenly, a blot of red appeared in the tree line across the highway. Cas blinked, but it was still there. He closed his eyes for longer and reopened them. The spot was bigger now, and it seemed to be growing. The garnet spot covered the sun, and a shadow fell on Cas. He tried to run, but his feet were planted to the ground … like a statue.
The red gloom overtook Cas, and he fell backward into the dirt.
"How long should we leave him out there?" Sam asked.
"Ah, let him do his thing. Maybe this is his idea of meditation," Dean said. "Benny, it's getting light out. You don't want to get a tan."
"Yeah, I got it," Benny said, pulling a tube of SPF 100 sunscreen from his pocket.
"Whoa, Cas!" Sam called and ran outside. Dean followed without thinking. They reached Cas quickly. He lay splayed out in the dirt, facing the sky, eyes open.
"Is he breathing?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam answered. He waved his hand back and forth over Cas' eyes. "Nothing."
Jogging up to the boys, Benny asked, "What the hell happened?"
"I don't know. He looks like he's in a coma or something," Dean said.
"Cas!" Sam yelled. He reared back and slapped Cas' cheek.
"Dude!" Dean said.
"It worked last time," Sam mumbled.
"Well, we can't just play doctor to an angel on the side of the road," Benny said. "Let's get him somewhere comfortable."
"How is he?" Sam asked, walking swiftly around the Impala.
"Same," Dean answered shortly.
Sam crossed the small sidewalk and unlocked the door to Room 3 while Dean opened the backdoor of the car.
Sam and Dean nodded in wordless agreement. Dean pulled Cas' outstretched form off the backseat by his armpits. Benny grabbed Cas' legs at the perfect time. Sam was right behind to close the door. Dean and Benny carried the apparently unconscious angel into the room and laid him on the bed.
"OK, hopefully no one saw us," Dean said. He stared at Cas. He was worried. He had no clue what to do for Cas, and Dean Winchester didn't like feeling clueless.
Benny lifted Cas' wrist and let go mid-air; Cas' limp arm fell back to the bed. "Well, he's not catatonic: eyes don't follow you," he said, moving his finger in front of Cas' eyes, "and his muscles are limp." Benny demonstrated this by again lifting Cas' wrist and letting gravity take it back to the bed. "And, he ain't comatose. Eyes are open. … I had some medical training. Have to when you're on a ship."
"When was that: 1800?" Dean asked sarcastically.
"No, he's right, Dean," Sam interjected. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Yeah, so what do we do about it?!" Dean snapped. He was pacing now.
"I don't know if there's anything we can do," Sam said.
Dean bit his tongue. He wanted to put a gun in someone's face and force them to fix Cas, but this time there was no one to shoot, no one to torture, no one to blame. There was nothing to do but sit and wait and wonder what was going on inside Cas' head.
Cas opened his eyes and swiftly closed them again. The red spot was gone, and the world wasn't dark anymore; in fact, it was far too bright, too satiated, and way too intense. It was like being forced to stare at the sun through dilated pupils. Even with his eyelids gripped tightly shut, the light still flooded through.
He could still hear in his blinded state: birds chirping very loudly, his staggered footsteps shuffling unevenly, then his knees hitting the pavement after he stumbled over a rock. He caught himself with outstretched hands he could barely see. Then, he heard something else: a low rumble and a grinding, growing louder. Suddenly, the rumble became a roar. Then, the roar became a bellow. He turned and saw an enormous, charging mass speeding toward him, horn blaring threateningly, and he realized what it was and where he was: it was a logging truck, and he was on all fours in the road. He rolled to his right, narrowly avoiding being splattered all over a desolate road in the middle of a forest.
Catching his breath he slowly sat up and looked down at his wounded hands and forearms. As his eyes adjusted and the light became more bearable, two thoughts crossed his mind: first, "What am I wearing?" and, second, "These aren't mine." Cas looked past his unexpectedly feminine hands and noticed he was wearing blue jeans and motorcycle boots. He looked down at his chest and saw something jarring: breasts. Great breasts.
Cas stood and looked around. He had no idea where he was … or who he was in. Maybe when the red spot knocked him unconscious, it also knocked him out of his vessel. Apparently, he had found another.
