Come to me…

Castiel awoke beside Dean with a start. "Awoke" was a strong term, perhaps, given that Castiel didn't actually sleep, but he had been in a deep state of semi-consciousness, listening to the soft rhythm of his lover's breath. Castiel smiled at the label he had given Dean in his mind. The man would object to such a title, he was certain, citing his need to affirm his masculinity, but in his own thoughts Castiel could call Dean what he liked, and he could wait for Dean to label their relationship in his own time. Dean shifted in his sleep, his arm tightening around Castiel's waist, instinctively protective even in unconsciousness. Castiel relished the heat of Dean's body pressed against his back; the puff of the man's breathing on his neck. To know such intimacy with Dean, it was a gift Castiel hadn't dared to pray for. It was a small wonder why he was impatient to fully copulate with his hunter. Every thread of his Grace and cell of his vessel cried out to be one with Dean Winchester, to surround and protect, to fill and penetrate.

Come to me…

There it was again. Castiel was alert now, ears straining to hear the deep female voice that had called him twice now. He sent out a wave of Grace, the equivalent of a radar sweep, seeping through the walls of the building. Castiel sensed a hot spot in the main lobby. There was someone in the hotel with them that was not there before. Someone capable of telepathic communication, as the voice seemed to only call to Castiel. Dean remained still, deep in sleep. Silently Castiel disappeared from Dean's arms, reappearing beside the bed, dressed in some of Dean's extra pants he had packed and his own white shirt. Perhaps a silly distance to fly, but it was better to not disturb Dean's sleep. He called his blade from the ether, and felt the cold steel slide into his palm. Castiel still sensed no malevolence from the presence, and if it turned out to be hostile he was more than capable of handling it. There was no supernatural creature that could threaten an Angel and emerge unscathed. Dean would be upset in the morning, perhaps, but Castiel treasured the nights that Dean slept through without nightmares too much to awaken him. Castiel closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he stood in the hotel lobby.

Ah, que brilla. I have waited for one such as you.

A woman stood in front of him. She was…beautiful. Castiel found all of humanity beautiful, but here he was applying the more vernacular sense of the word. She stood tall and proud, her full figure draped in a blood red gown that began with a high collar and cascaded to her ankles in pools of silky material. Raven's wing hair fell in waves down her shoulders, setting off her ivory skin like the moon in a night sky. Her brown eyes were dark and warm, and she wore a serene smile, as one might give to a beloved child. This woman had been a mother, Castiel had no doubt. She stood, though perhaps stood was the wrong word, for Castiel couldn't see where her bare feet touched the ground, and her long lair seemed to float as if blown by a stiff breeze.

You have no need of your weapons here, ángel.

For some reason, Castiel found himself agreeing, and his blade faded from sight. His suspicion was muffled, as though wrapped in a large skein of cotton. Which was odd. The woman flickered, fading in and out of the visual spectrum too fast for the human eye to see. Castiel could also see now that her skin in life would have been a warm honey color. It was only the moonlight which cast a pale pallor through her translucent form. This was no mortal person.

"You're a ghost." The woman nodded, though her expression cooled somewhat, as if Castiel had said something mildly distasteful. "I didn't sense your presence when we arrived."

I did not wish for you to know of me. I know what you are. I knew what conclusions you and your beloved would draw.

Castiel frowned. Despite the calm and benevolence that exuded from the spirit, a warning still flared in the back of his mind. Very few creatures, corporeal or no, would have the power to escape the detection of an angel.

"Why do you remain on Earth?" he asked, trying to clear his head. There was a peculiar ringing in his ears that he hadn't noticed until this moment, akin to feedback cutting through a radio station. Where was Dean?

In life I was strongly connected to the spirit world, and now in death I am imprisoned here, and cannot move on to the next life.

Perhaps she was some kind of medium or clairvoyant, Castiel mused. It was entirely possible for a soul too close to the spirits on Earth to have a difficult time reaching Heaven. At least he thought this was the case. Castiel was having an increasingly hard time thinking clearly. Mentally he was becoming distressed, even as his body was overtaken by peaceful aura that emanated from the ghost. Castiel needed to find Dean. Dean would know how to deal with a spirit like this. If only he could move. A pair of cool hands brushed his face, and his gaze was drawn up to meet the beautiful ghost's. Castiel immediately relaxed, as if drugged. The woman spoke, and Castiel could hear her voice, even though her mouth did not move.

I need you, to escape this prison. Will you help me, shining one?

"Of course," Castiel heard himself answer, even as he tried to escape the ghost's hold, "But you must tell me what-"

Suddenly the gentle grip on his face became like a vice, and the mysterious woman smiled, dark and predatory. No more words, ángel. Her eyes glowed gold and her hands began to burn his flesh.

When the burning reached his Grace, Castiel screamed.

Dean woke to the sound of his angel's hoarse yell and an empty bed.

