Being in the bunker with no case to work, no one to entertain and not much to do wasn't a wholly new thing. The new part was the part where there was no research to be done, no cases to search for, since they were still waiting on a case that was still open. Over breakfast, Dean told Sam a very revised version of the passage he'd found in a book, excluding God and Lucifer and replacing them with "someone good of a higher power" and "someone bad of a higher power." Of course, Sam automatically jumped to Lucifer after hearing the "someone bad," but without confirming or denying, Dean shrugged and noted that resurrection wasn't exactly Lucifer's usual protocol; more the opposite.

'I guess you're right,' Sam said uneasily, 'I just wish there was something more we could do to find out what this ritual is for now.'

'Well, if we're lucky, we'll find out the night of the next resurrection,' Castiel said hopefully.

'Yeah, yeah, I know,' Sam said with a sigh, pushing his breakfast plate away from him. 'We can talk about it more later. I'm going jogging.'

While Sam did just as he said he would, Cas did the dishes while Dean scoped out all the supplies they had and suggested that he and Cas go out and grab some groceries and other general stuff they'd run low on over the holidays.

'Where to?' Castiel asked.

'There's a grocery store less than a ten minute walk from here,' Dean informed him. 'Not great for the kind of crap we got over the holidays, but good for every day stuff.'

'Let's go,' Castiel said with a nod, an unexplained ounce of excitement lighting up somewhere within him at the thought walking to a shop with Dean rather than just walking around one.

It was a surprise when Castiel discovered that Sam and Dean kept some reusable, durable shopping bags for their every-day shopping needs. How much passed him by before truly astounded him and each time he ended up feeling like an idiot for realizing that Sam and Dean had been here for years, and of course they'd ended up in some sort of routine for their shopping and probably their cooking and cleaning needs.

The weather outside was sharp at first, but as they walked, hands in pockets, it turned into a dull, normal cold that wasn't freezing, but would have been more pleasant if it was warmer. Castiel very much enjoyed walking with Dean through the not-so-busy streets all the way to Main Street, where the store was located, despite it not being a particularly eventful or adventurous trip.

The things bought on this trip were very different to those bought on the many other shopping trips Cas had been on. Boring stuff, like milk and soap and toothpaste, and various food items including some that Cas thought seemed like odd things to be had alone, or even coupled with other things, but he didn't question it as Dean almost-unconsciously ghosted his way around the store putting things into their shopping bags, occasionally asking Cas for an opinion and every so often reminding him that if he saw something he wanted, to grab it and toss it in one of the bags, which once they were done he emptied and refilled again at the checkout, making casual small talk with the cashier and smiling on the way out.

Dean and Cas carried two of the bags each as they headed back. Now that some time had passed the streets were slightly busier as the place seemed to wake up and get into the swing of the rest of the day. When they got back to the bunker Sam was back and had been wondering where they'd vanished to.

While Sam decided to go and busy himself with some reading on lore and rituals, Dean and Cas put away the things they'd bought and afterwards they headed back to their bedroom and Dean turned the TV on while Cas grabbed his computer, and they set about catching up on more Grey's while Cas searched for images of angel wings he could but the anti-possession symbol between. Dean mostly focused on the television, but offered opinions when Cas asked for them on which wings looked best, and once Cas was done and printed out what he needed Dean pulled the computer onto his own lap, Cas leaning against his shoulder and watching him as he looked for tattoo parlors surrounding the area.

There were plenty to choose from that were within a short-ish driving distance. Dean showed Cas a list of businesses and Cas pointed out ones he liked the names of, and on his second pick they found a Facebook page for the parlor and scoped out the work they did. Dean liked it, Cas liked it, the place was only two hours away, so Dean called and asked if they were open and whether or not they could have a look at two tattoo designs in two hours or so; it was a yes, so they sought out Sam, told him where they were going and that they'd be back by the evening time, and hopped in the car.

'Dean?' Castiel asked, looking up from reading Mockingjay, half way through the drive.

'Yeah?' Dean asked, turning his head minimally towards him, sparing him a glance before he went back to keeping his eyes on the road.

'Why did you decide to get my hand print tattooed back onto your shoulder?' Castiel inquired, tilting his head curiously as he asked the question. 'I know what you said this morning, but I'm wondering, out of all the things you could get – why my hand print?'

Dean took his time to consider his answer. He knew Cas was watching him, and he knew the question on the surface seemed easy, but he sensed there was something more to it. There always was with Cas in situations such as these – you had to peel back the layers to get to what he was really asking. The question was a simple one, but Dean knew he was really asking why at all?

'Because it was the first thing you ever gave me,' Dean said simply, shooting another glance at the ever-inquisitive looking former angel next to him. 'And I want it back. If someone leaves their mark on you, it's like … like a connection. But not a mark as in the Cain kind, a personal one. I'd say a hand print is pretty personal, wouldn't you?'

Castiel nodded seriously, looking downwards, seeing through his book. Then, as the idea trickled into his brain, he began to slowly, slyly smile as he looked back up, a glint of mischief in his eye that caught Dean's attention.

'I suppose, if you wanted the most personal kind of mark I could leave on you, I could always attempt to give you what I believe is called a hickey,' Castiel said frankly, and as casual as ever, causing Dean's head to snap towards him so fast he was surprised he didn't hear Dean's neck crack.

'Fuck, Cas!' Dean exclaimed in a way that made Cas's eyebrows raise in pleasure at the tone of his voice. 'Don't talk like that when I'm driving. You'll end up making me crash.'

Castiel smirked.

