Getting into a sanitarium isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. There were only a few ways that either Winchester could think of, and their best bet seemed to be continuing to use the FBI personas that they'd been using so far. As agents they figured they should be able to get more information than they would as anything else. Besides which, cases always went smoother if they used the same alias everywhere. It kept them from messy situations where their two covers ended up colliding and were completely blown.
So the boys put on their suits once more and Sam, with a bit of help from Bobby, managed to get them in to talk with one of the doctors at the sanitarium.
"How the hell did you two manage it?" Dean asked as he climbed out of the car.
Sam straightened up and shut his door behind him. "Bobby called in, acting as our Unit Chief to request a visit. He said it was pretty easy after that."
"That gets us in to talk to the doc. It doesn't get us a chance to look around the place or check out any of the patients."
"One step at a time." Sam murmured. He adjusted his jacket and looked up at the building in front of him, wondering what they were going to find in there. What on earth could be in there that would have that kind of power? More to the point, why? Why do all this? It didn't make sense. If it wasn't a crossroads demon, what out there would do things like this—and what kind of price tag would be tacked on with all these little miracles? Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused back on his brother. "This was our only real way in. This place is private and well maintained, Dean. The people who stay here pay for more than just care; they pay for security, too." It was actually a little impressive just how secure the place was.
Together, the brothers made their way up to the front doors. It was easy to slip into that FBI persona. When Sam had first gone back on the road with Dean again it had felt so strange to try it. He'd always felt like a kid trying to play dress up. But now? Now, he had enough experience under his belt to be confident, and that confidence seemed to be key. It was amazing how much people accepted that you belonged somewhere if you simply acted like you did.
Once they got inside they had to spend a few minutes at the front desk verifying that they were who they said they were. Only when she was sure did the woman let them inside, calling over a nurse to have her escort them to a Doctor Ryan Louis.
They found the doctor in what looked to be a dayroom. He was an elderly man, with grey hair, glasses, and a kind smile. Sam watched him carefully while he wrapped up whatever he was saying with a patient nearby. When he saw them, he nodded and made a small gesture indicating they way. Sam and Dean moved to the side of the room and stood out of the way to wait for him. It gave them a moment or two to look around at things. Dean turned towards Sam just a little while looking over the dayroom. "This is gonna be a nightmare. How are we supposed to look around? Hell, what are we even looking for?"
That was a good question. They had no idea really what it was they were actually looking for. "I don't know." Sam murmured. "There's gotta be something, though. We've worked with less."
"Yeah, and that's so much fun." Dean grumbled.
Any reply Sam might've come up with was cut off as he saw the doctor moving towards them. Smoothing out his expression, Sam straightened up just the slightest bit until he once more had that smooth, in control look. His smile was polite and friendly as he took a step forward and held out his hand to the doctor. "Dr. Louis?"
"I am." Dr. Louis confirmed. He shook Sam's hand first and then Dean's. "Thank you for your patience, Agents…"
"Page, and this is my partner Plant." Dean introduced them.
"We appreciate you meeting with us, Dr. Louis." Sam said. "Especially on such short notice.
The doctor nodded his head at them and folded his hands in front of him. "Of course. Your supervisor mentioned that some of my patients might be in danger."
Sam kept quiet and watched as Dean spun the same tale that they'd been telling everyone about someone who was selling miracle cures. "We understand that speaking with your patients is out of the question." Dean said, his charming smile out full force. "We were just hoping we could maybe speak with your employees, see if maybe they know anything."
"I'm sure I can arrange for them to come back to a room and speak privately with you." Dr. Louis said slowly, looking just a little worried. Was that a worry that one of his employees had done something, or worry over them wanting to speak with anyone at all? It was something worth watching.
This time it was Sam who smiled. "That sounds perfect, Dr. Louis. While my partner does that, I'd like to take a look around."
