An AU where Cas meets Sam and Dean in episode 3 and how the rest of the series would change because of it. Sometimes it will go off the storyline but typically, it will have each episode's original plot line Written to allow more bromance between Sam, Dean and Cas and some Cas!Whump. Hopefully, their relationship will progress similarly as in the show.
I wanted to write this because some of the plots would be quite interesting with Castiel in them and it gives them more time to bond.
Also, this a side-project because I'm focusing on my Pokéfic, Supernova but this was a plot bunny that wouldn't hop away. So unless this story gets a fantastic response or something, expect irregular updates.
Thank you and enjoy!
I do not own Supernatural and some lines are very similar or the same as the dialogue in 4x01.
1x03 Dead in the Water (Sam and Dean investigate a series of unnatural drownings caused by a vengeful spirit.)
Sam and Dean had been driving in the Impala for forty minutes, putting them far from Lake Manitoc and in a empty stretch of farmland when Dean realized he was hungry.
"Sam, find a convenience store or something, I'm starved." He whined.
"How do you expect me to do that?" Sam asked, annoyed. He liked helping people, of course—but he'd rather be listening to a Professor's lecture than Dean's whining. In fact, he sorely wished he could rewrite the last month of his life. He had felt like his heart was being ripped apart ever since—
"Sweet, just in time!" Dean sighed, turning sharply into a parking lot of a run-down gas station.
Inside was desolate—no cashier or anything, but Dean found a copy of last year's BAB magazine and some protein bars, so he was pretty happy. Until he realized the air wasn't stagnant so much as it was sulfurous. He hadn't smelled that in a very long time.
"Demons!" Dean warned, not a moment before a hoard of unholy creatures poured from all four sides of them. Sam fumbled with the bag of salt he had been holding while Dean looked around him for his weapon.
"Wheres-my-knife?" Dean called anxiously. A red-haired demon grabbed him around his neck and pulled him high enough so Dean wasn't touching the ground. He punched the demon in the mouth, sending it reeling, but it soon regained its senses and gripped even tighter, returning a much more powerful punch to Dean's temple. These were far from run-of-the-mill demons. The demon narrowed its eyes at Dean and he instantly felt like his organs were being crushed. He tried turning to see where Sam was but it was getting harder to see. His eyes eventually re-focused on the glint of his knife, now in the demon's hand. What he'd do for his dad to be hunting with them.
"I'm sorry, I must have forgot to tell you I borrowed this, Human, oops." The demon cackled bringing the knife towards Dean's chest.
All of a sudden, a loud, high-pitched noise pierced the walls. It was so loud that Dean has forced to stop struggling in the demon's arms and cover his ears. It turned out it didn't matter though, the demon seemed to be more effected by the piercing sound than he was. It fell writhing to the floor. Dean dropped down as well, in order to avoid the shattering glass the sound waves caused. Explosions wracked disused wires as the stores's electricity fried.
Only moments later, the sound faded and Dean and Sam got to their feet and left, leaving the charred bodies destroyed on the ground.
"We've got to get Bobby."
Bobby sat at the table, listening to the brother's story.
"What you need is a psychic," Bobby told him, picking up the phone. He seemed nervous. Sam shifted nervously. A spirit or demon that could destroy other demons with sound spelled very bad news for them.
An hour later, Sam, Dean and Bobby sat with a strong-looking woman in her thirties.
"Listen," Dean leaned in to the psychic, which she responded to with a flirtatious wink, "We gotta find this spirit, you're sure you can contact it?"
"Of course, and afterward, I can think of two other things that can make contact," she said suggestively. Dean grinned wildly while Sam sat there uncomfortably, wishing he hadn't gotten out of bed that morning. (Though he spent the majority of the night staring at the popcorn-paint motel ceiling and trying not to think about the Fire.)
"Good, let's begin," Pamela told them, prompting them to all hold hands.
"I invoke, conjure and command you appear unto me before this circle.
"I invoke, conjure and command you appear unto me before this circle.
"I invoke, conjure and command you appear unto me before this circle."
The TV flicked onto static but Pamela continued. "I invoke conjure an command…Castiel? No. Sorry Castiel, I don't scare easy."
Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Castiel?" The name didn't sound demonic.
"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." The table began to shake.
"I conjure and command you, show me your face.
I conjure and command you, show me your face.
I conjure and command you, show me your face.
I conjure and command you, show me your face."
The rattling became more violent.
"Maybe we should stop," Bobby suggested firmly.