"Cas?" Dean called, the gun he had placed under his pillow already cocked in his hand, a lifetime of training guiding his movement. No answer. Dean immediately broke out into a cold sweat. The bed was still warm beside him, so Cas couldn't have been gone more than a few minutes. Tugging on his jeans, Dean did a check of the room, flicking on the light in the small bathroom before slinking out into the hallway. He kept his steps light and his breathing shallow as he looked for Cas. No need to let any enemies know he was coming. Dean didn't hear any sounds as he made his way back to the main room. The entire building was deathly quiet. Dean felt the creep of suspicion up his spine as he noted that there were no lights on, only the eerie blue moonlight pouring in through the glass front doors kept the lobby from being pitch black. Dean swallowed down his fear and kept going, Castiel's shout still fresh in his mind. If anything had laid one goddamned hand on his angel…

Entering the foyer Dean felt a trickle of relief as he saw Cas. He was clad only in a pair of Dean's sweatpants and his open white shirt, standing at the edge of the lobby, back flat to the sheetrock. It looked like despite his screams the angel had managed to scare off whatever had drawn him out of bed. They couldn't have one freakin' night without something worth hunting rearing its ugly head. Dean tucked his gun into his waistband, easily within reach if the thing came back, and crossed the floor to reach Castiel with a relieved smile and no small measure of irritation.

"Dammit Cas, we talked about you wanderin' off without-" Dean stopped his words abruptly. Something was wrong. Cas was…holding himself differently. Shoulders back, chin tucked, fists clenched at his sides. Like he was in pain or something. He hadn't so much as looked up since Dean came in the room, and he was deathly still against the wall. Dean approached carefully, resting a hand on Castiel's shoulder; giving a light shake.

"Cas?...Castiel?" Cas' eyes opened, and it sent Dean stumbling backwards. Instead of the blue eyes that had poured out devotion and trust earlier that evening, Cas revealed orbs of cold burning gold, like lightning deep within a thunderhead.

"You're not Cas." The glowing eyes turned on him without recognition.

"No," Castiel's voice agreed, "I am not."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Rosaura Marianela Venganza," the thing that was not Cas introduced itself, flexing Castiel's hands as if to test them out. Dean swallowed, fingering the gun tucked into the back of his pants. If this was some kind of shape shifter, a silver bullet would at least give him a head start until he could find the real Cas.

"What are you?" Dean began to back away slowly. Venganza tilted her head in a way that was completely unlike the gesture Dean found so endearing.

"A spirit," The woman (Dean could tell from the way it carried Castiel's vessel that is was definitely a woman) answered, "Though, I think since I have entered this body, perhaps I have become something new."

"Get out of him," Dean growled, hiding the edge of panic in his voice. What the hell could possess an angel?

"No," the ghost said bluntly, "I require this angel's servitude. In fact, I require both of you."

Venganza began to move towards Dean with the certainty of a predator, gold eyes glowing cruelly as Dean unloaded six rounds into his angel's body.

Okay. Okay. Dean was going down here. He knew it was only a matter of time. The silver bullets had done little more than cause the ghost to stumble. Big surprise there. He just had to hope the plan wasn't to kill him, cause there was no way he was outrunning this thing, whatever she was, and even if he could get away, Dean sure as hell wasn't gonna leave Cas here, possessed or no. What he needed was to get a message to Sam. His phone of course had no service, which he now suspected was not a coincidence. Dean could still hear the approaching footsteps of his angel as he threw himself behind the check-in desk.

"You may hide if you wish, hunter," Castiel's voice called across the lobby as the spirit approached leisurely, "It will change nothing."

Dean looked around frantically. He needed a notepad, an old receipt, anything. His hands closed around a dry erase marker that had fallen under the desk, and he stared at it in confusion until he spun around, remembering the white board against the wall that listed the restaurant specials.

He scrambled across the lobby, wiping the board clean with his forearm before he began writing, hoping to whoever was in Heaven right now that Sam could find them, and if he did, that he could read Dean's handwriting. In his haste his fingers slipped, sending the marker skittering over the floor. Dean reached for it, only to have a familiar yet alien hand clamp down on the back of his neck.

"You are mine," Venganza purred, before smacking Dean's head against the tile floor, setting off explosions of black and red in his vision. Pain and nausea roiled through him.

"Cas…" Dean tried to call out to his angel, but the body above him only laughed with contempt.

"He hears you," the spirit whispered into his ear, pulling him up from the floor, "And he screams your name in anguish."

She lifted Dean bodily from the floor before throwing him across the large room. Dean heard something crack as he hit the unforgiving plaster wall, and he knew he wasn't getting up by any natural means. As his vision swam he saw Venganza approach him, a glow of power in Castiel's raised hand. Here it comes.

"Fear not," Venganza rumbled, making Cas' rough voice bizarrely feminine, "You will die only at the moment of my choosing. That moment is not now." Two fingers met Dean's forehead and the blackness enveloped him.

Stopping off for the night. Hotel on I33. Call you in the morning.-Dean

That text had been three days ago. Sam threw his duffle into the back of a recently "borrowed" sedan, dialing Dean one last time before he set off after his brother and Cas.

I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is out of service. Please try again later.

God Damn it. Sam should have known better than to let them go on their own. It's just a salt and burn, Dean had insisted, me and Cas can handle it; you stay here and get your geek on. Sam had jumped at the chance for some alone time with the Men of Letters library, and now Team Free Will was down to one active member. After everything they'd been through looking for their dad, Dean would know better than to ignore Sam's calls. If Dean wasn't picking up it meant something was wrong, and if something was wrong that a hunter and an Angel of the Lord couldn't handle, than Sam was seriously worried.

I don't know if you can hear me Cas, Sam prayed silently, but I'm coming to get you guys.

With a hard jaw and an ominous feeling in his gut, Sam set off for California.