That had Dr. Louis looking even more worried than before. This time Sam understood, though. Considering where they were and some of the conditions that the patients here suffered from, it was no wonder that the man would be worried about letting an FBI agent wander through here. Not only would he not want to risk some stranger upsetting a patient, he most likely didn't want to risk a patient upsetting the FBI. Often paranoid delusions could involve the government in some form or another. Just having them in the dayroom here had to run the risk of making a patient or two slightly nervous. Sam braced himself, prepared to try and talk his way through this just like he had so many situations before, when suddenly there was another voice coming from off to the side. "Dr. Louis, is there a problem over here?"
The doctor looked up and the expression that crossed his face was what Sam would call relieved. "Dr. Reid!"
Sam and Dean both turned to look up at the newcomer who was joining them. He didn't really look like much at first glance. Tall and skinny, with shaggy hair that barely hid a face that was gradually leaving behind thin and flirting with gaunt, the guy gave off the image of harmless. Even his clothes added to that; the slacks, the button up white shirt and skinny tie, and the brown professor's jacket with the patches on the elbows like what Sam had seen some of the older professors wear back at Stanford. All of that gave off a certain image that probably made most people dismiss him outright. Sam might've, too, if he hadn't caught sight of his eyes.
Eyes gave away a lot about a person. This kid's eyes—and he had to be a kid, couldn't be any older than his early twenties—spoke of someone who had seen and done a whole lot more than most. The minute those eyes landed on them, Sam saw them widen briefly with something that looked like recognition before they narrowed and sharpened.
Sam shot his brother a quick look and noticed that Dean had seen the same thing. Shit.
The doctor seemed to have missed most of what had gone on around him. He opened up their circle a little and easily let this Dr. Reid step up beside him. "Dr. Reid, these are Agents Page and Plant."
"Doctor, huh? You seem a little young to be working here." Dean said, flashing a grin that was probably meant to be charming. Sam wanted to roll his eyes at him. Yeah, great way to keep out of trouble with this guy who apparently recognized them. Mock him for how young he looks.
Dr. Reid didn't seem bothered by it, though. "I don't work here. I'm here visiting a patient." Without giving Sam or Dean a chance to say anything else, or to even figure out how the hell they were going to get out of this, the kid turned to the doctor beside him and his expression softened into a friendly sort of look that nicely hid the edginess and caution Sam could still see in his eyes. "Dr. Louis, why don't you go ahead and go back to work? I haven't worked with them personally, but I know who they are. I'll find out what's going on and take care of it."
"Thank you, Dr. Reid. And we'll continue our own conversation later."
Dr. Reid smiled at him. "Absolutely." That smile faded away as he turned back towards Sam and Dean. That caution was back, as well as something else that Sam couldn't quite recognize. "Agents. Why don't we step outside? This sounds like it might be a conversation we want to keep as private as possible. There's no need to upset the patients here."
"Of course." Dean said easily. Still, he and Sam exchanged another look as the doctor gestured for them to go forward.
They stayed quiet the whole way out of the building. Dr. Reid seemed calm as could be as he followed them outside and down the driveway. He acted perfectly content to follow them. None of the three men said a word until they were almost to the parking lot. Neither Sam nor Dean had been willing to break the silence and Dr. Reid had apparently not wanted to speak so close to the sanitarium. It looked like he wanted just as much privacy as them for this. That was both good and bad. Sam exchanged another look with Dean and his brother gave a small, almost miniscule nod. They were going to have to play this very, very carefully.
The two were so prepared for trouble, they were completely stunned when they stopped by their car and turned to look at their shadow and the young doctor immediately told them "I know who you are." He flushed right after he said it, like he hadn't quite meant to blurt the words out so bluntly. But Sam watched him draw himself up straight and square his shoulders back and push on. "I'm not here to stop you and I'm not here to take over whatever hunt you're on. But someone very important to me is a patient in there and if she's at risk from something, I want to know."
Wait a second—this kid knew about hunting?
Dean seemed to be having the same thought. "You know about hunting?"
"Are you a hunter, too?" Sam asked.
The kid huffed out a breath that sounded both embarrassed and amused. "Me?" He shook his head, some of his shaggy hair getting in his face as he did. One long-fingered hand came up to brush it back behind his ear again in a gesture that looked just a bit nervous. "No, I'm not a hunter, not in the sense that you are. I'm simply someone who knows a little something about it."
