Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Three

This isn't Baywatch...

Castiel wasn't sure what he was following. If he were pressed to explain it, he would have called it an 'energy signature.' It was the same sense that allowed him to easily identify the angels residing in their vessels. But this one was different, stranger than anything he'd ever come across before, and his memory reached back for many millennium. So many things were going on at once. He felt the near constant buzz of battle going on in the back of his mind. His fellow angels were a level of background noise that he devoted a part of his attention to. If he was needed, and called to battle, his investigation would be cut short, and he would be left woefully without answers.

He hated the uncertainty of not knowing.

Setting himself down at in an alleyway, he fixed his jacket unconsciously. Cass had become so comfortable in his vessel, due to the many crazy events of the past two years, that at times, if he didn't overthink himself, and he didn't open his mouth, he passed for a better human than some humans. Tonight felt like it could be one of those nights, where he simply could blend in with his surroundings. Stepping out of the alleyway, he emerged into the quiet business of the street.

The boardwalk, actually. The quiet whisper of the ocean tickled his ears, and for a moment, he allowed himself the simple pleasure of listening. Of all of Father's Creation, he loved the water. So mutable, so changeable, yet strong enough to carve through stone over time. With a shake, he brought himself away from the sound. He had to concentrate. The feeling was faint, really a nagging tickle at the back of his throat.

But once he focused on it, the sense became stronger. He'd first caught wind of it outside the church where Dean had called him yesterday. Now that he was here, where it was fresher, cleaner, he could begin to identify traits of it. It smelled of books, of old tomes, and the dark dusty recesses of libraries, but it felt like the vibrant life force of a forest in spring, frenetic with unfocused, untamed energy. Castiel rubbed his face, and stepped off of the boardwalk.

Even though the traffic streaked by, he calmly crossed the street to the beach without pause. He never worried that a car wouldn't stop fast enough, or that he couldn't simply step out of the way in time. A few angry motorists blew horns at him; a few gave him Dean's favorite one-fingered salute. But none of that phased or bothered him in the least. The source of the sense was across the street, by the ocean.

Stepping onto the sand, he felt the worth shift for a moment, the balance of power tipping just enough to herald the arrival of other angels. They too could follow the sense if he could. Scanning the darkening beach, he spotted his wayward brothers, advancing down the wet sand. He recognized them easily: Vel, Dracon, and Irel. All three of them where known associates of Raphael.

Dracon was far more like a bloodhound than either an angel or human. He scanned the beach steadily with the same intensity that Castiel was using. Then deliberately turning his fellows toward a pier that stuck out over the ocean, he began to move. Cass followed them on a parallel path through the softer sand. His dress shoes weren't helpful in moving quickly, but if he took flight, the other angels would surely notice him.

The darkness of night seemed to close in closer around him. A few other late beachgoers were abandoning their places in favor of getting out of the pressing darkness. That was Dracon again, drawing the darkness in around him. His was the sixth hour of night, the time just beyond the witching hour. Castiel hurried, letting the silvered blade of his station slide easily from his sleeve into his hand. If Dracon was beginning to mask their presence, their quarry was near.

He spotted her just as Raphael's loyalists did, sitting curled up beside a pier support post. She was huddled with her arms wrapped around her knees, unaware of the approach of the host of Heaven. Cass had no choice. It was time to take a chance. In a moment's thought, he had crossed the distance between them, and appeared at the girl's side. Beside her, the aura was nearly overwhelming. So close it was like getting a face full of acrid smoke, pungent with fear and confusion.

"Stay down," he ordered, expecting her to simply obey. He gave his complete attention to the attacking angels, concentrating first on Dracon. Three against one weren't entirely fair odds, but then again, Cass' garrison had been one of the best trained before the civil war.

Vel lunged first, opening with an easily avoided sweeping arc. Vel was a thinker, a philosopher, not a warrior. Before the other two could react, Castiel had spun within Vel's guard, and plunged his blade hard into the hollow where his neck met his shoulder. Vel stared, open-mouthed, as the brilliance of his Grace was extinguished, flashing brightly behind his eyes. Castiel barely registered the muffled scream from the girl; instead he took two steps back. Blocking Irel's strike with his own weapon, he reached out with his free hand to catch Dracon's sleeve, holding him back just long enough that the girl scrambled for the ocean.

She was splashing into the water as Dracon spun away from her, intent on bringing his weapon down into Castiel's head. Instead, Cass made himself small, dropping his upraised arm, hunching his shoulders forward and stepping backwards, beneath Dracon's strike. The bloodhound's strike continued unchecked, and plunged deep into Irel's chest.

Cass didn't stop moving; as he straightened, he twisted left to dispatch Dracon. But the angel had vanished, tucking tail and flying. Turning back and forth in the sand, Castiel looked around the girl, but she too had disappeared. The clean, salty smell of the ocean masked the aura he had once felt, leaving him only with a dead end trail, and two bodies.

