**AN: I forgot to mention when I posted this a few hours ago!** The standalone story Periphery was originally a chapter in this story. It would have come after this chapter, but I won't include it now. You won't miss any crucial story/plot developments if you don't read it, but if you'd like to read it, it would have come after this chapter. I haven't read it in a long time, but I think it still sort of fits. Thank you!
AN: Thank you Kathy, LLBRUCAS and BloodForInk!
"Find me a hunt."
Ash blinked; not sure he'd heard Dean correctly.
"What?" he asked after a beat. Given their current 'all hands-on deck', find Kyle, 'save the seals' DefCon situation, hunts were (or should have been) a low priority.
"Did I stutter?" Dean sniped. "Find. Me. A hunt." he repeated, slowly enunciating each word, then elaborated. "Or a handful of them, that'd be even better. I don't care what. There's gotta be something out there needs putting down, there always is. I need to kill something. Just... Find me something. Preferably lots of somethings."
"Okay. Yeh, that's healthy. Not at all what a psychopath would say." Ash swivelled back around in his chair and began typing ferociously on one of his many keyboards, mumbling to himself as he did so. "Oh hey Ash, I need a favour, though I know you must be busy. What me? Busy? Nah man! I'm just sitting here playing solitaire, I got nothing better to do, go ahead bark your orders at me, I don't mind, I'm not in the middle of something, that's fine."
He typed a length of code into a command line window, running what he'd named the Dean-Rampage-Protocol because, surprise surprise, this wasn't the first time Dean had needed to blow off some steam.
"How far you wanna drive?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Five hours," Dean replied. "Six tops." While he was willing to be away for about a week, perhaps a few days more even, he knew he couldn't stray too far from the Roadhouse in that time. He needed to be within a few hours' drive back, just in case. Hopefully Ash could find him at least a couple of hunts within that distance to keep him occupied.
After a moment or two more of typing, Ash pulled up a map covering a 500-mile radius with the Roadhouse at the centre. Several markers were scattered across the terrain and as he hovered his cursor over the first, the details popped up on screen.
"All right, if you put your pedal to the metal, you got a suspected haunting in, wait for it… Casper."
"Seriously?" Dean quirked an eyebrow, the thought amusing him, as Ash had known it would, but then Dean shook his head. "I said kill, not salt and burn."
"Really? You're passing that up?"
"Wyoming. Too far. Next?"
"Well, all right, but don't say I didn't tell ya… OK, got a possible ghoul up near Crow Creek."
"Pass. What else?"
"Witch in Ravenna."
"Urgh, witches, hell no."
"Werewolf in–"
"What's that one?" Dean interrupted, peering over Ash's shoulder and tapping the monitor to indicate a marker on the outskirts of a small town just a little over 250 miles from the centre of the map.
"That's already taken. And don't touch the screens."
"I didn't ask if it was taken," Dean retorted, ignoring him. "I asked what it was."
"It's a vamp nest. An uber-nest. Like if a nest were a small town. But like I said, someone's already on it."
"Are they there? Like right now, are they there?"
Ash hesitated. "Well… No. But–."
"Great. Then tell 'em not to bother, I got it. And I'll take the werewolf and whatever that one is too." He tapped the screen again to indicate another location, all of which created a loop ending at the vampire hunt.
"But… there's two pairs of hunters already looking into the vamp nest." Ash argued. "Maybe three. And fingers off the screens man!"
"So tell 'em to take the Casper gig instead. It's a gift. Or divvy up the ghoul and the witch, I don't care. I'm taking the vamp nest and the other two."
Ash didn't bother trying to argue any further with Dean, he knew it would be futile. Had it been anyone else, he would have pointed out that going in solo was tantamount to suicide. But it was Dean, and Ash knew enough about Dean's hunting prowess for that to not be a major concern. So he simply printed out the details, redirected the other hunters (two of whom took offence, and two of whom sounded relieved) before getting back to what he'd been working on before being side-tracked; coding a new program that he was sure could pinpoint both Lilith and the final Seal.
-oOo-
Cas felt unsettled as he entered Heaven's sanctuary, though he couldn't define why. He didn't have time to dissect his feelings however, as Uriel found him almost as soon as he arrived in the iridescent hallways.
"Walk with me brother," Uriel intoned by way of greeting, motioning them down the hallway. "I take it you have convened with the Fates?"
"Yes," Cas confirmed, falling into step beside him. "Though I do not have a great deal to report. Nothing of great import at least."
He succinctly relayed the essentials, though withholding his suspicions about the possible existence of a Nephilim. Uriel was fiercely righteous, known to exact their father's retribution with unwavering ferocity; he would not hesitate to cleanse an entire nation on the slightest suspicion of a Nephilim. He had done so in the past and had taken great satisfaction in doing so. Cas had nothing more than suspicions, and he felt suddenly ill-at-ease revealing these to Uriel without proof. So, he censored his thoughts in his retelling, and again wavered when it came to mentioning Sam and Dean's mother. Much like Dean, Uriel instantly picked up on the hesitation, though unlike the brothers, Uriel appeared far less concerned with the sparsity of details when Cas revealed what the Fates has said.