"And how do you know who we are?" Dean demanded.
With one hand, the kid reached down into the messenger bag he wore and pulled out something that Sam recognized almost immediately. He had one exactly like it in his pocket. Only, as the kid opened it and Sam looked closely, he could see with stunned disbelief that these credentials were real. "SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. I work at the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI. You hunt monsters for a living – so do I. Mine are simply of the human variety." He folded his credentials up and slipped them back into his bag. "Most agents know who the Winchesters are. My boss helped consult on the profile when Henriksen asked for one."
"You're an agent?" The absolutely stunned tone to Dean's words had the kid's expression tightening in what Sam thought might be a grimace, only it was covered up too quickly, too smoothly, to really be able to tell. He looked calm and composed as he nodded at them. "I am. And you two are hunters—two of the best, if stories are to be believed. You've also managed to thus far avoid answering my question. What are you here hunting?"
The mulish look that hardened Dean's features was a familiar one. Sam knew his brother wasn't going to give this kid anything, or at least try to just brush him off. If he had family in there, though, he had a right to know, and he might even be able to help them. "Dean." Sam said lowly, catching hold of his brother's arm and pulling him back just the slightest bit. He looked up at Spencer and then back down to Dean's stormy eyes. "Cool it. He might be able to help us. We can't wander around in there, but if he's as well-known as he looked, he can. We can't afford to turn down help on this."
It was easy to see when Dean realized he was right. It was also easy to see just how little he liked it. Still, they couldn't ignore a resource like this, and this wasn't just some civilian they were bringing in. This Spencer kid seemed to know about the supernatural. That meant he might recognize things others didn't. It all depended on how much he actually knew.
"Fine." Dean growled out.
The two brothers moved to lean against the impala. Sam began the explanation, telling Spencer of the cases that had brought them to town and the things that they'd come across since their arrival. They took turns explaining what they'd found. It was as Dean described talking to the boy in the hospital that Sam saw the first hint of something cross Spencer's features. He wasn't sure what, though. It was carefully covered up. But, Sam had seen it.
It flashed there again when they talked about the things they'd found this morning. "We charted all of these things on a map." Sam said, carefully watching Spencer's face. There was something going on here. He knew something. "All of these incidents seem to be within a two mile radius of here."
"Have you noticed anything strange going on here?" Dean asked. "Anything odd or weird. Something you can't explain."
Spencer looked right at them, and it was only because Sam was such a practiced liar that he recognized as the skill was being put to use against him. "I haven't seen anything like that." Spencer looked from one brother to the other and furrowed his eyebrows a little with a slightly confused expression. "Are you sure it's centered around here specifically? Geographical profiling can be affected by multiple different variables."
Disbelief showed clearly on Dean's face. "You're telling us you haven't seen anything?"
"I haven't, I'm sorry."
Something in the back of Sam's mind was prickling; a sense he'd developed over the years in hunting that told him to tread very carefully here, and to look a little closer. "Maybe it happened before you were here. Did you just arrive in town this morning, by chance?" His question was a probing one and he could see that Spencer recognized it.
"I've been busy visiting my mother." Spencer said, spreading his hands a little in an innocent pose, even as he took a half step back. His eyes had darkened some and they were showing the nerves he was so expertly keeping off the rest of his body. "There's a chance I simply missed things around me. I don't often get to see her."
Dean pushed off the car and straightened himself up. "Now who's the one avoiding answering the question?"
Panic flashed there and gone again in Spencer's eyes. Sam looked at him and he knew—Spencer was connected to all this. How, he wasn't sure, but that panic made it clear that he was. It also made it clear that the doctor was about to bolt on them. Sam pushed off the car and moved to stand beside his brother, lifting his hands in a gesture he'd meant to show peace. Whatever was going on here it didn't feel threatening to him. Spencer didn't seem like a threat.
However, Spencer must've felt that Sam was a threat. The minute his hands went up, everything went to hell.
