Booth was leaning against the rail on the platform, watching Brennan try to hurry Cam through her work. She was eager to get the bones cleaned off so she could do her part. From Booth's point of view Cam was doing a good job of ignoring her. Hodgins cleared his throat and Booth looked over to him, he pointed to the doorway with his chin. Booth turned to see a young man and a teenage boy standing there.
The man leant down and mumbled something in the boy's ear. He wandered off to have a look at a display case. The man approached slowly, stopping at the steps leading up to the platform. "That's my friend on that table." The young man said by way of greeting, tilting his head to the body Cam had just cut into. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Cam pulled her scalpel back and put it down, upset that she had just cut into him in front of the young man.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the boy was out of hearing range. "Bobby and our Dad went out three weeks ago. I've been calling hospitals and police, scouring papers and obits since then, trying to find them."
Booth swiped his security card and indicated he wanted the young man to come onto the platform. "You can identify this man for me?"
The young man nodded. Picking up a pair of gloves he looked to Cam for permission. She gave permission and was shocked to find how easily the young man dealt with the dead body of his friend. He looked behind his left ear, felt the little toe on his right foot and checked the back of his neck. Finally he stepped back and nodded. "Bobby Singer, aged forty-five, widowed. No permanent address. If they left him where they killed him there'll be an F-Truck somewhere."
Booth nodded. "We found the truck. They haven't checked it for evidence yet." He glanced at the teenager who was engrossed in reading plaques around the room.
The man shook his head. "You won't find anything in his truck. Bobby only lets friends in his truck." He turned to keep an eye on the boy. "Sammy?" the boy turned to face him. "You might wanna ring Ellen; she's the best one to tell."
Pain flashed across the boy's features before he managed to wrestle it back under some semblance of control. He nodded curtly and pulled a mobile phone from his back pocket. The young man picked Cam's scalpel up and handed it to her.
Booth watched the younger brother trying to hold back tears. "Ellen? It's Sam. Dean found Bobby. No, FBI's going over his body trying to find evidence." Sam paused while the person on the other end of the line spoke. He let out a sad laugh. "No, don't know about Dad. We'll let you know when we do…"
Sam glanced up at his older brother who indicated he wanted to speak with Ellen. "Dean wants to have a word, Ellen." And he tossed the phone across the room to his brother.
"Ellen, I need you to keep an ear out for me…no, just let me know if you hear anything about Dad. No, I'll take care of Sammy." He paused, listening. Anger rushed into his eyes and he gritted his teeth. "Ellen, I've been taking care of the kid his whole life. I know what I'm doing."
He closed the phone and tossed it back to his brother. He was staring intently at Bobby's face when a frown crept across his face. He leaned a little closer and made a noise in the back of his throat. Cam looked up from where she had started working again, thinking she had upset him.
He pointed to a spot of pasty substance on Bobby's mouth. "Might want to collect some of that. Pretty sure it's sulphur though…"
"How do you know it's sulphur?" Hodgins asked, approaching with a swab to collect some of the substance, this was his area of work.
Dean shrugged. "Looks like it, smells like it." He glanced over his shoulder at his little brother again. He turned to Booth. "Got an office where he can do his homework? Kid doesn't need to hear all of this…"
Brennan stepped forward and felt Dean's attention shift to her. "He can use my office if he likes. There's a computer in there if he needs it…" she pointed to her office door and watched Dean leave the platform.
He collected Sam and walked him to the office, his hand on the kid's shoulder. He made sure he was all set up, checking he had everything he needed in his backpack. Before he left the room he ruffled around in his duffle bag and handed him a bag of M & M's. Dean was almost out of the room when Sam turned and asked him something.
The boy was obviously afraid of something. Dean walked back over to him, placing his hand on his shoulder. He looked into his eyes for a long time and finally spoke. The boy nodded and Dean left, closing the door behind him. Booth couldn't believe how well Dean handled the fears he had seen, while managing to hide his own.
He waited for Booth to swipe his security card again before entering the platform. Leaning against the railing, watching Cam work, he seemed relaxed. But Booth could see his gaze sweeping the area every now and then. Checking for danger, checking his brother. This young man was not ordinary. He was acting like some of the war veterans Booth knew. Like Booth himself had acted during and after the war. This young man had been through something huge, but there was still a fight for him to finish.
"So," Hodgins began, approaching Dean. "How'd you get stuck on little brother duty?" he leant against the railing next to the young man.