He had to get back to the boys and continue searching for Evie. He closed his eyes tightly and concentrated, but nothing happened. He still stood on the side of a desolate road in the middle of a forest. He tried again, and again nothing. Teleporting apparently wasn't an option, but he was certain he could hitch a ride with breasts like these. He started walking, thumb out as he knew was the human sign for "Please, give me a ride."
His vision had adjusted, but he still had to squint to bear the sharp quality of the sunlight. He could hear a car approaching. Turning, he expected it to be rolling near, but there was nothing but asphalt and trees. He could hear the car, which was much further away than he thought, chirping birds (millions, it seemed), blowing wind, and something fainter and more rhythmic. It sounded like a drumming. One big drum played with sticks and thousands of tiny flittering ones played with fast fingers.
Finally, the car rounded the curve that brought it into his field of vision. It rolled to a stop next to him and his bodacious cans, as he had predicted. He got in and latched his seat belt. "Thank you," he said, looking over at the driver, a middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, an eager grin, and a bulging neck. At first, Cas wondered if he might be ill, then the man's jugular vein turned bright red through his skin and began to pulsate rhythmically. The man started to speak, but Cas couldn't hear a word he said. The drumming noise—blood pulsing through the man's veins, Cas now realized—was all he could hear aside from the excited beating of his own heart. His pulse was rapid, his breathing shallow. His teeth hurt. Something was happening in his mouth.
He turned away from the man, whose mouth was still moving like a silent picture star, and looked at his vessel in the side mirror. He saw a mouth full of vampire teeth in a face he knew so well: Evie.
A touch on his shoulder broke the trance; the driver was asking, "Are you OK, Miss?"
"Don't touch me!" Cas yelled. He heard Evie's voice.
The man tried to touch him again, but, this time, when Cas tried to pull away, he felt a loss of control. He lunged at the man, fangs bared. He felt himself push the man violently against the driver door, although he tried with all his will to stop. He saw himself eyeing the pulsing vein in the man's neck, lusting after it, wanting it more than anything. Then, he saw himself open the passenger door and fall weakly out of the car and onto the ground. The car sped away.
What the hell was going on here?
It didn't take Cas too long—but, still, maybe longer than it should have—to realize that he wasn't in a new vessel. In fact, he wasn't anywhere. He wasn't in control of Evie's body; he was just watching. This was the most lucid vision of Evie he had had yet: a detailed play by play of every move she made after she turned. He had hoped and prayed that she hadn't turned, that his vision had been wrong or she had been able to fight it.
He now saw that his prayers had not been answered: She had turned. Worse than that, she had fed, and even worse than that, he had to watch through her eyes as she did it. The overwhelming dread was the worst of it all, as he watched it all play out, not knowing how Evie's story would end.
Cas' feelings toward God had shifted drastically over his existence. He began as a devout soldier, never questioning, never wavering. Then, the Winchesters entered his life, and with them the questions. He grew doubtful and rebellious, then became pious again. Then, thinking he was righteous, he became misguided and arrogant. Where was this Father he had served for millennia? Why wasn't he here to lead? Through the apocalypse, a Heavenly civil war, and near damnation on Earth time and time again, God still would not return. Eventually, Cas grew tired. Then, a human woman fired an arrow at a vampire and restored his faith. She and his faith were now bloody and on the run. If Castiel had ever had a reason to hate God, this was it.
For seven hours Sam and Dean took turns checking on Cas, watching reruns of 'Dr. Sexy, MD,' or Animal Planet and driving back to the gas station to search for any clue as to where Evie had gone. Benny stayed in the room, mostly out of necessity. The midday Nevada sun was unforgiving; it wouldn't kill him, but it was certainly less than comfortable. He hated to admit that he was starting to get into to this 'Dr. Sexy' show. He tried to play it cool and pretend he was sleeping, but the truth was he could barely keep his eyes off the TV. Dean, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his man crush.
Sam entered excitedly, scaring both captive viewers. "I think I found something!"
"What took you so long?" Dean asked, standing. Sam started to explain, then he noticed both Dean's and Benny's eyes diverted to watch Dr. Piccolo slap Dr. Sexy. He shut off the TV and regained their full attention.
"I drove a bit further south, and I found a cashier at a truck stop who says he saw a woman matching Evie's description hitch a ride from a trucker," Sam said.
"Matching Evie's description? You sure it's her?" Benny asked.
