It was about two hours away from Westbrooke when Bobby called. Rufus's ever present voice babbled in the background.
"I got some news you might want to hear," Bobby's whiskey weary voice reached everyone in the Impala. Dean was considerate enough to leave the phone on speaker.
"Yeah? What's that Bobby?" Sam asked, so Dean wouldn't have to.
"Apparently this Abbadon is Hazel Eyes. Just like you," Bobby kept talking, "Guess that's what makes her a heavy hitter. And on top of that there's a chance that she has knowledge of Hell."
"Does that mean anything to us?" Dean felt the fear clutch in his stomach but feigned ignorance. Bravado has always been a reliable default.
"If she knows anything about the afterlife, that can't bode well for the living. Be careful on this one. She might be capable of things we can't imagine." Dean regretted putting the phone on speaker.
"A tortured soul is an unpredictable soul," Castiel said softly, more to himself than anything else.
"Well we still don't know exactly what happened with the victims yet. Maybe there will be clues at the site," Anna tried to be positive. The thought was optimistic, but baseless.
Bobby quickly relayed the facts at hand. There were two events and 4 people murdered. The 1st murder was a single person. Torn to shreds by something. 2nd murder was 3 people. Torn to shreds. Probably by the same something.
"The vics are named, Willis Robinson. Vernon Wilshire. Marcus Anderson. And-" Bobby's last words were drowned out by Rufus shouting, "Mark!"
It quickly became apparent that he knows the one victim. The ruckus that followed sounded like Bobby and Rufus arguing. A few sounds like objects being shuffled about. Finally a few second of silence before Bobby's voice returned, "So Rufus is going to reach you in no time. He knew the vic Marcus. With the way he pulled out, he'll probably catch up to you in no time. I'm going to find Joe and have her send you the images of the crime scenes to Sam's email. And it 'aint pretty."
"Alright, thanks Bobby," Dean said.
"You girls take care," Bobby replied before disconnecting. Dean pulled a face; annoyed he wasn't able to spit out a comeback.
Sam managed some hotspot magic, and pulled up the photos for examination.
Glancing at the screen Dean comments, "Looks like they were torn up like a chew toy"
"Well there's more," Sam adds, "Along with the usual nightmares, it seems Westbrooke has been experiencing weird weather patterns too."
"Weird how?" There was a pause as Sam's fingers flew over the keys. Movements Cas knew he couldn't follow or understand.
"Localized storms. Hurricane level winds without the hurricane. Unexplained extreme changes in temperature. Apparently last week they had a hail storm… in May."
"Okay. So what are we dealing with?" Anna asked, at a loss for ideas.
"Hell if I know. This is some bad juju if Mother Nature is acting up," Sam said, sounding a little like Bobby.
The rest of the ride stayed silent as everyone digested the information. Shortly after passing town limits Dean heard Cas speaking to Sam a little too late, "What is the address for the most recent crime scene?"
"Oh.. uh it's next to the bail bonds on 53rd," Sam replied. Just like that, Cas is gone.
"God damnit, Cas!" Dean cussed reflexively and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. He's started to understand Castiel's logic, and there is something that man is hiding. The priest is always so eager to see everything first and remains evasive with what he discovers. Dean is getting damn well sick of it, "You let him go!"
Sam looked a bit confused, "He asked-"
"Forget it. We need to get there now," He addressed his brother, saying his name like an order, "Sammy. go after him."
Cas managed to get a few blocks away from 53rd. In hushed whispers he finished a conversation with the man he'd flashed to. Cas nodded his goodbye, expression solemn. His blue eyed brother paused as if to say something more and instead shook his head as he turned away.
The shroud of darkness was a blessing to the priest. Nobody would identify him, or his departing sibling. Similarly though he couldn't identify others. Cas knew he didn't have much time before Sam got close enough to flash over to Cas's side. The boy was learning quickly. As it was he already posed a threat to Castiel, himself. The Blue Eyed man's thoughts froze for a moment.
Threat? Sam? No. Sam would never be a threat. They were.. friends. He felt like a teacher to the young Winchester. The priest might not be too sure how he felt about the brothers, but a "threat" was not it. The more ambitious side of Castiel whispered 'They may become an obstacle one day.'