'My apologies,' he said sincerely. 'I will attempt to contain such speech to the bedroom. Or at least remove a vehicle you're operating from the places I can say such things.'

'Yeah,' said Dean, turning away from him and still looking moderately ruffled, 'you do that.'

'You're so easily flustered,' Castiel commented, with a hint of accompanying laughter.

'I waited over seven years for you,' Dean replied curtly. 'You sexually frustrate me by breathing.'

Castiel stared at him, and very slowly and deliberately, inhaled long and deep, and then exhaled agonizingly slow.

'Fuck off,' Dean said, rolling his eyes at him.

'I hope you realize that during the process of getting this tattoo, I will need to be unclothed from the waist up,' Castiel reminded him teasingly.

'Fuck off,' Dean growled.

'So if my breathing sexually frustrates you, goodness only knows what bare skin in a public place will do.'

'Grandma,' Dean grunted, staring determinedly away from Cas. 'Donald Trump. Dolores Umbridge. President Snow. Darth Vader. Giant flying spiders. Sam's bare ass.'

'Did you just say President Snow?'

'The dude's a dick, yeah.'

'So you've read –'

'Shut up and don't judge me,' Dean demanded. 'Jennifer Lawrence is hot. And you can't watch the movies without reading the damn books first.'

Castiel paused, his eyebrows raised, speaking at a drawl.

'… Interesting.'

'Shut up,' Dean groaned at him. 'Keep your nerd-accusations to yourself, keep your judgement to yourself, and keep your fucking sexual breathing to your damn self.'

'Completely naked from the waist up. In public.'

'One more word and you're fucking walking.'

Castiel shut up.

They grabbed some food when they got to town, and went into the parlor straight afterwards. There were two men working there, both currently client-free, both of them more than willing to help out with the designs; they got them both up on some kind of computer software and with Dean's helpful instruction, alterations were made to the hand print so that it looked more like a real hand print that could be burned into someone's skin. There was color, depth, and it looked almost three dimensional. Meanwhile for Cas, his printed designs were resized and sliced together so that the anti-possession symbol was perfectly between the two wings.

They got their tattoos that day, at the same time, in parallel chairs. Dean's was finished first, and after he was all set, his tattoo artist went over to join the other one in working on Cas on the other wing, so they wouldn't be there as long. Dean and Castiel didn't talk much throughout the process, both tattoo artists made general small talk, and it was all over in just over two and a half hours.

Dean and Castiel were both very happy with their finished results. Cas placed his hand just under the one tattooed on Dean, careful not to touch it, making Dean start smiling like an idiot while Cas moved on to looking in the mirror again and flexing his back muscles, making it look almost as if the wings were flapping. When they left they left satisfied and grateful, now to embark on another two hour journey home.

On the way home the duo grabbed some cream for their tattoos and when they got home the first thing they did was apply it, and then they sought out Sam, who was doing something on his computer, to let him know they were back and that Dean was heading into the kitchen to cook something for dinner. Sam frowned, having not expected a cooked meal (as they were rarely seen on their business days these days, unless ready meals counted) but told Dean to let him know when it was ready.

'I will,' Dean promised. 'Come on, Cas. I'm gonna need a hand.'

Castiel nodded, and followed Dean to the kitchen. It was unfortunate that on this cooking adventure there was no music to listen to and get distracted by, but that was fine considering there was no time for messing around. As soon as they got into the kitchen, Dean handed Cas the cheese grater and a block of some above-average (neither cheddar nor mozzarella) cheese and told him to grate the whole thing, while Dean himself set up some pasta to boil in one pot, some milk in another, and then started doing something with more milk and some flower and a whisk in a bowl.

Cas's jobs were relatively easy. Make sure the pasta doesn't stick to the pot. Hand Dean one of the spinkley little jars of something or other, since he was closest to them. Being in such close proximity to Dean as Dean stirred the sauce he had created was a thrilling thing. Watching Dean's expression as he stirred in another dash of this or that, and after each thing offered Cas some of the sauce on a spoon. It just kept getting better and better with each thing added, and Dean holding the spoon up to Cas's mouth was an oddly intimate thing.

It was clear that Dean had made pasta with a cheese sauce, but not a boring, run of the mill cheese sauce, a rich, think and slightly tangy sauce, which surprised Cas as the three of them sat down in the kitchen with their plates once it was done. Dean sensed Cas's air of surprise, and raised his eyebrows playfully at him, all the while looking proud of himself.

Castiel could add to his list that he'd learned about Dean since they got together, that Dean not only could cook, he enjoyed cooking. It seemed that beneath his hard shelled surface, Dean had a softer interior, which Cas deeply enjoyed exploring.

As was usual, Cas helped out with the dishes when they were done, excluding one dish which held leftovers and was placed in the fridge. Once everything was dried and put away, they wandered back out in search of Sam, who they found in the long tabled room, scrolling through pages of news on his laptop.

'Anything?' Dean asked, taking a seat across from him.

'Not yet,' Sam replied. 'But it usually happens later than this. And there's nothing like this going on anywhere else in the country either – some people from other states are catching on to the resurrection articles though, and they're calling it bull.'

'Of course they are,' Dean muttered. 'Maybe that's not a bad thing. I'm gonna go grab my computer and keep searching worldwide for biblical omens, it's been a couple days since I last did …'

Dean got up again and headed off. Cas, who had yet to sit down, now took a seat beside Sam and watched as he scrolled, skimming, through something on some website picking out bits and pieces of the resurrection article and describing in detail exactly what was wrong with them.