Dean shrugged. "Carried him out of a burning house when I was four. He's been my responsibility ever since, I guess." His gaze flickered back over to Sam, who was reading a text book. "Poor kid, doesn't need this right now…" he shook his head and turned his head to Booth. "You didn't happen to find a home made sawn off shotgun with the initials J.W…did you?"
Booth nodded and watched as Dean digested this information. He didn't show any emotions that Booth could find. He had to admit, he was impressed by this young man. He was very obviously a skilled warrior.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "How about a leather journal? That's the only thing I can think of that'll give me any kind of answers…"
Booth swallowed. He didn't know what answers Dean was going to get from this but he really didn't like the idea of telling him the answer. "We found a leather journal about six feet from this man's body."
Dean nodded, still hiding all of his emotions and thoughts from everyone around him. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. Glancing at the number recognition as he brought the phone up to his ear. "Caleb, I haven't got any news on Dad yet. I found Bobby's body though." He stopped to listen. "No, FBI's going over it at the moment. Found sulphur…" he listened again and his eyes grew dark. "Damn it, Caleb, don't you think I told him not to go? I told him he'd need more than him and Bobby. Asked him to organize somewhere for Sammy to stay and take me along. But no, the old man had everything under control."
He listened, frowning, for a minute or so. His anger was becoming obvious now. "It's not my bloody fault, Caleb. Me and Sam only ever argue with him when we're certain of something. You'd think he'd listen to us, we've been doing it all of our lives…No, I don't need this from you. When I find Dad, and I will, you can sit with him and bitch together about how it's all my fault." He snapped the phone shut, swearing.
He looked up to find everyone staring at him. "Oh, shit." He looked over to his brother. Bringing two fingers to his mouth he let out a loud whistle. Sam spun away from the desk and came running to his brother.
"What is it, Dean? You okay?" the teenager asked, waiting for Booth to swipe the security card. He rushed to his brother, standing just in front of him. He could see the anger in his eyes.
"Just got a call from Caleb. Apparently it's my fault Bobby's dead and Dad's missing." He forced a grin onto his face. "Anyway, if we're going to find Dad we're going to need Booth's help. We need to tell him about everything we do…"
Sam opened his mouth to protest when he saw the resigned look in his brother's eyes. He didn't want to tell these people about what they did, but he needed them to know. He nodded slowly and turned to the people watching them.
He smiled awkwardly. "Dean's not exactly good at communicating with people so…yeah." He glanced over at his brother.
Dean frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Any more of your team hiding somewhere other than here, Agent Booth? We don't want to go over this twice…"
Booth nodded and picked up a phone from the desk. "Angela? I need you to come up to the platform please." They waited a moment and then Angela was walking onto the platform. Booth saw Dean's eyes run over her. He seemed to be checking the young woman out, and he probably was, but he was also hiding the fact that he was checking for danger.
"Okay, I need you all to keep an open mind…if you have any doubts we can prove anything we say." Sam started, everyone nodded. "We hunt evil supernatural things. Demons, spirits, heaps of things."
Everyone stared at them both for a moment. Booth could see the very serious look on Dean's face and the resigned look on Sam's.
Brennan let out a laugh before pulling it back in. She had thought they were joking but the look in their eyes… "You're being serious… You really think –"
"We know these things are real." Dean cut her off. He walked over to his friend's body. "The sulfur? It's a sign of demonic possession. It'd have to be one mean son of a bitch though cos Bobby's got protection against demon possession."
"I'm sorry but you're not mentally stable…" Brennan started again only to be ignored by Dean.
"I'm getting sick of this. Every time we gotta tell someone new we have to go through this shit." He glared at Brennan. "Demons, ghosts, wendigo, vampires, werewolves – they're all real. At the moment, we're hunting a demon."
Hodgins stepped forward. "Hey, man, I believe you but how the hell are you going to prove that?" he saw Dean wince. "Did I say something? Oh, you guys probably believe in hell, huh?" he smiled apologetically, thinking he had offended Dean as he often did Booth.
Dean winced again and Sam rested a hand gently on his shoulder. He grinned at his little brother. "Hey, at least I know it definitely happened, right? I couldn't dream half this stuff up if I tried."
A man appeared suddenly, standing in front of Dean. "Dean, you need to let me help you carry this burden. I can help you."
"No, Cas. You're not taking my memories. Do you realize how useful they are? If you want to help, go find Dad." Dean snapped.
