The motel room was just icky and tasteless as the rest of them, and Dean threw his bag at the foot before flopping face down on the mattress. He tossed and turned for a minute before whining,"I miss my room. My bed was so much better than these freaking motel beds with their freaking springs and their weird ass blankets."
Sam looked over to see his brother kick the bed in frustration like a five year old. He snorted. "Hey, you're the one that wanted to hunt again."
"And you're the one that chose a case all the way in Utah with friggin' witches." He retorted. But he sighed and got up to unpack.
The next day they went investigating. Sam had been woken by his brother's tossing and turning and grunting, so he had done some research, and it turned out that there were five missing persons that had disappeared in the last two months, and the stray cat count had gone up, and four people had gotten bitten by an animal and contracted rabies.
He had explained this all to Dean at breakfast, who had then replied around a mouthful of food "Y'know, half that 'infmation 's probably useless."
"When has it ever not been useful, Dean?" Sam all but shouted, throwing his hands up. "It could be something more than a witch, you know. What about some pissed off god or something?"
Dean swallowed and pointed a finger at him. "Do not get my hopes up. Besides, can't witches turn people into animals anyways? Like in Princess and the Frog or something?"
Sam stared at him.
Dean looked up and stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. "What?" he asked.
Sam pressed his lips together to contain his smile. "Princess and the Frog?" Dean blushed and his mouth opened and closed a few times. "Lisa had me babysit a few times. I didn't choose the movies."
"Right." He snorted. "And by the way, it was voodoo." He held up a hand. "I've seen the commercial way too many times." He said, stopping any remarks Dean would have about his sexuality. (Like he was one to talk.) Sam was pretty confident that he was 100% straight, unlike his brother. He sighed. "Fine, let's just entertain the idea that witches can turn people into animals. Why would she want them to turn into cats?"
"I don't know, revenge or something?" He took a bite of his pancake and held his cup out to the waitress, who filled it with coffee. Sam watched her retreat, eyes on her backside.
"Dude." Dean was staring at him.
"What?" Sam asked. "I'm actually surprised you weren't hitting on her."
Dean snorted and shook his head, finishing off his pancakes.
"So. Who're we interviewing first?"
Sam pulled the papers out and sifted through them. "17 year old Kelly Carol. She was supposed to be volunteering at a bake sale but didn't show, and when they checked her home, they found her lying dead on the floor. Doors and windows were locked, no sign of forced entry. The cops think it was some sort of freak accident. Parents are Mitch and Kathy Carol."
"Does she have any connections with the other vics?" Dean asked.
"No. And her scarf was removed for evidence. Apparently it was wound so tightly around her neck that the police considered calling it a suicide." He replied.
Mr. and Mrs. Carol were convinced it was murder. And they were right, but it didn't help when they kept asking if the feds had any leads on anyone who might have done this to their daughter every five freaking minutes. Dean had to step outside and take a pretend phone call so he wouldn't shoot anybody.
"Find anything?" He asked a very annoyed looking Sam.
"Nothing. No hex bags, no tufts of hair, no sulfur, no blood, no demonic altars. Just a healthy, normal married couple." Sam replied, climbing into the Impala and turning to Dean. "Oh, and the kicker? Kelly was a model citizen who participated in community projects and hasn't harmed a single thing in her life."
"Figures." Dean grunted."They know any of the other victims?"
"Yeah, the nurse. But they believe she was murdered, too." Sam retorted.
They drove back to the motel to do more research. Or, so Sam could do more research while Dean watched crappy motel TV. Dean grabbed himself a beer and settled on his bed with piss poor television. About halfway through, his stomach started cramping, but he ignored it until he was curled up in a ball, the pain making it excruciating to move. He stumbled his way into the bathroom where Sam followed, concerned. Dean leaned over the bowl and coughed up blood. He groaned.
"Dean?" Sam asked. Dean just coughed up more blood.
"Dean." Sam took a cautionary step forward. Dean coughed up a couple pins and sewing needles.
"Hex .. Hex bag. Look-" He gritted out, pins and needles and blood dripping out of his mouth.
