The bodies looked worse in person than they did in the pictures. Sam scrunched up his nose in disgust as a foul odor wafted from the corpses toward him. The smell of rot mixed with something... different. Not sulfur, which would suggest the work of demons, but rather something so potent it made Sam's eyes water.
"Burnt flesh," Dean said by way of explanation, sensing his brother's discomfort.
"I don't see any burn marks, though," Sam replied with a frown. "Just this black... goo."
The two bodies were laying a short distance apart in the middle of an alleyway. One was female and the other male. Both of them had a thick onyx-colored substance oozing out of their eyes and mouths, as well as noses and ears. Their entire faces were leaking with the mysterious goop.
"Leviathan?" Sam ventured a guess. "They left black goo behind."
"They wouldn't kill people like this, though. They'd just eat them," Dean pointed out.
"True. But what else could've done this?"
"I'm not sure, Sammy. I checked the clothing but didn't find any hex bags, so it's not the work of a witch. Maybe it's something we haven't seen before."
That thought made Sam a bit nervous. How many new monsters did he and Dean not know about?
"Okay... We should probably wait 'til these get transported to the morgue and check in to see what the autopsy report says," Sam suggested.
"That might take a few days. In the meantime, shouldn't we deal with Rowena?"
"Probably, yeah. Actually, how about I go down to Hell to talk to her and you stay here to work on the case. That way we'll hit two birds with one stone."
Dean did not look too excited about Sam's proposition. "You really think it's a good idea for us to split up on this? Hell isn't exactly a friendly place, Sam."
"I know that. But Rowena's on our side, remember? With her protection it'll be safe enough down there."
Dean didn't seem convinced, but he didn't argue the point any further. Instead, all he said was, "Cell reception is crap in Hell, so if things go sideways down there I probably won't be able to help."
Sam shrugged, "I'll be fine, Dean. This is a milk run for us. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."
After speaking with a few police officers working on the mysterious deaths, Dean came to the conclusion that no one knew anything. Apparently the bodies were found the previous night, but no witnesses were present to determine exactly what happened. The approximate time of death was just after dusk, about three hours before a store owner found the corpses while taking trash out to the dumpster behind his shop.
"So... no one saw anything?" Dean asked again. "No one heard anything unusual?"
The police officer shook his head. "I'm afraid not. You can speak with Mr. Wilson if you'd like, but he said he didn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary last night."
"Until he found the bodies, you mean," Dean corrected, a little annoyance creeping into his tone.
"Yeah."
"Do you know who the vics were?" Dean asked. "Got an ID on 'em yet?"
"Well, we found the woman's purse farther down the alleyway and it looks like her name was Laura Burns. Presumably this was her husband, Charles."
"What makes you think that?"
"Small town; they were pillars of the community, I guess you could say. Gave a lot of money to help build the new library and rec center," the police officer explained.
"Is there any reason anyone would want either of them dead?"
"I mean... maybe? I didn't know them on a personal level. There didn't seem to be any beef between them and anyone else in the community, though. At least not publicly."
Dean let out a sigh. "Okay. If you think of anything else, let me know. I'll be checking in with the morgue once an autopsy's been done."
On the way back to the motel Dean stopped to grab some dinner at a little BBQ shack. He chowed down on a pulled pork sandwich and quenched his thirst with a large iced tea. For dessert he stopped at an ice cream bar and got three scoops of chocolate. By the time he arrived back in his room he nearly collapsed on his bed, food coma having been induced.
About two hours into his slumber, Dean woke up suddenly to the sound of scratching. At first he thought it might be rats or bugs, but as he got up from bed and walked around the room and eventually outside, the noise persisted. Was he imagining it? Was he still dreaming?
"Dean..." a distorted whisper floated through the otherwise silent night air. "Help... me..."
Dean frantically looked around the mostly empty parking lot but didn't see anyone or anything. Quickly, the eldest Winchester ran back inside to grab his EMF reader. Scanning the space around him, he didn't detect any spirits.
"Help me, Dean," the voice whispered again. "Please... I need your help."
"Who are you? What do you want?" Dean demanded, eyes flicking around the motel room.
"I'm stuck," the voice said. "I... I'm trapped. You have to help me."
"Who are you?" Dean asked again, less aggressive.
"Don't you recognize my voice, Dean? It's me—"
the voice suddenly cut off, a loud static filling Dean's ears instead.
"What the hell!" he shouted, falling to the ground from the onslaught of noise.
It took a moment too long for Dean to realize he wasn't hearing static, but rather a different language. Enochian, the language of angels. It was impossible for most humans to comprehend, coming across as loud blasts of noise rather than actual words.
"Cas!" he said hopefully. "Is it you?! Where are you trapped? What's going on?"
But the noise had already receded, leaving Dean alone in the motel room once more. He thought about calling Sam but figured that his brother was probably already in Hell by now. Come to think of it, why wasn't he back yet?