Cas sighed in frustration and turned to face the strangers who were staring at him. "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord. You need to help these two as best you can. They have a larger part to play in this war." And he disappeared.
Booth stared at Dean. "You've got an angel watching over you?"
Dean frowned. "More like stalking me. Look, I need to find this demon before he can kill anyone else. Likely as not he'll be wearing Dad." He smiled apologetically at Sam. "Need to find him before he damages the body."
Angela frowned, confused. "What do you mean he'll be wearing your father? What are you talking about?"
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Demons like to have a physical body. If you don't have protection against them they can climb into your body, put you in the back seat and take over the steering wheel. You can shoot someone in the heart while they're possessed and they'll keep coming at you. Unfortunately, once you get the demon out the body dies if it's damaged."
"We need to catch up to him before he gets a chance to get Dad shot or jump him off a bridge or something." Sam added in. "And before he kills anyone else."
"Sammy, I need you to look for signs and find the bastard. Damn I wish Demothi hadn't climbed out of the Pit." He started pacing. "He's a hard son of a bitch. Last time he was here he took out close to two thousand before someone managed to throw him back."
Sam frowned in confusion. "How'd you know his name, Dean? And if he's so bad he can't have been out for a long time or Dad would have taught us about him…"
Dean sighed. "I learnt a lot of things while I was down there, Sammy. Tried to tell Dad who it was but he wouldn't listen. Just barged off half-cocked as usual."
Sam's eyes brightened. "You mean you have insider info on demons? That'll come in handy."
Dean nodded. "Remember how I could see them before I went to the Pit?" Sam nodded hesitantly, he didn't want to remember those last couple of weeks. Dean trying to play it tough, trying to make his little brother smile. "Apparently if you stay long enough you get to keep that little toy."
xxx
Booth had decided that the entire team should stay at the Jeffersonian with the brothers. At least then everyone was around the young hunters should anything supernatural happen.
He watched in amazement as Dean did sit-ups, push-ups, and all sorts of exercises for well over two hours before lying down. Surely he didn't need to do that much exercise to stay in condition?
Booth finally fell asleep, only to wake up half an hour later to find Dean arguing with Cas. They were talking softly, Dean was obviously arguing. Booth got a little closer to hear what they were saying.
"Dean, you were in hell for a year. No human being is meant to carry those memories with them on earth. Let me take it." Cas' face held no expression.
"You're not sifting through my head, angel boy, so just keep out of there." Dean growled.
"You haven't slept in over a week, Dean. If I take hell from your mind you will be able to sleep again." Cas promised.
Dean shook his head. "Did you stop to think that perhaps hellfire is the only thing holding me together? Cas, a month up here is ten years down there." Cas opened his mouth but Dean lifted his finger to point accusingly at the angel. "And if you dare tell my brother about the timeframe I swear I'll find a way to kill an angel."
Cas disappeared and Dean slumped against the chair he was sitting in. Booth walked over, knowing that Dean knew he was there. "Why do you fight his help so hard?"
Dean grunted. "I've got my reasons. So, you soaked up our world a lot easier than most. Guess you're religious?"
Booth sat down beside him. "Catholic, I was an altar boy. This lot don't make it easy, though." He waved his hand over the sleeping scientific team. "They cut my religion down and half the time they don't even realize they're doing it."
Dean shrugged. "I've never been one for faith. I like things I can see and things I can kill. Since I've found out about angels I'm not too fond of them."
Booth leant forward. "Why not? Aren't they the good guys. Don't they represent what you fight for?"
Dean shook his head. "I kill the evil bastards so families can survive. I've never seen an angel show up in time to help or to kill some bastard. And they're always talking in riddles."
They sat together in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts. Booth, his curiosity finally getting the better of him, broke the easy silence. "If it's not too intrusive, why were you in hell?"
Dean closed his eyes, trying to hold the memories at bay. "Dad had gone off months before on some wild goose chase of a hunt and told me to take care of Sammy. I found a town with the least demonic signs and took him there. No way was I going to hunt and protect him at the same time. Things went fine for about a month and then some demon tracked us down and killed Sammy. I exorcised his meat suit and tried to get Sam to wake up." He was staring at something in his memory.