"Curly, brown hair. Brown eyes. Thin. Also described her as 'hot' and said 'she looked like she could kick my ass.' His words," Sam said.
"That's her. Where was she headed?" Dean asked.
"South, with a trucker who routinely drives Route 93 between Jackpot and Las Vegas. I got a first name: Hal," Sam said.
"There can't be many stops between here and Vegas. I mean, there's nothing but desert," Dean said.
"Let's see," Sam said, opening his laptop. He pulled up a map of Nevada. "Yeah, there are only three towns between Jackpot and Vegas on Route 93. The largest is Ely. …"
At that moment Cas sat bolt upright and inhaled deeply as if it were his first breath in years.
"Whoa!" Dean yelped, running to the bed. "Hey!"
"Angels sure do know how to make an entrance," Benny quipped.
"Hey, Cas! How you feeling?" Sam asked.
"Ely. White Pines Motel. Let's go," Cas said, holding out his hands and closing his eyes, preparing to teleport. He succeeding only in making himself dizzy.
"Take it easy, Cas. We'll get there the old-fashioned way," Sam said, gathering their things.
"You can explain your seven-hour coma in the car," Dean said.
Dean violently struck the steering wheel repeatedly.
"Dean, stop! That's not helping," Sam said.
"I didn't want to believe it," Cas said, head hanging, eyes defeated.
"Well, then don't!" Dean yelled. "Maybe you saw it wrong!"
"Dean, I didn't see it wro—"
"Guys!" Sam refereed.
"Hey, guys, it's not a death sentence. I'm living, well, undead proof of that, right?" Benny suggested.
"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Cas asked.
"Look, from what I understand, she's one tough cookie," Benny said. "She'll be alright."
After five minutes of teeth-gritting silence, Dean swung the car into a spot at the White Pines Motel, where police and forensic analysts swarmed like ants. Cas had told them the entire story as he had witnessed it through Evie's eyes: her journey from the side of the bright, desolate road to room 6 at the White Pines Motel.
She had gained enough control of herself to hitch a ride south on a truck hauling chickens. She requested to ride in the back, hoping to resist ripping out the throat of the driver. At the beginning of her ride, there had been twenty three chickens in the truck. By the time the driver had stopped to check on the lack of clucking in the back, there had been zero chickens. He pulled a shotgun on Evie, and she was no longer able to resist ripping out his throat.
After that, her memory had become foggy for several hours. The only thing Cas could determine for certain was that Evie, with a clear head and her own human blood in her veins, awoke in a pool of blood in room 6 of the White Pines Motel in Ely. He prayed she was no longer here.
"Cas!" Dean called. He had been trying to get Cas' attention. "Can you handle this?"
He nodded.
"Get your badge," Dean said. "Benny, why don't you wait in the car?"
"Aw, no badge for the vampire?" Benny asked, feigning hurt.
"Just stay cool," Dean said, closing the door.
He, Sam, and Castiel approached the three-ring circus of sheriff's deputies and lab geeks and ducked under the yellow tape unnoticed. At the open doorway, though, they stopped abruptly, all flabbergasted. It seemed that every surface – the floor, walls, bed, table, chair, television, doorknobs, and even the ceiling – had at least a touch of blood on it.
"Hey, you folks can't be here." A photographer had noticed them staring.
Instinctively, Sam and Dean flashed their badges, but they never took their eyes off the blood. Cas brushed past the boys, the startled photographer, and the deputy who had moved in to check their credentials.
"Whoa, hold it," the deputy said. "You have to wear those plastic booty things in there, so you don't track footprints in … come on, you guys know this." The deputy sighed loudly as Cas paced the room. "What is he doing?"
Walking quickly out and past the boys, Cas said, "She's not here." He left a trail of bloody footprints and speechless men in his wake.
"Where would she go?" Sam asked.
"I don't know!" Cas' voice roared from the back seat.
"She's alright," Benny said.
"We don't know that!" Dean said.
"We know she's got her wits about her now," Benny replied. "So, she's probably laying low."
"If she's got her wits, then why hasn't she tried to contact us?" Dean asked.
"You know, after my first time, I felt terrible. More than terrible, it was like an ache, like I was morning the loss of my humanity, my soul." Benny continued to philosophize. "I wanted to be alone. I turned my back on those closest to me so they wouldn't see what I had become."
