Dean sat in the car, knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. It was another easy case, right across the state line. Evidence showed an actual boogey man that was terrorizing a two-kid family from inside their closet. When would humans learn not to buy foreclosed homes without researching first? The family had been eager to move into their dream town in their little dream house. And hunters reaped the rewards of people being stupid, eager, and living in a culture of gentrification.
To get him on the hunt, Sam had practically begged Dean to come along with those puppy dog eyes of his. "You've got to get out of the house sometime."
Dean had winced a little. "I'm a liability on hunts right now Sam. Whats bugging you?"
Sam had shook his head in response. "Look, I'm not complaining that you're doing all the research and weapon cleaning and stuff. I'm happy to do what I can to help us get along, but Dean man, you're the hunter in this family."
The growl in Dean's throat betrayed the fact that he disagreed. "What do you think dad would say to hear that?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. He always knew I had a better head for law and such. I mean, when I met that chick from Wolfram and Hart when she passed through the school, she said that she liked my style and thought that..."
Dean had exploded then, whether out of frustration or anger was unclear. "Bullshit. You know as well as I do what Wolfram and Hart is good for. You were being conned, you told me as much." As if trying to make a point, Dean had crushed the plastic motel cup in his hand. Almost wishing it were glass so that he could feel the sting of slivers cutting up his hand, Dean had tossed it away in the nearest waist basket.
Sam had blinked, not moving from the edge of the bed to either defend himself or entertain the argument. "It's not that its any less flattering though."
Castiel had been sitting in a chair next to the laptop with a ziploc bag of ice cradled against a giant goose egg he had gotten when he had caught the side of a bookshelf assisting the Winchester boys in the last hunt. Cas had been chewing on his bottom lip and then decided to interject into the conversation, something which he usually did after the light arguments of the brothers had abated. "I agree with Sam. You should be out on the hunt and back where you belong. Angelus cannot be allowed to steal who you are, along with everything else."
Sam had motioned over the angel. "See! Two against one!"
Dean had muttered under his breath, something jokingly. "It was a mistake getting you two together if you're gonna gang up on me."
Cas shook his head. "I don't believe it was a mistake, Dean. Its wiser for all to be in one mindset."
Now, much like during that earlier conversation, Dean had simply just shook his head slowly. He had frozen up on this first job back in the field and had tried gracefully, fumblingly to make his way back to the Impala under the guise of getting something out of the car. The engine was running but Dean was just gripping the wheel and blinking through the sweat while shaking his head.
"I should get back in there."
"Start the car!" Sam shouted as he exited the house, long legs sprawling out with a wild grin spread across his face. Vaulting down the steps with Castiel in tow, he stepped across the headlights and yanked open the passenger door with Castiel in tow. "I can't believe you missed that, Dean!"
"Missed what?" Dean looked in the rear view mirror at Castiel who had that rather pensive, thought-filled look on his face, never a good sign.
Sam responded in mid-chuckle. "It was just brilliant!"
"Cas?" Dean was still looking in the rear view mirror.
"I simply stated what I was thinking."
Sam was in process of closing the door so they could drive off. "It was like watching a talk show...tell me how you feel about..."
Castiel had lowered a mask on his thought process, Dean could see his face changing as he pulled onto the main road. Dean hated that Cas was taking on human traits like that. He'd been hanging out with the brothers for far too long. "I was merely trying to reason with him as an unhappy creature."
Sam's was clearly delighted to refute the argument. "You were trying to convert him. That's not what I meant when I told you to distract him."
Castiel had shrugged in Sam's direction from the backseat. "It got the job done." And that's where they would have lapsed into a comfortable driving silence until Castiel poked his head in their thoughts about five minutes later. "Dean, have you considered therapy?"
"That's a little off-topic, Cas. And besides, hunting is, was, my therapy."
"But you were unable to perform your duties."
Sam turned from the front seat. "Cas, we hunters don't have therapy. There's nobody that could figure out all the crap in our head."
"Besides," Dean added, "even the best hunters have dry spells every now and then. I'll get back on the horse, don't you worry."
Castiel furrowed his brow. "But I don't think I've ever seen you use a horse when capturing a maleficent spirit."
Dean rolled his eyes, but it was clear that Sam was in good spirits as he turned to tease Dean. "Maybe they make like an erectile dysfunction pill for hunters? You know, when you care enough to..."
Dean shot mock daggers in Sam's direction. "I can throw you out of this car, you know."
Sam tossed his hands up in the air. "Just trying to help, bro."
They rode in silence back to the motel room. Once inside, Sam headed over to laptop. After a few minutes of clicking, he heard the sound of Dean taking a large belt of whiskey. He bit down on his lip, unsure of how Dean would take this news.
"Sammy, something you want to share with the class?"
Sam shook his head, far too quickly. "No, nothing all at. Not yet...I mean..."
Castiel had poured himself into a chair after depositing the weaponry he had carried in his coat onto the table. He sat up straighter. "Secrets are divisive, Sam."
Sam's rate of clicking keys increased three fold. "I know. But I don't want to alarm anyone unnecessarily."
Dean wandered over, cocking his head as he held onto the shot glass. "What is it?"
Sam looked up at his brother, who was trying to decode the mess of numbers and symbols on the program that Sam was running. "An IP cache. Someone's been watching us since last Thursday when you had me run a search."
"Damn," Dean cursed under his breath, "friend or foe?"
Sam shrugged. "We will know in a moment." He went back to typing, just briefly stopping to address Dean again. "I didn't want to worry anyone just yet, until I figure out whose doing the cyber stalking."
Castiel was staring at Sam intently from across the table, as though sheer force of will would give either of them answers. "And what is it you've been able to surmise?"
