Part Two, as promised.
That makes THREE chapters in one week. oooooooh yeah. It's a trinity.
The Truth Hurts.
Part II.
Diner girl was a tad disturbed, to have woken up in a strange motel room with the gigantic Sam Winchester unconscious beside her and two men armed and glaring down at her with expectant, predatory eyes. She was just a tad disturbed.
Understatement.
After the bizarre encounter at the diner Castiel had transported her back to the motel with a simple touch to her forehead, leaving her asleep on Sam's bed. He returned to the diner, easily dodging Sam's clumsy punches, and transported him as well, leaving him asleep beside her.
Now the poor girl was blinking Dean and Cas into focus, with no idea where she was. She struggled to put it all together for a moment, before staring up at Dean and Cas with wide eyes, seeming to realize how much danger she was in, scrambling back against the headboard. Her eyes darted around for help, landing on the dingy, outdated motel room phone.
"I wouldn't," Dean warned.
"What's going on?" she asked nervously, her voice scratchy from sleep and the desperation to keep cool. "How did I get here?" Her eyes zeroed in on Cas, and she squinted, remembering, "You... How did you...?"
"Pretty trippy, right?" Dean responded smoothly to her obvious building terror. "First time he zapped me somewhere, I damn near lost my lunch." Dean laughed a little, looking to Castiel and finding a disapproving glare from the angel. Dean cleared his throat, getting back to business. "Look, we've got you. You're caught. So how about we make this easy on every one for once - you just reverse the curse on the people of this town, and we won't kill you. Deal?"
Her brow furrowed at him, and there was a silent moment where she seemed to be working through his words. "I-I don't know anything about a curse," she answered in confusion.
"Very cute," Dean mocked. "But I'm not in the mood to play who's the bad guy. You turned my brother into Cheech Marin, and frankly, if we don't get him back to normal soon, I'm gonna kill him. So how about we cut out the innocent damsel act, ok? Say goodbye to your magical feel-good powers."
She stared at him, unblinking.
"We're gonna do this with or without your cooperation. I was just thinking that with might be easier. For both of us. But hey, my life is full of challenges. Why should today any different?"
She couldn't think of anything to say. She was absolutely lost. Here was this handsome, maladjusted man in front of her, both threatening and oddly endearing, flanked by his stiff, stoic partner in crime, who now seemed somehow more threatening that his larger, green-eyed counterpart. These were the same men who earlier had locked lips in broad daylight in her rural, midwestern diner. Now they were holding her hostage, talking about curses and magic and insinuating the age old threat of the easy way or the hard way. She considered herself a pretty quick study, but for the life of her she could not make the pieces of this puzzle fit together into a picture that made any kind of sense.
Castiel began moving about the room, gathering the various bits and pieces he needed for the ritual - an old leather book, a dented-up brass bowl, and various odds and ends including a small vile of oil and what looked like bags of strange spices and herbs. Diner Girl's eyes followed him nervously.
Dean started to get irritated, "You're runnin' out of time here honey. You can help us and help yourself, or we can do this the hard way."
"I don't - I can't! I don't know what you're saying!"
Something in her eyes when she said it turned Dean's stomach. She seemed... too sincere. Like she really didn't have any idea what he was talking about. But then, Dean had been burned before. He doubted the ability to read people that he had once cherished and gloated about. "What do you know about ancient Greece?" he asked warily.
She gaped, and then glanced at Sam, "What is it with you guys and ancient Greece?"
Dean squinted at her, a strange ghost of a smile on his face. He was kind of relieved, "You really have no idea, do you?"
"No idea about what?" she asked, utterly frustrated and starting to panic. Her composure was beginning to crumble in the wake of so many seemingly random questions and statements, not to mention the situation she found herself in - held prisoner in a trashy motel room at the whims of multiple grown men who happened to be really freaking strange. "Look, I don't know anything, I don't know what you're talking about! Please, just, just let me go. I swear I won't make trouble for you. I'll disappear..." Her eyes were beginning to well as she pleaded with them, but she got no response, which only served to terrify her further. "I don't know what you want!" she screamed, at her wits end.
Castiel sighed, from across the room, turning a page in the book whilst simultaneously pouring some of the oil into the brass bowl. He explained with a low, disaffected voice, "You have, like your ancestor, fostered a culture intoxicated with sensual and irrational impulses. You must be stopped for the civilization of this town to survive."
She simply stared at him, her mouth hanging open a little, and said, "I don't understand. Is this, some kind of religious thing?"