"Are you saying that she doesn't want us to find her?" Cas asked in frustration.
"I'm just saying that she may be looking for comfort in unusual places," Benny said.
"Just say what you mean, Benny," Sam said.
"How many churches are there in Ely?" Cas asked.
Tapping on his keyboard, Sam came up with a number: "Seven. Baptist, Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal, Assembly of God, Latter-day Saints …"
"You think she's penitent," Benny said.
"She would choose to bare the weight of her actions and the consequences alone. It would become heavy," Cas said.
"I, too, turned to church," Benny said. "I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms, but I didn't have an angel in my pants, you know what I'm saying."
Cas calmly reached across the seat and yanked the smart-mouthed vampire from his comfortable spot. Before Dean, who hadn't yet noticed anything was amiss, or Sam, who had, could say a word, Cas shoved Benny through the passenger side window. Twinkling glass spilled over the rapidly speeding highway, creating a beautiful effect on many levels, musically, visually, and metaphorically.
Dean tried to drive as straight as possible, but he still slowed slightly when he saw his friend hanging over the rapidly moving asphalt by his throat.
"That is the last wise-crack you will make on that topic," Cas said calmly.
"OK, OK! Whatever you say, brother," Benny yelled from his precarious position.
"Drive us by the closest church," Cas told Sam, still holding Benny with a steady arm. "I'll feel her if she's near."
"Excuse me, young lady. I don't mean to interrupt your prayer, but you were here when I came in two hours ago, and two hours before that, in the same exact spot," the priest said, indicated Evie's kneeling position. "Have you moved in the last four hours? Trust someone who knows," the priest said, showing off his cane, "moving does the body good."
"And, I've been told prayer does the soul good," Evie said. She continued to stare aimlessly toward the altar as the priest eyed her carefully and thoughtfully.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" he said, finally. "Water? Food? A doctor? Counselor?"
"No," she replied in a despondent whisper.
"Confession?"
Evie considered it, but what good would it do? "I don't there's any forgiving what I've done, Father."
"If you repent God will forgive," the priest said.
Evie finally turned her gaze to the priest sitting in the pew next to her. He had a wise face. He didn't look like the naïve kind of man who had joined the priesthood straight from the Boy Scouts. Rather, he looked like the kind who had joined later in life, after he had seen some crap.
"I have it on good authority that God doesn't care anymore," Evie said.
Without batting an eye the priest said, "Oh, my child. Something terrible must have happened for you to believe that." He continued to gaze at her with true sympathy until tears fell from her eyes. "May I pray with you?" he asked.
Evie nodded.
The priest set his cane aside, and Evie helped him plant down the kneeler. He seemed to have much difficulty with his joints. Evie arranged everything for him, then offered a hand to assist him into the kneeling position. He accepted graciously, holding her hand with his left and the back of the pew with his right. He slowly lowered his knees down to the poorly cushioned kneeler; in this position he would show humility before God in more ways than one: He would not be equal to God, and when finished with prayer, he would not be able to stand again without God's help.
Of course, he hid all this as best he could from the troubled young woman. Instead, he made it into the kneeling position as gracefully as humanly possible, thanked her for her help, and then immediately asked for her hand in prayer, ignoring his pain. This elderly priest, a true believer, and this young hunter, who had seen so many of the things this man had devoted his life to, prayed the rosary together in a small rectory in Ely, Nevada. It may not have been God. It may not have ben forgiveness, but it was a start.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost," said the priest, pantomiming the sign of the cross over Evie. "Amen."
She helped the old man into his seat with considerable effort. Once seated, he took a moment to catch his breath. "My name is Father McNulty, by the way."
"Evie. Evelyn."
"Evelyn, you said earlier that you don't believe God cares anymore," Father McNulty started thoughtfully.
"If God did care, He wouldn't allow …" Evie trailed off.
"He wouldn't allow evil?" Father McNulty asked. "Evil is the devil's work, my child."
"Well, not the devil. Just an arrogant, little piss-ant wannabe," Evie said with contempt. "Sorry, Father."
Father McNulty was truly confused by her statement. He had heard a lot of ranting and raving about God and angels, the devil and demons, but "piss-ant wannabe" was a first.
"Lucifer is locked away in cage, and the guy who took his place? Maybe even worse. Little man syndrome," Evie stated.
