Chapter 5

Sam didn't know how to reply to Connor.

The hunter stood in the center of the straw pile, silent, his hot breath turned vapor in the cold night air. Whatever his thoughts, Connor kept them quiet and studied the primary feather Dean had left behind. He frowned, twirling it by the quill.

Sam didn't have time for this. His mind spun with the various possibilities for Dean's disappearance and none of them were good. He had to get out of here and get in touch with Ruby. They had to track him down.

Connor walked to the Impala. Sam tensed as he opened the back door and poked his head inside. Even from where Sam was standing, he could see the mess that had been left behind-skin, blood, feathers-anything that had smeared across the Impala's leather seats in Sam's mad rush to get Dean out of the city. Most of it had hardened in the cold, but that wouldn't stop a hunter. Sam couldn't rely on it disappearing like last time. Not when neither of them knew exactly what was happening to Dean.

Connor took out a bag and started to take samples.

No way could he let Connor walk out of the barn armed with evidence of Dean's condition. Even if the hunter didn't know what he had, talk and rumors would start, which meant more undo attention heading their way.

Sam pulled out his gun.

"Gonna shoot me, Winchester?" Connor didn't turn his back. He collected a few samples and slipped them in his plastic bag. When he turned around, he didn't flinch, even as he stared down the barrel of Sam's gun. "I don't get what you're hiding, but it's big."

Connor didn't know the half of it.

"This could be seen as treason, ya know."

"We're all hunters. We all live by the code." Sam kept his gun steady despite the numbness creeping up his arms. "It's all about survival. You of all people understand that."

"Part of that code is not protecting the freaks," Connor said, twirling the lone feather. "You're either with us or against us. Which is it, Winchester? Friend or foe? Hunter or monster?"

Sam had come to accept the fact he was a freak. He and Dean had been freaks since the day their mother died. Hunting, robbed of a normal childhood. But there was no way he'd let any other hunter expose him or Dean as any kind of monster. They were the monsters.

Sam was not.

With a quick jerk, Connor cut the feather through the air and used its razor-sharp edge to slice through a molding hay bale. He pursed his lips and nodded, obviously impressed.

"Connor, I'm not going to ask you to leave twice."

He chuckled. "All those hunts together don't mean nothing, do they? You know, I'd heard of you Winchesters long before I met you. Quite the reputation." He leaned against the Impala like it was no big deal. "But, Sam, I gotta say. I'm starting to have my doubts about you. Maybe you're five fries short of a Happy Meal. I'm starting to wonder if this brother of yours ever existed at all."

"Oh, I'm real." Dean walked through the entrance to the barn wearing a smug smile. "Dean Winchester. In the flesh."

Sam could tell immediately that something was wrong. Dean's gait was stiff and unnatural, and there was no chill to his face. Even stranger, was the fact his suit was neat and clean, no shredding, no blood, no rips or tears.

Red flags were everywhere. Dean was using magic again. Sam was sure of it.

They would have words about that later.

By now, Dean had strolled over to the Impala and was leaning on it with a casual air, but a determined look on his face that spoke "hands off my car." Connor backed away, but remained nonchalant, wearing a smug smile of his own.

"So you're the other Winchester." His attention flickered to the door. "You have a funny way of resting."

"Jog in the fresh air." Dean sucked in a gulp of icy air. "Does a body good."

"In the middle of winter?"

"Gotta keep up my physique."

Connor didn't reply, but Sam could tell by the scowl on his face he wasn't the least bit convinced. Still, Sam lowered his gun. A shoot out wouldn't get them anywhere. Connor wouldn't try anything with two against one.

"Satisfied?" Sam asked.

"Hardly. I came to check on two fellow hunters. See if y'all were okay." He studied Dean. "I'd feel much better knowing you two weren't hurt."

Dean thumped his chest. "Fit as fiddle, right Sam?"

"If you want to call it that."

Dean glared at him.

Connor chuckled. "Righto. You won't mind then if I take a peak."

Dean jerked back as Connor leered at him. "What kinda friends you been making?" he asked, shooting Sam another glare.

Sam didn't break. He didn't think Dean knew how serious this was. If Connor found out the truth about either one of them, they were dead.

"Hunters gotta watch each other's backs." Connor snapped his fingers and kept his gaze level with Dean's.

"Whoa, Tiger. I never move this fast on the first date."

When Connor didn't reply, Sam was sure the two would end up in some kind of brawl. To Sam's surprise, Dean submitted. First came the suit jacket which he peeled off and tossed on the trunk of the Impala. Then, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and tossed it on top of the jacket. When he turned, there wasn't one single scar marring his back.

Sam frowned. Definitely magic.

Connor leaned back, the confusion in his eyes betraying his cool exterior. Whatever was on his mind he didn't share it, and instead crinkled the plastic bag in one hand and glanced at the feather in the other. Sam didn't know what he had expected. Maybe none of them really did anymore.

"Sam didn't want me to come in here to meet you." Connor's gaze never left the feather. "Turns out you weren't even in here to begin with. How does that work?"