'It seems as though humans don't want to believe in what is plainly in front of them,' Castiel commented.

'Yeah,' said Sam, scrolling up through the page again with a sigh. 'You'd think people would take the opposite approach. That they'd want to believe in whatever this is, whether they dub it government, aliens, conspiracy theory or … whatever. People can be pretty messed up sometimes.'

'I need to stop referring to people as humans as if I'm not one of them,' Castiel said quietly, more to himself than to Sam, as if reminding himself. 'Because I am. One of them. For all intensive purposes.'

'Old habits die hard,' said Sam, with a small chuckle. 'Don't worry. You'll learn. And even if you don't, you're still pretty angelic to us.'

Castiel smiled a small smile.

'I appreciate that,' he said sincerely. 'But I should get used to the struggle that is being human. I've adopted the clothes and some of the mannerisms, all that's left is to stop speaking like some kind of higher power.'

'And you'll need a last name,' Sam pointed out.

'That too, perhaps,' Castiel mused. 'Although I've never had much use for one. When dealing with people and cases we use mostly aliases, after all. What last name could I use for purposes that are not those ones?'

'Winchester,' said Dean upon his return. 'You've been one of us for years. Might as well take the name while you're at it.'

'But wouldn't that be odd?' Castiel questioned. 'You two are brothers. And it is obvious that I'm not a third brother.'

'No, you're not,' Dean acknowledged, sitting back down next to Cas and lazily throwing an arm over his shoulders. 'But you're still a Winchester. You've got the attitude, you've died enough times to be one of us and you've saved our asses more than we've saved each others'. Take the name, man. You've earned it.'

Castiel smiled to himself and looked downwards at his lap, a blush staring to creep into his cheeks that he tried to fight off. Dean tightened his grip around him, pulling him close into his side before releasing him again with a small chuckle, making Cas go even quieter and more bashful as he sat between the proudly grinning Dean and the Sam that had a smile on that Dean would hate if Dean noticed it.

Castiel glanced back and forth between the two screens the brothers had open in front of them for a while. Their positioning was slightly odd; they rarely sat, all three of them, on the same side of the table but since Cas had sat down next to Sam then obviously they were going to sit three in a row since Dean clearly would sit next to Cas no matter where Cas was seated. Even before they'd been together, Dean and Cas had, if at all possible, often managed to get next to each other. Castiel remembered clearly one night with pizza and Sam and Dean and Charlie that Cas had dragged his chair around to the uncomfortable corner part of the table, just to be next to Dean. It had been more of an unconscious thing then. Now it was an extremely conscious thing that was practically a given, and any time Cas felt his arm brush against Dean's or he felt their knees bump beneath the table, it was like a firework exploded within him where they touched. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

Dean continued to pull up nothing on the omens front, no matter what country he searched. There were no omens for the current time, nor any that had been and gone in the past month, meanwhile Sam wasn't finding anything much either. There were very few genuine articles that seemed to believe what had happened in Alpena and they were all on small websites none of them had ever heard of and seemed to have very few views and little to no comments. It seemed like either no one cared about the goings on of small towns, or no one had actually picked up on any of these articles yet.

As the evening pressed on, they left the long tabled room. Dean completed his search of all the countries he could think of while Sam gave up on searching for things and instead just left open the page of news in Chester, refreshing it every so often. He also had a page up of weather patterns there, to see if there were any fluctuations in the atmosphere that screamed "demon" or "angel" at the time of the killing, yet there was no killing as they approached eight, and then nine, having moved into the living room Dean had doubted they'd actually end up using again. The television was on and Grey's was playing and Dean's laptop was closed next to him while he watched, Cas on his other side with his eyes also on the screen. Sam lazily refreshed and scrolled through various unimportant webpages out of boredom, half watching the show and half not.

It was almost as though they were back in the holidays again, with the TV, the lounging, and the lazy drinking of beers as they did just that. Cas ended up leaning against Dean with his arms around his midriff after a while, and Sam kept giving them that same soft smile he probably didn't even realize he was giving them.

'Shut up,' Dean said, when he finally noticed, just catching Sam as he stopped looking at them and looked back down at his phone, where he was texting Aroura.

'I didn't say anything,' Sam replied innocently.

'Making stupid ass faces speaks louder than words,' Dean muttered. 'So shut up.'

Sam looked highly amused for several minutes after the brief exchange.

Somewhere closer to the midnight hour, Sam's refresh led to the news of the fifth death, in the home of the victim who lived alone. His weather refresh showed that the temperature had suddenly dropped a significant amount and then steadied itself again, right around the time of the death. They couldn't quite tell what that meant. After a brief discussion and acknowledgment of the fact that these deaths seemed to be right on track of the last town, the three headed to bed in spirits that weren't all that high.

'The drop in temperature could mean a number of things, many of them biblical,' Castiel muttered as he and Dean walked side by side. 'Although one of them points straight to Lucifer … everyone thinks heat surrounds him, when in fact it's the opposite …'

'But we know it's not Lucifer doing the killing,' Dean pointed out. 'Unless he's got himself a brand shiny new vessel and is calling himself Emerald, we know it's not him.'

'I know,' Castiel noted, 'it's just an observation. It isn't one that could help us in any way, not that there's a way for us to be helped with this, but an observation is an observation.'

'That it is, alright,' Dean agreed, repeating quietly, 'that it is.'

Once in bed, Dean lay on his back, trying to avid friction between his new healing tattoo and the bed sheets. Castiel lay next to him, on his side facing him to avoid the same. They stayed silent for a while, like the seemed to do often nowadays after deaths or investigations. Cas rested his hand on Dean's stomach, a finger tracing light circles on his skin as he sighed every so often, tired but not sleepy, his mind over working itself yet again.

