It was weird… having a home, having a place to call your own. Hating the idea of strangers moving in and sharing all your toys. Dean knew he wasn't exactly being fair. After all, neither the girl nor her family were going to stay forever. In fact, they didn't want to be here at all. They were only here until the girl could leave. Unfortunately, none of them knew when that would be. And until they had a clue, they'd have to put up with each other, with strangers in his and Sam's sanctuary. Uninvited guests that they couldn't – or in Dawn's case in any method they knew – kick out the door when they got too annoying. It felt like an invasion.
He'd never felt like this about anything but the Impala.
Twenty steps to the left and another twenty steps back. Dean was afraid he'd wear a track in the floor. He couldn't sleep, thanks in part to the loud banging and dear god, was that roaring? coming from that damned vamp's room down the hall. It didn't help that the shell of the bunker was metal, and all sound carried. Those guys could bring down a mountain. He'd be impressed if it were happening anywhere else.
Not to mention that dirty-down-low feeling stirring in his groin. It'd been way too long since he's gotten laid.
It was hard to blame the vamp. If he had a chance with a chick that hot, who could ride you for hours, didn't take crap and could beat you into a pulp without breaking a sweat, he'd go for it in an instant. Hell, he'd been a marathon man himself, once. With an actual Amazon. If it hadn't ended up with him becoming a father and losing the child in a matter of days, he'd probably consider it some of the best sex in his life.
"Cas, you bastard," he yelled towards the ceiling. "If you don't get back here soon, we're all gonna die from sleep deprivation."
But Cas didn't answer. Just like he hadn't answered the last ten times Dean had called for him. It's not like he expected the angel to be sitting around, just waiting for him. Dean was almost happy that Cas had mentioned something about their 'profound bond' while Sam was soulless, mainly because it was the only thing that stopped Sam from mocking him with it till the end of time.
Dean sat down on the bed and grabbed one of his guns. Taking it apart and using an old rag to clean and oil it was soothing and a productive way to spend his time... and didn't require any thought whatsoever.
"What the hell were you thinking, Cas?" he murmured, knowing the angel could hear him, no matter the volume of his voice.
"I was thinking that saving the world would be something you were interested in," the soft, flat, familiar voice answered.
What did it say about his life when pop-ins like this one didn't startle him in the slightest?"Wanna tell me what kidnapping a girl and keeping her imprisoned have to do with saving the world?" Dean asked, not bothering to look at the angel. He was still furious with him over his betrayal with Naomi, and mad at himself for having to deal with the angel at all.
"Do you have any idea what would happen if the dimensional walls were to crumble and heaven and hell were free to spread out amongst them?
"Back up the wagon there, buddy. What the fuck does that girl have to do with any of that?" Dean met Cas' eyes for the first time since he popped into the room. "She's human, isn't she?" Then again, most of the things they fought also looked human.
"She is, and she is not. She exists in multiple dimensions. The human that is here and now and the part of both heaven and hell. She was once nothing more than great amorphous energy, used as a heavenly weapon to banish the living and the dead. The Key."
"So what's the danger? That in this form, she'll have a crying jag and the world will end?" None of this was making sense.
"No." Castiel looked at him as if he were bordering on insanity, and that somehow the angel had to figure it all out on his own.
"Crying will have no consequences in her function as the Key."
"Good." Dean nodded as if that settled things.
"Her blood, however...
"In order for her function as the Key to be unlocked, a ritual must be held; spells spoken and deities invoked. It only ends when the Key is bled out. Where her blood falls, a portal between dimensions will open. This portal will tear apart the walls of reality and collapse them all."
"Okay," Dean said, slowly. "No cutting the smart chick, then."
He called up the tall brunette in his mind, wondering once again how someone so human could be something else as well. The idea of this Key was horrifying. Not just because of what it could do, but because of what it meant for the girl herself. He couldn't help but feel protective stirrings. After all, Dawn was just an innocent - a sacrifice waiting to happen. And he was tired of seeing innocent girls get murdered and being unable to stop it.
