Bobby, as it turns out, not only was on another case, but also had absolutely no interest in battling supernatural robotic puppets that thrived on children's laughter and the blood of maybe-not-so-innocent security guards. Bobby thought it was obvious: a security guard killed the missing kids, stuffed their bodies into suits, and now the puppets were taking revenge on any security guard that crossed their path. So with that said, there were only two things to do: find a security guard who worked there who was still alive, as he was probably the guilty party and use him as bait, or just find a way to shut the puppets down for good.
But there was a problem with that. The job paid in cash, off the books, and so the record of previous security guards who worked there was non-existent. No doubt there was a reason for that. Made it a lot harder to actually establish who had died there and thus limited any liability the company would have over the disappearances. Which left only one option: torch the suckers.
"So this is the plan," Dean said as they entered the security office that night. "Me and Cas will go out and torch them one at a time. Sam, you stay here and watch the monitors. Keep the doors shut, stay in touch, and Smokey the Bear will be gone before sunrise."
"I don't know about this, Dean," Sam said. "I have a bad feeling about tonight. We should wait out the night and then torch them at sunrise."
"Right as the day staff shows up?" Dean asked.
"Electrical malfunction," Sam countered. "We smelled smoke; fire must have started in the kitchen. By the time anyone looks into anything, we're already on the road."
Dean sighed. It wasn't a bad plan. The truth was, he almost wanted to go in there during the day, evacuate the building and then torch the sucker down then. But- "Phone Guy wanted us to go into that back room, right? He thought something was in there-"
"But what could be in there?" Sam asked. "I mean, do you really think the day staff are keeping the dead bodies of children locked up by there?"
Dean paused. "Can the puppets access that room?"
A puzzled expression crossed Sam's face. "I-I'm not sure."
Suddenly Cas pressed his fingers to his temple and sagged back against Dean. "Woah, woah," Dean said, putting a hand on Cas' shoulder. "You okay, buddy? What's wrong?"
"I-" Cas stuttered, shaking his head.
Suddenly there was a click, and a recording started. At first, there was only static.
"How can there be another message?" Sam mused under his breath. "Isn't-isn't Phone Guy dead?"
"I don't like this," Dean murmured as a disembodied voice started to speak.
"(Sir,) it is lamentable that mass agricultural development is (not) speeded by fuller use of your marvelous mechanisms. Would it not be easily possible to employ some of them in quick laboratory experiments to indicate the influence of various types of fertilizers on plant growth? You are right. Countless uses (of Bose instruments) will be made by future gener(ations. The scientist) seldom knows contemporaneous (reward; it is enough to possess) the joy of creative service."
"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded as the tape clicked off. Cas pulled his hand away from his temple and glanced at him with a concerned expression, his lips pressed shut tightly in concern.
"That's from, um," Sam gestured in the hair emphatically. "It's from, um, damn, uh…auto-Autobiography of a Yogi?"
"Yogi?" Dean blinked at him. "Like, what? Yogi bear? Don't start forest fires Yogi bear?"
Sam lowered his eyes at Dean. "Yogi-"
"Yogi Berra?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "No, Dean. It's a book. By Paramhansa Yogananda."
"Okay," Dean clucked his tongue. "So what is that? You mind enlightening me?"
"Well, that's the thing, Dean," Sam gulped nervously. "That's the thing. It's about enlightenment. It was written about a guy from India in the 1930's? 40's? About finding enlightenment and God and soul-searching through meditation and-"
"Okay, so what are you saying?" Dean asked.
"Well, uh," Sam ran a hand through his hair. "A bunch of kids wouldn't have read this so that means-"
"That means we're dealing with something else," Dean finished for him.
"Although-" Sam's eyebrows were knotted in deep thought. "There's something else. This was from a passage about, about metal. Uh, something about metal having a life force. Like the metal is-"
"Alive?" Dean blinked. "So what, these things are trying to tell us that they're alive?"
"So what you are trying to say," Cas said. "Is that these are not the dead spirits of children in these costumes? That the costumes themselves are alive?"
"Would look that way," Dean answered. "And if that's the case, that means-"
"Sam," Cas turned to him sharply. "Have you been checking the monitors?"
