A/N: Okay, so I am in ownness to all of you for having taken so long to update since beginning this. This being because I started at a bad time. I really did...and I'm sorry. So here's another chapter. -Pyxie xx
"Alright, agents." The deputy hands the case file over to Sam who opens it and flips through quickly. "We have a witness, Margo Silverstein, but...she's a little shaken up. So...play nice, will ya?"
"Will do." Dean acknowledges. The deputy leads them through the station to where they keep witnesses. In a small windowless room, a woman sits, curled up in an armchair. When Sam and Dean walk in, she tightens her hold on her knees and shoots them a look of disgust and distrust. Her brown eyes peek through her scraggly bangs and she shrinks back into the chair.
"Feds? You think that they can help?" She spits. Her voice is worn and scratchy. Dean gives her a once over. There's a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but he can still make out the blood stains on her night gown. Nurse's shoes. Glasses. Scratches on her arms.
"Just give them a chance, Margo." The deputy says to her. Then to Sam and Dean, "Hollar if you need me." And he leaves.
With great care, Sam and Dean sit in two armchairs not too far from Margo. From where she's curled up, she watches them frightfully closely. "You're one of them, aren't you?" At the blank looks she receives, the continues. "One of those...ghastly horrible things. Here to finish the job, right?" Her voice cracks and she pushes into the chair to get away from them. She sniffs and lets out a broken sob, finally taking her eyes away from the Winchesters.
"No. We aren't." Sam says in that soothing tone of his. The tone that infers that everything will be okay even when it seems like hell is descending on earth. "Could you try to explain to us what happened?"
Margo looks up, tears evident in her eyes, but not her face. She still doesn't trust them, that's abundantly clear. "The officers think I'm crazy. But…" She heaves in a shaky breath. "They said...they said, 'the boy has risen' over and over and then...they...my husband…" She starts crying again, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. She has pentagrams tattooed on the insides of both of her wrists.
Dean looks at Sam and gestures to the tattoos. "Mrs. Silverstein...I know this is very distressing for you. But, do you mind telling us about your tattoos?"
Margo pulls her hands away from her eyes and looks at her tattoos in a renowned light. "Yeah. These are the only reason I'm still okay. I don't even know why, but...they gave me a few moments to get away." Her eyes grow distant as they gloss over. And it's in that moment that Dean knows that they won't get anything else out of her. Besides, they already have what they need.
He and Sam share a look as Sam reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a card. "Mrs. Silverstein, if you can think of anything else, just give us a call and we'll figure this all out for you."
She nods despondently and takes the card without moving her eyes from the wall. Margo curls into herself and her shoulders shake as she sobs. As quietly as possible, the hunters leave the room.
"Anything, gentlemen?" The deputy walks up to them, cautious, weary.
"A bit. How well do you know the victims?" Dean asks.
"Well...Margo grew up with my son, they were pretty close. And her husband, Evan, move here when he was fifteen and they kind of just hit it off. All three of 'em spent almost all of their waking lives together."
"And where is your son now?"
The deputy shrugs. "Out west. Somewhere in California finishing up his masters."
"Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to seek out revenge for any reason against the Silversteins?"
"Nope. The two of them have lived the quiet life. Good people, you know?" The deputy's eyes fall as though retreating to some distant memory.
Dean makes a sound of affirmation. "Yeah...we know. We'll figure out who did this. Keep us posted, will you?"
"Of course." The deputy nods and lets them out.
As soon as they're back in the Impala, Dean loosens his tie and sighs. "Anything less depressing, Sam? You know...like fuckin' possessed teddy bears or something. Not…" He sighs. "She's not even twenty-five."
"Which is exactly why she needs us to help her. I know what it's like to lose someone." Sam also loosens his tie. No matter how many years it's been since Jess' death, Dean will always think that talking about her will be too soon for Sam. And he will always blame himself.
"I know, Sammy."
"It's 'Sam', jerk. I'm in my thirties. I shouldn't be referred to as a chubby child." Sam shoots his brother a bitch face that has been designated No. 22.
