The hunt was the shortest Dean had ever been on. It took them less than a half hour once they got to the reserve to find the banshee's anchoring point. Dean fought her off while Patrick made quick work of her bones. It was a brutal fight. The banshee left nothing behind, and Dean was amazed he hadn't sustained serious injury. It seemed though, that every time he felt searing pain from a blow, it quickly ebbed back to a dull throb and he was able to continue his fight. He was lucky.

After, they took a long walk back to beach. Dean was enjoying the buzzing from the amazingly thick brush, and the utter lack of responsibility and worry over angel crushes. Sure yesterday had been amazing with Cas, but now that they were actually going to start working on his predicament, it would be opening up that shit storm again. And Dean just wanted a little more time.

Patrick walked behind Dean, allowing him to lead their way through the thicket. Dean liked the man instantly. He'd been easy to talk to or simply walk with. Plus, it was clear the man was not a rookie. He was probably a bit younger than Dean, but the older hunter had no doubt that Patrick knew his way around the job. He seemed like the best of both Dean and Sam; he'd practically pinpointed the banshee's resting place through his awesome research skills, then pulled a miracle out of his ass when his lighter refused to work. Dean had left his at the beach house, but somehow the man improvised and in the end, the bitch was BBQed.

Patrick also seemed like the type of guy you could sit down with and have pizza and beer, and who didn't like that about a dude?

He turned to glance over his shoulder at the tall man behind him, and the man returned the gaze with a half smile. "Doin' okay back there?" Dean asked for a lack of explanation for his rubber necking.

"Doing well, Dean." Red hair bobbed as the man nodded.

"Mind if I call you Pat?"

"Oh please God no." The redhead laughed with a shake of his head. "Patrick only please."

The shorter man laughed at his new companion's reaction. "Fair enough."

Dean caught the motion of the man's hips swaying, and he pulled his eyes back to the path ahead.

"So you know about the angels?" He felt like he needed to fill the void.

A stick cracked somewhere behind him and he refused to look back unless Patrick yelled for his help. "Yeah…met one of them actually."

"Oh yeah? Which one?"

There was a short pause, but Dean could hear the hesitation in the air. "Uh…Uriel and Gabriel."

Dean shook his head. "On the same day?"

"Actually, yes."

"You must have thought you were manic."

"I have been told that was like seeing two extremes of their race." He puttered for a moment with a low hanging branch before continuing. "Gabriel actually wasn't too bad."

Dean walked on for a moment before he quietly agreed "not too bad at all."

The angel had died trying to save humanity in the end.

"Uriel was a dick with wings."

Dean had to stop mid-stride to grab his knees in laughter, doubled over. After a second, he wiped away a rogue tear and looked back at the redhead. "Yeah…you know, I said the same thing about him. Well, the good news is that the ass is dead at least."

Patrick stopped beside Dean as best he could in the narrow animal path. His expression was not jovial in the least. "I hadn't heard," but his eyes didn't look the least surprised. Dean wondered if Uriel's death was predictable because the man was a dick with wings.

The older hunter straightened up. "What did Uriel do to you?"

Patrick shook his head and looked right into Dean, similar to the way Cas did. It was like the other hunter could see or was trying to see his soul. "He did nothing to me personally. But he put someone I cared about in grave danger."

Dean wasn't sure what to do with the seriousness of the situation. It was like Patrick's entire demeanor changed. His shoulders had tensed, his head lowering and projecting forward as if getting ready for a fight. His jaw seemed set and ready for the kill.

He patted Patrick on the shoulder, catching his attention once more. "Beer?"

The taller man seemed to relax completely at the offer. "Beer," he nodded in confirmation.

"What about a tag on the soul like that kid Dean said bought the staff of Moses?" Sam was fingering through a recent find; a very old volume that was half charred, but much of it was still legible.

Bobby seemed to shake his head as he held a chewed pencil in his teeth. He flipped the pages of three books, then removed the writing utensil. "I doubt it. Cas said Dean still owned his soul."

Sam shrugged and pushed the book away to stretch. "Yeah..."

"Hold up," Bobby sat forward and picked up one of the books he was skimming. "Looky here."

Sam was handed a fairly new book, even paperback. He scanned the page until he saw what Bobby had underlined in pencil. "Huh…that could be very helpful."

"Give Cas a place to start at least."

"It will date the mark, Cas."

"The exact date?" Castiel blinked at his luck.

There was a murmur from the other line, and then Sam continued. "Uh unfortunately no. Just the year."

The angel nodded to no one. "Well, that will at least help to narrow it down a good bit. What do I need?"

"Do you have a pot and a stove top where you are staying?"

"Yes…"

"Okay I have a list of ingredients for you."

Patrick and Dean sat on the hood of Patrick's car nursing their beers they'd picked up from the local convenience store. Once they'd gotten back into cell service, a message from Cas beeped on his phone. He opened the text, but didn't call his voicemail. He quickly texted back his friend, letting him know he was okay, had gone hunting with a friend of a friend, and that he'd be back to the house after a couple. Cas had simple answered with "I will see you then, Dean."

They'd been discussing the intricacies of "Stairway to Heaven," and Patrick always seemed two steps ahead of him. The man knew his classic rock—that was for sure, and seemed to hold very similar opinions with Dean. Initially this made him suspicious, since the last tall cool dude who knew as much about that musical era was a siren. However, Patrick seemed genuine. He seemed like he'd talked with someone about it a lot, sort of how old friends with similar interests will talk about the same stuff multiple times, but he did truly like the music.

"So," Dean began after a lull in conversation. "Did you talk about this stuff with the person Uriel messed with?"

For a moment, Dean regretted bringing it up since it brought back the hard look to the usually pleasant hunter's face. Patrick though, seemed okay with indulging him. Maybe he even needed to talk about it.

"It was a while ago, it isn't really a tender subject. You can ask what you like about him. Yes, we talked about it often. "

"Buddy of yours?"

Patrick glanced at Dean, and the hunter could now see that his eyes were in fact hazel. "He was my partner, Dean."

The first thing Dean associated with the word "partner" was hunting partner. Like Sam and him. However, the cogs soon rotated enough in his head to click into place and he realized he'd just associated his relationship with his little brother with gay life mates. He repressed the desire to shiver in disgust because Patrick was looking at Dean for a similar reaction to the fact that Patrick was gay. And Dean didn't give a shit about who was gay or not, as long as it wasn't his little brother with him.

Again, shudder repressed.

"And he liked classic rock. Sounds like a good guy." Dean finally spoke when the very wrong mental image left his head. Brain bleach.

Patrick seemed to relax a bit, then took a sip of his drink. "He was."

"Talking about him in the past tense. Did you two…?"

"He died. Recently, actually." The tall man rolled his bottle back and forth between his large hands.

Dean really didn't know what to say to that other than "I'm sorry."

Patrick nodded absently. "I was actually on my way here to visit him before Sean called me about the job."

"He's buried here?"

"His ashes are scattered here, yes. I gave him a hunter's funeral."

Ah, the two hunted together. Just like him and Sammy.

Dean closed his eyes against the coming headache.

Just like Cas and me! Just like Cas and me! Then he thought about Castiel and him together. It wasn't gross like the thought was with Sam. There was that at least. Though, this new epiphany added a whole new layer of weird.

He'd deal with it later. "Did he die on the job?"

"No, he died in bed asleep. Very sudden, very peaceful. Something he never thought he'd have." Patrick turned to look at him with eyes that were a bit moist. "You understand."

Dean did.