"Once the ritual starts," Castiel continued, unaware of Dean's feelings, as always, "the only way to end it is to make the bleeding stop."
"So you can heal her, then?" Stop the bleeding, prevent the ritual, save the girl. Unfortunately, Castiel proved to be a downer, once again.
"No, the portal closes only when her heart pumps the last of her blood."
Dean shook his head, vehemently."No way, Cas. I'm not gonna kill her. She's an innocent!" Dean had had enough blood on his hands as it was; he couldn't add more.
"I would not expect you to, Dean," Castiel said, softly, looking at Dean with eyes full of empathy, reaching deep into his soul. It was profound, and just that little bit creepy, as well. That kind of 'understanding' usually meant he thought Dean was being an overly-moral, weak little mortal.
In other words, he'd take the burden on himself. Dean didn't think he could allow that, either.
"The idea is for her not to bleed at all." A small olive branch to ease Dean's discomfort.
"Let me get this straight - you locked her up in the bunker to keep her from getting a boo-boo?" Dean asked, biting his tongue hard to not say anything that would antagonize Castiel, or threaten him regarding Dawn's safety.
"The angels must have discovered her continuing existence when they realized I was near her. If they find her, they may attempt to use her. The key is a powerful weapon; even unused it could upset the power balance in heaven."
Which was shaky enough already, if Dean understood everything that he'd learned over the past months.
"We cannot risk them getting their hands on her, or the angel tablet. This is why I have hidden them both."
Of course that meant he had to hide her here. Despite the fact that Castiel had said straight out that he didn't trust Dean with the angel tablet, it showed some faith that he believed the Winchesters would be able to protect the Key. Sort of hypocritical, if you asked him. And damned aggravating.
"So you think they 'might' know of her, that they 'might' use her. But you've got no proof of any of this?" Dean couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. ""It's not like they were after her before you grabbed her. And you have to know that her sister won't allow her to be kept here against her will until she turned old and grey, Cas... something has to be done."
"I am looking into it," the angel said, sounding so sincere, but Dean knew what Cas being sincere meant. And it didn't make him as hopeful now, as it would have a few years ago.
"Yeah, you do that," Dean muttered.
"I do mean it, Dean," he tried, but Dean brushed him off, refusing to say another word.
In between Sam being an ass about Benny and having to explain to Buffy about Dawn, he wished he could just shove his head under his pillow and sleep until all these problems went away.
"The souled vampire is odd," Castiel said suddenly, surprising Dean that he was still in the room.
"Define odd, considering you called him an abomination earlier."
"The demon inside of him. It should not be capable of love."
"Make your point, Cas."
"It loves selflessly, tormenting itself to a point that a demon should be incapable of. The soul merely guides it beyond the point of what the demon is capable of, but it does not make its choices, as it would with the other vampire with a soul. It is quite... peculiar."
"That's love for ya, Cas. Peculiar, weird, and all-around indefinable."
"Yes."
Dean looked around when no more was forthcoming, only to find Castiel had vanished once more. He shrugged it off and stood up, stretching his stiff muscles. He still couldn't sleep and the noise hadn't abated in the slightest. A snack would fill the bill, and Dean grabbed his robe before heading to the kitchen. With all the people here, Dean felt more at ease being somewhat covered up instead of traipsing about in just his shorts and a tee. Besides, it was warm and fuzzy… and cool, in spite of what Sammy thought.
When he got to his little haven, Benny was already sitting at the kitchen table, sucking noisily on… bunnies? Dean shivered, but it was preferable to munching on humans, and he imagined the vampire needed to feed. And hey, it's not like Benny had brought the dead animal into Dean's bedroom. He sighed, watching with distaste as the blood trickled down onto the paper towels Benny had used to catch the mess.
"This is disgusting," Benny said, fangs sliding away.
"So why eat it, dude?" Dean grabbed a chair, swung it around and straddled the seat.
"It's better than nothing, brother." Dean felt the usual warmth bloom in his belly whenever Benny called him that. He felt like family, sure, but not quite in the same way Sam did. The feeling confused him, but since it felt good, he pushed it to the back of his mind.