Dean had just enough time to clear the lump in his throat when he was flown forward as Foxy sprung through the West Hall door. Cas was beside him in an instant, slamming the door closed button with his elbow as he pulled Dean to the side.
Dean rolled over onto his back, fingers desperately grasping the back of Cas' coat to help him sit up. "Is it-?" Dean meant to say gone, meant to say, outside, but instead all he could say was-
"What the hell?" Well, Sam said it for him.
He hadn't even heard the crunch of metal as the door closed shut on Foxy, essentially slicing him in half.
"Well, they may be sentient but they're certainly not smart," Sam almost laughed as he bent over the twitching head of Foxy. Dean grabbed a crowbar out of the bag behind him and smashed the head in once, twice, three times, but it didn't even leave a dent.
"What the hell?" Dean asked, checking his crowbar.
"Dean, I don't like this," Cas said, pulling at his elbow, pulling him away from Foxy. The head had started to sing softly, "hum-hum, hum-dum-dum, hum-hum, hummmm—zz-hummm-"
"We should get out of here," Dean said quickly.
"You think they're going to let us leave? Dean?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. He took a deep breath in and tried to close the other door. It didn't budge. "What the-?"
"Okay, we need to think here," Dean said. "So if they're not the spirits of children-"
"Maybe they are?" Sam argued. "Maybe they've children's souls that have become…twisted? Maybe-"
"I thought you said these were sentient robots," Cas interrupted.
"Okay, I think we can agree that we don't know jack," Dean said quickly.
"Have we ever heard of a demon possessing an animatronic before?" Sam asked.
"I don't believe demons can construct their own vessels," Castiel started. "If they could-"
"This is getting ridiculous," Dean wiped at his eye with the back of his hand. "Maybe if we can get into the back room we can find a way to disable them."
"Disable them?" Sam asked. "How?"
"Well-" Dean reached into the bag behind him and pulled out a gas can. "I think we can think of a way."
Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. "You ready to do this?"
Dean clasped his hand on Cas' shoulder. "Got my guardian angel, right here."
"So what's the plan?" Sam asked.
"Well," Dean handed Sam the gas can. "I lead, you splash."
"And me?" Cas asked.
"Cover my rear," Dean answered, quickly tuning a wink into a blink in case Sam was watching.
As he handed Sam the bag of weapons with the other gas cans, he thought he heard Cas murmur, "Not a problem."
"Okay, here we go," Dean said, stepping over the twitching head of Foxy, axe raised in front of his face.
"If that crowbar didn't work, what makes you think an axe will?" Sam asked, following Dean out of the room.
"Well," Dean cocked his head to the side. "Let's just call it wishful thinking."
They walked down the West Hall, past the supply closet, past the main dining area, past Pirate's Cove on the left. The curtain was open, and a small sign saying, "It's Me" was planted in front of it. No time to stop and ask what that meant. They continued past it and was just about to enter the back room when Dean stopped. In the dim light, didn't the doorway look just a little bit…darker than the rest of the area? Suddenly he froze. Bunny ears.
"Sam," he hissed.
"I see her," Sam responded.
"See-?" Dean paused, when suddenly there was the sound of metal clattering to the floor. He spun around just in time to see Sam knocked to the ground and Castiel holding up his hand to Chica's face, his eyes glowing blue. Chica didn't move, just stared back at him with her cold, lifeless eyes.
Nothing happened.
Until Chica knocked Cas to the side. Dean rushed forward with his axe raised high over his head, ready to pound Big Bird's stupid face into oblivion when he felt something snake around his ankle and he fell face first into the hard tile floor. The first thing that hit him was the heavy scent of gasoline filling his nostrils, and he rolled his head to the right into a thick puddle of the stuff.
"Sam-" Dean murmured as he felt something tug on his ankle. He was being pulled. His vision was tunneled, blacking before his eyes, and he saw the silhouette of Freddy Fazbear standing on the stage before he was pulled into the back room.
He rolled over as he heard a mechanic creak and realized exactly why he never wanted to be in this room. Spare parts, spare heads, of all the animatronics were stacked neatly on shelves. Except for one, which was propped up neatly on a metal table in the center of the room. The puppet bent over and seemed to adjust it…preparing it.
