Let's Try This Again

Dean is... different, somehow. He's been acting strange ever since the whole thing with Cas, sure, but Sam first noticed the change long before that: in fact, pretty much the day Dean came back from Purgatory. He doesn't want to be right about this. He doesn't want to even think about the many twisted things Dean might've done in Purgatory to get out, doesn't want to believe that this is Dean Back From Hell all over again, or Sam Back From Hell, or God forbid, Sam Back From Hell 2. Damaged Dean. Dangerous Dean. As much as Sam wants it to not be true, he can't ignore the doubt rising in the back of his mind.

But that's not the issue right now. They've examined the crime scene and all the evidence points to a crocotta attack, though it's a lot more sloppy than the last two. This case would be open-and-shut if the main suspect wasn't currently decomposing in a ditch two miles from the town limit. He is. They'd checked.

"You think there might be two crocottas in town?"

Dean huffs and takes another swig of motel coffee. "It's the only thing that makes sense. But I thought crocottas usually hunted solo; more food for themselves, that kinda thing, y'know? What made these two decide to start playing house?"

"Maybe they were mates."

"Mates. Great, 'cause that's just what we need: two monsters making baby monsters together." Dean crinkled his nose in disgust. "Is that even possible?"

"For crocottas? I have no idea. But what I do know is that Raul was there when we killled the crocotta last night, and a few hours later a different one kills him. If it wants revenge, we gotta assume that we're next on the hit list."

"Well," Dean rises from the cheap armchair and migrates to the duffel bag containing a small portion of their armory. A smirk spreads across his face and Sam catches a glimpse of something in his eyes, something that isn't 100% Dean. Something far more primal. His stomach sinks. "Let's make sure we're ready for the bastard."

Sam swallows down his concern, trying to keep it from showing on his face. His fingers gravitate toward a familiar patch of skin on the palm of his hand. He knows that his brother can't help but feel responsible for this unexpected death; Raul may have been a dick, but he was also just a kid, with an entire life ahead of him. Now he's dead, because they missed something. But if Dean is feeling even a little broken up about it, he's hiding it alarmingly well. Purgatory changed Dean. It's made him a better killer, a more secretive and mistrustful person, and if Sam wants to be totally honest with himself - which he doesn't - Dean may or may not be cracking under the pressure of all that overwhelming guilt. It's the kind of guilt that no one should ever have to shoulder alone, and if he wasn't so damn stubborn about keeping things to himself, he wouldn't have to.

When Sam can't stand the tension in the room anymore, he goes out to get a soda from the vending machine. Once there he takes a quick glance around, then bows his head and closes his eyes the second he knows he's alone.

"Cas? Castiel?"

The angel is startled from unconsciousness when the prayer rings in his mind. He hadn't expected to hear Sam. He doesn't expect to hear from Dean either, though he can't deny that he hopes to.

'I know- I know that I'm probably the last person you wanna be hearing from, but... I need your help. It's Dean. He's- not exactly himself lately, and honestly? He's kinda scaring me.'

Sam lets out a ragged breath, then another, then a sharp exhale of finality. It occurs to Castiel that the issue must be more serious than Sam cares to admit, primarily because he's asking for external assistance without Dean's knowledge.

'Look, whatever you and Dean have got going on between you is none of my business. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But whatever it is, I'm fine with it. Just- watch over him. Make sure he's okay. Please. And stop him from doing anything he might regret.'

With a suppressed groan, Castiel props himself against the alley wall in - where was he again? - Tuskegee. Tuskegee, Alabama. Right. He isn't sure how long he's been unconscious; he manages well enough when in the presence of humans, but the concept of time has no meaning to him otherwise. Castiel vaguely recalls having a dream while unconscious- both somewhat strange experiences for an angel. In the dream, he'd flown back to Evart to watch over Sam and Dean; the only part still clear in his mind is the sight of the Impala driving away from the parking lot of a local diner. He'll ask Dean about dreams at a later time.

He's still disoriented from flying. Doing so sapped him of nearly all of the precious energy which he had worked so hard to accumulate in those weeks after his return. His entire body is shaking. He isn't cold- he doesn't get cold. He just feels empty. Not emotionally, physically, as if he's about to collapse under his own weight. Still, he can't remain in that alley for much longer. He has to find his way back to the Winchesters.

Castiel tries stretching his wings, but they feel so heavy that he can't get them to unfold completely before they sag against his back once more. Flying is out of the question. A bus, then. He's taken one before, he only needs to acquire enough money for the cross-country trip. Or... He looks to the sky.

|\/|

As soon as Sam notices the missing car, he flips open his cell. How could he have been so stupid? And how the hell did he not instantly recognize the rumble of the Impala as it drove away? One new voicemail.

"Hey Sam. I found out where the crocotta is, and you took too long. Meet me at 8910 Oak Road."

"Dammit, Dean."

|\/|

Dean chuckles.

"You know, he'll never believe you," he calls out to the crocotta in the other room, and though he's done it about a thousand times already, he strains against the rope that renders him immobile. "He's too smart for that. He'll know it's a trap."

