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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.
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A Wandering Boy
Chapter 9
Sam and Cas Hunt Cripple Creek
Sam and Cas went back to Bobby's house. Sam drove with the Angel's assurance of safety. Cas had promised that he could hold the visions at bay and Sam decided that if he couldn't trust his partner, then who could he trust? It was an uneventful ride.
Once back in Bobby's kitchen with the senior Hunter they sat down to discuss the Cripple Creek job. Bobby had made a new pot of coffee in anticipation of their arrival and they all settled at the table comfortably. Sam was amused watching the Angel inspect his mug of steaming brew.
"It's coffee, Cas." Sam smiled. "The entire Hunting community practically runs on it."
"I thought that was beer." Cas looked up at Sam. " I don't however, need to drink, or eat either, for that matter."
Bobby joined in the 'let's tease Cas' party. "Remember when I told you to drink the beer if Sam offered you one? This is another one of those social things that humans do, Cas." Bobby put his mug on the table. "It'll help you blend in."
"Angels sing." Cas said suddenly.
"What's that?"
"Angeles sing when they meet," Cas tilted his head. "I suppose you could consider it the Angelic version of social interaction. We sing praise when we meet."
Sam's lips twitched. "That's very nice, Cas but I don't recommend you break out into song in one of the human bars. "
"I would not do that," Cas said very seriously. "I have not had a good response from any human when I use my real voice. They all have the same reaction. They cover their ears. Of course they also get upset when anything made of glass explodes near them. I try not to do that anymore."
"Good idea, Cas," Bobby said. "Why don't you just save that part for when you're with family only and maybe outside, at a distance? I wouldn't mind hearing an Angel sing but it might not be very safe."
"I'll keep that in mind." Cas took a tentative sip of the coffee and drew back his head in surprise. "I suppose this is another human thing that you need to learn to like. Initially the taste is not pleasant."
"Alright , ladies." Bobby said. "I think it's about time to get over the pleasantries and concentrate on this hunt."
"The town of Cripple Creek Colorado started out as a gold mining town. It flourished during the Gold Rush. They built hotels and bars to accommodate the flood of miners looking to get rich. Of course, when the rush was over and the gold seams were worked out the town began a long slow collapse."
"However, Cripple Creek got a second chance at life; gambling is legal in Cripple Creek. It's now a resort town with legal Casinos. The place may have started as a Gold Rush town but today it exists on a gold mine of tourist trade. There may be only about two thousand permanent residents but there's more than half a dozen big hotels, all of them located in historic buildings and every one of them is reputed to be haunted. Beside the Imperial there's the Palace, the Grande, the St. Nicholas, the Victor; they're all over the place. "
"You two are going to go visit the Victor Hotel, possibly the most interesting of them. It's a little ways away from the center of town, out on the outskirts; a real fun spot. It's four stories high and has an elevator. Back in the day when people died in the winter and the ground was frozen too hard to dig graves they would store the bodies on the fourth floor to wait for spring."
"I bet that piece of information doesn't appear on the hotel website." Sam laughed.
"No it doesn't." Bobby agreed. "They also don't talk about their resident ghost 'Eddie' who fell down the elevator shaft. Eddie supposedly takes 3:00 A.M. elevator rides and scares the crap out of everybody when the doors open and close on different floors and there's nobody visible inside."
"That's where you guys are going. Eddie's gotten a touch vengeful lately. He's taken to tricking hotel guests into the empty elevator shaft. There have been three deaths and a number of near misses. The hotel people want Eddie gone."
Sam finished his coffee and stood up. "It's about fifteen or so hours into Colorado. We better get loaded up and hit the road. I assume you've cleared the way for us and the hotel people know we're coming."
"You're all set," Bobby replied. "Just ask for Jess Crayton, the manager, when you get there. He's waiting for you. Did you tell Dean that you two are pulling out?"
"I talked to him about it this morning when I took him to school." Sam answered. "He's good with it. He knows we'll be gone before he gets home. By the way, he asked if he could bring some kid home with him sometime. You might want to ask him about that."
Sam looked over at Cas. "Come on, Mr. Angel. Let's get loaded up."
"I could try to transport us there, if you like. The car might be a bit much but I think I can do it."