"Oh no-" Dean tried to stand up and slipped, wincing as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
His head swam in front of him, and he tried to back himself out of the room when he backed into something solid. The wall? He turned slightly and realized too late as the rough metal hands grabbed him that he had backed into Freddy himself.
"Oh no," Dean struggled limply as he was pushed forward. "Fuck you, Freddy. You are not going to turn me into fucking Paddington."
He struggled in the metallic grip that lifted him up, mechanically, to his feet. Dean twisted and squirmed his shoulders, trying to free himself.
"DEAN GET DOWN!"
The second Sam's voice filled his ears, there was a bright flash of light and Dean could literally feel the grip around his arms go slack. He struggled free and fell face-first again; if it wasn't before, his nose was probably definitely broken.
He felt something grab him again, but this grip was different: warm. He looked up straight into Cas' blue eyes and breathed in a sigh of relief as Cas pulled him to his feet and over his shoulder, pulling him out of the room. He ran past Sam who was pouring gasoline into the room…and lit a match.
Sam lit it up and ran after them, towards the doors. Dean could see the yellow bits of metal of what used to be Chica all over the floor. From over Cas' shoulder, Dean could see Freddy burning. He was struggling to get out of the room but kept bumping into the doorway, like he couldn't quite get the pathing right-
-and just like that, the cool early morning air hit Dean's face and they were outside. He could see through the clear glass doors that the fire was starting to spread inside.
"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked.
Dean twisted to look at him and found that he could not. A bubble of rage burst within him. "Cas, can you put me down?"
Obediently, Cas let Dean off his shoulder, and Dean stood on his own two feet, shaking himself off like a petulant two-year old.
"You okay?" Sam repeated, panting heavily. Dean idly watched a tear of blood drip down his cheekbone from a large gash in his cheek.
Dean sighed, feeling his nose gingerly with his fingertips. Broken? Maybe not, but it hurt like shit. "I don't think I want pizza again for a long time. Cas?"
Dean pointed at his nose and Castiel heaved a sigh. "I am not your nurse," he said, even as he put a hand on Dean's forehead to cure him. Dean let a small smirk of consideration slip as Cas turned to do the same to Sam.
"So what do we do?" Cas asked. As if in answer, one of the windows broke and flames burst through, licking the wooden paneling.
"Do?" Dean repeated blankly.
"What was it?" Cas asked. "Robots or dead children or-?"
"Does it matter?" Dean shrugged. "They're gone now. Foxy's gone, it looks like you two put Chica in the shredder, and the other two are burning up right about now."
"But we don't know what they were," Cas insisted.
"And sometimes we don't," Sam sighed. "And that's just, part of the job. Sometimes you just have to live with…not knowing."
"But-" Cas started.
"Cas, it's 3 AM," Dean sighed. "I just want a burger and some sleep right about now."
"Really?" Sam asked. "Dean, how can you-"
Suddenly there was the flap of wings and Cas was gone. Dean visibly frowned but quickly erased it as Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Where do you think he went?"
"Eh, who knows?" Dean asked carelessly, raising and dropping his shoulders as he got into the Impala. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Sam got into the passenger seat without another word. The Impala's engine revved and Dean pulled out of the parking lot to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria and out onto the open road, leaving a burning pizzeria behind them.
MEANWHILE…..
"Castiel." The smirk playing on Crowley's lips was dripping with sarcasm. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"
"Have you been building animatronic robots to harvest human souls?" Castiel asked.
"Animatronic-"
"Or creating them as vessels to inhabit demons?" Castiel glared at him, his face set with purpose.
Crowley tilted his head to the side, struggling to maintain the upper hand when he had no idea what Castiel was asking. "Are you asking me if I am building a secret robot army for my demons to take over the world?"
Cas' nostrils flared.
"You're serious?" Crowley asked skeptically.
Castiel let out a deep breath as he stepped closer to Crowley. "Have you been reading children tales of Yogi Berra?"
Crowley stepped away, seemingly repulsed. "Christ, what has Moose been feeding you?"
Castiel stepped away and took a few paces back, as if to leave, before turning back. "If I find you had anything to do with this, you'll regret it. And if you ever step one foot in a pizzeria again, you'll have me to answer to."
Cas' wings flapped, and he was gone. Crowley stared after him, his mouth hanging open slightly.
It had finally happened. Dean had finally fucked Cas senseless.