Sam nodded as he talked and typed in a singular groove. "Fluid accounts. Good for someone who doesn't want to be traced, amateur like us with just a touch ingenuity beyond what I've seen. Weeding through the fake stuff and random websites will take a few minutes. Luckily, its all software decoding."
Dean took another drink and then hid the bottle so he wasn't tempted with a third. "Good. Home turf. Get me some info so we know if we've caught the bastard trailing us." Dean's voice turned thin and angry in an instant.
Sam's fingers stopped as he watched someone enter into his IP cache program and begin to fiddle. He bit down on his lip again and sighed. I wonder if they know that I'm watching them do this, he thought. If they know the program is running....
Taking a second to make a calculated risk, he decided to leave a little deciphering issue for the cyber ghost that was haunting the technology. Working under the rumored assumption that they could track the address and knew everything about what was going on right now with Team Free Will, Sam left a free standing, noncommittal AIM address dropped into the riddle at a part of the code that they hadn't reached yet. Standing to yawn and take a piss in the bathroom, Sam addressed his brother and his brother's guardian angel. "Okay, let me know in about ten minutes if one of my AIM addies pop up."
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother with a questioning glance. "Sure..."
In seven minutes, one of the AIM addresses did indeed pop up.
"Sammy..." Dean growled and pointed to the laptop screen, "you wanna do the honors?"
Sam nodded as he sat down and cracked his knuckles. "Let's see what we can find out."
Five frustrating and vague minutes later, Castiel added in an invaluable suggestion which led to Sam typing in a phrase that led to a ghost Skype account that the mystery hacker was using and suggested. Sam crooked his eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged. This was unfamiliar enough turf for him, but he wanted to know who the hell was looking them up and how they might be related to the dangerous, happy torturer known as Angelus.
They were surprised by the Skype cam that revealed a girl with pig tails, who looked about fifteen.
"Are you...?"
She shook her head. "No names yet. I'll go fetch her."
Sam didn't have to lean into the microphone plugged into the usb port and now sitting to the right of the keyboard, but did so out of habit. "Fetch who?"
A woman with red hair that was wearing a low-cut peasant dress appeared on the screen. "Sorry gentlemen. Had to make sure you were on the right side."
Dean folded his arms next to Sam. "Really? And what side is that? You're the one that ambushed us."
The red head shook her head slowly. "I apologize. But we have a policy of taking certain precautions when someone enter the archives."
Sam furrowed his brow. "Which demonology site is yours?"
"Officially or unofficially?"
Sam snorted. "Good answer. You got a name, miss?"
Willow nodded into her Skype cam. "Sure. Name's Willow."
Sam smiled warmly. "Pretty. I'm Sa..." Dean elbowed Sam, shaking his head. "I mean...I'm Sergeant Pepper."
There was a small scoff off-screen. "Please, if his name started with D, he'd be telling us that he's Darth Vader."
Willow turned her head and shushed someone off-screen. Sam craned his neck as though he could see who she was shushing. "You in a coffee shop?"
A head bearing an eye patch and hair as dark as ravens with a grin just as goofy as when Sam got into his own brand of mischief, popped in front of Willow's head on the screen. "She wishes. I can't even run the Mr. Coffee most days. Name's Xander Harris. Who else is that in your lonely heart club band?"
Xander was pushed back playfully by Willow. Dean nodded. So much for being mysterious and vague. "Name's Rocky Balboa."
"Turn the camera over this way, Will."
Willow looked the other direction of the camera. "You sure?"
After a moment, the camera turned to focus on Buffy Summers. "My name is Buffy Summers. I was the Slayer who activated every girl of every generation to fight evil. Now, if we're gonna trust each other and I'm gonna know why the hell...."
"Buffy?" Sam shook his head. "Now that can't be a real name. Sounds like someone from the Phantom of the Opera."
Castiel stood with his hands behind his back, flanking Sam. "Buffy is her real name."
Buffy blinked hard. "Do I know you?"
Castiel nodded. "We met once, under very different circumstances. You had just passed on into the great light and..."
Buffy's mouth gaped open and she pointed to the screen, momentarily dropping her hard shell that she had cultivated for Skype. "You...you're that guy!"
Castiel nodded slowly then turned to Dean. "She's to be trusted. These are the Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean, Ms. Summers."
Sam waved at the screen, where Buffy and Xander were flanking Willow. "Hey there! Nice to meet you. So...whats with trying to rewrite our little corner of cyberspace?"
Willow nodded. "We make it a habit to hack anyone who searches our database for certain historical demonic figures."
Buffy crossed her arms. "She means Angelus. We need to know what happened."
Dean coughed. "No offense, what was it...Buffy?, but this doesn't affect you. Its our problem."
Xander shook his head, trying to suppress a desperate chuckle. "I think we'd beg to differ. Angelus is everybody's problem."
Willow turned to Buffy when Dean was about to interject and a loud ping came over the speakers. "Buff...he wants to talk with them as well."
Buffy's lips drew tight. "Fine, but I'm not thrilled. Gentlemen, we're going on conference with someone whose an expatriate from the Watchers Council. If you want to know what we're up against, I'd recommend you'd join us. He's not technically savvy, so he'll be with us in a moment. Patch him in, Will."
Sam turned to Dean, who shrugged. They didn't have anything to lose by adding another to the conversation. Unfortunately, across town, the Maigers family that had moved after living in Fort Wayne for most of their life had no such luck. They had just gotten the kids bedded down in the living room after Team Free Will had excised the boogey man from the premises. They didn't see the tall, cold man with the gas can and the face of an angel standing right outside their front room window with their curtains drawn.