The words wound into the pit of his stomach. Not now. Cas focused himself on his surroundings.
Within' minutes he reaches the horrendous gore. Something about this image was unfortunately familiar. Bits of stories from old tomes came to mind. The sheer devastation in the small alleyway was horrifying. Nobody is loitering nearby. Police sirens are heading away from the scene. There even seems to be parts of the victim's body that the police neglected to collect. The majority of the mess created by the murders remained undisturbed. Methodically he picked through the viscera. A small flash of navy blue stood out among the arterial red. Castiel stooped to free the fabric from rubble and bloodied hair.
Blue. Smooth silk slid between his fingers as he reached into his memories. He'd given this to Samandriel on Christmas.. two years back. Castiel was sure of it. There is one way to be sure the tie actually belongs to his little brother, but he would need to check later. Samandriel has been off at the church with Michael for the past year. How did his tie find its way into the deep interior of Emerald City? The implications are not good.
After a half hour time ran out, and he no longer could afford thinking on it. Castiel shook off the bits of dead flesh and tucked away the scrap. Quickly checking his hands for blood he composed himself just as Sam flashed into view. The large man appeared about 10 feet away, and outside the ring of carnage. Cas managed a half hour to search the area in private. Hopefully that was enough.
"Those photos do not prepare a person for this." In a subconscious reaction Sam lifted his hand to cover his mouth. "What the hell could do this kind of-? It almost looks like some sort of animal attack."
Cas inclined his head in agreement, "There's what appears to be a trail. The assailant may have been injured." Castiel turned and began to walk off. The younger man began to navigate through the inordinate amount of gore, in order to follow.
A part of him felt there would be no real useful evidence along this trail. That part was correct. Despite being wounded and its egress, little else could be deduced about the attackers. Sam and Cas wove through one alleyway after another. The injured assailant must have been avoiding high traffic areas. It was almost as though the creature was circling. Sam's instincts said it was a protective action. The entire venture Sam communicated this to Dean.
Both men reached the end of the last alleyway, emerging next to the motionless silhouettes of Dean, Rufus and Anna as they leaned against the Impala.
"We couldn't find anything at the scene," Sam murmured. All of them gazed at the fortified building before them. It stood solid, made of intimidating concrete.
Cas could feel a sort of repulsion from the top of the building and said, "I believe there are wards on the 5th story." He is careful to keep his voice monotonous and quiet. It wouldn't do well for the others to notice that his heart is racing. In the following silence Cas focused on feeling out Samandriel.
Not even a faint twitch reached him. That could mean a number of things: He could actually be safe at home and not in this awful mess. Or he was here and is dead now. Or (Here Castiel struggled to abate his fears) Samandriel has been so horribly altered that he can't detect his little brother anymore. Thinking back on the crime scene, it is difficult to ignore the latter most possibility.
Unaware of his friend's internal struggle, Dean was actively formulating a frontal assault, which he foolishly called a 'plan'. Sam tried to temper the danger in his brother's reasoning with logical statements like "We don't know how many enemies are in there" and "do we even have a goal? Aside for kill everything?" also adding "We need to know more about their capabilities" for good measure.
Dean brushed off the comments, eager to strike back for the innocent victims, "We should hit them now! When they are hurt and expect us to back off," His voice hissed out in a loud whisper.
Even Rufus, hot blooded over his friend, seemed to reconsider. "We should try to plan this out first Dean." Those were not the words he wanted to hear.
Something was itching at his awareness and Dean turned to find Cas staring at him. In the silent night, everything else seems to disappear. There were small grooves radiating out of the corner of Cas's eyes. Concern. The man was concerned for Dean's wellbeing. His lips were pressed tighter than normal. Restraint. Cas was restraining himself from speaking, to save Dean's ego. The priest stood easily within' reach. And the tension spoke volumes. They wanted to reach out for comfort, but couldn't. Couldn't even think to. Dean knew his resolve was weakening, but he looked at Cas in the eyes. Brilliant empathy shone back at him. Blue and pure as the crisp air of morning. And dammnit, this ass is going to be the death of me.