'What are you thinking about?' Dean asked after a while of just lying there in deep silence and heavy thought.

'I'm not sure,' Castiel admitted. 'Partly about how bad the families of those dying must feel. Partly about how happy they'll feel upon the resurrection day. And partly of completely unrelated topics.'

'Like?'

'Like how Callie's father is a dick for not accepting the fact that she and Arizona are dating.'

'Oh yeah, that,' Dean muttered. 'There are a lot of people out there like that. You'd think, it's twenty sixteen, no one cares where you stick what, but no. Still dicks like that guy out there.'

'I feel sorry for her,' Castiel said sadly.

'Yeah,' Dean agreed. 'Me too.' He paused. 'Anything else on your mind?'

'No,' Cas said, shrugging the one shoulder that wasn't against the bed. 'Or at least not on the surface. Who knows what's lurking deep within that will only come to the surface when I wake up in the morning.'

'You mean, who knows what deep dark thoughts are lurking inside of you just waiting to be acted on?'

'Oh, sure,' Cas joked. 'Darkest of the dark thoughts.'

'Such as?'

'Drawing on you while you sleep?' Cas suggested. 'I don't know. Dark thoughts are not in my nature.'

'Aw, aren't you an innocent one,' Dean said in a false-mocking voice, one arm around Cas and his hand starting to stroke up and down his back.

'I'm far from innocent,' Castiel said warning, some darkness starting to creep into his tone now. 'I still haven't forgotten what you said about me breathing. I could breath very heavily at any point. See how innocent I am then.'

Dean rolled his eyes with a breathy laugh that only lasted as second and was more like a more-forceful-than-usual yet lazy exhalation.

'Well now you're practically a run of the mill whore,' Dean commentated sarcastically. 'Teasing me with heavy breathing when I know you're too tired after all these late nights to do anything more than that. Don't talk if you're not going to deliver, Cas. It's just plain mean.'

'My apologies,' Castiel said sincerely. 'Perhaps I should wait until tomorrow morning's shower to begin breathing heavily. Is that alright with you?'

'Perfectly fine, yeah,' said Dean. He closed his eyes comfortably, continuing his stroking of Cas's lower back, the motion of Cas's finger on his skin lulling him into a sort of trance. 'But for now I'm tired. So goodnight.'

'Goodnight,' Castiel replied.

Cas stayed still for a minute or two after they'd said goodnight, then rolled onto his other side, pressing up against Dean's side and grabbing one of his many pillows to wrap his arms around. Moments later, Cas felt something between his shoulder blades, between the wings and over his anti-possession tattoo, like a ghost of a kiss or a kiss from the wind, and then he felt Dean settle in and get comfortable again just behind him. Despite not being very sleepy, it was easy to let his overall tiredness take over, the sound of Dean's breathing and the phantom feeling of the ghost kiss making him feel secure.

Today was another free day, and they had even less to do today than they had to do yesterday. As promised last night, their shower time was filled with more sex than showering. Dean's the top of back was against the wall, his legs wrapped around Cas's hips, Cas pounding into him at an angle, and after he came he used one hand to unlock Dean's legs from around him and then let go of Dean, leaving Dean in a standing position and getting onto his knees to suck Dean off.

By the time they got out a coldness was creeping onto the water, and by the time they stopped fooling around in the bathroom and emerged into the kitchen for breakfast, Sam had already been and gone on his morning jog. They avoided telling him about the dwindling supply of hot water left in the bunker, despite knowing that the shower Sam usually used and the shower they used both used the same supply of said water. Feigning looks of surprise and innocence was how they got out of explaining that one.

After last night's weather discovery, Dean had had a thought, so first thing after breakfast he went straight to Google to search for temperature fluctuations on the nights all the other people had died in both towns just to confirm that it hadn't been a one-off freaky coincidence. He still wasn't sure what to make of it, nor was Cas, nor was Sam when he told him.

Besides that one little thing, there really wasn't much to be done by way of this case or any other. Sam did check for the appearance of new word on the resurrections of Alpena a few times, but found nothing. Dean cleaned a few of their weapons that hadn't been cleaned in a while and topped up supplies in the trunk of the Impala, which got low every once in a while after a few hunts. Then, later, he decided to wash the Impala which was something he did whenever there was nothing to do. He trusted Cas enough to help him washing the windows and the front and back windshield, and when he was convinced that Cas had left a streak after his washing of one of the windows the two of them got into a miniature argument which resulted not only in the re-soaking of said window, but the soaking of themselves, and a bucket in need of refilling. When they trudged inside, Sam didn't even bother asking why they were soaked and dripping. He could pretty much guess what had happened.

'I can't leave you two alone for five minutes,' he muttered under his breath as they passed him soggily.

Once they'd dried off and changed after the car-washing incident, they hopped onto their bed and hit up the Netflix. Castiel grabbed his laptop for a while and once he was done, he requested that Dean watch the Hunger Games movies with him once he was done reading the books.

'Well I've seen them once, so I guess I can watch them again,' Dean shrugged indifferently. 'I haven't even seen the last one yet. Just tell me when.'

'I'll make sure to,' Castiel promised, now done with his laptop, which he closed and put next him, finally able to get more comfortable as they continued their watching of Grey's Anatomy. As he laid his head on his chest, it was hilarious to hear how Dean's heart rate increased just slightly whenever Doctor Sheppard was on screen.