Dean didn't know what to think anymore. On one hand, Kayla was a girl in need of a friend, or at least some damned answers. But on the other hand, he didn't know what she was. If she was a monster in disguise, or if she was a monster who never got to grow up like a normal monster, or if she was just an unfortunate child of circumstance. It wasn't the first time he'd driving with his head full of questions and no way to get any answers. Castiel was back to ignoring him. Or maybe he was too busy to answer at the moment. Or, maybe, worse yet, Cass didn't have any answers.

Sam was curled against the door, grabbing a catnap before they arrived at Myrtle Beach. It was only a few hours drive up the coast, especially with Lead-foot Larry driving. The whole situation reeked. Sam said the girl's mom spouted Enochian just before the light, and the doors unlocking. Everyone in the hospital was unconscious, but alive, unlike those who where trapped in the church. It wasn't like the girl's mom was an angel in disguise, even those had a bit of a presence that the brothers were just learning to identify.

Dean hit the steering wheel with his palm, then immediately apologized to his car, smoothing his hand over the offended spot. This was going to be a long day if they couldn't get a hold of Cass. Just knowing to look at the beach wasn't enough. He prayed they wouldn't be too late. Angels and demons both were after Kayla for some reason, but she was running away from the two humans who had the best chance of helping her out.

Dean was faced with the problem of getting her to listen to them. Stupid, confusing, big fat gray areas. He griped silently to himself as he turned the Impala onto Ocean Boulevard. He kept to the speed limit here, scanning the boardwalk for any sign of a cheap motel. Myrtle Beach had grown up considerably since his youth, and most of the hotels were multi-story high-rise complexes.

"Sammy." Dean reached over and gave his brother's shoulder a push. "Rise and shine, sleepy head. We're here."

Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He woke up with no grogginess, just suddenly alert to his surroundings. Looking around, Sam spotted the sunrise over the ocean and couldn't help but smile. The sky was painted with purple and pink hues, and knowing Dean, he hadn't stopped to notice it. But because Dean was busy looking at the businesses on the boardwalk, he'd also missed the gathering of early morning joggers as well.

"Dean." Sam grabbed at his brothers arm, and pointed at the circle. "What do you think it is?"

The Impala eased to a stop while Dean looked. For a moment, the group parted and he caught sight of yellow tape, uniformed officers, and a CSU jacket. "Drowned body? Could be anything?" He frowned, crossing his arms over the steering wheel and watching the gathering closely.

"Or it's angels."

"Dammit Cass!" Dean practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the angel's voice behind him. Cass had once again simply appeared in his backseat. Sam laughed nervously, instead of voicing his own surprise, but he waited for his heart rate to come back down before he made any attempt to talk.

"What do you mean 'it's angels'?" he finally manged to ask.

Castiel looked away, out the window, anywhere except at the brothers. "I stopped three of Raphael's followers from taking the girl last night."

"Great!" Dean twisted in his seat, finally able to find something to grin about. "Where's Kayla now?" Cass' brow wrinkled as he flicked his gaze back to Dean. "Crap, Cass, don't tell me you lost her again!"

"Not telling you won't make it any different," Cass stated. Abruptly, he raised his eyes to the sky, shifting his focus for a single split second. "I have to go."

Dean opened his mouth, in the span of time it took Castiel to vanish from the car once more. Shooting Sam a look, he tried to convey just how pissed off he was at the moment. Sam was great at understanding, and understating. Simply shrugging, he pushed his squeaky door open. After a moment of fuming, Dean followed suit, but not before grabbing a pistol from the glovebox.

"Let's at least join the rubberneckers..." Sam offered lamely. Together they made their way through the soft sand to the high tide markers, where everything was situated. They drew close the police line, but never stepped beyond it. Today they were just posing as regular people, instead of FBI agents. They moved around the outskirts of the circle, catching enough glimpses inside to see the blurred ash outline of wings spread out upon the sand.

Dean watched the police, across the circle as they interviewed a poor guy in runner's shorts who'd obviously been the first one to find the two vessels. Sam scanned the crowd, wondering how many of these people were on vacation, and how many of them simply worked or lived on the beach. Sam was nearly getting ready to give up on the crowd of people when he spotted a familiar face among them.

Kayla's eyes were vibrant green. Framed by long dark lashes, they widened in recognition as his gaze locked down upon hers. She was wise though, she didn't break and run like many spooked animals would. She began to back away from the circle, and eased away from the crowd while Sam groped blindly for his brother's arm.

Dean immediately saw what Sammy did, as Kayla turned away from them and began to walk back toward the street and boardwalk. Nodding, the brothers agreed that they'd be following her. Just as seamlessly as they had joined the crowd, they stepped away and began to tail after Kayla.

