CH. 2

When Dean reached his room he was exhausted. Cain had spent hours with him in his head, mostly just lecturing. Soon he had Dean thinking about different scenarios in which to handle a blade and the best way to kill, he even brought back a few memories on torture and showed him a new skill set in torture as well. Dean closed his eyes. He felt sleep creep onto him, but was awoken when he heard a light knock at his door. Damn.

"Yup," He said sleepily, trying to shake his head and clear the fog of drowsiness from his head. "I'm up. I mean, come in."

"Hey," Sam poked his head around the door, quickly scanning the room before his eyes focused in on Dean. His brother looked dead beat tired. "Whoa, what happened to you? Drink too much or something?" he asked jokingly. In actuality he had come to apologize to his brother. Dean was smart; he knew what he was doing, even if he was a self-sacrificing douche-bag sometimes. But who was he to talk. God he could be a hypocrite sometimes. Sam stepped into the room and sat at the edge of his brother's bed.

"Ha. Ha. No, I was working on the Impala." Dean told him truthfully, moving over to make room for his brother at the edge of his bed. He was debating on telling him about the 'voice' in his head. Meh, may as well kill two birds with one stone. "I was also training with Cain."

Sam's eyebrows lifted so high they disappeared under his hair. "You, what?" Thinking he have may have misheard. How could his brother train with Cain? Did he bring him here?

"I was training with Cain. Mentally. Not physically. He's not here, Sam." Dean explained quickly.

This confused Sam even more. He turned to look his brother straight in the eyes. "Dean, are you ok? How can you hear him?" He started worrying. What if this thing was affecting his brother mentally? Making him go crazy? Oh, geez, this was not good.

"He's connected to me through the Mark. Geez, Sammy, calm down. I'm not going crazy. I know crazy. Hell, crazy is all we do. But this, this actually makes sense. I mean, he's the original bearer, so it is his Mark technically. He says he just wants to help us. I know he wants Abaddon dead, but he can't kill her himself. Says he needs to train me if I wanna beat her. I will beat that crazy bitch, and we need all the help we can get." Dean pointed out.

Sam nodded. That made sense. But he didn't like it. What if Cain started controlling Dean? He was a knight of hell.

Dean, sensing his brother's discomfort, shook his head. "He's not controlling me, Sam."

Once again, the eyebrows raised, "So what, can you read minds now too?" he asked jokingly.

Dean shrugged, but smiled, "Nah, Sammy. It's just easy to read you." The tired Winchester leaned back into his bed, and kicked his brother off. "Now get out. I'm tired."

"Wait, Dean. While you were out, I think I found a case. You want in?" Sam asked

"What is it?" Dean sat up again, curious.

"Well, get this. This one guy, Stephen Underrover, 18, star of his high school swim team, suddenly drowns, in, get this, his shower. The next vic, Penelope Emilson, 28, professional chef at a fancy restaurant, burns to death after her apron caught fire at a charity event. The most recent victim was a Lucas O'Riley, 36, he was a cop and he," Sam smiles, "Choked to death on a donut."

Dean chuckles deeply. "Sounds witchy. Funny, but witchy, nonetheless. What do all these guys have in common?"

"No idea. Apart from their strange deaths, they all lived in the same neighborhood. Mesquite, Nevada." Sam provided helpfully.

"Alright, we'll head out first thing. It's a long drive so I'm gunna get some sleep." Dean said rolling over, dismissing his little brother.

"One more thing. Cas is coming too." Sam says and slips out of the room.

"What?" Dean looks sharply at the disappearing figure. He frowns.

Awesome.

Dean was packing up the car when the scar on his forearm started tingling. He glanced up and saw his angel friend walk into the garage, staring intently at Dean. He shifted his attention back to the task at hand.

"You know, Cas, it's creepy when you stare like that." He told his socially awkward friend.

Castiel's gaze seemed to harden first and then it dropped. "Sorry." He mumbled.

"Ya, sure. You ready to go?" He asked.

" I ride-"

"No. Sam's shotgun." Dean knew this question was coming. He cut off his friend before he could ask.

Just then Sam walked in with his duffel, threw it in the trunk and open the passenger door, before he looked at Dean.

"You okay to drive Dean?" Sam asked

"O'course. Why wouldn't I be?" Dean demanded, angry his brother would even mentionally him not driving his Baby.

"I just thought that if Cain starts talking to you again that-"

"Cain is talking to you? How?" Cas cut Sam off.

"He's connected to me through the Mark. He's just helping out. We spoke again today. He's actually pointing out a lot to me. And no, Sam, before you say anything, he did not wear me out this time. We just talked, mostly." Dean explained.

Cas nodded thoughtfully and climbed into the back seat behind Sam. Dean closed the trunk and walked to the driver's seat of his baby and looked up at Sam as he pulled out his keys from his pocket. Sam was giving him a hard look.

"What?" Dean asked, confused by the look.

Sam just shook his head and folded himself into the car. Dean followed suit.

When they finally arrived in Mesquite, Nevada, the first thing they did was pull into the near motel, which turned out to be a desert-themed one-night stand type of place. They took a room with two king beds and ordered a cot for Cas, who said he didn't need to sleep. The trio reached their room and immediately set to work on their latest case. Sam pulled out his laptop while Dean went to the police station to gather more information, taking the fallen angel with him.

Dean and Cas quickly reached the police station. It wasn't a very far drive from where they were staying. Before heading into the cop shop, Dean handed Cas a fake FBI badge. They walked in and flashed their fake ID's.

"Agent's Stinson and Mosby. We're looking into the death of Officer O'Riley." Dean said gruffly.

The young officer looked up from the front desk, eyes wide. "Uh. Wha- What can I do for you gentlemen?" The man asks, flustered to be approached by the FBI.

"We need to see the files that you have on the death of Officer O'Riley." Dean repeats.

"I thought he choked on his food." The young officer frowns.

"We need to make sure. Some people may not believe that it was an accident." Dean says cryptically.

"Are you saying that it wasn't an accident?" The officer looks up at the two towering agents that stood before him.

"It may be a possibility." The taller one says.

The young man nods. "Follow me, gentlemen."