Chapter 18:Giant Fluffy Dogs Are Not As Lovable As They Seem
Dean sat in the gun room, pulling the weapons apart and cleaning them. The familiar movements and repetitive steps helping to clear his mind. He found comfort in the sound of the metals gliding into place, the coolness against his skin. He needed this, to get some time alone, his moods having a very short string as of late.
He wondered briefly why he'd been on edge so much recently. He wanted to blame his father, he really did. But he knew that wasn't the problem, the guy had his faults, but he had dealt with it his entire life. He thought it might be the mark for a while, not having a kill to feed it might well be altering his mood. It certainly did with his personality. But was it the only reason? He could just be suffering from cabin fever, but while Cas and John where away, he was going out more. Sam with him, of course, to make sure he didn't hurt anyone.
He looked down at the mark. His arm not quite as swollen, but still an angry red surrounded the area. It still twinged from time to time, mostly when he was angry, or was he angry because of the pain? He didn't know anymore. All he knew, was that the anger was easier to manage when Castiel was around. He provided a calming presence that helped him to think, and not lash out.
They had been gone for over a week now, and Dean was growing more anxious by the day. He just knew someone was going to get hurt on the hunt, but he didn't know who. He couldn't explain it, it was just a feeling in his gut. He'd called a few times, making sure everyone was alright, but Castiel was very tight lipped about the details. Saying he didn't want to make him worry.
Dean thought that was bullshit, he was going to worry even more if he didn't know what they where up against. They had left, thinking it was your run of the mill werewolf, but Castiel had at least admitted that that wasn't it. They where hunting something else, he just wasn't saying what.
Dean locked a magazine into the automatic he was cleaning, and let loose a few shots into the wall in frustration. He often thought about taking one of the cars and driving to them, to take out whatever it was they where hunting himself. They where apparently taking their own sweet time taking care of it.
Sighing, he stood up and walked out of the room. He was not going to work on the cars anymore until his father got back. Sam was trying, but Dean needed to be able to focus on working, and not explaining everything. He loved his brother, but when it comes to cars, he was better off just riding. The only thing the guy seemed to be able to do without supervision was a basic oil change, and tire rotation. If he wasn't working on them, he was distracting Dean with inane chatter.
He walked into his room, and turned on the radio. He let his music calm him down as much as possible. He laid down on his bed, and closed his eyes. Allowing his stress to melt off him as much as possible. The past few days where much easier then they had been in the beginning, but not quite as good as it was while Castiel was there. Off the top of his head, he could think of at least five reasons why.
Rubbing on the mark with shaky hands, he tried to quiet his mind and go to sleep. But his mind was refusing, putting pictures in his heads of what could be going on while he was asleep. He wasn't worried about monsters, but what he could potentially do while he was asleep, or when he woke up. He'd nearly killed Sam, again. The last time he'd had an hallucination, he'd gone after his little brother with a gun.
No, bad thoughts. Sam had already forgave him, saying it wasn't his fault. Which, wasn't that just his brother all over. With the forgiveness and making excuses for his and everyone else's actions. Telling Dean that everything he does is not his fault, but that of the mark on his arm, or the Demon blood, or the Leviathan's running free through Castiel's body. He supposed he was no different.
Putting his phone on his night stand, the ringer all the way up so he could make sure to hear it if Castiel called. Then let his mind drift off to sleep.
"Mr. Hayflat, I'm John Doogle, and this is my partner Casper Powers. We're from animal control, and we could like to ask you a few questions about these animal attacks." John said to the small, stout man that had opened the door in front of him. The man stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly lost.
"I'm sorry. What?" Gary Hayflat asked, walking out of the door, and closing it behind him. "I thought they where simple animal attacks. Why would you need to question me?"
"Well Mr. Hayflat, we needed to know if you where witness to these attacks." John said, pulling out a file for show and seeming to consult it. "You did admit yourself to the hospital sometime last month for a bite marks, did you not?" He asked, looking the man in the eye.
