A/N: Hugs to those of you who have reviewed/followed/favorited this story so far! It means a lot!

And now to address some confusion: I really don't want to give much of the story away, but I will say now that this is not a destiel fic in the traditional sense. I am not giving Dean and Castiel a romantic relationship. However, do not let that deter you from the Dean/Cas moments I will put in here. I think they do love each other- but there is more than one type of love.

I hope that clears everything up! Enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter Three

The car horn blared so loudly Candi almost fell off her bike. She swiveled, then swooped out of the line of traffic. She hated riding her bike to work.

She cut past Center Street, then went down a few blocks until she reached Humphrey's Bows and Bonnets, where she skidded to a stop and quickly locked her bike up to a lamp post before rushing in. The little bell dinged when she rushed through the door, and a wave of old lady perfume hit her.

"Sorry I'm late!" she called, shedding her jacket and making for the back room to hang it up. There was an audible sigh from the front counter, where Mrs. Humphrey sat staring at the ancient boxy monitor in front of her. She really needed to update things around here, but she was the type of 72-year-old lady who would not be pushed outside of her comfort zone. Every time Candi would hint at the possibility of getting newer technology, Mrs. Humphrey would press her lips together and hum for a second before saying, "If it works, it doesn't need to be replaced."

Jen, Mrs. Humphrey's granddaughter and Candi's best friend, popped up from the bin of clothes she was sorting by the front desk. "You know, I could always pick you up whenever you don't have the car."

Candi waved her hand, moving a rack of clothes towards the front of the store. "I need the exercise. Besides, I never know. Sometimes it's there waiting for me, other times it's not." Candi shrugged. "Maggie gets weird hours."

Her Aunt Maggie worked at one of Camden's many local bars, the Yellow Bass. She needed all the hours she could get, so sometimes she would work double shifts.

Mrs. Humphrey stood, taking her spectacles off her nose and letting them hang beneath her chin. "Jen, I was hoping we could get another batch of purple headbands in today."

Jen groaned, and looked meaningfully at Candi. "I'm beginning to dream in crotchet."

Mrs. Humphrey had started a new line of hand-made trinkets and articles of clothing a few months ago, and recruited Jen's help. They had started small, at first little pins or barrettes for the hair, and then they went to headbands, then socks, now hats and scarves… Mrs. Humphrey even sold a few sweaters.

Candi had to admit, she made a lot of extra money, especially in the summers, when the tourists came swarming in. They'd buy anything that was labeled "hand-made."

Mrs. Humphrey picked up her mug of coffee and sipped as she glanced around her little shop. "All yours, Candice," she said. Jen followed her into the back room, where they sat around making their crocheted items while listening to classical music, which Jen said was only for those who wanted to fall asleep.

Candi put a few of the clothes away. She couldn't crochet. Or knit. Or do anything crafty like that. So, she managed the store on days when Mrs. Humphrey wanted to crochet all day with Jen. It was a better job than her other one, which was waiting tables at Hickory's.

Candi was just refolding some shirts on one of the shelves when the bell tinkled. She patted the shirt she had just folded, and turned to see who the customer was. She smiled in surprise when she saw it was her councilor, Mr. Jenkins. He smiled warmly back at her, lengthening his strides until he could shake hands with her. His grip was strong and comforting.

"Hello, Candi," he greeted her, looking around the shop, then to her name tag. "What happened to Hickory's…?"

Candi brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "Still working there. But, uh, we needed the extra income."

"I see." His brown eyes studied hers intently for a moment. "How are you, Candi?"

"Good. Good, fine." And she was fine. She remembered long talks with Mr. Jenkins, which normally ended with her nearly drowning him from all the tears she'd shed. But she was past all that—of course, the pain of losing her father hadn't softened much over the past two years, but she could cope now. Live.

Mr. Jenkins was the social worker who'd shown up at her door (well, Aunt Maggie's door) and helped her work through the deep, dark hole she had fallen in. Encouraged her to get a job. Take it easy, but stay busy as well. He'd comforted her, offered advice, and become a friend. He'd helped Candi move in with her aunt, and sell off her dad's things.

To be honest, all of that was just a blur to Candi. A painful, never ending blur.

The middle aged man now roamed the racks. "My wife was wanting one of those clips… The ones with the flowers?"

"Oh, right." Candi grabbed a woven basket full of the hand-made clips and rattled them. "In here."

While Mr. Jenkins carefully picked out which clip he would buy for his wife, Candi pulled up a stool and sat close by. "How's Willy?" she asked. Willy was one of Mr. Jenkin's four sons, and was also handicapped. He'd fallen out of a tree and broken his spine when he was nine. He was now fourteen.

"Willy's doing fine," Mr. Jenkins said, lowering his glasses so he could examine one of the clips closer. "We've decided to homeschool him next year."

"Oh." Candi was silent for a moment, then, "School didn't work out so well for him?"

Mr. Jenkins shook his head, then tossed one of the clips in the air, catching it and showing it to Candi. "I'll purchase this one, please."

Candi grinned. "Good choice." It had a beautiful pink rose glued on, with white ribbon sticking out from underneath the flower. She hopped off the stool and went behind the counter to ring it up. "Four fifty, please."

Mr. Jenkins fished for his wallet before taking out a five dollar bill. "Keep the change," he said with a small wink. "Take care of yourself."