Without any warning, Sam went flying backwards, slamming into the trunk of the impala and sliding across it to land on the ground on the other side. He hit hard, his shoulder screaming out a protest when it connected with the solid ground. He didn't let himself stop to feel it. Grunting and cradling his arm close, he used his other arm to shove himself up off the ground. Before he got upright he heard another grunt and what sounded like a solid blow against the impala and it only made him move faster. Dean!
It wasn't Dean who was on the ground when Sam pushed up, though. He found his brother standing over the limp form of Dr. Spencer Reid. His brother met his gaze across the back of the car and that look clearly asked Are you okay? When Sam nodded, Dean nodded back. "C'mon, Sammy, help me get him in the car. We need to get outta here before someone comes out and sees this."
"We can't just kidnap a federal agent, Dean!" Sam hissed. Still, he hurried around the car and helped to scoop up the doctor's slender body. Dean got the back door open and they hurried to get him inside. "Bitch later." Dean growled out, slamming the door and turning to hurry around to the driver's seat. "Right now I wanna get him somewhere secure before he wakes back up. Then I think it might be time to call in some backup."
A minute later the impala was speeding out of the parking lot.
It didn't take them long to find an empty warehouse. Sam speculated to himself that it was kind of ridiculous how easy these always were to find in cities. He wasn't going to question it, though. Not when they needed to make use of them for once instead of the bad guys. They found a large, empty one and dragged the still unconscious doctor out into the middle of it. Sam looked at him as he set him down and was worried at how long he'd been out so far. "How hard did you hit him?"
"He'll be fine." Dean insisted. He was busy quickly drawing up a devil's trap for them. They had no idea what they were up against here and so they weren't going to take any chances. As soon as the devil's trap was done, they put him in the middle and then worked on putting more protection around it in the hopes that something would hold.
When Dean brought over their jar of holy oil, Sam raised an eyebrow at him.
"What?" Defensive, Dean looked down at the oil and then back up at him. "I'm not taking any chances. Just cause I believe angels are too big of douches to actually help people doesn't mean I'm gonna chance going up against something that could be one without the right protection."
"You're getting smart in your old age." Sam teased.
"Bite me, college boy."
He'd just finished laying down the last of the oil in a circle around all their other protective sigils, outside of them so as not to ruin them, when a soft rustle in the air announced the arrival of the one they'd been waiting for. The brothers had called Castiel on their way over here only to have the angel's phone go to voicemail. Dean had left him a message in the hopes that he'd get back to them soon. This was, thankfully, sooner than they'd anticipated.
Castiel landed near Dean as he almost always did. At least he didn't land pressed right up against him. Though, Sam wouldn't put it past him. The thought was almost enough to make Sam snicker to himself. Almost. He lost any desire to laugh when he watched Castiel turn towards their unconscious guest and his whole body snapped taunt in a display of emotion the angel didn't typically show. He said one single word that most definitely wasn't in English. Beside him, Dean straightened up and watched his angel's face carefully. "Cas?"
"It is lucky you found him." Castiel told them.
Dean let out a low laugh that didn't hold any real humor to it. "Trust me, that's pretty much what it was. Luck. He's got something to do with our case, though, and he's got powers. Do you know what he is, Cas?"
As Sam moved closer to join them, he saw a look on Castiel's face that he hadn't ever expected to see there; disgust. It was the same sort of look the other angels gave to Sam. The one they wore when they called him the abomination. "He is a nephilim." Castiel said in that low, gravelly voice of his. For once the seriousness of his voice suited the conversation. Sam couldn't believe what he was saying. A nephilim? This scrawny FBI agent in front of them was a nephilim?
"A nephilim?" Sam couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.
Castiel nodded. "Yes. The offspring of the sons of God and the daughters of Men. Half angel, half human, and immensely more powerful than either. We are very lucky you found and subdued him. You were even more lucky that you were not destroyed. Nephilim were, unstable, and very powerful. I'm not sure if even the holy oil you've laid down will be enough to hold him."
"Well that's just great." Dean said. He groaned and glared at the angel. "Way to be reassuring, man."
"You wish me to lie?" Castiel asked, confusion on his face.
"No. Just…" Dean sighed deeply. "How is it that you guys didn't know about him before this?"
