"Guess I get guard duty," Dean muttered as he entered the house. He'd cleaned up outside, and begun to get hungry. Both Sam and Cas were passed out; nearly on top of one another. The room is well lit from natural light. Various cracks and holes in the wall cast strange lines of sunlight. It must have been getting close to noon.
About six feet above the sleeping pair was a strange symbol in deep red. Must be the sigil Cas made. From his own blood. Dean mused, as he drank from a bottled water, that once they move on from this place people will think there were some satanic rituals going on. Blood will flake off as it dries, and then they'd have to renew the markings. Tiredly Dean fished out his cell with one hand and dialed Rufus.
"Yeah?" an impolite voice answered.
"Hey Rufus. Think you could do me a favor?" He anticipated Rufus wouldn't make this conversation easy.
"What do you need now?"
"Can you grab some spray paint and something that will pass for food? This shack doesn't have electric," Dean kept it to the point assuming Rufus was caught up after talking to Bobby.
"Yeah, yeah. You sound half dead. Wanna tell me what happened yet?" It seems the family friend was going to pressure him anyways.
"Not sure really. Abbadon caught us off guard. Sammy's banged up. Cas is spent from using his ability too much. And Anna." That's all he could say. His throat was already starting to close up.
"That's just- wrong. But she went down fighting. I'll be over there soon." After the call disconnected, anger and pain continued to well up inside him. He wanted to scream or punch something. After a moment indecision he hurled his phone across the room as hard as he could.
It was his fault. All his goddamn fault. Cas and Sam realized how stupid it was as soon as he said where he'd gone. He'd lead Abbadon there. And how the fuck did she do that? His plan was to smoke about three blocks away. Not everybody can stay in gaseous form as long as Dean can, so they wouldn't have surveillance set up that far away. So they must have tagged him inside the building. But how the fuck?
Besides it's too late now. Anna's gone. She is like a little sister to him. Without realizing he was doing it, Dean found their cooler and retrieved the last beer. His eye lost focused as he stared at the remains of the pyre through a broken glass window. So lost in his thoughts, he never noticed Castiel approach.
He'd woken to the sound of something crashing. Instinct seized him and he leapt into a crouch. As his eyes scanned his surroundings Castiel reached one hand back and felt for Sam. Within' seconds he reassured himself of the young man's safety.
There is quiet shuffling in another part of the house and Dean is out of sight. 'Okay calm down. Reach out to him.' It took barely any effort before Cas was flooded with overwhelming guilt and anguish. Thoughts of Anna as she smiles... smiled. Thought of her eyes, and her gentle words. Memories of her as she died in his arms. Dull empty eyes, and the stillness of her body. Quickly it became difficult to discern between himself and Dean. Intentionally Cas pulled himself back into focus. He was still suspicious of the noise. The groggy priest worked his way through into the kitchen. Shattered plastic and metal littered the previously empty corner.
A broken cell phone. The culprit is currently leaning one arm against the wall whilst looking out the window. Absentmindedly feeding himself beer all the while. Castiel approached him quietly. Waves of emotion rolled over the priest and moving closer to it's source made each step more difficult. Once he was beside Dean he realized where those green eyes were focused.
"You should get some rest," murmured Cas.
There is no obvious flinch, but it's clear that Dean's surprised by the company.
"Oh. uh," was the brilliant rejoinder. It takes a little while for Dean to regain his wits. He wants to get rest more than anything. Body aches for respite, but looking at the priest he finds a question floating to the forefront of his mind.
There was a time before when Castiel had flashed out of the car to the crime scene. A crime scene that none of them had ever been to. So the blue eyed bastard shouldn't have been able to flash there. Dean's mind seized the mystery as a distraction from his pain.
If he slept now he would be vulnerable. The only way Cas could have reached the crime scene is if someone he knew was there. Cas was keeping secrets, and Dean found he didn't trust the Blue Eyes until he got an answer. Even still, his gut twists in pain.
'I mean- He can't be doing something behind our backs. Just look at him. He's so naive and god he saved Sammy's life. Saved our lives. But how did that happen. What is he hiding?'
"I'm alright," finally tumbled out of Dean's mouth, "Rufus should be here with some food." He continued. Right now he doesn't have the energy to come out and accuse Cas the way he wants to. His mind buzzed with questions like, 'What the hell are you up to? Where do you keep running off to? Why do you keep asking for trust but never give it back? Why are you still here? Or why are you set on driving me insane?'
It's clear to Castiel that food is an excuse to avoid sleep, but he doesn't press the issue. His concerns for Dean are temporarily pushed aside as his stomach awakens, demanding to be sated. Beef jerky from the duffle bag will have to do. As Cas chewed the preserved meat stick, mutual silence fills the kitchen. Castiel's thoughts wandered back to the bit of tattered fabric in his pocket. To test the fabric's origins, he will need some privacy. The spell's ingredients are simple, and Cas remembered the verse. 'But if it's Samandriel, what will I do?'
Hell Hounds are made from normals in hell. How is his younger brother involved? And Michael? Uriel? All the possibilities seem incapable of being pieced together. Worry prevents Cas from returning to sleep, instead he takes to searching the small house, evaluating how secure it is.