"No, Cas," Sam responded. "I appreciate the offer but with you on low power I'd rather you saved your energy for potential emergencies. We'll get there just fine in the car."
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Dean and his core pack members settled on the bus. All four of them traveled the same route, even little Mike Thompson but Dean was the furthest out. By the time the bus dropped him at the bottom of Bobby's driveway Sam and Cas were long gone. Hoisting his book bag on his shoulder the boy trudged up to the house.
Up the steps and through the door, Dean headed for the kitchen, the heart of Bobby's house. Bobby was standing at the stove whisking gravy in a pan. He turned when he heard the boy's footsteps.
"Here you are," he smiled at Dean. "Come on over here and help make your dinner. I'm not your mother." Bobby slid a step stool over in front of the sink.
"Sam and Cas are gone already?"
"Yeah kid. They left about four hours ago. They're part way through Nebraska by now. Get up here and wash your hands. I'm going to show you how to mash potatoes."
"What are we having, Bobby?" Dean asked. "Something smells good."
"That's the roast in the oven. I figure we can eat off that for a couple of days. Makes good sandwiches too; so get on up here and mash those taters for me."
Bobby and Dean spent a solid half hour working together. Dean proudly carried his mashed potatoes to the table. They might have been just a little lumpy but it was his first try. Bobby guessed that John Winchester in Dean's life was the same man in this life who thought a growing boy could exist on peanut butter and banana sandwiches with a side of whatever the kid could find.
The two of them had a nice dinner and Dean didn't appear to be depressed by the absence of Sam or his Angel so Bobby felt like this whole strange family arrangement might just work out. Bobby's house now felt like a home to more than an old man and a couple of pampered dogs. Bobby Singer would never go so far as to admit it but the house had previously felt empty and far too quiet.
After dinner Dean spread out his homework on one side of Bobby's desk and settled in. Bobby used the other side to work on some translations he had put off for a while. The Hunter's phones were silent. Sam and Cas were the only hunt currently in the field that Bobby had a finger on. He worked peacefully, glancing every now and then at the boy on the other side of the desk.
Dean's hair gleamed in the light and he gnawed on the end of his pencil.
"What 'cha doing, Dean?" Bobby finally asked, intrigued by the puzzled look on Dean's face.
"Math," Dean responded shortly. He read the heading from his text. "An introduction to Algebraic Expressions."
"Good luck, kid," Bobby snorted. "Keep it to yourself. If you got a problem there you're just going to have to wait until Sam gets back. I'm more of a liberal arts scholar myself."
"What does that mean?" The boy asked.
"No math," was Bobby's short answer. "By the way, how was school today?"
"Pretty good," Dean said. "The classes are just getting going and I've now got some guys who want to hang out with me so things are looking up."
"Nice," Bobby smiled. "Let me know if you need any help. Not with the math, but just about anything else."
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The Impala pushed on through the evening across the Nebraska prairie. Sam and Cas had worked out a rotation, four hours on and four hours off. Sam drove relaxed, slouched in the seat with his hands poised on top of the steering wheel, listening to music or talking to Cas.
Cas drove with great seriousness; hands at ten and three, staring straight ahead at the road and precisely at the speed limit as posted. Sam wondered if the Angel had simply learned to drive from the DMV pamphlet in the glove compartment.
Sam had realized the first time that they exchanged places that they had forgotten to make up a driver's license for the Angel. After watching Cas drive however, Sam was fairly confident that no one was going to pull the Angel over and ask for ID. If anything, the Angel drove too perfectly. Sam resolved to try to get the guy to loosen up somehow. At the moment the Angel was much too perfect to pass as a flawed human being.
Night on the prairie was an impressive sight. The plain stretched out from horizon to horizon. There were no hills or trees, only the gently undulating land. The night sky filled up the world, clear, dark, and alive with stars. The breeze of their passing ruffled the tall grass and the only sound was a faint far off howl of a coyote.
It could be anywhere in time. There was nothing to indicate the century except the car. Sam wouldn't have been surprised to be suddenly pursued by Sioux warriors mounted on painted ponies with war feathers braided into the horses' manes. As the stars cartwheeled around Polaris, Sam drifted into sleep. confident that Castiel would drive them onward to their destination.