"His powers. They keep him hidden. Until I arrived, I couldn't even sense him."
"So, what do we do now?" Sam asked. They had to figure out something before Spencer woke up. They needed to be prepared. Apparently, he was powerful. Far more powerful than anything else they'd gone up against. They needed to be ready and prepared.
He'd hoped that Castiel might have a suggestion for some sort of plan. Really, he should've remembered just who it was they were dealing with here and how the angels viewed not only the world, but how history said they viewed nephilim. It stunned Sam completely when Castiel looked at the unconscious man—nephilim—and simply stated "We kill him."
"What?" Sam and Dean exclaimed at the same time.
Castiel didn't even flinch at their shouts. "The nephilim were destroyed for a reason. They became dangerous—corrupt. They coveted angels for what they did not have and that envy became their downfall."
"What they didn't have?" Dean asked.
"Nephilim are only part angel. That means that, while their powers are strong, there are some things they are inherently missing. They do not grow wings such as we do, nor do they have the ability to exist outside their vessel. Their soul ties them to it. They sought the freedom of Heaven and envied us for having it. That envy corrupted them until our Father ordered their destruction."
He couldn't believe it. Just because of what the nephilim of the past had done, they were going to condemn this guy to death? "We're not just gonna kill some guy because you think he might be dangerous!" Sam said furiously. "He hasn't even done anything wrong. Everything around here has all been good things happening. I'm not going to kill someone because they did a bunch of good."
Temper and grace both snapped into Castiel's eyes in a display of threat and power. "You cannot even begin to understand what you have here. He would be dangerous on his own, in any other time. With Lucifer risen? What happens if he finds this boy and takes him? Lucifer would twist him to his purposes and, with him at his side, he could destroy the earth without ever even needing to take another vessel."
That had Dean turning to stare down at the kid on the ground. "You're trying to tell me that kid has more power than freaking Lucifer?" The way he said it showed just how incredulous he found that.
"Our graces are made stronger by souls." Castiel explained to them, with the air of someone who was frustrated with having to explain what he found to be obvious. "It's part of why we don't want Michael or Lucifer in their true vessels. Not only are your bodies made to house them, your souls are made for it as well. They would draw power from you. This thing here, it has both grace and soul, one constantly feeding the other, the two so in tune there is no separation. The kind of power that grants him is beyond your comprehension. The devastation he could cause, not just on earth but in Heaven, is immense. We cannot allow that to happen."
"We're the good guys." Sam felt compelled to remind them. "We, we don't just kill people without real reason!"
"A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war." Castiel said to him. The words were meant to be a slap and Sam had to fight not to reel back from them. He held his ground and met Castiel's gaze with all the firmness he could muster up. "Things change." He told him.
Their little standoff was cut short by Dean slipping to stand between the two of them with his hands held out in either direction. "All right, boys, break it up." He firmly told them. Then he turned to look at Castiel, dropping his hands back down. "Sam's right, Cas. This kid hasn't done anything that's actually bad. Maybe the nephilim in the past were bad or corrupt, but this kid hasn't shown anything like that. He didn't look angry when we confronted him. He looked terrified."
It was true. Spencer hadn't looked angry at all. And when he'd gone outside with them and first confronted them about why they were there, he'd seemed honestly worried and curious about what they might be hunting. Like he really hadn't known. Finding out that the thing they were hunting was him had scared him. "If he is a nephilim…" Sam said slowly, tilting his head to look over at the kid. "I think, I think he might be kind of new to it. I don't think he knew what he was doing."
"Nephilim have their powers from the moment they are born." Castiel informed them.
"I don't know, Cas. I think Sam's right. This, it doesn't feel like something planned. All these things feel random." Dean said. "At the least, if he's not new then he's not in control. I don't think any of these things were done on purpose."
Their conversation was cut off when a low groan filled the air. Three sets of eyes locked on the suddenly shifting man on the floor. Their guest was awake.
Dean hesitated only briefly before pulling his lighter from his pocket. He flicked it on and squatted down to ignite the circle.
It was time to get some answers.