"The story of Lucifer being locked away is not a common one. You must be a scholar," Father McNulty said. "But, the story of a second Satan is a new one on me."
"Even more dramatic than Lucifer's fall from grace. Lucifer was locked away for millennia. You know that part," Evie said. "But, I bet you didn't hear the part where he was released and walked the Earth about six years ago. Yeah, I know! The apocalypse was diverted by my ex, his stubborn brother, my new boyfriend (the angel, who rebelled against Heaven, by the way), and a surly, old man I wish I could have had a drink with."
"Evelyn, I enjoy a good story as much as the next man, but you're bordering on blasphemy," the priest said seriously.
"I can understand your skepticism, Father," she said. "I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen everything I've seen."
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
"I don't know," Evie said. "It feels good to say it out loud." She stood. "Well, thank you, Father. I feel much better. I should get going."
Evie turned to leave and noticed a nun squarely blocking the only exit to the small chapel. She hadn't noticed the woman before, and her sudden presence set off alarms in Evie's head.
"Oh, Sister Agnes, where have you been? I was worried about you," Father McNulty said, slowly pulling himself to a standing position.
"I have to confess a sin, Father," the nun began in a familiar cadence. Evie tensed.
"Sister, maybe this is not the time," the priest said.
"This is the perfect time," she continued. "I must confess envy."
"Envy?"
"Yes," Sister Agnes said. "I am envious of someone: that 'arrogant, little piss-ant wannabe.'" The nun's eyes flashed red, and the door slammed shut. "I want to hear more about him."
Father McNulty made the sign of the cross. "My God," he said, aghast.
"No, but I'll give you two more guesses," Crowley said through Sister Agnes. "Come now, Evie. Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"
"What are you doing here?" Evie asked.
"Looking for you, of course," Crowley replied.
"Why? You've got the tablet. You don't need me or Cas," Evie said with fire in her eyes.
"Mmm. No, and no," Crowley said.
"You don't have the tablet?" Evie asked.
"Isn't that what I just said? Even if I did have it, why would you think I don't need you, darling? My most perfect creation of all," Crowley said proudly. "Well, maybe not perfect, but certainly better than the others."
The door violently burst open before Evie could question what Crowley meant by 'others.' In the doorway stood Castiel, an unflinching, unstoppable force – breath-taking. Literally. Both Father McNulty and Evie lost their breath for a moment: for the priest, it was awe, but for the lover, it was excitement.
"You putrid piece of …" Crowley began to charge Cas as he threw insults, breaking the spell of the moment. Evie took the opportunity to nimbly jump the pew, grab the nun and force her face into the stoup of holy water near the door. Crowley screamed in pain and surprise; steam rose from the nun's face. Cas and Evie pulled the nun from the water and held her body as red smoke poured from her mouth and fled through the open door like a freight train, nearly knocking a running Dean and Sam off their feet.
"What the hell was he doing here?" Dean asked.
"Good to see you, too, Dean," Evie said. "Let's get them out of here."
As Sam swept Sister Agnes into his arms and headed for the car, Evie suppressed her urge to hug Cas and never let go and grabbed a stunned Father McNulty by the arm. "I need your help, Cas. He can't move very well."
"Here," Cas said, placing his fingers on the priest's forehead. Father McNulty looked around, again flabbergasted.
"My arthritis," he managed.
"Remember that angel I told you about?" Evie asked. "Come on. We need to go. Now."
They started to jog to the parking lot, but when Evie noticed Benny, she slowed to a stop.
"Hey! Let's go!" Dean called.
"You know what he is?" Evie asked. The hatred glimmered in her eyes.
"Yes, long story. We can explain when we're far away from Crowley," Dean said.
They piled into the Impala: Dean in the driver seat, Sam in the passenger seat with Sister Agnes in his lap, Benny in the back next to the broken window, Father McNulty in the middle, and lastly, Evie in Castiel's lap. She clung to Cas but glared at Benny; unable to control her hatred, distrust, and fear, she couldn't take her eyes off him.
"We're not all monsters, darling," Benny said solemnly.
The sound of Benny's voice seemed to snap Father McNulty back to reality. He peered around the car uncertainly, finally settling his gaze on Evie. "Are you a monster?"
Cas tightened his protective wrapped grip on his lady. "Father, you're in shock."