Al in all, it was a dull day once they'd tired out all the things they could do. The three of them all gathered in the living room again for a while and flicked through channels endlessly without watching anything, and they had leftovers from last night for dinner too. It wasn't really the fact that they had no case to work that bothered them, it was the waiting, and knowing that they were pretty much just waiting for people to die.

There really was no reason to wait up that night for the final death, but they did, and it happened, and like all the other deaths there was a drop in temperature just as it happened followed by a raise back up to normal level as if nothing had happened in the first place, and they all went to bed with the knowledge that they weren't doing anything to stop the people dying weighing heavily on them.

'But there's nothing we can do,' Dean reminded Cas as Cas perched over him, knees pressed into his sides, rocking gently back and forth over his crotch automatically, mostly without meaning to. 'You know we need to just wait this one out, man. Now either stop doing what you're doing all together, or fucking fuck me already. Either way, you've gotta stop worrying about this stupid case.'

'Fine,' Castiel muttered, tugging down his pajama bottoms frustrated and then grabbing the waistband of Dean's. 'But I can't help it if I feel sorry for the families of the people that are dying.'

'I know, I know,' Dean consoled. 'So come on. Distract yourself. Use me as a distraction.'

Castiel rolled his eyes.

'You're a terrible person. I hope you realize this.'

'Yeah, yeah. Now come on. Get on with it already.'

'Legs in the air,' Castiel said boredly. 'Let's get this over with.'

Dean obliged, and Cas's bored expression turned into a wicked grin as he forgot all about the case they were working for a while.

The day leading up to the resurrections was the slowest day yet. They decided it best to head back to Chester and check into a motel so they could be prepared all day for anything that might happen in the lead up to the resurrections which were imminent.

The day in town was just as boring as the empty days in the bunker had been. There was nothing much they could do so mostly they just watched from various places around town. It seemed like a normal day in a small town, no suspicious activities going on anywhere, no suspicious looking people lurking on any corners. They swung by the nearest graveyard in the afternoon and saw two fresh graves, clearly holding the bodies of two of the six, but they looked intact and undisturbed, and the graveyard was mostly empty apart from one old man sitting at a grave several rows away from the fresh ones.

After more driving around, swinging past the bar, past the houses of the victims and even past the nearest morgue, evening had settled in and they picked up some food to have in the car while they went back to the graveyard, after they'd made a quick trip to the motel they'd stayed in the night before to pick up some stuff for their scope out for when the boredom got too much of them.

And then it was time to wait, just like they'd waited in the bar, or more like in the parking lot of the bar, for something to happen. They knew these things usually happened late at night, but then again they could never know for sure.

On their wait, Cas finished Mockingjay and went quiet for a while. Sam was pretty quiet too, for the most part, going between binoculars and his phone, occasionally smiling or laughing softly. They could pretty much guess who he was talking to. Throughout their wait, Dean barely talked or even moved at all, keeping eyes set so hard on the graves that he was barely blinking.

It was as the clock ticked close to midnight that things started to happen, as usual. A dark figure appeared, out of nowhere, in grave yard and Dean nudged both Sam (staring at his phone screen) and Cas (completely blanked out, eyes staring but seeing nothing) and nodded towards the figure who was walking up and down between the graves.

'Quietly,' Dean told them, placing a finger to his lips as he slowly opened his car door and climbed out.

They got their things out of the trunk while the figure was still seemingly contemplating what to do. The got a gun each, different bullets in each, and two of them had blades. Cas had his angel blade and Sam manned the demon one as they headed into the grave yard, just as a low light started to emit from around one of the graves and they saw the light suddenly flash bright and then disappear. The dark figure disappeared as they approached, too, and as they got closer they could see it had jumped into the grave. It was far too tall to be either Ruby or Emerald, as far as they could remember.

When they reached the edge of the grave they saw the figure inside, a hand on the lid of the coffin, and then whoever it was raised their other hand and suddenly all three of them were thrown backwards and landed on their backs on the grass.

'What the –' Dean started.

There was another flash, and then everything went black.

When the light crept in, they each awoke to find themselves in bed, in their motels, with no memory of anything after being thrown. The town was buzzing with resurrection news, and someone from Abiquiu, New Mexico, eleven hours away, was dead. The night before, on the night of the sixth death, someone had died too. They spent hours that morning trying to figure out what had happened, trying to remember who the figure was if they'd even seen at all, but it was if they had had their memories wiped of the entire night. All they knew was that no one in town could shut up about what had happened, it was in their local paper and when they visited the graves and the morgue, the handprints were there, just like the last town.

There was a lengthy discussion about whether it was even worth visiting Abiquiu. They knew they deal, the six deaths and the resurrections, but on the other, there was always a chance that something, even a tiny seemingly insignificant detail, was different. And since they were all well-rested after whatever the fuck had happened the previous night, they decided it couldn't hurt to go the eleven hours to scope the place out. Sam and Dean had gone farther for less on many occasions.

Los Caminos Bar was the only bar in the small town, and that was where the first death had taken place. Typical. And the only place that didn't disgust them to stay in was Abiquiu Inn, which wasn't too far from the bar, barely five minutes driving distance away, probably less, but they had to account for streets cluttered with police cars and such after deaths.

They arrived late at night, after spending most of the day driving, and went straight to their rooms and to bed soon after to be prepare for the simple, now-routine investigations they'd get into in the morning, which was the tenth of January. It was a shock when they realized just how much time had passed, the days (apart from the slow ones) just blurring into each other, flying by as the work went on and on, no new cases, nothing coming out of this one. And they knew there were four more deaths and six resurrections, therefore another five days, to come out of this, either to be spent in Abiquiu re-trying their attempts from Chester or to be spent aimlessly wandering the bunker, morbidly awaiting each night's death.

