Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters. Ben & Jerry's is awesome.


Chapter Nine: Into the Setting Sun

By: Zavijah

Castiel looked pale by the time they reached the large house on the edge of town. Dean caught the bartender stealing glances back down the street the entire way. It tugged at his own sense of paranoia enough to make him cast a glance over his shoulder a couple of times as well. However, having filled his quota of suspicious rabbit trails, Dean refused to allow his wary mind to get worked up over nothing again. Sam was going to have a good laugh at him. Dean would find him, soon, and when he regaled him with the tale of how he had thrown salt into the face of the washerwoman he had thought was a banshee, his younger brother would laugh until he was blue in the face.

Everything would be fine.

Dean used the door frame as a brace while Castiel pounded the meat of his fist against the door. The wood shook with several booming knocks. The ache behind Dean's eyes, brought on by a day of too much drink and not enough food, throbbed in unison to the noise. Despite the loud knock, it still took several moments of waiting (and Dean watching Castiel nervously shift his weight) before the door opened.

"Cassy," Balthazar cocked his head to the side, pale blue eyes shimmering with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He didn't bat an eye at Dean. "I didn't expect to see you. Not that I am complaining, but your presence does warrant a fair bit of questioning. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?"

Before Castiel could do more than open his mouth with response, Dean spilled forward. He fisted the front of Balthazar's loose shirt and shoved the man backwards, taking them both out of public view and into the privacy of the room beyond. He slammed the trader against the far wall with one hand while the other held his loaded pistol steady with the man's face. "Where's Sam."

Balthazar chuckled, his empty hands held chest high in a complying gesture. "Really, I don't have the foggiest of who you are talking about. Castiel, do you mind?"

"He won't," came Castiel's graveled reply.

Dean glanced side-long at the bartender, well aware of the dark blue eyes fixed intently on his profile. He cocked his pistol to demonstrate how very serious he was about his threat.

"Castiel," Balthazar didn't take his gaze away from where Dean's finger grazed over the trigger. "You may not worry when a man has a knife to your throat, but I do not share in your blind faith in people."

Castiel sighed, "He won't."

Dean turned the muzzle of his revolver aside, firing into the wall next to Balthazar's head. It left his ears ringing for a couple of seconds, "All you need to know is that I will fire the next round into your head if you don't answer me. Where's Sam?"

"Dean."

Jaw tightening, Dean first tried to ignore the insistence behind Castiel's tone. Yet he could feel those blue eyes boring into the side of his features. Castiel wasn't going to yield, but neither was Dean. The hunter kept his hazel eyes on the blank mask Balthazar had firmed into place; no longer smiling.

"You will not kill Balthazar."

"Like hell I won't," Dean growled, again pulling back the pistol hammer with his thumb.

"You want his help. It would be detrimental to kill him."

What ticked Dean off more than the fact Castiel was right, was how sure the bastard sounded as he spoke those simple words. Castiel didn't know the first thing about him, how could he be so certain that Dean wouldn't take out a measly trader to get what he wanted. Dean was tempted to shoot Balthazar just to disprove Castiel's assumption.

"Balthazar is a great deal more cooperative, and honest–" Castiel's eyes narrowed briefly on the Englishman. "–when his life is not being threatened."

Dean shot a glare at Castiel - who had somehow taken on Sam's role of peacekeeper. He shoved Balthazar for good measures before backing off. He ease the hammer of his pistol to an unarmed position, holstered his gun, but didn't take his hand off the grip. After disengaging another stride, Dean angled Castiel between himself and the trader. "Where's Sam?"

"You keep asking that and expect to get an answer in return," Balthazar stood from the wall and smoothed the creases out of his shirt. "I don't know a Sam, and if I'm fairly sure I don't want to know him."

"His brother," Castiel began, assuming the role of translator between the feral man on one side, and the proud man on the other. "Is a tall man, brown hair, young–"

"The moose that broke into my house yesterday?" Balthazar scoffed. "Figures."

Dean's fingers curled angrily around his pistol, "Where is he?"

"Excuse me," Balthazar sneered, "Explain to me why I would bother with knowing the where-abouts of your lover?"

Castiel intersected Dean before the hunter could close the distance between himself and the trader. Dean pressed against the hand palmed against his sternum. Castiel was half turned into him, making himself a solid barrier to hold Dean back. The contact did well to quell Dean's temper; not snuff it completely, but where there was once a flame only a dim smolder remained. All it would take was a decent gust to kick his temper back up into a blaze.

"Balthazar," Castiel wearily toned, the sigh plain in his expression. "It is my understanding that Sam was looking for someone who may have bought something from you recently."

"The one that purchased Mrs. Owen's necklace, no doubt. I can guess that much on my own."

Dean pressed against Castiel's restraining hand, "Where's the buyer?"

A mocking smile spread across Balthazar's features, "It astounds me that you think I have any reason to help you."

"Because if you don't—"

"Please," Castiel pled, though it came out as a growl through gritted teeth. His fingers had lightly curled into Dean's shirt to keep the hunter in place. "There is no need to quarrel. It would be easier to just answer the question."

