Dean was in the midst of showering while singing Highway To Hell when it suddenly struck him.
He looked at the tattoo on his chest and shouted, "Sam! SAM!"
He heard hurried footsteps before Sam spoke from outside the bathroom, "What is it?"
"Anti-possession tattoo, man. Cas needs one."
"Oh yeah. Shit. How did we forget that?"
"Exactly. Get him ready. Go give him a pep talk," Dean said as he washed the soap off quickly.
"What?"
"Remember Kevin freaking out?"
"Hmmm… Yeah," Sam said as he walked to the living room.
Castiel sat on the couch, watching Discovery Channel.
"What's this?" Sam asked as he sat down next to Castiel.
"Extreme Engineering. This episode is about Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai. It is quite fascinating," Castiel answered, still staring intently at the TV.
"Cas, what do you think about tattoos?"
"It is a form of art whereby you insert indelible ink into the dermis layer of the skin to change the pigment. It has been practised for centuries in many cultures among humans. You have one too."
"Yeah, that's what I wanna talk to you about," Sam said awkwardly. "You gotta get one."
"Anti-possession tattoo," Castiel retorted.
"Yes. You don't mind, right?"
"I was wondering when you would take me to get one."
"Oh, okay. Yeah, we can go once Dean comes out."
In the tattoo parlour, Dean stood next to Castiel as he laid on the seat with his shirt off.
The tattoo artist took in the sight of Castiel's bandaged parts of the body and commented, "Someone roughed you up?"
"Got in a fight," Dean answered for him.
"And where exactly do you want this tattoo?"
"Somewhere not so visible. His chest would be fine."
"Have you seen his chest lately?" the man mocked. "Well, he's got a little space here that I can ink but it's close to the wound. Unless you want it elsewhere."
"Here is fine," Castiel answered.
"Suit yourself," the man said as he got his equipments.
"This might hurt. Like a hot scratch," Dean said to Castiel.
"I can handle it," Castiel replied as the man approached him and sat on his seat.
"Yeah, just saying. Because Kevin couldn't. He was crying throughout the process," Dean laughed a little as he remembered how stoic Mrs. Tran was.
"I believe I have a high threshold of pain."
And he was right. He didn't as much as wince when the needle made contact. Instead he stared at the way the needle pierced his skin, leaving ink in its wake. He was enthralled by it.
Halfway through it, Castiel jolted from his seat and the tattoo artist retracted his hand.
"Does it hurt?" Dean asked.
"No," Castiel said as he stretched his neck to look outside the parlour through the glass door.
Sam and Dean turned to follow his gaze but they saw nothing out of the ordinary.
A woman walked past with two children. A teenage boy peered through the glass to wave at the artist who waved back. An elderly man sat across the street on a bench, fiddling with his phone.
"What is it?" Sam asked when he noticed Castiel looking startled.
"I don't know. I thought I felt…"
"Felt what?" Dean asked his hand immediately resting on his lower back where he had his gun.
"It's nothing. Sorry, I got distracted."
The artist continued working on his skin. Once he was done, he handed Castiel a mirror so he could see his tattoo. Dean paid off the man while Castiel wore his shirt again. Castiel still looked a little out of it when he left with the hunters. They walked back to the Impala with Dean laughing about the photograph of a tattoo framed in the parlour. It was the human centipede from South Park. Castiel stopped in his tracks and looked around.
"Dean…" Sam tugged on his leather jacket and pointed at Castiel.
"What's up, Cas? What are you looking for?" Dean asked, feeling anxious.
"I don't know. Something is different."
"What is?"
"I said I don't know, Dean," Castiel snapped.
Castiel walked a few steps and stopped.
"Can you not feel it?" Castiel asked.
"I don't," Dean said. "Do you?"
"No…" Sam replied.
"The air shifted around us. It is a little denser now. Slightly harder to breathe," Castiel said as he inhaled deeply.
"I'm fine actually," Dean said.
"It's cooler out here than earlier," Sam provided. "That's why the air is denser, Cas."
"No, Sam. The air is cooler around us. Look ahead of you. Does it not look like we are standing in a shadow? The sun isn't shining on us. Now look up. There is nothing up there obstructing the sunlight. Something is coming," Castiel said with a grave tone.
"We're not taking chances. You packing, Sam?" Dean asked.
"Gun, yes. Nothing else."
"You, Cas?" Dean asked.
"I have my blade."
"Well, stay right here. I'm going to get holy water and salt."
Dean ran off to the trunk of the car. He returned with a flask of holy water and a can of salt. He also had an iron crowbar in his hand.
"Is that necessary?" Sam asked.
"We don't know what we're dealing with," Dean answered. "Was there any case near here?"
"None that I'm aware of," Sam said.
"No. Whatever this is, it's out for us. We're being watched."
Sam and Dean quickly turned on opposite sides and examined for any suspicious people. Everybody on the street went about their business and they were actually obstructing the pathway by standing where they stood.
"Maybe we should go back to the bunkers till we figure this out," Sam said.
"We are being directed somewhere. We can't return to the bunkers now."
"I don't feel any shit, Cas. What the hell are you talking about?"
"Call it an intuition," Castiel answered as he walked and stopped right in front of an alley.
The hunters followed him.
"Can't you feel that? That itch. That strong urge to keep going. That pull. Can't you feel like something is calling?"
"No. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch." Dean answered.
Sam shook his head indicating he felt nothing.
"I think it's just me. This is for me."
"What does that mean?" Sam asked.
"You both should return to the bunkers. Leave me here."
"What? No," Dean said as though Castiel made a really stupid remark.
"In the parlour, it felt like I was being watched."
"Could it be Metatron? Maybe he's watching you," Sam said.
Dean thought about it. "Yeah, could be that son of a bitch, watching you like the central character in a movie or some shit. He likes stories and you're the only one who remembers any of it."
"Maybe. You should go," Castiel said.
"Hell no."
"Go!" Castiel said sternly. "Leave me here!"
"Are you planning to take off again, Cas? Is that what this is about?" Dean felt a rush of blood to the head.
"What?"
"You tell me what. You're getting all weird and forcing us to leave. What the fuck is up with you?"
"This feels dangerous, Dean. I have made many enemies over the years. Something could have escaped Purgatory. It might be after me. I'm going to find out what it is. You should return home," Castiel answered, resignation clear in his voice.
"If something is after you, Cas, we'll deal with it together," Dean said.
"Yeah. You have us to back you up," Sam supplied helpfully.
Castiel looked from one hunter to the other.
"You have done enough for me. It is not fair to ask for more."
"Tough. I'm not leaving here without you," Dean uttered stubbornly.
With that, Castiel walked through the alley, his eyes searching for something hidden in the dark. The hunters followed right behind but they found nothing. It was an ordinary stinking alley with nothing but a few stray cats, a rusting metal door in one corner, a huge foul-smelling dumpster and disgusting water dripping from God-knows-where. After an entire hour of walking here and there, thoroughly examining the place, they gave up.
"There's nothing here. Let's just go back to the bunkers," Dean said.
Castiel reluctantly agreed and followed the hunters back to the bunkers. As Dean drove, he couldn't help but glance at Castiel who held his angel blade in his hands tightly and stared at it as though he willed himself to melt it with his glare. Sam kept quiet but he noticed the tension in the air. It was impossible not to.
As soon as they arrived, Castiel walked into his room and shut the door.
Sam spoke in a hushed tone, "What on earth was that about?"
"I don't know, Sammy," Dean said hesitantly.
He pushed away the thought that kept prodding his mind.
Cas must have lost it.