"Well, yes I did." Gary said, calmly looking between John and Castiel. "But that was the last state over, I don't know what relevance that would have with the attacks happening here." He said, his voice steady, as he whipped his bald head with a rag from his pocket.
"The last state over you say?" Castiel asked, his voice authoritative. "When did this take place again?" He asked, pulling out a pen and notepad.
"Last month, around the twelfth I think." Gary answered, his eyes turning up in thought.
"But you where not admitted until the fifteenth, correct?" John asked, double checking his file, and looking up at the man.
"No, I didn't think much of it. After all, it was just a dog." Gary answered, staying close to his door. "But I decided to have it tested when it became infected."
"Did you notice any other symptoms after you where bitten?" Castiel asked, looking up at Gary's brown eyes. "Anything odd that you can't quite explain, weird urges. Maybe you noticed a change in appetite or heightened senses?" He suggested, watching Gary for his reaction. John's aggravation growing, but he remained calm at Castiel's sharp tone. This guy had no flair for subtlety. "Perhaps strange transformations, or urges to bite people. Tear open their chest maybe, and eat their hearts." He finished, John not believing what he was hearing.
"No, nothing like that." Gary answered, looking at John as if he'd grown another head. "Just some red and puffiness. That's all."
"I see." Castiel stated, jotting down notes in his notepad. "It's a pity Mr. Hayflat. Otherwise you may have been entitled to some form of compensation from the state." He said, closing his notes and walking away from the house.
"Have a good day." John said, with a congenial smile and following his companion. He waited until they where in the car, and driving away before asking. "What was that?" He asked Castiel, voice giving way to one of irritation.
"What was what?" Castiel asked, going over his notes. Not bothering to look up.
"Could you have made yourself more suspicious?" John asked, gesturing back to the house they had pulled away from. "You could have at least acted a bit more human."
"I believe I acted accordingly for an investigator. I kept it professional." Castiel defended himself. John rolling his eyes. "I hardly see the reason for pleasantries. I don't even see why we did not just kill him right there."
"Yeah, of course you don't." John muttered under his breath. They needed to know for certain, otherwise they where killing innocent people.
"Besides, if I did make myself suspicious." Castiel continued as if he hadn't heard John. "Then it will serve our purpose and bring him out in the open. Now that we have alerted him to our presence, he will attempt to get rid of us."
"You know witches don't need to be in a room with you to kill you, right?" John asked, he had no idea how much Castiel has worked with witches, and wasn't going to take any chances.
"Of course." Castiel responded simply. John waited for an explanation, but none came.
"You're wanting him to hex us." John clarified, looking at Castiel in disbelief. He was actually encouraging the witch to attack them. His suspicions proved true when Castiel gave him a self satisfied smile. "And now we wait." He said with a resigned sigh, driving back to the hotel.
Dean was awoken by the sound of his phone ringing. Opening his eyes, he turned to look at it. He picked it up, and looked at the number. Seeing Castiel's name on the small screen, he answered it quickly, and sat up.
"Cas." Dean said, clearing his throat when the first sound came out scratchy. "Cas, what's up man." He asked, leaning against the wall.
"We should be back in a few days I think." Castiel's gravely voice sounded over the phone. Dean couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. That was good news.
"Oh, yeah." Dean said, getting up. "Well, that's good news." He said, getting up to walk around his room. Then feeling like a teenager in high school, he sat back down again. "So you think you got it figured out? What is it?" He asked, keeping his voice even.
"Yes." Castiel answered slowly. "Now it's just a matter of waiting for it to come out into the open. Your father is insisting we have proof before we make the kill." He complained, Dean hearing how confused Castiel is. "Which is just ridiculous, I mean. We know who it is. Why not just kill him now? Before there is anymore casualties."
Dean laughed at his indigence. That was just like Castiel, do it, and do it quickly. Don't worry about being wrong. He liked that about Castiel, he was always certain, in everything he did. Never once second guessing himself.