Sam spun around and gave the room a quick once-over, then rushed over to Dean's bed and tore the sheets off. He ripped open the pillow and looked under the bed, checked the drawer of the bedside table, behind the TV, behind the TV stand. He ran into the bathroom and checked behind the shower curtain, beneath the sink, behind the toilet, in the tank. He could hear Dean's breathing turn into gasps.
"CAS!" Sam yelled, running out of the bathroom. "WE NEED YOU!"
There was the telltale sound of wings fluttering and Dean's breathing became easier. Sam spun around to see the angel with his hand on the small of Dean's back. He turned towards Sam, a concerned frown on his face. "Sam? What's wrong with Dean?"
"A witch- a witch put a hex bag somewhere in this room and I can't find it-" Sam said breathlessly, but the angel had already fluttered away. Half a second later, he reappeared, an old busted up bible in his hand. He opened it and pulled out two hex bags, holding them out to Sam.
"Just- set them on fire. Burn them." The words had barely left Sam's mouth before the hex bags were burning, the ashes fluttering to the ground. Dean groaned from the bathroom, and the sound of heavy breathing and a toilet flushing followed. Cas left the hollowed out bible on the bed and walked towards Dean, who was leaning against the bathroom's doorframe. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and then stepped back, allowing the hunter to straighten up and wipe off his mouth.
"You'd think one would learn," Cas chastised, looking back and forth between the two brothers, "after all these years, to check your motel room when hunting witches?" Both boys looked down sheepishly.
Sam almost groaned when Cas and Dean locked eyes, but instead walked over to the bible resting on his bed. He examined it, noticing that someone had actually hand-carved through each and every page to make room for the hex bags. He frowned and walked over to the bedside table, and opened the drawer. He sighed. It was empty, meaning Sam could have avoided sitting through another eye-fucking session if he had just dumped the entire thing out.
He looked over the bible again, and flipped open to the inside of the cover. In the corner, Charvin Psychiatric Center was ingrained in gold.
"Hey, guys? He turned around to see them still staring at each other. Dean's mouth was parted, and Castiel licked his lips, drawing Dean's attention there before his eyes flicked back up to meet Cas'. Seriously, how the hell were these two not making out already?
Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, guys? I think I might've found something." The two broke their little staring contest, and a blush started creeping up Cas' neck.
It took almost everything Dean had not to stare at the blushing angel. Sam was leveling bitchface #2 at him, which meant Sam had most likely found something and Dean hadn't been listening.
His eyes flickered back and forth between Sam and Cas and he said oh so eloquently, "Uh, what?"
Sam's bitchface got more intense, and Dean felt like backing up.
"I said, I found something." He said, waving the hollow bible in the air. He flipped it open and handed it to Dean. "There, in the corner."
"Charvin Psychiatric Center?" Dean questioned, looking at Sam. He nodded. "I think that's where the witch is, or has been recently. Cas found the hex bags in there."
"Great. Fucking fantastic." Dean grumbled. "It's not just a regular witch who just likes killing people, this one has to be riding the crazy train too." He tossed the bible onto the table next to Sam's laptop. "And my pillow's ruined." He stomped over to his bed, inspecting the damage.
He heard the fluttering of wings, and Cas popped up behind Dean, holding a pillow.
"Hey-is that my pillow?" Dean asked, grabbing it from Cas' hands. They had called Cas to the batcave a couple of weeks ago, who had confirmed that it was well protected, to the point where Cas couldn't even enter. He had helped them modify the wards so he could flit in and out of the place as he chose.
"I recall you complaining about motel beds when you and Sam talked of hunting, so I had thought that you might appreciate having your pillow to sleep on, if not your own bed." Castiel explained. Dean grinned at him. "Thanks, man." He pushed the torn up piece of trash off the motel bed and put his own pillow down, and flopped onto the bed. He tried to ignore the flash of heat that accompanied the thought of having Cas in his room.
"You wanna stay tonight, Cas?" Dean asked, not quite ready for the angel to leave.
"It's alright Cas, we know you probably have angel duties or something. You don't have to stay." Sam said quickly, with a pointed look at Dean. Dean missed the look.
"It's okay, I would like to stay. I haven't been burdened with many responsibilities after I returned from purgatory. I often find myself with nothing to do." Cas replied.
"Awesome." Dean murmured. Sam went to take a shower.