"It said she was its most perfect creation," Father McNulty said. "That thing that was in Sister Agnes. It said it created her."
"That thing was the monster," Cas said.
Evie's train of thought, her foray into guilt and self-hatred, wondering if she really was evil, came to a screeching halt as she picked out the vital piece of Crowley's words. "He said I was better than the others. He gave the potion to others."
While Sam, Dean, and Benny waited in the Impala, Evie and Cas helped a speechless Father McNulty and a barely awake Sister Agnes check into a motel in Hinckley, Utah. Cas paid for their room, and Evie wrote a number on a piece of stationery. She handed it to Father McNulty.
"This is my number. If you need anything … anything, Father, just ask," Evie said.
He stared at the numbers and, without looking up, said, "I'm sorry I called you a monster."
"I know how it as at first," Evie said, shaking it off. "And, my first wasn't the King of Hell. That's a lot to deal with." She hugged the priest. "Take care of yourself. You and Sister Agnes, you get as far away from Nevada as you can, and don't look back. Ever."
He nodded, and she knew she didn't need to explain the direness of the situation any further. She and Cas returned to the car, arms bound tightly around each other.
"I feel bad about leaving them alone," Evie said.
"They'll be alright," Cas assured her. "They're not the ones Crowley's after."
She sighed deeply as Cas opened the door for her. "OK, so Crowley's after us … me. Why?"
"That's the million dollar question, darling," Benny said.
"Dean, now that we've dropped off the cargo, can you please explain why I'm sitting next to a vampire and not chopping his head off?" Evie asked through pursed lips.
"Uh … it's a long story," Dean started.
"I'm listening," Evie said.
"OK," Dean said. "Just keep your hands off any sharp objects until I'm done."
"You've got ten minutes before his head flies out that broken window," she said.
Not liking the idea of a broken window or his buddy's head flying out said window, Dean started talking. He didn't realize what was going to come out until it was done. He told the entire saga of Benny and Dean: Meeting in Purgatory (the first time), their escape from Purgatory, Benny letting Dean kill him in order to escort Sam and Bobby safely to the portal so Bobby's soul could enter Heaven, meeting Benny again in Purgatory, getting him out (again), and Benny helping find Evie. Dean checked his watch: it had been sixteen minutes since he started the tale. So far, no heads were rolling down the highway.
Evie grit her teeth and looked at Benny. Dean tensed at the wheel; he was sure she was going to reach for the knife he knew she kept in her boot, but instead, she inhaled deeply. "If Dean trusts you … and after what I've just been through …" she exhaled loudly. "But I'm still watching you."
"Hey, brother, I think she likes me," Benny laughed.
"He sort of grows on you," Cas whispered to Evie as he lovingly stroked her hair.
"OK, so on to more pressing matters …" Dean said.
"Right. Why would Crowley want more immortal humans?" Evie asked.
"Maybe he wasn't just going for humans," Benny suggested.
Dean shook his head. "Vampires who fed on infected hosts …"
"Can we call it something else, anything else, besides infected? Please," Evie asked. "Like, enhanced?"
"OK. Vamps who fed on enhanced blood went on uncontrolled feeding frenzies and ate themselves to death," Dean said.
"And, whatever did that is in your blood?" Benny asked.
"Yeah," Evie replied shortly.
"How come you didn't eat yourself to death?" Benny asked.
"I have no clue," Evie said.
"How did you control your thirst so fast?" Benny asked, partly curious and partly suspicious. "I was a wreck for months, years, even."
"I just didn't feel it anymore," Evie replied.
"Your thirst is gone?" Benny exclaimed.
Evie quietly shook her head.
"She is herself," Cas said with obvious relief. "Human."
"How is that possible?" Dean asked.
"Vampirism is like a virus, right?" Sam posited. "Well, what if whatever Crowley did to Evie is like a stronger virus?"
"You're saying there was a heavyweight fight inside her body, and Crowley's enhancement won?" Benny asked skeptically.
"I don't know, maybe. Maybe it's chemistry," Sam said.
"Nerd," Dean said.
"Crowley said Evie was his best," Sam thought out loud, "better than the others. What if he's conducting experiments?"
"But why?" Cas asked. "He wants the human tablet and the prophet. Why enhance humans with immunities?"
"Yeah, I mean, you'd think Crowley would want to destroy humanity, not make it stronger," Sam said.