The bar staff and the customers at the bar who had witnessed the, for a change, woman, walk into the bar only later to be joined by two more feminine women than herself all had the same thing to say. She went into the bathroom with the dark haired one, the white haired one lingered by the door of the bar until after the other two had gone into the bathroom and then left, the woman, often seen with a group of five men (one of which was dead) never emerging from the bathroom, only to be discovered dead later with no trace of her dark haired companion.

Something they had yet to do, which they decided to do today, was actually fully inspect the dead body. They visited the morgue to do just that, and once alone, they pulled out the drawer completely and uncovered the victim. She was ghastly pale, very broad and had that sort of Ellen DeGeneres haircut. It seemed like Ruby (who they still insisted to Sam was not Ruby) and Emerald were only targeting those they could be completely sure were attracted to women.

'But that's an offensive stereotype,' Castiel said approvingly. 'There was as much a chance as any that this woman would have been married with a husband and children.'

'She was married,' said Sam. 'It said in the report she had a wife.'

'Still,' Castiel insisted. 'Ruby and Emerald should know better than to judge on appearance alone. For example, Ted Knight wasn't attracted to women, despite him looking stereotypically straight.'

'Yeah, well, demons can control anyone if they're powerful enough,' Dean shrugged, snooping around the body and checking skin for any marks that could be clues. Clues for what, none of them knew. 'So even if she was the straightest straight girl to ever straight, a powerful enough demon could have her doing whatever. It's pretty fucked up.'

'I'll say,' Sam agreed, muttering uncomfortably.

'I hate demons,' Castiel sighed in annoyance. 'They have no respect for anyone.'

'That's why you hate demons?' Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

'Of course not,' Castiel snipped. 'But it's one of the reasons that I would hate them if they weren't completely evil. They're disrespectful creatures who abuse anyone who won't do what they want. Most of the scenarios demons get into with people, even when not killing them, are non-consensual unless they truly trick a person into trusting them, or even falling for them. I hate demons.'

'Trust me, we all do,' said Sam, placing a hand on Cas's shoulder as Cas grew stiff with loathing of the creatures he talked about. 'No one knows their ways better than we do.'

'There's nothing on this body,' Dean said, interrupting what could have turned into reminiscing about the times they'd been misled by the evil black-eyed dick-bags before. 'No marks that could show us anything. No bruises, no cuts, nothing apart from the snapped neck. I don't think it's going to help.'

'Then we should get out of here,' Sam decided, taking a step back. 'Let the body get … fixed up. For her wife, and for the funeral you know …'

'Yeah,' Dean agreed. He covered the body back over, and pushed the drawer back into place. 'We can't be too down about this. She'll be alive and kickin' again in a couple days.'

'Seems like it,' Sam said darkly.

Once their scope out of the body was complete and after a quick once over of the other body just to be sure both bodies were clean, they went to talk to the wives of the two dead who both could attest that they were a part of a group that went out once a week for several weeks, calling it a book club. It most definitely was not a book club, but apparently there was a book that was brought sometimes. They couldn't find the book, but Sam, Dean and Cas could be sure that it was a demonic one.

Their plan tonight was different to their last plans. Tonight, since the deaths had happened at the bar, that's where they would go. One person inside, one person in the car, one going in shifts between the two. It seemed like the location of the killings in the last town had only been changed up once those doing the killings had realized that they were being watched for. But now, to be on the safe side, someone on the inside and the outside would work best.

They couldn't do much in the lead up to that night but sit around. Research already too-well researched things. Sam checked out some stuff on the resurrections in Chester, but like in Alpena, there were still not many who had caught on. There was someone apparently tweeting about how it was all a conspiracy theory and one of the person's followers was replying to almost everything, declaring it was aliens and not a conspiracy, but neither one of the two had over thirty followers.

When it came time to execute their surveillance plan, Castiel acted as the one to flit back and forth between the two brothers, rushing in and out so much it was like he was a pregnant woman and the bar was a bathroom, or at least that's what Sam compared it to. Dean's comparison was dirtier and involved Cas rolling his eyes harshly at him, making Dean waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

'Get back to your stake out,' Castiel said firmly. 'And stop thinking about dicks.'

'Not dicks, Cas,' Dean said in a voice that made it sound like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, 'just yours.'

'Well stop it,' Castiel commanded. 'Focus. Or I'll go back inside to Sam.'

'I'm shutting up,' Dean promised. 'Total professionalism from now on. I swear.'

Castiel didn't believe it, but said nothing as he continued to stare out, eyes sweeping the parking lot, darting over to the door, searching out familiarity in a sea of those who went in and out. It wasn't busy, but it was dark, and for all either of them knew the people they were looking for could be wearing hoods, or even cloaks or disguises, or anything.

As it was on all the other nights, it wasn't until close to midnight that anything happened. Cas was with Sam; he was watching a shifty looking man Sam had pointed out earlier, while Sam kept his eyes on the entrance. Sam got to his feet as soon as they walked in, recognizing them instantly, and walked across the bar to the darkest corner with his head down and his shoulders hunched. Castiel was momentarily confused by Sam's sudden movement, until he caught sight of who had come in and turned promptly to follow Sam, hoping Sam wasn't recognizable from his height and glad that he himself wasn't wearing the trench coat that screamed an amber alert for "THAT ANGEL WHO PULLED DEAN OUT OF HELL, OVER HERE, SPYING ON YOUR DEMONIC ANTICS!"