"It's a human thing, Cas." Dean said, speaking calmly into the phone. "It's called doubt. He doesn't trust you as much as I do, and he wants to make sure he's not killing an innocent man." He explained his father's behavior.
"It's irrational." Was Castiel's reply.
"Human." Dean responded again, adding a sing-song quality to his voice. "Whatever, but what is it exactly. You haven't said."
"And I still won't." Castiel stated, he could hear the sounds of cars passing by him. Castiel had taken the phone outside to talk. "You need to focus on getting better."
"Come on, Cas." Dean pleaded. "I'm going crazy in here. I can help. Maybe I know a way to kills this thing. I'm worried whether you tell me or not."
"Do you doubt me?" Castiel asked, his voice sounding hurt.
"No." Was Dean's quick answer.
"Then you can trust me to take care of this." Castiel said. "You father will be just fine."
"It's not my father I'm worried about." Dean argued. "It's you, he has a tendency to take stupid risk that he could have avoided. You do too, but your's tends to be bigger, and he won't care as much as he would if it where me or Sam there."
"Don't worry Dean." Castiel calmed, voice becoming gentle. "I'll take care of myself." He said, before hanging up the phone.
Dean cursed as the phone went dead. Everything he said, was true. Sure, his father would help him hunt, and he wouldn't intentionally get him killed. But he also would not be as concerned about Castiel getting hurt as he had been when they went on hunts with him. He would be treated just like any other hunter, and with other hunters, he was more inclined to believe they could take care of themselves.
Castiel had said to trust him. He said that he could take care of it and himself. Dean didn't really doubt that, he'd watched Castiel take out more Demon's then he could count. He'd had his butt saved by the guy so often, he was sure he was followed. But for some reason, he worried. Maybe he was just letting his emotions get the better of him.
John walked into the motel room with a bag of food in his hand, and closed the door. He looked around, noticing that Castiel was no where in sight. He threw the food he had picked up for him on his bed and sat down at the table. Pulling out his burger, and taking a bite out of it. He wondered where the guy had gone.
They had interviewed the suspect yesterday, and so far, nothing. Castiel had seemed certain that he would strike soon. He should have known better then to trust the guys judgement. He was very surprised he had. He had a way of talking that made you listen to him. Telling John that he was certain that he would target them soon. John was beginning to doubt that, they had definitely given the witch plenty of time to react, to attack, anything. But still there was nothing.
He threw away his trash and laid down on his bed. Castiel had yet to make an appearance. Honestly, if he hadn't been with them for the past month, John would be inclined to believe he was the one doing these murders. With all the sneaking out he does. He understands that Castiel is a man, and he probably just needs some time to himself. But all the secret phone calls, and the leaving when John was asleep was something he wasn't likely to trust.
He let out a sigh, and closed his eyes. He needed some kind of rest. But he felt a slight tickling of his throat, just enough to annoy him. He stood up, intent on getting a drink of water when the sensation grew, turning painful. It felt like his throat was expanding, or something was caught in it. He couldn't breathe, and he was loosing his sight. He stood up, opening doors and turning over his sheets. But he couldn't keep it up, he couldn't find the hex bag.
Lucky for him, Castiel walked in. He seemed to be in the middle of saying something, when he looked at John. His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed his knife out of his pocket. He opened drawers, and tore open the phone. John was loosing consciousness, but he could still hear Castiel moving around, throwing things across the room. Looking for the hex bag.
John felt Castiel move past him to his bed, turning the sheets over and shaking them out, before taking his knife to the bed and tearing slashes in the mattress. John heard him shout in relief, holding the bag over his head, before retrieving a bowl from his bag. He threw in several herbs, and poured in a gloppy red substance. Throwing the hex bag in, he pulled out a match and lit the whole thing on fire.
John took a deep breath as the bowl went to blaze. The pain and tightness in his throat disappearing. He looked up to find Castiel watching him, checking for any other issues. His eyes concerned, but calculating. Moving from place to place quickly, making note of every possible injury.