Dean gave a slight chuckle, but didn't answer.
Diner Girl swallowed hard, choking down her fear and panic. She tried to face him with some semblance of composure, self-respect. She got up off of the bed, straightening up to her full height, putting a little more space between herself and Dean. "What are you gonna do to me?" she asked calmly.
Dean looked at her, as if surveying her and weighing his options, before saying, "We're gonna bind your power."
"Bind my... Is that... some sort of kinky slang?"
"Nope," Dean said. She waited for more information and he offered it, "Shouldn't hurt at all. I think... But, gotta be done."
Castiel stepped forward abruptly, and the girl shrank away from him, though he seemed totally unaware of her fear. He reached out and grabbed the girl's forearm as if she were just an object which required examination. She gave an embarrassing squeak when he touched her, still blatantly afraid for her life.
Castiel held the girl's forearm in his vice-like hand and she edged away from him, her hand balling into a nervous fist. He pushed up her shirt sleeve before producing one of Dean's knives and pressing it to her skin producing a long red stripe up her forearm.
She shrieked in surprise trying to pull away, wrenching against his hold, "What the - let me go! Freak! Help!"
Castiel pressed his fingers irritatedly to her neck and her voice was silenced. She clutched at her throat with her free hand, eyes darting to Dean in panic.
Dean did feel bad for her, especially if she had no idea what she really was. He tried to quell her panic, "Just calm down, everything is gonna be fine."
She stared at him in disbelief, eyes beginning to well.
Castiel held the brass bowl underneath the girl's arm, blood now dripping thickly over her freckled skin.
Dean took a few steps closer, his hands up passively, "I know this is... crazy, to you. Trust me, we have to do this. But, you're gonna be fine. I promise."
Once Castiel was satisfied he released the girl's arm and she stumbled away a few steps, clutching her injury tightly and watching with a terrorized fascination as Castiel arranged certain things about the table, methodically adding them to the bowl.
He drew a collection of sigils on the table, placing the bowl in the middle and closed his eyes, reciting a brief chant in a language she didn't understand. He laid his palm over the bowl and she saw the bowl's contents start to shimmer and glow, as if he had started a fire within it somehow. She couldn't help but watch in morbid fascination, the strangeness of it all almost distracting from the sharp, throbbing pain in her still bleeding arm.
Castiel finished the chant and threw one more item into the bowl. It sparked furiously and Diner Girl felt a kind of cramping, muscles knotting suddenly in her every limb. She winced and let out a surprised grunt, before the discomfort disappeared almost immediately. She felt... different somehow. Not weaker, not hurt, just... different. But her ability to notice the subtle, intangible difference waned with every second until after a few moments she could hardly acknowledge it anymore.
She looked up to see Dean and Castiel staring back at her.
Castiel's eyes were cool, scientifically interested. Dean's were different, concerned almost, as he looked her up and down for evidence that what they had done was effective.
Diner Girl shook her head, as if clearing everything away so she could think clearly again. She had the urge to speak, but still wasn't able, after Castiel's previous silencing. It was almost a relief not to be able to speak - what the Hell was she supposed to say?
She clutched her bleeding arm more tightly and Dean winced for her, "Cas, maybe you should... put her right?"
"Of course, my apologies." She was almost used to the two fingers poking her in the forehead at this point, so when this bizarre blue-eyed man stepped up to her she merely closed her eyes and held her breath. Once his fingers touched her skin, she felt... better. She opened her eyes to see her injury was gone - not healed, but gone, as if it had never existed.
"Wow..." she said again, and looked up suddenly, noticing she had her voice back and touched her fingers to her throat.
Dean looked a little bashful, "Listen, I'm sorry about this whole thing. Kidnapping you was kind of the only way to get this done. Sorry if we scared you, but trust me, this was the better alternative."
Dean's tone made it clear she was no longer in danger, and hinted that maybe she hadn't been to begin with. It was as if he was telling her she was free to go.
There was a moment of dead silence, all of them feeling the oppressive electric storm of awkwardness and emotions swirling around them until -
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!" she exploded before she could think better of it.
"Trust me lady, you don't want to know."
"You bet your crazy black-magic ass I do! What the Hell did you just do to me? How did you do that?" she brandished her good-as-new arm at Cas. "What the Hell just happened!"
"You sure you want the truth?" Dean offered in a warning tone.
She looked at him closely a moment before crossing her arms, "Yes. I do."