"He was so cold and pale. Never seen him so quiet before in my life. He was always asking some question, bugging me. Never realized just how much I loved him until he was gone. So, I took care of him. Summoned a cross-roads demon and made the deal. Bring Sam back and they can have my soul. She gave me a year to live and then they'd drag me down to the Pit." Booth could see Dean was reliving the horrors.
"I didn't tell Sammy about the deal for ages. He didn't remember dying. I woke up one morning and decided we needed to find Dad. If I was gonna die Sam would need Dad there to take care of him. Couldn't just leave the kid hanging. So we went looking for Dad. Found him a couple of weeks before the year was up…"
xxx
Booth suddenly realized that Dean was tense in anticipation. Dean could feel the drop in temperature, the static in the air and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
"Sammy?" the boy was standing beside his brother in a moment, recognizing the sound in Dean's voice. The young man pulled a shotgun from the back of his trousers and checked it was loaded.
The gun suddenly flew out of his hands and a spirit appeared in front of the brothers, holding a meat hook. It swung back, intending to cut Sam's chest open. Dean saw the movement and stepped in front of his brother, his back to the spirit. Sam's eyes widened in fear for his brother.
Booth watched as the brothers' eyes met. Sam was scared for his brother, Dean was determined. No words passed between them but suddenly Sam straightened and went for the shotgun. The spirit flailed at Dean, ripping his back open five times before Sam returned with the gun. The gun fired and the spirit disappeared.
Booth was staring at the two warriors in front of him. They were very prepared for bad things to happen to them. Their unspoken communication was impressive to say the least, probably born from surviving many previous bad circumstances together. "What was that?"
The boys looked over at him. "Spirit. They're attached to their bones. We need to scan every skeleton in here for EMF and salt and burn the bones that sing." Dean smiled.
The entire team had come running at the sound of gunfire and now they were staring at Dean's back. "Oh my god…I'll go and get my first aid kit." Cam whispered.
"No," Sam's surprisingly strong voice shocked them all. "I've got it." The teenager helped his big brother to a backless chair and lowered him onto it. He grabbed his backpack that had been dropped in the corner of the room and pulled out a fully equipped first aid kit.
"Sammy?" Dean's voice was a little strained but most of his pain wasn't showing through. "You okay?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. But you're not. Damn, Dean, this is gonna take a lot of stitches. You want some pills…?"
The younger brother let his voice trail off when Dean shook his head adamantly. "Make me hallucinate, Sammy." He closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate. "You gotta check the bones, find where he's at." He clenched his teeth in pain, his knuckles going white.
Booth and Brennan were both shocked at how well Dean controlled his pain. They'd seen older men with lesser wounds screaming in agony. Dean didn't let one whimper or moan pass his lips.
"How about you tell the others how to scan while I do my job?" Sam asked quietly, pulling out a sterile cloth and water. He had to clean some of the blood away. He glanced at Dean's shirt and decided it was ruined, he could cut it off.
Everyone thought Dean was doing well to stay coherent, and now Sam expected him to talk them through something?
Dean closed his eyes and swallowed, gathering his thoughts. He opened them again slowly and looked up with startlingly clear green eyes at the team before him.
"Okay, spirits are attached to their bodies. To get rid of them you've gotta salt and burn the remains." Brennan tried to stifle a gasp but saw Dean smirk when he heard. "Sorry, Doc, nothing I can do about it. This guy is really dangerous, need to get rid of him." Sam slowly pulled the blood soaked rags of Dean's shirt away from his back. "Damn it, just rip it off Sammy." Dean barked over his shoulder.
"Sorry, sorry Dean. Once I get this off I'm gonna clean it and then put a circle of salt around us. Then we'll go from there." Sam prattled, trying to keep Dean's mind away from his back when Sam finally gave a quick tug and the shirt came away.
Dean's breath hitched but that was the only sign he was in extra pain. "If a spirit is attached to a body the remains give off a signal. Sam will give you some EMF scanners in a minute, if the reading goes high…yahtzee." Sam patted at the wounds with a dampened cloth, cleaning the blood away. "Okay, spirit defense one-oh-one. Salt repels them, hence Sammy's salt circle. Iron works too."
Angela cleared her throat unsteadily. "Umm, if he reappears will he still have a weapon?"
Dean nodded. "That hook is something he likes." He closed his eyes against a wave of pain, taking a deep breath. "Spirits get cranky when you go near their remains with intent. So you're searching in pairs, back to back. If he shows up you throw salt at him and keep going."
Brennan stared at Dean for a moment. "There are billions of remains here, how do we know where to start?"