Castiel, as he texted Dean while Sam kept his head down, found himself wishing he still had enough of his grace left to truly see people's souls. That was one of the last things connecting him to his celestial self, the fact that, if he looked hard enough and if he already knew the person, he could still catch the faintest glimmer of the soul of a person. Like with people's souls, he was still able to see the true faces of demons, but only half see them like he was losing his vision. But he now knew for sure that this demon was Ruby, resurrected along with her former host body for her to dwell in. Even in his half-blinded state he recognized the face of the demon who had, all those years ago, corrupted Sam Winchester.

But as for her friend, Emerald as she went by … nothing. And if he really searched, deeply searched her as he glanced up from his phone screen as she dwindled by the doors, all he could see was a vast, empty blackness. Either a broken soul, or no soul at all. Or maybe the last of his grace was just too weak to see anything but the blackness.

Dean entered with his head down as Sam watched Ruby talking to a nervous man who was growing more confident by the second, the very man he'd pointed out to Cas earlier as he wondered if that was the next victim. He sat across from Cas and bent his head low, unable to see anything going on behind him, and muttered, 'what does she look like? I didn't see.'

Cas knew that Dean knew what Ruby looked like. He understand that Dean meant the other one, the one they didn't know, the one with the silvery white hair, the pale skin and the lips that were shockingly coated with black, a black almost as black as the blackness that Cas could see within her. Her dress was as white as her hair, and her eyes, though dark like her lips, screamed purity. Her face, as far as he could see was perfectly symmetrical with perfect bone structure, slim and small. Her cheekbones were sharp, and her nose one of those tiny, button noses. She looked peaceful, her resting face neutral, but inviting.

She did look like an angel.

'A stereotypical angel.'

Not a real angel. There was no face of an angel behind the face of pure beauty with the black eyes, the black lips, the black hole. There were no wings lurking on her shoulders, no grace coursing through her veins.

But she looked like an angel.

'So she's hot?' Dean asked.

'She's beautiful,' Castiel stated.

And then he was forced to tear his eyes away. He could have sworn he saw hers flit over him. He ducked his head down, even though he knew there was no way she could recognize him, be it by his vessel or his true face … although he doubted he had a true face any more. The face of his vessel was his true face, now he thought about it … not a bad face, he had to admit.

'She's leaving,' Sam said suddenly.

'No, she's still there,' said Cas, not looking at the beauty that was Emerald, but still able to see the sheer glow that she was emitting, even when he was directly looking at it.

'No, the other one,' said Sam. 'She just got up. She's leaving. And the man is staying behind.'

Dean's head snapped around so fast he could have ended up as the next victim or sacrifice or whatever this was. Luckily, he just cricked his neck painfully and clapped a hand to it as he set his eyes on Ruby's back as she walked away, then looked for the table Sam had been watching. The man was, indeed, staying behind. He had just taken a sip of his drink, which seemed to be almost full.

'I'm following them,' Dean decided, getting to his feet and starting in long strides across the bar, keeping his head down so they didn't notice his face.

'I'll come too,' said Sam, rising. He turned to Cas. 'Watch the guy. See where he goes. We'll be right back.'

Castiel nodded and stayed in his seat, watching Sam and Dean walk away. Ruby and the black hole had gotten to the door before the brothers and left, but they weren't that far behind – or so it seemed like from inside the bar. But outside the bar it was a whole other story, where they suddenly found themselves in the deserted parking lot. Neither woman they'd followed seemed to be anywhere in sight, like they'd just vanished into thin air … which, in retrospect, they most likely had.

'Should we look around?' Dean asked.

Sam shrugged.

'It couldn't hurt.'

There wasn't much looking to be done. The parking lot hadn't changed much since Dean had crossed it less than five minutes ago – except now there was another car there, barely visible in the dark, and a small, seemingly dark haired figure was standing by it with arms full of something or other, struggling with something or other else.

'Shoot,' they heard the figure mutter, tugging at a long coat with one hand while barely managing to hold onto her, most likely her, things with the other.

Sam rushed forward just as the figure was about to drop her load of things which looked, up close, like a book, some note pads and a laptop, and caught them from her, allowing her to unlock her car and free her coat from the closed door. The lights of her car flashed as she locked it again, and this time it was Sam who nearly dropped all that he was holding.

'Aroura?'

It was Dean's turn to be so shocked that he would have dropped whatever he was holding had he been holding anything.

'Aroura?' he repeated after his brother.

'Sam?' the briefly illumined figure asked, now again shrouded by darkness, with a most definitely unmistakable voice. 'Dean? Is that you?'

'It's me,' said Sam, sounding positively delighted and like he'd completely forgotten what they'd come out to do. 'This is your murder-charity case? You're helping the families of the people murdered here?'

'Yeah, I'm helping organize a fund raiser for a funeral with hopefully enough money left over to hold over the family until the dead guy's wife can get a job,' Aroura said, sounding like she was grinning though they clearly couldn't see her. 'This is what you're reporting?'

'Weird murder patterns,' said Sam, 'always worth reporting.'

As Sam and Aroura began talking quietly together with annoying giggles occasionally ringing loud and shrill through the night, it was obvious Sam was on a whole other planet and Dean stared on in disbelief, considering just turning around and going back into the bar, but when he did turn around he saw Cas already walking towards him, plus another man going off in another direction towards a car.

'He left,' Castiel announced, meeting Dean half way. 'He just finished his beer and left. Look, there he is. Driving away.'