"Everything that's been happening in your town, all the crazy that's been plaguing this place... it's because of you."
She stared at him doubtfully.
"You have a kind of latent demigod-like power, and it's been poisoning the people in your town to go batshit," he explained as if it was as easy as 1,2,3.
She stared at him still, before giving a stuttered laugh. "You are completely insane."
"The ring you're wearing, it's a cameo of Dionysus. Greek God, ya know? You're his descendant, and somehow your power got... woken up, when you inherited the ring and that's when all this craziness started."
"And... this?" she pointed at the bowl.
"Binding spell. Keep your powers dormant so you can't poison anyone else."
"Did it work?" she asked, just humoring them, her voice was heavy with disdain.
Dean looked at Cas, and then over to his sleeping brother, "Let's find out..." He walked over to the bed and leaned over his brother.
Both Castiel and Diner Girl watched with interest.
Dean smacked his hand on Sam's face, "Rise n' shine jackass!"
Sam grunted awake, jerking and staring up at Dean with confused eyes. He sat up, wincing suddenly and holding his head, "Oh - woah..."
"Hey!" Dean yelled rudely, "you still high?" Sam's eyes trailed around the room, landing on the waitress. He stared at her as if he couldn't quite compute why she was there.
"Sam... you with us?" Dean leaned over, checking him out.
"Yeah I think so," he muttered, tearing his eyes away from her, his cheeks pinking. Sam stared around the room, thinking hard, and Dean could see the memory of the last day slowly come back to him.
"What happened?" he asked warily.
"Did the spell while you were snoozin', drunky," Dean slapped him on the back. "Do you... uh... remember anything?" he added not looking Sam in the eye.
Sam looked at Dean briefly and then looked away. "Uh. Yeah. Pretty much." He rubbed his head, swinging his legs so he could put his feet on the floor and sit up properly. He looked at Diner Girl pleadingly, but she turned away, looking at the floor. Sam's voice came out quiet and nervous, "Are you...ok?"
She turned, leveling him with an accusatory stare. "I take it you don't work for the Newspaper."
Sam's heart plummeted. He was desperate to make her understand, "I can explain-"
"Really?" she cut him off harshly, still subconsciously cradling her formerly-lacerated arm.
Sam's mind went shamefully blank. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the day's events, but he couldn't put any of it into working order. His eyes were pleading, his mouth opening as if hoping that the act would somehow force something sensible to come out.
She shook her head dismissively, somehow managing to look both livid and hurt. She turned away from Sam coldly. "You," she demanded suddenly, looking straight at Castiel.
He simply stared back at her, furrowing his brow as if confused by her sudden attention.
"Yeah, you, in the trench coat!" she demanded. "Magic me home, right now."
Cas looked to Dean, who looked to Sam, who was looking like a kicked dog. But Sam wouldn't meet his brother's eyes, so Dean nodded at Cas, giving him the go ahead.
Between the hunters and the angel such a silent exchange was an obvious communication, loud and clear. But to poor Diner Girl, they were just three ass-hats nodding at each other.
"Take me home, now," she demanded forcefully, praying they wouldn't call her bluff. She was pretending to be more livid than scared, but in reality she was terrified. But she knew most men will fold when up against a woman scorned. If she seemed too strong, they'd back off. But inside she was a jittery mess that was just praying she made it back to the house before she collapsed into a heap of frustrated tears and existential crises.
She gave a shaky sigh of relief when Castiel came towards her and, though he was hard to read, appeared to be acquiescing to her demand as opposed to intending to kill her. He nodded at her and she rolled her eyes - she couldn't help it.
Castiel touched her shoulder and she was gone.
The room was silent, Dean dared to look at Sam. He looked absolutely wrecked - hungover and heartsick. He retreated into the bathroom and locked the door before Dean could say anything. Dean was so worried about Sam that he'd momentarily forgotten Castiel. When Sam locked the door behind him Dean let out a heavy sigh and turned around to see Castiel still just standing there. Dean froze, remembering now that on top of everything else, things were a new level of tense between them.
Castiel's eyes were cold, piercing. It seemed that now that the case had been dealt with, he too remembered where they had left off personally. And it seemed that he was feeling rather put-out.
Their eyes locked for a few moments, and Dean didn't know what to say. He could tell somehow, feel it in his body, that Cas was waiting for him to say something. But he just didn't have anything left. Not at that moment.
In a whisper of wings and with an unnatural shift to the air, Cas was gone.
And Dean was in the room alone.