Dean decided to call Sam anyway and leave him a message. If Cas really had somehow managed to come back from the Empty, even if he was trapped somewhere else now, that would change... a lot of things. It would force Dean to think about things he never thought he'd have to.
But he wanted Cas back, right? He was Dean's best friend after all. His best friend who'd apparently always wanted to be something more.
With these particular thoughts roaming rampart through Dean's mind, he didn't get much more sleep that night. Around eight the next morning he got a phone call.
"Hello?" he said gruffly into the device.
"I just got your message," Sam answered from the other end of the line. "I'm on my way back to the motel right now."
"What did Rowena want?"
"Same thing as Death, apparently. Whatever's in that box must be pretty important."
"Huh," Dean said, sitting up in bed and running a hand down his face. "So both of them want the same thing. Who do we give it to?"
"Not sure. Maybe we should wait to decide that when we actually have the box and its contents in our possession," Sam suggested.
"Maybe," Dean agreed.
Sam hung up and Dean took the opportunity of having some extra alone time to soak up the hot water of the motel room's shower. As he was getting dressed, another blast of Enochian abruptly knocked him off his feet.
"Cas?" Dean said through clenched teeth. "Can you talk to me in English, please? You're gonna blow my eardrums out!"
"I... am... sorry," Cas's distorted voice cut through the piercing noise. "Something is... not right. I... I do not know where I am. I was asleep and then suddenly... I wasn't. Please, Dean. Please help me. I hear so many voices..." Cas trailed off and the room fell silent again.
Dead angels, Dean guessed. Cas was probably hearing other dead angels awoken in the Empty. But what woke them all up? Jack, maybe?
"I wanna help you," Dean said sincerely, not knowing if Cas could still hear him. "I don't know how, though. Can you tell me anything about where you are?"
"Stuck... in between... dimensions..." Cas's voice warbled through the air. "I can see you... but everything looks... hazy. I've been trying to... talk to you... for a few days now."
Well, that would explain the strange whispers Dean had heard two nights ago.
"Okay. When Sam and I get back to the bunker we'll try to find a spell to get you unstuck," Dean replied, searching the empty motel room for Cas but of course not being able to see him.
"No. I can't... stay here... much longer. It... hurts," Cas's voice cut in and out. "Need help... now."
Dean frowned, "Okay. Um, well Sam and I were kind of busy working on something, but yeah. Of course. It'll take us two days to drive back to the bunker, though."
"Can't wait... that long. It hurts... so badly."
Cas sounded like he was in anguish and Dean felt like shit for not being able to help. He wanted to promise the angel that things would be okay, that he could count on the Winchester brothers to save him, but truthfully Dean didn't know if they could.
"Okay. That's okay," Dean said, trying to sound more calm than he currently felt. "We'll figure something out. We always do, right? You'll be okay, Cas. We'll get you back."
"Hurry..." the angel whispered.
Dean didn't quite know how, but he felt when Cas's presence receded from the room. How much longer would the angel be able to hold on for? Could Dean even help him?
These worries were cut short when Sam opened the door. The younger Winchester brother took one look at Dean and seemingly knew something was wrong.
"Cas?" Sam guessed aloud.
Dean nodded, not quite able to get any words out just yet.
"Where is he? What happened?"
"He said he's trapped in between dimensions. Between here and the Empty, I guess. He said..." Dean trailed off for a moment and looked away from his brother. "He was in pain, Sam. A lot of pain. We have to help him."
"Yeah, of course. Cas is family. How do we get him back?"
"Well I told him that we'd go back to the bunker to look for a spell, but he said he didn't have that much time left," Dean explained, trying to not let his worry seep too much into his expression.
"Okay, what's plan B, then?" Sam prompted.
Dean shrugged helplessly. "I don't have one, Sammy. Without a spell..." he trailed off and shook his head.
"Well how much time do we have?"
"Maybe a day? Cas didn't exactly specify."
"Hmm. A while back I took pictures from some of the lore books in the bunker. For easy use on the go, y'know? Anyways, maybe there's something in one of them about inter-dimensional travel."
"All right," Dean said. "You start researching here and I'll go into town and see if I can find any witches who might be able to help."
"How do you know if any witches even live around here?" Sam asked, perplexed.
"I don't," Dean admitted. "But I have to do something, Sam. I won't just sit around and waste time while Cas is in trouble."
Sam nodded understandingly. "Just call if you need me; I'll be here."
Dean grabbed his jacket and his phone before heading out the door. Before driving out of the motel's parking lot, he decided to grab his favorite gun from the trunk as well as some witch-killing bullets, just in case.
Cas was in danger and he might die—again—if Dean and Sam couldn't rescue him. Dean had dealt with impossible scenarios more than once in his life, but this time felt different. He'd already lost Cas so many times; he wouldn't lose his friend again. Especially not when he was so close to getting the angel back.