Pamela shook her head fiercely. "I almost got it! I command you, show me you face! Show me your face now!"
Suddenly, the seance candles flared up and Pamela started screaming. Her eyes opened, encased with white flame and she collapsed. Bobby jumped to help her, Sam rushing for the phone. Dean leaned down to help her, almost scared. Maybe a little more than almost.
Dean sat at a table at a diner, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It wasn't the worst, by far, but it had been enough to shake him. Just how powerful was this spirit?
Dean's phone rang and he picked it up without even looking at the caller ID.
"What'd Bobby say?"
"Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U."
"And blind, because of us," Dean dead-panned.
"And we still have no clue who we're dealing with." Was Sam's helpful addition.
"That's not entirely true."
"No?"
"We got a name. Castiel, or whatever. With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us."
"You're insane."
"We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?" Dean said.
"Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?"
"You got a better idea?" Dean rubbed his forehead in frustration. This 'Castiel' made defeating last week's Windingo seem like child's play.
"No, but searching the town's much better than searching for the spirit."
"Maybe," Dean relented. But he was going to go after him anyway. He hung up on his brother and dialed Bobby's number.
Finally, night had come and preparation had ended. Demon sigils, traps and talismans lined the ceilings, walls and floors of the old warehouse they set up in and anti-everything—stakes, iron, silver, salt, knifes—weaponry lay generously on the tables.
Finally, a reluctant Bobby chanted over a summoning bowl.
"This has got to be the dumbest idea you've ever had," Bobby sighed. But ten minutes later, when nothing had come, the two hunters were starting to have doubts.
"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asked. Bobby glared at him. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"
Suddenly, the roof began to rattle. The hunters grabbed their shotguns and took their positions at the far end of the warehouse.
"Wishful thinking. It was probably the wind," Dean finally said,
The warehouse doors burst open before Bobby could reply. An attractive man in a trench coat and suit strode in light bulbs above his head shatter in a shower of sparks as he passes them. As he approached, Dean and Bobby both open fire, but the shots didn't even slow him down. Dean picked up a knife as the man got closer.
"Who are you?" Dean asked.
"I'm the one who slew demons with my voice." The trench coat clad man said, looking straight into his eyes. They had a strange simpleness but Dean knew better than to lower his guard.
"Yeah. Thanks for that." Dean reared back and plunged a silver knife into Castiel's shoulder. Non plussed, the man reached down, pulled it out and dropped it to the floor. Dean stared incredulously as nothing more than a small, but angry red cut remained of a six inch blade in his body.
Bobby attacked. Castiel didn't falter in his curious stare as he grabbed Bobby's weapon and used it to swing him off balance. Then he touched the plaid-clad man's forehead with two fingers, and Bobby crumpled to the ground.
"We need to talk, Dean. Alone."
Dean managed to break his stare at the strange spirit/demon that seemed immune to all conventional methods of attack to crouch down to check Bobby's pulse. Silently, relieved when he felt a steady, healthy heartbeat, he turned to glare at Castiel.
"Your friend's alive."
"Who are you?" Dean demanded, wondering why the monster's voice was so slow and measured. It seemed he didn't have a lot of experience talking.
"Castiel."
"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?" Dean waited, anticipating the answer. Demon? Trickster? Supercharged spirit?
"I'm an Angel of the Lord." The man simply said.
"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."
"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Castiel said gently, tilting his head slightly.
Lightning flashed, casting on Castiel's back great shadowy wings, stretching off across the wall. They were gone when the lighting faded.
"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Dean said. And no way in Hell angels are real.
"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that." Castiel said sensibly.
"You mean at that gas station. That was you talking?"
Castiel nodded.
"Buddy, next time, lower the volume," Dean scoffed, still not believing what he was hearing. And that he was having an almost-civil conversation with a mystery thing.
"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."
"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"
"This? This is... a vessel." Castiel said, looking down to inspect his body with minimal interest.
"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean asked, glad he could know for sure where this spirit stood.
"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." Castiel told him. He actually seemed to care what Dean though of him, barely.
"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"
Castiel frowned. "I'm not selling aything,I told you."
Dean rubbed a hand against his cheek and laughed humorlessly. "Right. And why would an angel rescue me?"
"Good things do happen, Dean."
"Not in my experience." Dean said. Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?"
"Why'd you do it?" Dean demanded. This surprised Castiel, humans were meant to seek solace. This man didn't even seem to want to try.
"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."
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