"Where'd ya get Peter Rabbit from?" Dean asked, almost feeling sorry for his friend. He remembered Benny usually drank bagged human blood, which, while gross, was better than live from the vein.
"Spike hunted up a brace of rabbits when he went out for a smoke, earlier." Benny licked a few remaining droplets from his lips.
Dean couldn't help stare. He knew he should be disgusted watching a vamp eat… even Benny, but something about the way... He shook his head at his own behavior. He really didn't want to examine it further.
The vampire leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs, thankfully not putting his feet on the table. "They're better than nothing," he said, before sitting back upright and grabbed the carcasses from the table, obviously looking for a place to dispose of them. Dean pointed at the garbage bin. "Spike was being right kindly when he got them for us. That feller the slayer has with her was starting to look appetizing."
Dean froze for a moment, before chuckling along with Benny. God damn, he was tired. "Don't even joke about snacking on humans, man," Dean warned. "I have a feeling that Slayer would have your head faster than you can say sorry if you touched a single hair on her pal's head."
Benny smiled. "That she would, the little firecracker. Haven't seen the likes of her since that Slayer back in New Orleans years ago. That one had style too..."
The look in Benny's eyes made him wonder if he'd fought that Slayer. He'd once told him a story, back when they'd been in Purgatory, but Dean thought it had been tempered, afraid to provoke him with tales of killing people.
"She does have a righteous streak about her, doesn't she?" Dean smiled at the memories of lying under her pointy heel. He'd gotten a nice look at a lovely leg from his position on his back. He wondered if all slayers were that hot.
"I just wish those two were a little bit less loud," Dean said. "I've been living in motel rooms since I was four years old, so I'm used to hearing the sounds o' love, but these two are really something. They've been going at it for hours with no signs of stopping any time soon. I can't even begin to imagine what it's doing to Sammy."
"At least someone's happy in this tin box," Benny said, shrugging his shoulders.
"So I'm guessing that means you no longer want to end blondie's unlife?"
"Eh... time will tell if he still deserves to be put down, I figure. No sense pissing off the tiny terror."
Dean grabbed a beer out of the fridge, throwing one to Benny, before opening his own. "I can drink to that."
At long last, the echoes from the 'room of loving' seemed to die down, and Dean was heading in the direction of his bed, when he spotted the light still on in the library. Sam was asleep, head on a pillow, with Dawn carding her fingers through his long hair.
"Shhhh," she whispered when he made himself known. "He fell asleep and I couldn't move him, so I brought his pillow from his bed."
Dean smiled at the kindness she'd shown to his brother. These days, Sammy could use all the TLC he could get.
"Should we get him into bed, or something?" Dawn asked. "He can't possibly be comfortable here all night."
"Sammy could sleep anywhere, at any time, especially these days." Hell, with all the times they'd slept in the Impala when there wasn't enough dough to get a room, Dean knew for a fact that Sam'd been far less comfortable than he was now. "You might as well get to bed. I'll get him to his room. Ain't nothing I haven't done before."
"Sounds like the monkeys have finally gone to bed," Dawn said with a fond smile.
"You put up with that racket on a steady basis? How can you function with that going on all the time?"
"Well," she said, giggling. "First of all, we don't live together anymore, which helps. All my emotional scarring was done when I was a kid, and years of intense psychiatric therapy has gotten me past the worst of it."
"You are joking, right?" Gods, she sounded so much like Sammy; the way he used to complain when Dean'd brought some chick back to the motel room or whatever rundown building their dad had them holed up in. Guess it was a younger sibling thing.
"Of course I am, doofus. I'm just happy they're happy. It took them long enough to get to this place, and if a little sleep deprivation is the result, I'll deal."
They parted company in the hallway, and just as Dean settled his brother into his bed, the ruckus started up again.
Dean just rolled his eyes, and went to bed, praying for a miracle and wondering if somewhere in the bunker, the Men of Letters had a supply of earplugs.