"It appears the only point of note is the lack of concern shown by the Fates," Uriel commented. "That is heartening at least."
"How so?" Cas queried.
"If the change is not worth remedying, then it cannot be something that will impact the outcome. Certainly not our outcome. Clearly, it is unlikely that any change which has occurred, has been the result of some demonic miscarriage."
"Then you are not concerned?"
"What is there to be concerned about? If the Fates are content to leave things be, who are we to intervene. Did they not indicate as much to you?"
"Yes," Cas conceded reluctantly. "So, you do not feel Sam and Dean's mother, the mention of what happened the night she died, you do not feel it holds any relevance?"
"Insignificant," Uriel sneered at their mention. "If the Fates chose to speak of it, you reported yourself that it was only to confirm they would not speak of it further."
"Then why mention it?"
"To highlight the futility of questioning events that cannot be changed."
"But what if that is what has been changed? What if Mary should not have died that night? What if she had survived somehow?"
"And what if she had? What if she had never entered the nursery? Or if their father had gotten to her sooner, instead of sitting asleep in front of his picture box? Can you see any difference to Dean being Michael's vessel?"
"No," Cas responded, considering Uriel's words carefully, unsure as to why he felt so unsettled. "But what if it is not Dean that it concerns?"
"Then I would ask you again, what concern is it of ours?"
"The outcome–"
"The only outcome of worth from any change on that night would be that the demon would have had Sam Winchester, another pet to infect. And that he did not is in our favour," Uriel paused to sneer again. "Given how much Dean seems to value his brother. It would surely have distracted him. Ha! Perhaps we should celebrate whatever has altered history if that is what has been prevented."
"For once you and Dean seem to be in agreement," Cas remarked, and Uriel turned to him sharply.
"You discussed this with him before reporting to Heaven?"
"It concerned their family."
"It concerned Michael's vessel," Uriel glared at him askance. "And Michael is you family. We are your family. Are you sure you understand where your loyalties lie brother?"
"I know full well." Cas growled. "Or do you wish to question me as you did Turiel?"
"Ah, Turiel," Uriel smiled. "He is on his path to redemption, though his progress is slow. It seems his isolation clears his path and his mind."
"I still wish to understand why he and Tamiel abandoned their posts."
"What you wish is irrelevant. What is required is that you prepare for the inevitable."
"The last Seal?"
"It seems we cannot prevent it from breaking. We do not even know what it is, but… the end is fast approaching. Did the Fates not say as much to you?"
"Yes," Cas conceded again, reluctantly.
"Then we need not pursue it any further. And since you feel so obligated to spend your time with the Winchesters," he opened a door that seemed to be an exit from the Hallways, an air of conclusion in his voice as he indicated that their conversation was over. "Perhaps it is best that you be with Dean as the inevitable approaches. To ensure that he does not deviate from his purpose."
Uriel clearly felt that the discussion was at an end, and he didn't wait for any disagreement as he turned and left. Stood alone however, Castiel stalled, staring out towards the edges of Heaven. It was true, he should be with Dean, he should help Dean not only to get his nephew back, but as Heaven wanted, he should help Dean to refocus and prepare. He could sense that Dean had doubts and as an agent of Heaven, a messenger of God, it was Cas' duty to guide Dean towards the right path. But Cas felt uneasy. Partly because the doubts Dean felt about the acceptance of inevitability, whether Dean openly shared them or whether Cas only spied them when he peered into the hunter's mind, into his thoughts and dreams, were doubts and concerns which mirrored Cas' own. Perhaps he had been spending too much time with the human and had become influenced by the hunter. Or perhaps Dean was only thinking what others in Heaven were too meek to articulate. Either way, Heaven seemed content to accept that the war was inevitable, seemed content to leave things alone, to ignore all other concerns. And for once, Heaven and Dean were in agreement, certainly when it came to whatever had altered time. The Fates had told Cas to not interfere. But if it was indeed the work of a Nephilim, surely that was his business to know. And his discussions so far had given him far too much to think about.
His eyes drifted to the farthest reaches of Heaven, and he felt the weak presence of Turiel. Cas still couldn't believe how wrong he had been, that a traitor could have existed so close to him for so long. And yet….
A traitor may well know of a Nephilim. A traitor may yet expose other traitors still hidden. And after all, the Fates had told him that he could have the answers he sought if he sought the answers out.
As he made his way towards Turiels isolation, he thought back to everything he knew, everything he had discussed, and he suddenly realised exactly what it was he needed to confirm.
-oOo-
Dean was pleased with the prospect of about a week, maybe a week and a half's worth of hunting. He was also sure he'd been discreet regarding his exchange with Ash, just as he was sure he'd been fairly stealthy in gathering the printouts and being ready to leave. But somehow he hadn't been elusive or quick enough to evade his brother's scrutiny because when he headed for the door hoping for a hasty and unnoticed exit, Sam was already there waiting for him, duffle in hand.