"I thought Cass said he lost her," Dean observed as they watched her cross the street.

"She seems to be pretty good at ditching." Sam countered. Pointing across the street, he watched her duck into an alley. "I wonder why she just doesn't pull that disappearing act."

Dean hurried, breaking into a half-jog, while Sam just lengthened his stride to keep up. Before ducking into the alleyway, Dean hiked up the back of his jacket, and freed the small Beretta from his waistband. Sam figured that was unnecessary, but he wouldn't grudge his brother the illusion of safety. As they stepped into the alley, Dean took lead, holding the pistol ready, but pointed at the ground before him.

Sam checked around the back of a dumpster. Shaking his head, they kept creeping forward. There wasn't much cover in the alley, nor was there an exit. None of the doors had handles on the outside, so they both figured it was only a matter of time before they caught her. A few more steps, and she was like a quail burst from cover.

Sam shouted her name as Kayla stumbled. She shot a look back at them, frantic and terrified, before she tried a last ditch effort to escape. Jumping from where she was standing, her fingertips barely grazed the bottom of the fire escape ladder. She hit the ground hard and unsteadily. Dean stowed the gun while Sam rushed forward to stop her second attempt. Getting his arms wrapped around her, he kept her from jumping up a second time, but she struggled, kicking at his legs, trying to stomp on his feet.

"Kayla, we're here to help you!" Sam kept his face clear of her head, worried that she might try smash his nose. "You've got to trust us!"

Dean came up in front of her, and she used Sam's arms to support her body as she lashed out at Dean with her sneakers. He easily batted her legs away, and shook his head.

"It's over, kiddo." Something sad in his voice made her pause for a moment. She seemed to be looking right through him, with that vibrant, neon stare. "You can stop running now."

What did he expect? Certain not what happened. Instead of ranting at him, struggling more, or even swearing in his face, she coughed once, shuddered violently, and fell completely limp in Sam's grip.

The motel decor was all flowers. The sheets had lilies, the curtains were roses, even a vase painted with irises held a bunch of peonies. Dean thought he was going to throw up from the amount of cute and pretty held in this place. But it was cheap, and it wasn't Myrtle Beach, and it was, temporarily, a place for them to gather their wits and figure out what to do next.

Sam lay Kayla out on the bed, and then began to work to get her at least under the covers. She was shivering. Salt dried into her hair had flaked off and left a sparkling sheen across Sam's jacket. Best they could figure, she'd taken an unwarranted dip into the freezing Atlantic. Hypothermia had probably messed with her head enough that she couldn't pop out like before.

All they had to do was figure out how to keep her around when she did wake up. Dean had already retreated into the bathroom to wash his face, leaving Sam to take care of the girl. He never wanted to see that expression of terror on any nineteen-year old girl's face, ever again. It was almost like she thought they were the monsters. He took the time to arrange her dark hair in a fan on the pillow, doing his best to untangle the worst of it with his fingers.

As Dean came back into the main room, Sam folded his hands into his lap. "So what now?" He kept his voice barely a whisper, worried that any extra noise would wake her up.

"Now we call Cass. Let him know we have her." Dean nodded slightly. "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh, the grin he'd been unsuccessfully keeping hidden breaking out. Typical Cass. And even more like Castiel, he didn't speak as he swept past Dean and came to stand at the bedside. Sam squashed the urge to get up and move away, knowing that was just Cass' intensity. Focusing hard, Cass seemingly ignored the both of them in favor of the mystery girl in the bed. Glancing up at Sam, Cass seemed to ask permission silently.

That's when Sam got up, and headed over to stand beside Dean. With both of them watching, Cass rested the first two fingers of his right hand against Kayla's forehead, and closed his eyes. Sam shifted his weight as the tension in the room skyrocketed. Finally, Cass turned back to them completely, letting his hands hang limp at his sides.

"She should sleep until tomorrow night." He explained. "We need to move her. Somewhere safe. Somewhere Raphael's agents can't find her."

Dean grumbled. "And where exactly would that be? Angels find her at college, then at a friggin' beach. Demons found her at a church hospital. Oh, and speaking of demons, just why are they after her?"

"She's not a cambion," Sam rationalized. "No reality warping; no mega-powers. She just pops around."

"Translocation." Castiel supplied. "It's called translocation. I have to consult with some others. It's the only way I'm going to get answers. Take her somewhere safe."

And with that, he was gone once more. Dean swore under his breath and look at Sam with a heavy sigh.

Sam's brow wrinkled in distress. Cass was certainly driving them further and further up the wall of sanity with his disappearing act. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What's that, Brain? We shoulda taken over the world already." Dean rolled his eyes, and flopped down into a chair.

"Bobby's, Dean. We need to take her to Bobby's."