"Thanks." John managed to choke out, his voice hoarse from the spell. "How did you know to look in the mattress?" He asked, looking at the offending item.
"Over the years I have seen many very creative hiding places for hex bags." Castiel explained, standing up and walking to the bed. Picking up his food and sniffing before throwing it back on the bed. "Do you have your bearings?" He asked, pocketing his knife and picking up a gun. Loading it, and placing several more bullets in his pockets for ammo. Then packing his own bag. Collecting everything that they had brought.
"Yeah, I think so." John said, standing up. "What are you doing?"
"While you where out, he had to sneak in to put the bag in here." Castiel stated, handing John a gun and several rounds of ammo himself. "But while he was sneaking in, no one was watching his house. So I took the opportunity to do my own breaking and entering." Castiel explained, opening his phone and showing John several incriminating pictures of Gary's house. Stuff that, if they had been allowed in, John would not have hesitated to shoot the guy on sight.
"Right." John said, walking away from Castiel's outstretched arm and to the door. "Let's go get this mother." He said, opening the door.
"Gary Hayflat doesn't have any children, and I heavily doubt he would have bore them himself." Castiel said, following him.
They had to wait a few hours before they could attack. After all, barging into a man's house in broad daylight was a sure fire way to end up in a state wide man hunt. John would have liked to go in right away, but he apparently had to be the one to keep a cool head. Castiel didn't seem to understand the point of secrecy. He wanted to go in right away.
John briefly thought about using his sniper rifle, but he wasn't carrying any bullets that would fit it. It would have certainly been faster, and he wouldn't have to sit in a car with a hunter eager to move. Because that was what John was seeing from Castiel now, a hunter ready to kill. His other side was starting to scare John, actually. He was very quiet, a lethal glint in his eyes. Stiffer then John had ever seen him, ready to strike at any time.
As night fell, they pulled the car from their parking space in the supermarket, and driving to the street Gary Hayflat lived. John parked the car two houses over, and walked around to the back. Castiel gave John a curt nod, and climbed quietly up the drain pipe to the second floor. John waited by the back door, gun cocked and ready. He counted down the seconds from two minutes, before slowly opening the door, wondering why it was unlocked.
That was, until the door slammed behind him and he was thrown to the wall.
Getting up, he saw the witch walking up to him. Glaring at him, and no more the normal, confused person he had seen two days ago. Now also sporting a burn on his arm that looked like some kind of lettering. John got up, and aimed his gun for his heart. He was then thrown against another wall, falling to the kitchen floor with a groan.
"You know, your friend isn't as smooth as he thinks he is." Gary said, stalking up to John again, and stopping at the archway separating the kitchen from the living room. "As soon as I saw him, I had him pegged as a hunter. Then those questions." He said in a mocking tone. "It's like he wanted me to see through the disguise." He said, making a grabbing motion with his hand, turning around and seeming to throw something at the window. John saw Castiel fly out the window, and heard a sickening crack. He only hoped it wasn't the neck. "Then of course there was this." He said, showing the mark on his arm. "Never would have pegged you two for knowing how to reverse the charm, and force me to show myself." He finished, John thinking back to all the stuff that Castiel had thrown into the bowl he'd burned the hex bag in.
John stood up again, and pointed his gun at the witch. He managed to get a shot off, but Gary had turned into a large Leonberger, the change in size making John miss his shot. The dog advanced on John, hackles raised, a deep growl coming from the beast. John took aim again, but the dog was swift for it's size, zigzagging across the room and he ran at John.
He jumped on John, taking him down with no effort, clawing and scratching at whatever it could get. John focusing most of his attention on the teeth of the beast, as it tried to get at his throat. He could feel the deep scratches the dog was carving out of his chest and arms, as he kept his hands on the throat of the monster. Knowing one bite could kill him or turn him, and not wanting either, he kept his gun firmly in between the teeth of the enormous beast.
