Something was not right about this hunt. The usual cards had not been dealt and the usual clues had not been found. It gave Dean a sinking feeling in his gut, and he knew all too well to trust his gut on matters such as these.
"We should bail," he offered but Sam shushed him. Shushed him! Dean glowered at his brother, stretched across his too-small motel room bed, and thought about calling Cas in for a little smiting.
Sam was concentrating on a book he had picked up out of the library tracing the lineage of the Westingtons which were apparently a well-known prominent family in Shiloh. About a week ago, the family members of the Westington mansion made their own excuses to skip town for a variety of destinations. Lady Westington and her husband were taking an extended cruise, and the children were all going to visit relatives or perspective camps. The odd thing was that the local staff of the home were unaware that any trips were planned at all, and were given no advanced warning that they would be out of work for the unforeseeable future. The other oddity was that since the Westington's had eloped, there have been a series of sightings in the house with lights on and movement behind closed curtains. The cops were called once according to the blotter, but found nothing conclusive to investigate.
The online story of ghosts came from the gardener who was committed still to maintain the grounds of the household. He reported to the hunters that he saw two women; shadowy figures dressed in grey robes or maybe dresses; but it was such a quick glance he could not discern much more. The third thing that bothered Dean was wondering why there were so many sightings of spirits that could influence lights and be visibly seen (which would require a great amount of anger on the spirit's behalf) when there was no one in the home that might anger them. Dean was wondering if they were not spirits at all. What else made sense? But that also meant they didn't know what they were up against or if it was even supernatural.
"Here, this looks suspicious," Sam said at last and pointed at a picture in the book in front of him. "Lilly Westington. It says she…" he trailed off and his face went slack. Dean tried to push away that feeling in his gut and got up to look over Sam's shoulder at the picture in his lap.
"That face looks familiar," Dean said a bit breathlessly and Sam could only nod quietly in agreement. In the book was an old black and white of a girl with thick back hair pulled tight into a bun. Her grey dress was buttoned tight against her neck and her face wore such a scowl that Dean thought she hadn't seen any action her entire adult life. Regardless of how miserable she looked in the photo, it was clear that her face bore a stark resemblance to that of a shadowy witch woman they both knew and didn't love.
"Serrath," said Sam and Dean shivered. This was going from bad to worse.
"We should really rethink this one," he offered and considered actually calling for Cas after all. If this bitch could command a whole army, she was obviously way out of Sam and Dean's league. And now there were two of her? Dean was going to have to question that gardener again and see how much he drank.
"It could always be someone else from the family haunting the house," said Sam, "but as Sherlock once said about coincidences, the universe is rarely so lazy." Dean glanced over at his brother and then shook his head. If Sam wanted to be a fucking poet he should have stayed at Stanford.
"So what's the plan, Sammy? Should we bring the cavalry in, get some salt, and dig up this bitch's grave?" Dean asked and Sam shook his head.
"I don't think she's dead Dean."
"How can she not be dead? This photo is from 1902!"
"I know," Sam said and ran his fingers through his long hair. "But the way she could phase in and out of shadows…and the way she used that scepter made from a demon spirit...it all screams witch to me." Dean supposed Sam had a point. "Here, in this book it says she was rumored to have some ties to cult rituals and satanic followings although nothing could be proven. Is it possible she has ties with demons or hell?"
"If that's the case, then why this house? And why are there two of her?" Sam could only shrug at Dean's questions.
"I think the best thing to do is a stake out," Sam offered and Dean rolled his eyes. He was an action man. Go in and do and get the damn thing done. The idea of sitting in a car with Sam all night was not high on his list. Not when he could be with Cas, drinking a beer and watching the new episode of Dr. Sexy, M.D.
"Fine," he said reluctantly and reached for the keys, "but we're getting something to eat before we go. Preferably something greasy…or pie flavored." This time, Sam rolled his eyes.
Castiel space shifted into the familiar bunker that he once thought might be his home. Maybe, when this was all behind them, it actually could be his home. His mind flashed through images of Castiel cooking for Dean, or bringing him exotic sandwiches. Watching Dean sleep in his bed and dusting around all of Deans weapons on his wall collection. Castiel blushed at the thought of Dean watching him work from the bed, and then getting up and doing that thing he did two nights ago. That thing where he placed his tongue-
"Oh, good brother, you are finally here," Eros chimed in and Castiel almost dropped the burden he was holding. Eros had not even snuck up on him. He was just that out of it. Castiel's blush deepened and he pulled his eyes away from his brothers. He really needed to get his head out of the gutter. His brother looked at him askance but Cas had no intentions of sharing his secret thoughts. Instead, he walked towards Eros holding out a large mass concealed under his trench coat.
"Ah, you brought the vessel! Delightful!" Eros offered and reached for the form.
"Eros," Castiel began and then hesitated. Eros took the vessel from him and motioned for him to follow as the younger angel made his way back to the Winchester lab. Castiel swallowed and tried again. "Eros, I am not sure if this is a good idea," he said as he walked behind his brother into the smaller lab room filled with a variety of racked jars and equipment. Eros had a table cleared already and gently placed the vessel on it so as not to wake the Grace induced slumber.
"Oh? Why is that?" Eros said, tilting his head and looking at his brother.
"Well first, we didn't ask permission of the vessel," Cas offered and Eros chuckled.
"It's not an angelic possession, it's a spiritual possession. They never ask permission, Castiel."
"Yes but-"
"And it's not like this vessel means anything of significance to make such a big deal about asking permission. Not like the Winchester vessels during Armageddon."
"But if they loved each other-" Castiel suggested and Eros's face fell into a scowl.
"They didn't love each other!" he said, getting exasperated. "They were Soul-bound. Nothing more. I needed a vessel that was Soul-bound to Sam. We are just lucky to find this one."
"Is it not the same, Eros?" Castiel asked with a tilt of his head. "The binding of hearts and the binding of souls, are they not the same for all species on earth?"
"No!" Eros shouted and stomped towards Castiel with angry conviction. Castiel took a step back in surprise. "Soul-bound are not soul mates, Castiel! Have you forgotten who I am, big brother? I am Eros, Leader of the Garrison of Class Cupid angels sent to earth to unify hearts and merge soul mates," Eros shouted as he closed in on Cas, "I have influenced countless generations through procreation and design. I and I alone designed the chemistry of love. The hormone cocktail needed to produce such an effect is beyond even your comprehension. Our father…he only created obligation. I suspect even he did not possess the understanding to create such a free feeling as love." Eros stepped into the space for Cas that Dean always referred to his 'no-fly zone'. Castiel didn't like to think it was a challenge, but Eros's eyes lit with a fire that ignited the passion of his work. Eros was right. Castiel had forgotten who he was.
"Eros…I'm sorry," Castiel said frankly and the fire winked out of his brother's eyes. He shrugged uncomfortably.
"No…I…let's just forget it," he mumbled and turned back to the table where he had placed his burden.
"Gabriel isn't going to like this," Cas said when Eros pulled the coat away from the sleeping vessel. "This vessel is so different from the one he had before."
"Gabriel is a ghost in the machine. He can't expect to have any more than this, and really Castiel I am uncertain if this will even work. He might just vanish all together." Then Eros looked up at his brother and a twinkle shown in his eye. With a smile spreading across his lips, the angel looked ever the boy again. "But Castiel, won't it be fascinating to try? I can't wait to see what happens!"
Cas returned the smile but not the passion. Try and fail or try and succeed, Cas was certain that Gabriel would cross all barriers in life and death to see Castiel killed for this. It was a thought sobering enough to finally get his mind off of Dean.