Dean had reinforced every exit aside for the main one. The worst windows are blocked off as well. On a hunch Castiel searched the kitchen cabinets and found a batch of old salt. Quickly he began lining the windows in the kitchen first. He could feel Dean watching him the entire time. There was a curiosity to his stare.
"Remember how salt holds Hell Hounds at bay?" The priest speaks without stopping.
"Yeah, you think they will find us?" Dean's question holds a distinct note of distrust in it.
'Is he implying that I would lead them here?' Cas stood tall and faced the blonde man, "Are you implying that I would lead them here?"
"I dunno would you? There's plenty of secrets you've been keeping from us." Dean didn't want this argument yet, but his dumb ass started it anyways.
A pregnant pause permeated the distance between them. Castiel knew he had to say something, but looking into expressive green eyes had him buckling. Without voicing his thoughts Castiel looked away.
"No, Cas you're going to give me answers. How the hell did you flash to the crime scene yesterday? Huh? You've never been there before! What's going on?" Dean caught Cas's gaze again halfway through is talking.
"Dean I don't have the answers you seek-" Defending himself sounded half hearted even to his own ears.
"Then give me any answers! Tell me what's going on." Hearing Castiel's evasive words only upset him further. Without replying to the accusations Castiel flashed back to his reliable diner. He had to stop in two secluded locations on the way, but soon enough he was well beyond Dean's reach.
Echoes of his justified anger and mistrust continued to swirl in Cas's mind. Dean knew something was wrong. Fear crept inside Castiel. Fear of loosing what little attachment he had formed with the Winchesters. If he told Dean about the Church's implied involvement then he will loose the man's trust. But he's already suspicious. Dean's heated words stung. The cowardly part of Cas wanted to sit in the peaceful little diner forever and ignore his problems.
Sometime during his introspection a waiter had set a coffee before him. Without moving Castiel watched as the peaceful wisps of steam floated upward. Unbidden, a vision of pained green eyes stared back at him.
Okay, he has to do this. Somehow he needs to tell Dean what he knows. As he reached for the plain ceramic mug, he saw his hands shake. 'Stress' his mind supplied. Another experience he can add to the list. Castiel quickly decided that reigning in his control was priority. Then he will speak with Dean. 'Hopefully this situation can be remedied.'
With a deep breath Cas began the tedious process of putting himself back together.
Sam drifted awake with the smell of bacon. Report of discomfort flooded his mind. Lower back is stiff. Wrist feels twisted. One heartbeat at a time, his skill throbs in protest. Dried blood flakes off his skin as he moves to stand. The room he is in is unfamiliar. A male voice reaches him, "Where's your angel?"
"Look Cas is a douche who ran away," Dean. That was Dean's voice. Very slowly Sam willed his muscles into movement. Did it always take so many of them to stand?
"Honeymoon's over or something?" The conversation continued. Sam could see the side of Rufus's face now. He staggered closer.
"Cut it out. We got more important things to worry about." This sounded like a good time to interrupt. Bacon, eggs, and coffee sat untouched on top of what remained of the counter. Without asking Sam entered and helped himself. Instantly he could feel his brother's aggravation fade. Around a bite of bacon he smiled back at Dean. Or was it a grimace? Whatever his expression, it made Dean smile larger.
The following hour caught the younger Winchester up. Hearing about Anna trying to save them, and Cas's desperate bid at reviving her chased all selfish thoughts from Sam's mind. Suddenly his aching back no longer flared. His morning coffee breath, now a non-issue. In fact for a time nothing mattered. Anna was gone. And he'd been totally useless. She's already.. they lit a pyre as he slept.
"You didn't wait for me to wake up?" Were his first words after the news.
"Well Sammy, we weren't sure when you'd wake up. You got dinged pretty good." Dean swallowed his unsaid words. Afterall in the middle of nowhere, having a body out and not on ice would lead to rapid decay. And worst of all... attract animals. Before he could stop himself his mind produced a vivid image of Anna's face being swallowed by maggots and crows.
And that's enough food for now. Dean put his leftovers on Sam's plate, "You need this more than I do." He gave as explanation. Sam would worry if Dean of all people just suddenly stopped eating for no reason.
Rufus started laughing then, "Sam you got fucked up! You let this Abbadon thing do that to your face?"
Confused he looked at his reflection in the face of his wrist watch. He looked pretty normal, all things considered. Rufus was just being a dick. Probably to lighten the mood a bit. Sam's clever retort consisted of a sarcastic laugh, and promptly ignoring the old man. Any actual mirth was long gone. Shit, his appetite wasn't actually present either. He ate more out of habit, if anything. 'Anna's gone' continues to dominate his thoughts. She's gone, and he couldn't even recall the details of their last conversation.
Her death was because of Dean. Because his brother had lead Abbadon to their room. It was all because of him- Sam clenched his fists. His mind is trying to assign blame. Trying to quantify his loss. There's no way Dean would have done that on purpose. But without a target, his anger began to fester.
It was time to return. If anything Castiel knew he should check on Sam's condition. It occurred to him that the responsibility to train the young man now fell on Dean and his shoulders. That will probably have to be addressed before Dean began a revenge rampage. Or a second rampage, that is. His fervor is what lead them to this situation to begin with.
As a sigh escaped his lips, he still felt a small stirring of happiness.