7

Crimson Tide

"Dean," a low voice said, stirring him from the first peaceful sleep he'd had in months, "Dean, wake up."

He opened his eyes and met Castiel's big blue ones centimeters from his face.

"Ah!" He jumped back and sat up. "Damn it, Cas!" He took a few deep breaths, agitated. "We're getting you human lessons. First one's on the word awkward. Now what the hell do you want?"

"The police are outside demanding you open the door." Dean's eyes grew.

"Cas, get out-"

The door burst open.

Sam woke up so fast he fell out of his bed. Dean, Castiel and the younger Winchester stepped out into the living room, trying to grasp what was going on.

"POLICE, DON'T MOVE!" They froze. "Now put your hands in the air!" Sam was still trying to catch up to all of this. He shook his head, trying to shake the sleep out of it. They obliged to what the three armed officers demanded.

Castiel stared at the firearms with intrigue, curious as to why they wanted him to hold up his hands.

"Something wrong, officers?" Dean asked, smirking. Sam shut his eyes and sighed. Sam stifled a yawn. Before the angry looking men could answer, five familiar faces stepped through the door. Sam and Dean groaned.

"Hey," Patrick grinned. "Lisbon, look."

"Great," Rigsby grumbled, glaring at Dean.

"Stand down," Lisbon ordered. The officers lowered their weapons. "We've got it from here. Thank you." The officers nodded and left. She turned back to the men in front of her. "So, here we are again."

"Funny how coincidences happen, huh?" Dean said, eyeing Patrick, who was rifling through things around the room. Lisbon pursed her lips.

"I don't call that coincidence, I call it being murderers. The both of you," she said firmly.

"Oh," Patrick said, smiling again, "don't forget their friend." He waved at Castiel, who frowned a little but waved back. Sam and Dean rolled their eyes. Patrick giggled.

"And who are you?" Lisbon asked.

"Castiel," the angel said.

"Well, Castiel, because of your friends, you're going downtown too," she said.

"Wait, why are we being arrested?" Sam demanded.

"Unless you can explain the trail of blood leading to your room and the dead body next door then I suggest you be quiet and come with us," Cho said plainly, cuffing him.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second," Dean said, moving away from Lisbon and the handcuffs in her hand as she came up behind him. "Now I know how much you're enjoying this, but I don't think the rest of these guys wanna see me in my shorts all day. You mind if I get some pants?"

"Go ahead," she blushed.

"Boss," Rigsby whispered, looking mortified.

"What?" Lisbon asked, shrugging her shoulders a little. He and Cho shook their heads.

Castiel frowned when Van Pelt tightened the metal rings around his wrists, wondering why she felt the need to restrain him.

"Alright, now arrest me," Dean said, jeans in place. Sam frowned, wishing he had the same opportunity. "Hey, easy on the merchandise, sweetheart," he winked. She blushed again, then shook her head in embarrassment.

They were lead downstairs by the agents. Dean glanced back over his shoulder.

"Hey, uh, Jen?" The receptionist looked up, her eyes widening. "We're, uh, checkin' out early."

Patrick rubbed his eyes, taking another drink of tea. He had to stay awake, despite how exhausted he was. He felt as if he hadn't slept in a week. Or, well, since he'd started having those dreams.

They were dreams, weren't they..?

Another body had been found. That made three, and they all had the same unusual M.O.; dead loved ones murdering them. Each CBI agent understood that this was totally impossible, yet it was happening.

Patrick was working on an explanation, but he didn't have much to go on. In fact, he was just as clueless as the rest of the team. For now.

He wasn't surprised n the least that Sam and Dean had showed up again. And now, while Van Pelt and Cho looked over the hotel rooms, he had someone new to talk to. He understood San and Dean's behavior perfectly, but Castiel was a new challenge, and Patrick liked a challenge.

Sam waited in an interrogation room while Dean waited in a chair outside, whistling and making Lisbon blush and frustrated at herself with his remarks about her looks.

Castiel sat calmly in the room, face screwed up in discomfort as he shifted his sore wrists. His face was expressionless when Patrick opened the door.

"Hello there," Patrick smiled, sitting down in front of him. "My name is Patrick Jane."

"Hello."

"So, Castiel, how did you get mixed up in all of this?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" The oblivious angle inquired.

"I mean how did you end up in that room with Sam and Dean?"

"I had nothing else to do so I followed them," he said plainly. "Though I didn't enjoy the bar very much."

"Not a drinking man?" Patrick said.

"No. I don't like being in places like that."

"Places like what?"

"Dens of iniquity," he said with distaste.

"So you're a man of faith?" Patrick asked, looking amused.

"Yes, very much so," he said truthfully. "And you are not." It wasn't a question.

"What makes you say that?" Patrick said, frowning just a little.

"The look of amusement and skepticism isn't hard to figure out. You haven't believed in God in seven years," he said. Patrick's smile was gone.

How does he know that?

"Let's get back to the matter at hand," he said, deterring the conversation from himself. "What happened at the bar?"

"Dean won a lot of money in a poker game. He insisted that he, Sam and I stay at a nicer place than the soiled motels they usually stay in. Dean checked us in, they went upstairs and went to bed. At about nine this morning the police pounded on the door."

"What did you do all night?" Patrick asked.

"Watched infomercials and listened to one man yell about a type of cloth that apparently absorbs anything and another yell about a type of cleaning product whose name is similar to the sound a bomb makes," Castiel said stoically. Patrick started to laugh, astounded by the man's speaking pattern. Everything about him, from the way he was sitting to his speech pattern made him seem, well, inhuman.

"So, while you were awake last night did you hear anything strange, or see anything?" He chortled.

"I heard a woman scream this morning. Then sirens, then the police were at the door. That was the only strange instance I can think of," he said.

"Yes that was Mrs. Moreno. She was scheduled to clean the room this morning. She found Miss Morningside dead and the blood leading to your room. You have no idea how that blood got there?" He asked.

"No."

"Do you know who killed Miss Morningside?"

"No."

"Well, alright then," Patrick stood, smiling. "I'll be back in a little while to talk some more. Is that alright?" He nodded.

"Yes," Castiel said, watching him curiously. "Patrick." He turned. "I'm sorry for your loss. What happened to your family is tragic."

Patrick stared at him, just stared for a moment. "How…how do you know that?" He breathed, his eyes staying on him.

"You wouldn't believe me," he said. Patrick shook his head and walked out. He couldn't be around this, not right now. Anytime but now. He walked out of the room and turned down the hall to talk to Sam. He stopped dead. His wife and daughter were standing at the end of the hall.

"No," he breathed. "No, not here…"

"Jane?" Lisbon said, coming up behind him. "What are you looking at?" He jumped away when she touched his shoulder, coming out of her daze.

"Nothing, nothing, lost in thought. Sorry." He took one last look at the smiling people a few feet away and stepped into the room to talk to Sam.