He picked up the little brown bag Candi had placed the clip in, and left the store.

Take care of yourself. Those were always his closing remarks.

Jen's voice piped up from inside the back room. "Was that Mr. Hottie?"

"Shut up, Jen, he's twice your age," Candi said. "Besides, he's already married. Gonna have to cast your net elsewhere."

"Yeah, yeah. You know I'm joking."

Candi did. But only because they'd had this discussion about Mr. Jenkins several times. Candi wouldn't put it past Jenny to flirt with any guy who looked her way.

The day wore on, tourists came in and bought things they could have bought for much cheaper at Walmart, and Jen's complaints grew more frequent.

"I'm even paying you, sweetie."

"I know Gran, and that's great, but this is overkill. My finger is blistering!"

"Just get what you're working on done, and you can have a break."

"Can't I just take the rest of the day off?"

Candi wandered over to the windows, and glanced up at the sky. It was dark with clouds. "Looks like a storm's brewing," she muttered. She got off in an hour. Would the storm hold long enough for her to get home?

Her answer began appearing on the sidewalk. Drops of rain were beginning to descend. She turned and made her way to the back room, leaning against the doorframe. "Mrs. Humphrey," she said, "It's going to rain. I should probably head home. Could Jen take over the rest of my shift?"

Jen looked like she'd just been told she'd won the lottery. Mrs. Humphrey looked like she'd just been told she'd lost. She glanced at Jen, who grinned back innocently. Finally, Mrs. Humphrey sighed. "Fine. Travel safe, Candice. If the rain gets too bad, you can always come back and wait it out here."

"Thanks." She shot a small finger salute to Jen, spun on her heel, and walked out the door.

She'd only gone a few blocks when lightening flashed across the sky. She considered going back, but that would probably result in Jen being put back to work, so she pressed on. It was just a sprinkle for now.

Just as she rode out of town, the torrential downpour began.

He found him in the woods, kneeling down and letting the damp leaves soak up his pants. He was waiting for him.

Dean didn't make a sound as he approached Cain. Cain didn't move, but when Dean was only feet away, he spoke. "This is where Colette and I lived," he said.

Dean glanced over at the cabin that was rotting away several yards away. "Not much left, is there?" he said. His voice was gritty, low. He knew he was a menace.

Dean stopped in his tracks, looking down at the back of the demon who had given him the mark.

Cain continued, ignoring Dean's comment. "I was a monster. Killing without a thought, bathing in the blood of my enemies… She helped me see what I'd become." He paused. "You can change, Dean. Remember that. If I could, you certainly can."

Dean finally spoke. "Yeah, well maybe in the end I don't wanna change." He hefted the first blade, which was clutched in his hand. He had given Cain a promise. He was intending to keep that promise tonight. The thought made his blood run hot with anticipation. He walked until he was standing in front of Cain, rather than behind him. He knelt down to become eye level with the demon.

Cain's eyes flickered over Dean's features for a moment, finally resting on Dean's jet black eyes. "Dean," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Dean nodded. "Me too."

Cain's eyes strayed to the blade, a faraway sadness in his eyes. Then he looked back up at Dean. "Do it quickly."

Sam could hardly see the sign welcoming him to Camden, Maine. The rain was blinding.

He took the exit, and found himself shooting down a highway that didn't actually look like it led to any kind of civilization. Course, he couldn't see much in front of him anyways. The highway looked deserted.

Finally, he decided to pull over and wait for the storm to pass. While waiting, he turned on Dean's favorite mix and let the familiar tunes play softly in the background. Dean a demon. It seemed impossible.

Dean couldn't possibly be Dean anymore.

Sam shook himself. What was he saying? No matter what, Dean Winchester was his big brother. He'd always been there for him, looking out for his little brother. Sam wasn't going to let him down.

His phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket, heart leaping in a spurt of hope when he saw who the caller was. He answered. "Hey, what's up?"

Castiel's voice sounded from the other end. "Sam, I think I might have a lead on Dean."

Sam straightened in his seat. "Okay, tell me about it."

"You're not going to like it."

"Cas. Just tell me."

There was a moment of silence, then Castiel spoke. "Cain's dead."

Sam took a moment to process this. "But… the only thing powerful enough to kill Cain is…"

"Dean. Yes. Cain was killed in Springfield, Illinois. I'm heading over there now."

"How'd you know about it?"

"I have some angels keeping a lookout on things. They've been keeping tabs on Cain. They found him dead this morning."

Sam nodded, even though he knew Castiel couldn't see him. "Cas… you might not find anything over there. Dean would be long gone."

"Perhaps," Castiel answered. "But I can still check. See if there were any witnesses, clues that Dean could have left behind."

Sam frowned. "You think Dean would intentionally leave clues laying around?"

Castiel was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally. "I just… never mind. I'm three hours away. I'll call if I find anything."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Cas."

There was a beep as Castiel hung up. Sam snapped his phone shut and leaned his head back against the seat. The rain was starting to let up. He could actually see now. He was on a hill, and from here, he could see the town, along with the bay where white sails drifted in the grey water.

Somewhere out there, that girl was probably living a normal, apple-pie life. She might even have a boyfriend. Sam didn't know.

All he knew was that she was the key to getting his brother back.