With a sigh, the eldest Winchester resigned himself to patience and strode over to the driver side seat. Without explanation Cas flashed away, presumably to meet them later. Anna opted to ride in the Impala and climbed in. Rufus, uncomprehending, asked Sam, "How the hell did he get Dean to back down without saying a god damn word?"
Unable to give an answer he didn't have, Sam offered a shrug as he too joined the others. The Winchester heard Rufus mutter something about 'that blue eye just 'aint natural.'
It isn't long before everyone is together in some sleezy motel room. A feeling of claustrophobia permeated the space. Five bodies in a fifteen by fifteen room aren't exactly cozy. Castiel is the first to speak, as he stood off to the left of Dean. "Hell Hounds."
Rufus is sitting at the small table, with Sam leaning against that same table's edge. Anna has perched herself on the mattress corner. Whilst Dean fished out a beer. All sets of eyes turned to the priest waiting for more.
It was a full ten seconds before Castiel realized he needed to elaborate. "Hell Hounds. They're probably the culprit. If I recall they're a manifestation from Hell. The abomination of power forced into a vessel unable to accept it."
"You mind saying that in English?" Dean responded, a bit sassy.
Anna shifted on the bed uncomfortably. "Are you sure Castiel? I mean- Nobody's ever seen one."
"Because you can't see them Anna. They're invisible," Castiel tried to clarify, but only managed to confuse the room further.
"Woah, woah now. What are you tryin' to say priest? There's invisible dogs? From hell?" Rufus interjected, not liking the picture Cas was painting.
"Not dogs really. They're created when a Normal is forcefully infused with Green Eye powers. Their bodies can't handle the intrusion. As a result their brains fry, and all that is left is the animalistic impulse to kill." Castiel paused to prepare his next words. Describing something that can't be seen is not easy.
"They've been described as hounds. Dog-like in shape, but they aren't of this world. Hell Hounds are created from those who go to Hell. The power they possess allows them to be perpetually invisible. I believe this is what killed your friend, and the others."
"What makes you think it was Hell Hounds?" Sammy's voice of reason responded before Rufus could.
"There are no indigenous creatures that could have done that degree of lethal damage. The claw marks, and size of the jaws don't match… anything. This is a crime involving a Green Eyed cult. Hell Hounds are the only creature I know of that could fit this situation." Cas slowly met the eyes of everyone in the room, giving time for a response.
Dean rose to the challenge, "So how do we kill Fido?"
"That I do not know," Cas glanced at Anna with a question in his eyes.
"Sorry, you were always better with archaic knowledge than I was," And she truly was sorry.
"Sam, call Bobby. See what he can find out." Before the statement was complete Sam's phone was already out and ringing.
"Well there is one thing we can do," Castiel cast his eyes around, an assessment of the motel room. "The Hell Hounds can't interact with anything pure. Salt is a purifying agent. If we need protection, then laying a line of salt along all the doors and window should help."
"What about iron? I mean- iron can purify and stuff right?" Dean thought of the gates at the school. The whole reason they even kept the gates to begin with.
"I- I don't know." Cas felt his shoulders drop. He wasn't much help to anyone. It was as though nothing they did made progress. Almost as though the world was literally out to stop them.
"So what do we do now?" Anna questioned.
"I'm going to get some food. Anyone else?" Dean offered with an unconcerned expression.
"You can eat? Dean can you imagine what those men suffered? They were torn limb from limb. The beast was invisible, so all my men saw was their flesh being ripped away as they were murdered!" Rufus shouted, standing as he did.
"What do you want me to do? Huh?! I try to go kill those hell bound bastards, and you stop me!" Dean stepped up to Rufus going toe to toe, "We can't do anything! Instead of sitting here waiting on information and wallowing I'm gonna go fucking eat!" Dean turned away seizing his leather coat. Just as he opened the door to leave he amended, "And get a drink while I'm at it."
With true Winchester dramatics he slammed the door, ending the conversation.
.
.
.
I have no excuse. Please forgive my tardiness.