He managed to get his legs under the canine, and kicked it off of him. Taking aim again, he steadied his gun at the dogs chest. But when he pulled the trigger, it jammed. Cursing, John threw the gun aside and grabbed his knife as the dog made another attack on him. Jumping in the air teeth bared and ready to sink into the first bit of John it could get. But when it hit John, and knocked him off his balance, it was a dead weight that was on top of him.
Pushing the monster off of him, he looked at it and saw a silver, well taken care of, short sword in-bedded in the back of the monster. He looked up, Castiel was sitting at the window, pale, bloody, and shaky, arm out like he'd just thrown something. 'Were did he hide that?' John wondered to himself, looking from the sword to Castiel.
John got up, taking stock of his own injuries, and firing a shot into the heart of the beast before walking to the door. Opening it, he went outside, to the window that Castiel was laying under, in a large bush. He grabbed Castiel's hand to help him up, hearing a grunt of pain when Castiel tried to stand. John remembered hearing a crack, and looked down at his legs. They where both bloody, you don't get knocked through a window with out getting cut to hell, but one was bent at an odd angle. Blood covering the entire leg from the knee down.
"Thanks again." John said, wrapping one of Castiel's arms around his shoulders, and walking him to the car.
"No." Castiel said, trying to turn around. "My blade."
"It's just a sword kid, you can find a new one." John said, coaxing Castiel to the car.
"No, I can't." Castiel argued. "It's special. You didn't need to shoot the skinwalker in the heart, it was already dead." He told him. "I need to get it back."
"Alright." John said, opening the car door, and throwing Castiel into the back seat. "You wait here, I'll go get your sword." He ordered, and walking away. He didn't understand what Castiel had meant by his ramblings. It was a sword, admittedly, a cool one, but just another weapon. No use getting attached to it.
He walked into the house, and grabbed the sword by the hilt. He pulled the thing out with a sickening squish. Feeling the power radiating through it, he took a good look at it. This is the first time he'd seen this thing, and he'd gone through their weaponry several times. He'd even gone through Castiel's bag a time or two, but never seen this. He obviously kept it with him where ever he went.
The point was very sharp, John having no doubt that given the right amount of strength, it could drive it's self in as deep as it did. But Castiel had thrown this from the window, after breaking his leg. With deadly accuracy at that. He didn't know anyone who could do that. A knife maybe, or a spear. For the strength of the sword though, it was very light, almost felt like he was holding nothing. It looked silver, but didn't feel or smell like it. John could see why Castiel was in no hurry to loose it.
He took one more look at the skinwalker, and left the house. Dropping the sword into the back seat with his companion and made way for the hospital the next town over. Glad that Castiel had taken the time to clean the room. Just in case they needed a quick get away. John had let him, figuring that Castiel's up tightness would lead him to make absolutely certain there was not a speck of DNA evidence left in the room.
He then realized that Castiel had been exceptionally quiet the past few minutes. He'd been thrown out of a window, and while John knew he was fine, he had no way to tell if Castiel was. He didn't know the guy enough to know if he was acting odd.
"So." John started, looking to the back mirror to find Castiel slightly dozing. He raised his voice slightly. "What's the deal with that sword, why is it so special?" He asked, startling Castiel awake.
"It's an Angel blade." Castiel answered easily. "It can kill anything, at any time. One of the only things, however, that can kill an Angel." He explained. "They wear them on their person at all times."
"Then how did you come by one?" John asked, needed to keep the conversation going.
"Killed an Angel." Castiel answered again, holding a hand to his head as they went over a bump. "Duh." He finished, wincing as they went over another bump.
'Oh, yeah.' John thought to himself. 'He's got a concussion.' He spent the rest of the ride, talking to Castiel about how his kids grew up, and asking Castiel how he'd met Sam and Dean. Wanting to know just what else they had done together before John came back. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get information out of him.
Another chapter down, and still plenty more to go. I have to say, this is the longest piece of work I have ever done. I hope you all are liking it.
As always, have a nice day.