As easy as that, Dean felt his chest twinge with guilt. It had little to do with how rash he was behaving in the situation, but seeing how stressed Castiel was becoming over Balthazar not answering the questions, and knowing how he himself had acted earlier about answering the bartender's simple inquiries. Dean's chin sank toward his chest.

"Maybe if he asks nicely," quipped the trader.

The humble moment Dean had been experiencing vanished. His teeth bared in a feral smile, "My courtesy comes in the form of not shooting you if you answer my question."

"Oh please," Balthazar rolled his eyes "Castiel, be a dear and lead your one trick pony off my property before I send him to boothill."

"I'll one trick pony you," Dean knew it was a weak comeback, but he was just so fed up with words. He really just wanted to pistol whip the smug trader, but Castiel was proving to be a very solid obstacle. A force to be reckoned with Dean soon realized when Castiel grabbed him by the gun belt and arm, prompting dragging him toward the exit. The hell, he was being thrown out! Dean bent his knees, battling against the strong tow Castiel had on him.

Dark blue eyes, narrowed to near slits, snapped onto Dean with an intensity that made the hunter balk. It caught Dean off guard how Castiel went from quiet, helpful and on the side of submissive - then a flip switches and Dean felt like was staring down the wrath of God.

"I am trying to help you," Castiel's tone was carefully level in volume, but each word growled and hinted toward an accent previously gone unnoticed. Castiel's fingers tightened on Dean's arm, "That you insist on acting like a buck in rut has not made it easy."

Dean's shoulders squared and he shot a heated look back toward Balthazar, "I need to find Sam."

A powerful jerk swung him around, the next moment Castiel had Dead nearly out the door. "You appear more interested in continuing a pissing contest than finding your brother."

Outrage had Dean nearly seeing red. How dare this man insinuate that Dean wasn't concerned about finding his brother. This was Sam they were talking about and there wasn't a damn thing Dean wouldn't do to find him. If Dean had any purpose on this god-forsaken earth, it was to watch out for his little brother. Dean's fingers curled into a tight fist and he was tempted to direct his anger at Castiel's face. His arm actually shook with how much he just wanted to lash out; to express what his words could not.

"I think I might know where to find your brother."

Dean's gaze widened, a good portion of his anger evaporating. "Why didn't you say so in the first place!?"

Castiel glowered at him, but whatever argument that might have been stirring behind the look, the bartender let it slid. Instead he stepped through the door and Dean didn't question it, just followed suit to dog at Castiel's heels.

"Why in Sam Hill's name did you waste my time with that Saphead?"

"Balthazar," Dean could hear the patience thinning in Castiel's voice. "Would have helped if you hadn't made several threats on his life. He does not respond well to demands. You have a strange way of asking people for help."

The words made Dean bristle, but he kept his mouth shut in light of having no interest in continuing the conversation. Yeah, he knew he had trouble asking for help. It involved placing his trust in someone he didn't know and he just couldn't do that without some sort of collateral. A man who had his life on the line was less likely to hoodwink him; to stab him in the back. People rarely did things out of the kindness of their hearts. He had zero faith in humanity, so why should he risk trusting someone?

Dean lifted his chin, "I could have taken him."

At once Dean felt the tension lessen between them. Castiel glanced back at him, and Dean would have sworn there was the barest hint of smile present on the corner of lips. The bartender quickly covered the reaction with a derisive snort, "You are a very arrogant man."

"I could have."

"You don't know the first thing about Balthazar."

Dean quickened his pace to side along Castiel, "And I suppose you do."

"Yes," Castiel's glanced side-long at him. "I do. Balthazar and I have known each other for a long time."

"Where does a man even get a name like that - Balthazar."

Again there was a faint quirk - a ghost of a smile - passing momentarily over Castiel's features. Dean's own smile was mainly in his eyes. In a way the humor was his way of apologizing. The end result was the same, the tension ebbed away and the silence between them did not feel as stifling. When Dean was sure Castiel wouldn't snap at him, he ventured forth with a quiet – "Where are we going?"

"Balthazar mentioned your brother once before, he.. " The words trailed off into silence.

Dean leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Castiel's face, which was once again furrowed with brooding thoughts. "Cas?"

Blue eyes flicked toward Dean briefly before adverting, "The buyer is Bela Owens, Gene's newlywed wife."

That had suspicious colors painted all over it, "She new to town as well?"

"Relatively, yes."

As Dean's mind put it together, a new broad rides into town with her eyes on a certain necklace. The usual shoot, grab the goods, and run wouldn't work out for some reason, so she works the angle of using the son of the necklace's owner. "You don't happen to know anything about what makes this necklace so important, do you?"

"No. I believe Chester and Ted were the only ones that really knew anything about it... " Castiel's head canted as it appeared to finally dawn on the bartender that the latest deaths in town were a bit too coincidental.