"Well, maybe not," Benny said. "I mean, demons have to ride humans to walk around on Earth, right? Like your boy Crowley did with that nun back there. So, if he destroys all of you, there's no one left to ride."
"OK, so he needs a body for every demon, but that doesn't explain the immortality thing. As long as a demon's in a meat suit, the meat suit's immortal," Dean reasoned.
"Like I said, maybe it ain't just humans he's after," Benny suggested.
"Dean, we need to take a detour," Cas said.
"To where? We're going to the bunker. It's safe there," Dean said.
"We need to get the tablet and the prophet for before Crowley finds them, otherwise we can only guess at his intentions," Cas said.
"He's right," Sam agreed.
"And, do we really want a vampire in the bunker?" Evie asked.
"I told you you can trust him," Dean insisted.
"Look, all bad feelings and trust issues aside, if the Alpha Vamp has a psychic connection to all his children …" Evie began.
Sam and Dean shared a collective "Oh, shit" look.
"Do we really want the biggest and baddest of the big and bad knowing how to find that bunker?" she finished.
"Well, if I've learned one thing in a hundred some odd years of being a man, it's that women really do know best," Benny said.
"OK, then. Hey, isn't one of Rufus' cabins in Colorado?" Dean asked Sam.
"Yeah, somewhere in the Rio Grande National Forest, I think," Sam said.
"Dean, we must get to the tablet as soon as possible," Cas insisted.
"I know, Cas, but considering that we've been going non-stop for weeks, we've been to Hell and back, literaly, … we need to rest," Dean implored.
Evie hugged Cas tightly, resting her head on his shoulder, as Dean mentioned Hell.
"OK," Cas agreed. Without Evie hugging him tightly, he might have put up more of an argument.
"You came back from Hell and searched for me for weeks?" Evie whispered to Cas with a grin growing on her face.
"We helped, too!" Dean yelled.
"I know. Thank you," Evie said. She turned to Cas then, and they kissed for the first time in a month, although for both of them, it felt more like a year.
Dean watched in the rearview mirror and frowned. "I deserve a kiss," he pouted.
"It's about time," Benny said as they pulled up to a dark, lonely cabin in the woods. "I was beginning to think you boys didn't know where this fella's cabin was. He sure knows how to pick the spots."
"Yeah, good ole Rufus," Dean said fondly.
They walked into the cabin, which was unlocked, to a dank smell. Dean flipped on the light switch, and a lightbulb flickered on, spreading light across the dusty one-room kitchen/living room area.
"Generator still works," Sam said.
"Yeah, good ole Rufus," Dean said.
"Alright! A TV!" Benny exclaimed, hurrying to the tiny black-and-white set with a wide grin. "I like TV." He turned the knob, and a grainy zombie movie began to play on the screen. Benny quickly turned it off.
"Ugh, no zombies," Benny said, disgusted. "Give me the creeps."
"Zombies give you the creeps?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, they're filthy, undead corpses," Benny said.
"Benny, I hate to break it to you, but you're undead," Sam laughed.
"Yeah, but it's different," Benny said.
"Ha ha!" Dean laughed, pulling a blue bottle from a dusty cabinet. "Johnny Walker Blue. Rest in peace, Rufus." Dean managed to find four glasses he cleaned up by blowing into them and spreading dust around. Everyone gathered at the small kitchen table; Evie, Cas, and Benny sat, while Sam stood and Dean leaned on the kitchen counter. As if on cue, everyone downed their shot of very well-aged whiskey. Dean drank from the bottle.
"What creeps you out, Sam?" Benny asked as he stared thoughtfully at his empty glass.
"What, me? Nothing." Sam shrugged.
"Clowns," Dean revealed. "Creepy smiles, bad touches." He laughed and refilled their glasses.
"OK, Mr. I'm Scared of Witches," Sam teased. Evie laughed out loud, nearly spewing whiskey.
"They're always leaving chicken feet and fluids everywhere. It's gross!" Dean argued.
"Cas?" Benny asked.
"Me? I suppose I don't find any one creature particularly aversive," Cas answered.
Everyone chuckled.
"And, Evie, I guess I know what repulses you," Benny said, insinuating vampires and bringing down the mood.