The crocotta enters the room again, grasping a kitchen knife and eyeing Dean like a dog eyeing a juicy steak.

"Maybe you're right. But it doesn't matter: he'll come anyway, because you're his brother."

Dean gives her a hardened glare. "So, what is it, huh? You're gonna eat our souls 'cause we killed the Clyde to your Bonnie? Then what? Is that gonna make you feel better, because lemme tell you right now: it won't."

"Don't try to play with my head like that, you son of a bitch!" she yells, thrusting the knife wildly in his direction. Streaks of dried tears stain her face. "You killed the love of my life, and now I'm gonna make you suffer for it!"

"Oh, don't start with the Bad Guy Monologue. You hardly even knew the guy!" he snaps back. "You met him on the internet, for Christ's sake- and look what he did to you! He turned to into a friggin' monster!" He takes a breath, to calm himself down. Steady, Dean, slow your roll. Despite having an advantage over him, the crocotta looks at him with fear, the hand holding the knife trembling noticeably.

"All I'm saying is that you still have a choice. You've already killed one person, Christine. You really wanna raise the body count?"

Wide eyes stare at him. Eventually, she lowers the knife. Dean's already cut through most of the rope with the blade he'd hidden in his belt. Just a bit more to go and-

Sam comes storming into the living room from the kitchen door, shotgun raised and aimed at Christine. He barely has time to register the fact that she isn't dead before she flings him soundly across the room. Dean jumps out of the chair and swipes at her with his blade, cleanly slicing the back of her arm; she drops her knife in surprise. Of course that only enrages her. She whirls around to attack Dean, but is instead met with a hand that presses against her forehead and suddenly everything is a burning white light so hot and so painful, she can't even recognize the sound of her own scream as her corrupted soul is vaporized from her body.

"I apologize for my tardiness," Castiel says to Dean, with some degree of weariness. "There was excessive traffic in Indiana."

Dean gazes back at him, momentarily stunned. The peach fuzz is gone, and the hospital attire has been replaced by Jimmy's old suit. Cas looks just as he did before... everything. Kinda overwhelming to think about how much has happened in the four years that they've known each other, how many times Cas has changed for him- because of him. Now it's like it was at the very start of their relationship, only with the weight of all the shit they've gone through causing the angel's shoulders to sag. After a few seconds, Dean finally remembers to respond. "No, no, that was perfect timing, Cas. Wait- what were you doing in Indiana?"

"I was coming here, from Alabama."

Dean's eyebrows quirk in confusion. "Huh. Okay... And what the hell were you doing in Alabama?"

"I flew there. Yesterday." Castiel glances over at Sam, who's pushing himself upright and stretching his sore back.

Slowly, Dean nods. "You know what? Forget it. We'll save it for later."

Sam hobbles up to them and looks at Christine's body on the floor, then up at Cas. He's never been more happy to see Castiel- and for more reasons than one. "Nice timing. Where'd you come from?"

"Alabama."

"Alabama? Huh." He wipes some drywall off his chin. "So Christine was the second crocotta? I thought the other one killed her?"

Dean nudges Christine's foot with the tip of his boot. Just checking. "Nope. He loved her so much that he turned her- least that's what she told me before leaving you that message. We only thought she was dead when her body was, uh, going through the changes. She said she 'woke up scared and confused in the morgue', broke out, and decided to go all Evil-Avengers on our asses."

Sam scoffs. "Wow. I kinda feel sorry for her, actually. Besides the whole 'throwing me into a wall' thing."

"Yeah, me too."

Both Sam and Cas look at him with surprise.

"What? It's just, I know where she's going." He grimaces, bitter remembrance etched into the lines on his face. "And she sure as hell ain't gonna like it there."

The three of them spare a moment of silence for her before starting the clean-up.

|\/|\/|

Castiel finds himself in the backseat of the Impala, listening to Dean mumble the words to one of his rock songs while Sam lies back and rests his eyes. For one moment, everything feels normal again; but that's before his body is wracked with a spasm he's only experienced once before in his time on Earth. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Dean," he manages to say. "I'm hungry."

Dean looks over his shoulder to frown worriedly in Cas' direction. "Hungry? Yeah, okay, we'll grab some grub at the hotel. The burgers ain't half bad."

Castiel turns his head away from them to stare out the window at the streetlights and passing cars. His hands are clenched into tense fists and his stomach twitches from pangs of starvation. Up at the front, Sam and Dean share a look.

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OH HI THERE! So it's been two months since I updated, and I just want you to know that I haven't forgotten it, I haven't given up on it, and I sure as hell ain't gonna leave you hanging like that! This'll probably happen pretty often though, where I have long hiatuses in between parts. Honestly, I can really only write when I hit inspiration, and boy did inspiration come to me recently. I'll be uploading another part in a few days (fingers crossed). Meanwhile, I might have to change the rating on this thing from T to M (so you have something to look forward to, dontcha?)

Thanks for being so patient with me, and sorry if you have to be even more patient at any time down the line. Let's see where this thing goes!