"The hook isn't actually attached to him so that wasn't it." Dean mumbled to himself. "Clothes looked fairly recent, last fifty years or so, hair cut too." His eyes snapped up to Brennan. "I heard the others talking about Limbo before. Likely as not he'll be in there. Won't be on display anywhere, bones aren't old enough."
Booth was impressed by Dean, again. His attention to so much detail in such a quick scenario was remarkable. And the fact that he could call the details up while enduring such pain in silence spoke volumes as to how his life had gone so far. The FBI agent and ex-sniper didn't want to think of what things could turn such a young man into such a supreme warrior, especially considering his wounds and trials would have been inflicted by the supernatural.
xxx
It had been three days since Dean had been cut open by the spirit. He was lying on his stomach on one of the tables on the platform, after telling Cam not to start an autopsy on him. His wounds and the fact that he hadn't slept well in over a week were finally taking their toll; pushing him into unconsciousness for a few minutes at a time.
Booth leant against the railing, watching Dean's fitful sleep. Remembering how it had been for him when he had returned from the war. And this kid didn't have the luxury of leaving his war on the beaches of a far-off country. Once again the connection between the brothers was thrown into light. Dean would wake, mumbling in remembered agony. Sam would reach up from where he was sitting in a chair, reading a text book, beside his brother and touch his arm. Dean would calm slightly.
After several hours of this Dean's mind finally forced him to face something that Sam could never fix. His mumbles turned into full-sentenced protests. He was begging someone to stop torturing him. Naming specific tools that they were using, telling them to put it down.
Sam sat by, watching helplessly as his brother had no choice but to relive the torture he suffered in the Pit. Suddenly he cried out, gasping as he woke, his eyes full of pain.
Castiel appeared on Dean's other side, looking down at the wounded young man. "Dean, let me help you. I can take it all away…" he was begging almost as profusely as Dean had been moments before. "I can feel your agony, dull and aching, wherever I am. And then it suddenly jumps, as you remember."
Dean shook his head. "We talked about that, Cas. You're not pulling anything out of my head."
Castiel frowned in thought. "There is another way…it will be extremely painful. Probably worse than anything you experienced in hell but infinitely cleaner…"
"Cut out the riddles and talk straight, Cas. I'm not in the mood to go over what you say with a fine-toothed comb." Dean grumbled.
"If an angel chooses to cut out their grace and fall…they can choose a human recipient of the grace. It heals and cleans the soul as well as the body." Castiel spoke slowly.
Dean shook his head. "No. No one is cutting out any grace. No one is falling, especially not for me."
Castiel sighed. "I have a friend who wants to fall, Dean. He wants to cut out his grace but he wants to give it to someone who deserves it. He's been pondering candidates for nearly three hundred years. I will ask him to consider you, from a neutral stand-point."
Dean sighed. Tired of arguing, tired of trying to do the right thing. Tired of putting himself last. If someone wanted to help him get through this, he couldn't refuse it. Not anymore.
"Fine. But only if he agrees completely. I don't want anyone regretting this." Castiel nodded and was about to leave when Dean caught his forearm. "It won't turn me into anything else will it?"
Castiel frowned; he wished Dean hadn't thought to ask that question. "You will be an earth angel. Not connected to god, nothing expected of you more than there is now. But you will have some of our strengths. Also, you will not need to be in touch with heaven to…recharge your powers as most angels do." Castiel waited for Dean's consent, a slight nod from the young hunter and the angel left.
Sam sat up straighter in his chair, watching his brother closely. "Dean, please tell me you are honestly going to let Cas help you…?" he hated seeing his big brother in such agony.
Dean nodded slowly. "I'm considering it very seriously, Sammy. Who would have thought it – I could become an angel." A grin spread across his face. "Thought they'd pick the golden child for that." He poked Sam in the ribs.
Brennan leant against the table beside Dean's, studying him closely. Everyone else had stopped their work and were discreetly watching the young man.
"Can you tell us about the angels? He said you would have powers?" Brennan asked.
Dean shrugged. "They can kick demon ass when they feel like it. Appear and disappear, Cas likes that one." He frowned in thought, turning to Sam. "I've already got a body so I won't need a vessel…will I? I like this body."
Sam laughed, shocking everyone. The teenager was normally so serious. "I don't think you'll need a vessel Dean. Ask Cas when he comes back, if you're worried about it."