"No, actually," Evie answered solemnly. "Now I understand just how hard it is to resist the call of blood. Impossible, really." She shared a respectful nod with Benny, an olive branch. Benny took it, nodding in return. "No, uh, I don't like shapeshifters. They shed like snakes. It's unsettling," Evie said.
"And unsanitary," Dean added.
"Well, on that note …" Evie giggled and swigged her last shot of whiskey. "Thank you. All of you." She hugged Dean, briefly but firmly; then, Sam. She shook Benny's hand. "Sweet dreams, boys."
Evie and Cas took one bedroom. Sam took the other. Dean slept on the couch, and Benny sat where he was, listening to the sounds of the night.
Dean woke the next morning to the sight of sunlight shining through hazy, old windows, the sounds of rustling in the kitchen, and the smell of fresh coffee. He rolled over groggily and saw Sam pouring two mugs of java.
"Morning," Dean greeted.
"Hey! How'd you sleep?" Sam asked.
"Like a freakin' rock. You?" Dean asked, taking the hot mug Sam brought him.
"Same. Hey, have you seen Benny?" Sam asked.
"Dude, I just got conscious. He's not here?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head. In the moment of silence, Dean noted a lack of sound. He didn't hear anything, not even birds chirping. "Must be out. Hunting," Dean said.
He sipped his coffee. "Oh, that's good! Is Evie still asleep?" Dean asked as he stood and crossed the room to the bathroom.
"Dean!" Sam called, but Dean had already opened the door and walked into a scene he wished he hadn't seen: Cas sat behind Evie in an excessively bubbly bubble bath in the large claw foot tub. The bathroom was sparse but somehow tasteful in design, if there was a design. The large tub took up most of the room and sat near a beautifully lit window. There was a toilet next to a simple pedestal sink; a mirrored medicine cabinet rose above it. Surprisingly, Rufus had left the cabin stocked: not only did the generator still work, but the bathroom featured full bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and bubble bath, bars of soap, and plenty of toilet paper.
Cas and Evie both turned at the sound at the door. Cas held a large book in his hands, and he was pointing to a specific line on the page.
"Good morning, Dean! Would you like to join us? We're studying Enochian!" Cas exclaimed.
"No, thanks!" Dean yelped and hurriedly shut the door. He covered his eyes and limped blindly toward the kitchen. "Dude!" he said to Sam. "Why didn't you warn me?"
"I tried," Sam said. "Just sit down. I'll make breakfast."
Sam started on the nearly expired cans of beans and sausages, and not long after, a clothed Evie and Cas joined the boys in the kitchen.
"Ugh, could you two lock the door next time?" Dean asked.
"Aai be ri nu lus da a ba ba la nu da," Evie said. She pronounced every word perfectly and added her own sassy tone.
Cas grinned, but Dean's disapproving glare killed the fun immediately.
"What'd she say?" Sam asked.
"It wasn't very nice," Cas whispered.
"What wasn't very nice?" Benny asked. He had come in through the front door unnoticed.
"Where were you?" Evie asked suspiciously.
"Grabbin' a bite," Benny said, making little effort to hide his bloody hands as he went to the sink to wash the blood off. "Had a bear of a breakfast." Benny smirked. "But I wouldn't turn down beans and franks."
"Great!" Eager to cut the tension, Sam turned his attention back to cooking.
"I'll get the prophet," Cas said and made the face he made when he was about to teleport. Dean always thought of it as his poop face.
"Hold on," Dean said. "You're gonna bring him here?"
"Yes. Well, her," Cas answered. "She'll be safest with us."
Cas took everyone's silence as agreement, although each face varied wildly. Dean and Evie shared a look of tension; both were ready for a fight, or flight, as might be the case. Sam looked hesitant but trusting. Benny simply looked intrigued, like he was a willing member of an audience.
Flutter.
Cas was gone and back in the blink of an eye. He returned with a hand on the shoulder of a short, overweight, black woman. She looked like a middle-aged mom, probably with kids in college. Her hair was curly, cut short, and the color of mahogany. She had a kind face, one with visible laugh lines.
When she appeared in the cabin, she seemed to be in the middle of doing something with her hands, possibly peeling an orange, but there was nothing there now. She paused in mid-peel, looking like a mime, and only her eyes moved over the faces in front of her and finally to the hand on her shoulder and the face it belonged to.
"Oh, Lord Jesus," she managed in a soft whisper. Then, she fainted.