Dean raises his eyebrows as he pulls off and heads back to the hotel. "Whatever you say, bitch."
Castiel, in the hours that Dean and Sam had gone into the field and in the time that Gabriel had vanished, has spent his time alone researching the supernatural. And just exactly there all is. And each article, each story made him feel his grip on reality loosen. So after a while, before he started to question his research on quasars, he shut down the laptop and laid back to meditate.
And inside his mind, he explored the expanses of the Universe. What it would look like without the extraneous colours that his mind creates. Without synaesthesia, within a vacuum. What its song sounds like and what that song sounds like. And entire Universe to be explored. He's just about achieved his metaphysical stasis when Dean and Sam burst into the room.
"Cas?" Dean sounds confused. Castiel reluctantly opens his eyes and he fixes Dean with a glare. "Hey, sleepy. You, uh, just stuck out these last couple hours on my bed?"
Castiel seems to notice in that exact moment, that he has hardly moved since Dean and Sam left. And more than that, instead of moving to the chair at the table, he stayed on Dean's bed. Hell, he meditated on Dean's bed. Slowly, he sits up. Then he nods. "Yes."
Sam snorts in the background, earning himself a glare from Dean. "Shut up, little brother."
"Says the short one." Sam laughs and heads into the bathroom, a change of clothes under arm. "Keep it PG." He calls from behind the door.
Dean shakes his head. "I know he's my brother and all, but he's a bitch of a bitch."
Cas scoffs, a small smile on his lips. "Believe me. I know. Gabriel is my brother."
"Is he?"
"No talks of existential crises, please. He's been a significant person in my life the last fifteen years. And even more so the last two weeks." Castiel looks up warily, but that same smile is still there. And now that Dean can get a good look of Cas' face in the sunlight through the drapes, unobscured by rambunctious brothers or by the darkness of the bunker, he has come to the realisation of just how attractive Cas really is.
Not that he's gay. But as a man, he can appreciate the aesthetics of another man without being weird about it. And if heat flared through his chest when Cas' gaze drops to his lips, well, that's just tertiary.
"No, I just meant...you still consider him your brother?" Dean tries to backtrack, but really he's asking the same question. And if Cas notices, he makes no physical indication of realisation. Only a small nod.
"Of course."
"D'awww! Thanks, bro. I always knew you're a softie at heart." Gabriel chooses that exact moment to appear. A box of chocolates appears on Cas' lap. "Did I interrupt something between you and Deanie Weanie?" He waggles his eyebrows between Cas and Dean. "I'll let you get back to it."
When Gabriel disappears again, Cas looks to the wall behind Dean. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, don't apologise." Dean pulls Cas' attention back to him, his eyes apologetic. And when he pulls off his tie, he doesn't miss how Cas' eyes darken. He smirks, his eyes dropping down the length of Cas' body.
"Dean…" Cas angles his face up.
Dean takes a step forward and leans down, his hand resting on the bed as he invades Cas' airspace. There's nothing he wants more than to close the distance between them. And he wants to know why. So when Cas' hand comes up to cup his cheek, all he can do is lean forward and kiss those chapped, yet soft, lips.
And Cas opens up to him so nicely. It's slow and tentative, but Dean can't get enough of how their tongues feel against each other. And of how Cas' hand drops to his neck and pulls him closer. His other hand drops down farther to Dean's chest and for a moment, the hunter's breath hitches. With a smile, Cas pushes him back and away, earning a himself a look of dejection.
"Perhaps...we should change rooms…Besides, I think our brothers would enjoy each other's companies." Cas stands up and adjusts his shirt. He winks and Dean realises in that moment, that he is lost.
A/N: HA! Two new chapters in as many days! Bwahahaha I'm awesome. Not really. Anyways, guys, ladies, girls, boys, women, men, and everyone in between or outside, I've decided that I need Cas as a lady. At least once. So...that's gonna happen. Just a warning. -Pyxie xx