"I'm coming with." Sam informed him.
"You don't even know where I'm going." Dean countered, annoyance snipping in his tone.
"I'm betting you're headed out on a hunt. You've got that look about you."
"What look?! There's no look!"
"There's a look."
"I haven't got a look!"
"That look. Like you're jones-ing for blood. I've seen it in you before. We grew up together remember." It was true. He'd seen Dean itching for a fight before, mostly when Dean had been a teenager and eager to prove something to their father, or to himself, or both. Except, Sam thought, he never looked so desperate back then. Or so dangerous.
"You got no idea what you're talking about." Dean scoffed, attempting to brush past Sam despite the younger Winchester's frame almost entirely blocking the door.
In a quick, smooth movement that took Dean by surprise, Sam managed to steal the file from him, flicking it open to reveal the incriminating contents.
"So these aren't details of a hunt? Let's see… Werewolf… Rawhead… Vamp nest? Nice. Which one are you doing? Let me guess, vamp nest?"
"So what if I am?" Dean snapped, snatching the file back indignantly.
"So nothing. Let's go."
"You're not going."
"Yes. I am. Especially if you're doing a nest; you're gonna need back up."
"I'm really not," Dean snorted, genuinely amused at the notion. "But even if I did, it wouldn't be from you."
The instant he said it, he seemed rebuked by his own flippancy. His voice lost some of its gruffness as he spoke again, his features reflecting his regret. "Sam I didn't mean… Look, I just… I need to get out of here man. I'm going stir crazy just sitting around. I need to do something. And I can handle this on my own, I don't need back-up."
"It's a nest." Sam repeated, sceptically.
"And I can handle it. But even if I couldn't, you haven't been on a hunt in years, you're not... It's what you wanted remember? You wanted out. So you're out. But that means you're not a hunter anymore."
"Which is why I need to go with you."
"Which is why you shouldn't at all. You don't do this now. It's not your life, not anymore."
"Look at where I am Dean. Look at what's happened to Jess. Deanna drew a picture of a demon and Kyle's been kidnapped by their Queen for god's sake. This is my life again whether I like it or not. And until I get Kyle back, it's gonna keep on being my life. So I need to get back into it. So I'm going with."
Dean sighed, knowing from too much experience that the stubborn edge in Sam's voice meant he was immovable in his argument.
"So then go talk to Ash," Dean countered, trying one last time to deter his brother from joining him. "I think there's a salt and burn no one's looking at. Coz these ones? They ain't no milk runs Sammy. And no offence but you're out of practice and I'm in no mood to babysit."
"I'm not asking you to babysit. And I know I'm out of practice, which is precisely why I need to do this. But even out of practice," he gave Dean a defiant look. "I've still got more experience now than when I was 13."
He was referring to his first ever vampire hunt, when John had decided he was old enough to help take out a vamp. The first time he'd ever come face to face with one. Except John had got it wrong; it hadn't been just the one, it had been a whole nest. They hadn't known that going in, but they found out when they followed it into a building. Or more accurately, they found out when Sam made the mistake of breaking formation, then not checking his six as he veered off to investigate a room by himself. He'd then been so shocked when the family of bloodsuckers charged him that he'd missed his marks when he let off the first round.
Dean knew he couldn't argue with Sam on that. He remembered that hunt just as clearly as he knew Sam did. In fact, he remembered it more clearly than his own first vamp hunt. He remembered being sick to his stomach with fear when he realised Sam had left his side without warning, because he knew Sam wasn't ready for just how quickly things could go south on a hunt. He remembered his heartbeat accelerating the instant he heard the shots go off, then remembered it stop entirely in the absence of shots afterwards, which had somehow been much, much worse. He remembered screaming Sam's name as he ran through the house. And he remembered it was one of the first times he'd almost thrown a punch at John, after it was all over and done with, because Dean had been so damned angry and petrified at the danger he thought John had put Sam in. Even the memory of it now made him feel slightly light headed, slightly sick. But he had to admit, after that initial baptism of fire, Sam had never, ever made those mistakes on any other hunt ever again. He'd never again broken formation. He always hit his marks. And he always, always, checked his six. So Sam was right, he wasn't completely green.
"Fine." Dean relented. "But the second I say you're done; you're done, you hear me? I tell you to get out, you turn tail and you haul ass. You don't argue, you don't wait, and you don't look back. We clear?"
A younger Sam would have perhaps given a petulant response. But this Sam simply gave a nod.
"Good," Dean said. "We're starting with the werewolf."
"Starting with?" Sam queried, then just nodded. "Fine."
"You can give me the skinny along the way," Dean groused, pushing past Sam to get at the door, shoving the file in Sam's chest as he went. "No point us both going through the research. You always preferred that part anyway."
tbc
Thank you for reading - sorry for the delays. I haven't given up, it's just not being easy. Be safe and well out there.
AN: The standalone story Periphery can be read as a next chapter at this point, however it's not necessary/you won't miss out by not reading it.