'So what?' Dean asked him, puzzled. 'There's no murder tonight? They quit the ritual or something?'

'Dean …' Castiel said slowly, gravely, making sure Dean knew that the news coming wasn't good news at all, 'I think she saw me. The one people say looks like an angel. Emerald. I think she saw me.'

'So?' Dean asked. 'She doesn't know you and you were all the way across the bar.'

'But as soon as she saw me, or moments after that at least, she and Ruby left.'

'Fuck,' Dean groaned. 'Fuck. So they're taking it somewhere else tonight …'

'Most likely,' Castiel agreed, and then he heard one of the shrill giggles and frowned at the shapes in the dark a little away across the parking lot. 'What's going on?'

'The Savior returns,' Dean muttered darkly, looking over at the quietly talking pair with a height difference of a mile which made how Sam was hunching his shoulders and looking down look slightly painful. 'Or a part of her at least.'

'Aroura?' Cas asked, raising his eyebrows in astonishment.

'Bingo,' said Dean. 'She says she's here for some kind of fund raising thing. Sounds about right if that's code for being here to figure out what the fuck is going on with all these deaths and resurrections.'

'So do you think she's here to help God or stop Lucifer?' Castiel wondered aloud, still looking somewhat bewildered by her presence.

'Hard to say,' Dean mumbled. 'It's not even the resurrection night.'

'But isn't the Aroura part of The Savior's entire being a hunter?'

'True … took her long enough to catch on to the fact that there's a case here if that's the case …'

Dean and Castiel watched the pair some more without speaking, waiting for them to come back to reality. Seconds later, the sound of sirens interrupted the night, and reality seemed to whip both Sam and Aroura in the ass.

'Someone else is dead,' Sam stated at normal volume, so his voice carried to where Dean and Cas were half way across the parking lot as they too came to the same conclusion. 'I'm sorry – I have to get to this, gotta report – you know where I'm staying –'

Sam handed Aroura back her things, which he was still holding, and said his goodbye while heading for the Impala, Dean and Castiel following. As they walked, they both paid Aroura a glance and saw her wave. They nodded at her in unison and followed Sam to the car which they climbed into to drive off to the scene to make sure it was just like all the others, which it turned out to be.

'Whoever these two are, they're crafty,' Dean said in the car on the way back to the inn they were staying at after talking to the latest victim's son, who had heard his father scream and had run in to find him dead with no sign of an attacker. 'They try to make us think they're done and then they just … do it.'

'They know that we're not just on to them, but know exactly who they are and what it is that they do at night,' Castiel stated. 'Yet they still go on with the plan.'

'Luckily that guy's son gave us the names of the others he goes out with,' Dean said with some optimism. 'So we can keep an eye on them.'

'Stake out their house tomorrow night?' Sam suggested.

'Exactly,' Dean said surely. 'And all this staking out is making me want a damn steak. I wish this crap would just end already …'

There was nothing more to be said about it when they got back to the inn so they parted for their rooms with wishes of a good night.

'Not that he needs us to wish it to him,' Dean muttered as he and Cas headed for their room down the hall from Sam's. 'If Aroura's staying here it's practically guaranteed.'

'If I didn't know that she was on our side I'd find it suspicious that she's here,' Castiel commented as they went through the door and Dean shut it behind them, kicking off his shoes as he did so. 'And that she showed up at the bar we were at. What was she doing?'

'About to go stake the place out too?'

'Maybe,' said Cas with a particle of a sigh, 'but she must know whether this ritual is for God or for Lucifer, right? And who's doing it?'

'Maybe not,' said Dean, undressing while Cas remained by the door looking troubled and leaning back against the door with his arms folded across his chest. 'She could be here to find out who it is so she can deduce whether it's a God thing or a Lucifer thing. God might not have told her if he's the one doing the resurrecting. He's probably busy trying to find where Michael and Gabriel stashed Amara.'

'That makes sense,' Castiel agreed, walking away from the door but keeping his arms folded. 'And if it's Lucifer, then The Holy One can be here to stop him on the night of the resurrections, afterwards of course, before he starts to do … anything.'

'Exactly,' Dean nodded as Castiel came to a standstill by the end of the bed, arms folded, still looking mildly lost in thought. 'Now come on. It's late. And we don't know how thick these walls are so we'll want to get to sleep while we still can if it turns out Aroura's staying here and comes back any time soon …'

Castiel made a face that displayed his distaste at the scenario he had just imagined and dropped his arms as he did, which gave Dean the opportunity to grab the bottom of his sweater and pull it up over his head and then drop his arms to place them on Cas's waist tenderly, rubbing some small circles with his thumbs.

'I will no longer think about what Aroura is doing here,' Castiel promised.

Dean grinned at him and dropped his hands to let Cas finish undressing and made his way over to the bed to climb in.

'Yeah, I think that's a good idea,' he agreed. 'No come on and get in here. This bed is cold as fuck.'

Castiel threw him a soft smile as he shed the rest of his clothing and rooted out pajama pants before joining him and feeling the cool sheets that Dean had mentioned. Cas opened his arms and allowed Dean to slip into them before closing them as they slid downwards into a more comfortable position. Dean rested his head against Cas's chest.

'Better,' he commented.

'I thought you'd think so,' Castiel replied fondly.

'Maybe things will make more sense in the morning,' Dean decided hopefully, shutting his eyes and getting ready to let his suppressed tiredness take over.

'Perhaps,' said Castiel with a slight nod, closing his eyes too. 'Goodnight, Dean.'

'Night Cas,' Dean replied quietly. 'Sweet non-dreams …'