6

Bloody Brilliant

His eyes flew open, hardly daring to believe what he had just heard. No, no not her too!

But there she was, just like he remembered her. No blood, no lank, pale face, just a smiling little girl. His heart tore in half just looking at her. His breath turned shaky, his face went white, his eyes widened with horror and filled with tears.

"Hi, Daddy," she smiled, her teddy bear dangling from her tiny fingers. He sat up, just looking at her, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" She asked. God, that little voice, those wide, innocent eyes. His daughter. His baby.

"I, I'm just so happy to see you, princess," he gulped. He was afraid to touch her. If he did she'd disappear, or break. The strange thing was, he was almost certain he was awake this time. He couldn't stop himself from crying and it only got worse when she wrapped her arms around his stomach, hugging him.

"It's alright, Daddy," she said, hugging him. "It's okay." Slowly, very slowly, he hugged her, thinking any moment he'd be holding air. He cried harder when she didn't. What was left of his jagged heart throbbed. Good god she was right here again. He touched her hair, the soft, wisps of curls falling through his fingers.

She looked just as he remembered, she felt just as he remembered.

"I missed you, Daddy," she said, smiling up at him. He smiled back at her. He couldn't believe this, not in his wildest dreams. But, then again, he was dreaming. It had never been this vivid, and he'd never remembered every detail so clearly before. And he'd never been more drained by them. They left him feeling as if he hadn't slept all night…

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he whispered, taking her in his arms and hugging her close. His baby girl, the best thing that had ever happened to him that had been ripped away in an instant. She was right here. He could feel her. He sobbed softly, hugging her so tight he was afraid he was hurting her.

"Don't cry, Daddy," she said gently. "It's alright."

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry I let that man hurt you," he choked, swallowing hard.

"It's not your fault, Daddy. You didn't know the bad man was gonna hurt us," she assured. God, she was comforting him.

He wouldn't let her go. He wouldn't. No matter what. He refused. The hours dragged on, hours of him crying, helpless to stop the act and listening to her play and giggle and chatter away about nothing, as children do, a blessing he had been robbed of.

The sun started to come up and she kissed his cheek. "I gots to go, Daddy," she said.

"No," Patrick begged, hugging her again. "You don't have to go, sweetheart. You can stay here, can't you?"

"I will, Daddy. I'll be back soon, I promise," she grinned. "I missed you so much, Daddy."

"I missed you more, baby." Before he could hug her any tighter she was gone. His arms were left holding thin air. He looked around for a moment, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was playing a game. But she was gone. Just gone.

He sobbed into his hands, alone. So alone. He cried for hours until he had to go to work. He wiped his eyes, took a shower, got dressed and buried his emotions. Tea would keep him awake throughout the day and the case would keep his mind away from his daughter. He swallowed the wave of tears that threatened to overcome him as that tiny laugh rang in his ears and replaced it with a smile. That smile fooled everyone, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Sam sat back down at the table, a beer in one hand, a Coke in the other. He slid the Coke over to Castiel, who was staring around the bar, looking uneasy.

"Relax, Cas," Sam said. "You're not condemning yourself just by being here." Castiel frowned at him, taking a sip of the soft drink.

"What is it with you two and insisting on dragging me to places of iniquities?" He asked impatiently. "Being in them is one thing, but partaking in their activities is another." He gestured to the elder Winchester across the room, who was sitting with a group of men playing poker.

Sam smiled meekly. "You get used to it after awhile," he offered, half shrugging. Castiel shook his head, taking another drink.

"I don't want to get used to it," he said plainly.

Dean strode over to them, smiling broadly. To Sam, this meant one of two things. One: He got the bartender's number and wouldn't be coming back to the room tonight, or two: he'd won big. Judging by the large wad of cash in his hand he decided it was the second one.

"Pack your bag, Sammy, we're stayin' someplace nice for a change," he grinned. Sam's brows rose.

"How much did you win?" He asked, impressed. Dean's grin, if at all possible, broadened.

"More than we're worth, little brother. Now let's go." Sam stood, following him. Dean looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who remained seated, looking unsure as to what he should do. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. "You too, Cas."

The angel stood and followed them out the door.

The Hyatt was definitely not the place Winchester kind was used to going to. No, this place was for people with money and credit cards that had their real names on them. It was for the people walking around in Armani suits and Liz Claiborne dresses.

It wasn't a place for ex-convicts to be standing with tattered luggage, worn jeans, no class and an awkward guy in a trench coat to be. Which is probably why the receptionist was looking at them the way she was.

"Um, can I help you?" She asked, brow creased. Dean smiled at her.

"Yes, uh," he glanced at her nametag. "Jennifer. I was wondering if you had any rooms open." He smiled that charming smile of his, feeling accomplished when she blushed a little and set to her computer.

"Yes, we have two Guestrooms, three Doubles and one Suite open," she said, smiling pleasantly.

"I'll take the Suite," he smiled. Sam blanched. Dean must've won the lottery. Castiel frowned, not understanding his expression.

"Alrighty then," Jennifer said, looking just s surprised as Sam did. "And how long will you be staying?"

"Four nights," he said. Sam's eyes couldn't get any bigger. Castiel looked around the large, marbled hall, oblivious to most of this.

"…Okay then, Mr. Perry, enjoy your stay." Dean took the card-key to the room from her.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he smirked, dropping her a wink. She blushed again.

"Dean, you're crazy," Sam said, jogging up next to him as he walked toward the elevator, ignoring the uppity onlookers.

"Everyone deserves to live a little once and awhile, Sammy," Dean grinned, pressing the button to their floor.

Before the doors closed Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel's collar, yanking him back.

"We need to get a leash for him."

The room was just about the most lavish thing the two brothers had been in. Castiel looked around with interest, especially at the mini-fridge.

Sam and Dean were more interested in the beds. There were three separate rooms, each with its own, large bed. The blankets were clean, the sheets were soft and the pillows weren't flat. They were both asleep in less than five minutes.

Castiel watched T.V. all night, feeling no need to sleep. He tried laying down and found the act useless and pointless. Humans, he'd never understand them.

He was watching a man with a beard yell about laundry detergent when there was a loud scream next door. He jumped at the sudden noise, staring at the door. Dean and Sam both stirred, but neither woke up.

Castiel waited a moment for another noise, but none came. A few minutes later he heard sirens and thought nothing of it. It wasn't until someone started pounding on the door and yelling "OPEN UP, POLICE!" that he thought he should wake Dean up.

-Whoo, crazy chapter.-