There were details that Dean still couldn't grasp at - namely what made the necklace so important, why the buyer hadn't just stolen it, and how the two old men had died. He'd leave the little details to Sam - once he found him. His brother better be safe and sound, because Dean would ride through hell and back to hunt down the bitch responsible for Sam's death.

They came up to a small house. A breeze stirred, kicking up a swirl of loose dirt and making a shutter squeak and bang against the wooden walls. The curtains were drawn closed, but Dean still tried to peek in through the small gap between the cloth while Castiel approached the door. What little Dean could see was a whole lot of nothing. Even when Castiel loudly knocked on the door, nothing stirred from within the home. An uneasy feeling settled on the back of Dean's neck. As a precaution, and to settle his prickling nerves, Dean drew his gun and kept it low against his thigh as he moved on to check the next window.

A sudden movement from inside made Dean duck on instinct. Nothing came bursting out through the glass, no monster or a loosened bullet, so he cautiously peeked over the sill. What he'd seen was a leg of a man sitting in a chair - make that tied to a chair. The man was gagged, but his bugged eyes were turned helplessly toward Castiel's knocking. It wasn't Sam, but it was a lead. "Cas."

The knocking stopped and Castiel's face appeared around the corner to regard Dean with a questioning curiosity.

Dean came back around to the front door. The knob was given a quick twist - locked. Dean gave the barrier a once over then, before Castiel could start forming the words to go along with those inquiring looks, Dean put his weight behind a forward kick. He caught the door next to the knob and the weathered wooden frame splintered. The door swung open and Dean quickly made his way inside before it swung back to an incomplete close.

The rooms were empty aside from the man (who was trying to speak through the gag at him). There were a couple pieces of furniture tipped over, a broken glass, but what interested Dean the most was the cracked window pane. A small hole was the cause, a pin-sized bullet hole, and after moment of debate Dean was able to determined that the shot had went out through the window.

"I don't know what happened," Came the man's panicked voice.

Dean turned around to see that Castiel had followed him inside. After removing the gag he worked to untie the man's hands and feet.

"I think she's sick - because she's acting so strangely. Should I call the doctor...?"

Castiel glanced in Dean's direction before regarding the bound man, "What happened, Gene?"

"It's Bela. She's been touched in the head, possessed or something - maybe I should ask for the priest instead."

Dean's lips twisted into an amused smile. There was the religious suspicion he found lacking in Castiel.

"What did she do?"

Gene rubbed at his wrists before he stood. He wobbled, but Castiel caught him by the arm. "I don't rightly know. I swear something has her crazed. She hit me over the head. I blacked out and when I came to it was like she was another woman."

Dean, having enough of the senseless ramble, cut in. "A man about yay-high–" His hand made a cutting motion a few inches above his head. "–come by?"

"I... " Gene blinked at him as if he was noticing him for the first time. "I didn't see anyone, but Bela - she fired at someone through the window. I can hardly believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Bela was such a kind, sweet woman; too tender of heart to be handling a gun."

Uh-huh.

"Get him to the doctor," Dean said to Castiel before exiting out the back door. He found the cracked window and made a guess at its trajectory. His eyes scanned over the mess in the dirt but couldn't find anything that looked like blood. The knot unknowingly tightening over Dean's chest loosened with relief. A few more strides and Dean found the bullet hole in the side of another building. It hadn't hit his brother.

"Damnit Sammy, why didn't you come and get me."

Probably didn't want to lose Bela's trail and thought Dean was safer in some salt ring. Dean snorted. A frown soon marred his features as he gazed out into the horizon. There were still a few hours of light available to him and Dean planned to make the most of it. The hunter made haste to the barn. Inside he did note that Sam's horse was gone. All Dean could do as he saddle up his own horse was curse. How long ago had Sam left? He'd trust his brother not to go too far without first letting him know.

"Dean."

His shoulders tensed, more due to his frayed nerves than any annoyance toward the voice speaking from behind him. It just surprised him a little, that was all. Castiel had a way of walking up soft on people like some scouting Indian. Dean didn't turn, instead he shifted along the mare he had dubbed 'baby' and checked his war bags.

The silence stretched on before Castiel found his tongue, "I have... experience in tracking men."

Dean pivoted half-way, letting his hazel eyes meet briefly with Castiel's sapphire orbs. There was an unspoken question on the air, a curiosity as to why Castiel had that sort of experience. Then Dean shrugged the matter aside and shifted his attention back to the saddle straps. He was more accustom to tracking monsters, which were more like beasts, than tracking people. It crossed his mind to wonder why Castiel was offering to help but...

"Don't slow me down."

It was the only permission Dean gave before he stepped up onto his horse and steered her toward the setting sun.


A/N: Sam Hill was a euphuism for The Devil. I wonder if the creators of Supernatural knew that when they named Sam. Ha-rum. I enjoy writing Balthazar's snarky attitude. I can't wait for Crowley, and Lucifer. *ahem* Thank you my few reviewers, you guys mean so much to me and I appreciate your continued support so much! Also, I'm curious if anyone has made guesses about Castiel's past :3

Next up - Castiel chapter!