"I snuck out."

"What was that white light?" He was now staring at Dean.

Crap. Sam knew that look.

"The headlights on the Impala were busted. They flashed off."

"You're lying."

Dean muttered and shook his head as he redressed, the laid-back air about him jarring Sam. "You're a walking lie detector?" Dean asked with a snort.

"Your mouth twitches when you lie. And when you're done talking, you laugh like a girl."

Any of Dean's defensive smartass facial expressions vanished, bringing the serious, borderline angry look that had been thrown at Sam on more than one occasion. He kept his stance somewhat casual, leaning onto the Impala, but he'd inched closer to Connor.

Connor knew it and wasn't about to back down. Sam knew him well enough.

"I'll say it again. What was the white light?"

If Sam didn't jump in now, things would get even more heated between the two. He took a deep breath. "Angels."

Connor whipped around, thrown off balance for the first time that night. "Come again?"

Dean's eyes darkened. "Sam…"

"Angels. They were angels."

"No such thing as angels."

"Yeah, that's what we thought, too," Sam said.

Connor turned to Dean and studied his face. "This true?"

Dean let out a reluctant sigh and threw his hands up in the air. "Freakin' Angels."

Connor looked down at the feather, his bag, and then to the Impala. His gaze locked onto Dean. Sam knew he was putting the pieces together and if they didn't act fast he might get the wrong impression of Dean.

"We found one, hurt, in town," Sam added quickly. "Brought it here. It died and we wanted to give it a ritual burial."

Connor stared at him incredulously. "And?"

"Damn things burst when they die. Or something," Dean added. He rolled his shoulders and, avoiding both Sam and Connor, kicked at the ground. Sam noticed he was leaning harder onto the side of the Impala.

"And you…"

"I went out the back. Couldn't stand it. Like being in a cage."

Connor was right. Dean had always been a lousy liar. He could play a good hand of poker, when he was setting up a con or just horsing around, but when they stakes were high, he folded like a pack of cards. While Sam never had seen any of this first hand, he knew from experience his brother couldn't lie well. He wasn't about to suddenly get better at it now.

So when Dean gave a convincing performance, Sam knew it wasn't a lie.

Like right now.

"I'm not buying this angel crap," Connor said.

"Then how do you explain the feathers?" Dean asked. "A harpy? Come on."

Sam put away his gun as Connor started toward the barn doors. He paused by the end of the Impala, once again studying the inside for any details or items he missed. When it was obvious he was done, he shrugged and opened the barn doors.

The angel story would work for now, but Connor wasn't known as a monster hunter for nothing. He'd analyze and research until he hit a brick wall. Then, he'd be back.

Sam wasn't looking forward to that day.

Connor stopped before leaving the barn and pointed his finger at them both. "I don't know what you Winchesters are hidin', but I'm gonna find out."

He turned and walked to his truck.

Neither Sam nor Dean said anything as he pulled away. The open door brought another gust of winter air into the barn, reminding them how brutal the night had become. When Sam realized Dean wasn't going to move, he went and shut the barn himself.

The cold remained.

Sam blew into his hands and rubbed them together. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was beginning to realize just how screwed them were.

"You're wearing Bobby's spell."

Dean gave a half-hearted shrug. "Battle wounds are kinky, Sammy."

"Yeah, whatever. What happened? How did you know Connor was here?"

"Cas mentioned it."

Castiel. Sam had thought so. Or, honestly, was afraid it might be their angelic interloper.

Sam set his jaw. He'd warned Dean that the angels were involved somehow. He knew it.

Ruby knew it.

He pushed aside his doubts. Dean was going to give him some answers.

The questions never reached Sam's lips. As he glared at Dean, he realized his brother remained cemented to the spot. He wasn't just leaning on the Impala. He couldn't stand without it.

"You're sick."

"Am not."

Sam crossed the barn and made sure the doors were closed. After he gave them a couple of shakes, he turned to Dean. "You can let them out."

"Nah, I'm good."

He was anything but good. Dean's illusion wavered, flickering in and out like a TV with bad reception. In those brief seconds, Sam saw the bags under his eyes, the static pallor of his skin, and the exhaustion leaking out of his body. The spell wavered again.

"It's wearing off," Sam told him.

"Yeah."

"You can't keep using it. Bobby warned you."

Dean glared at him. "Got a better idea? A fix? Because I'm all ears."

Sam wished he had. None of this was supposed to happen. The plan had always been for him and Ruby to stop Lilith and bring Dean back. All the twists and turns hitting them were taking them off track.

"Pop the trunk and get my stuff, will ya?"

Patches of Dean's suit started to fade and tear. Shreds of material stuck to his exposed back, while other blood-stained strips hung free, flapping in the breeze. Wincing, Dean began to peel off the ripped clothes.

Sam opened the trunk and grabbed Dean's duffel bag. When he tossed it to Dean, the spell had already worn off.

"What did Cas want?"

"He fixed what was broken," Dean said, making a motion to his head. He pulled down his new shirt.

"I think he missed a few things."

"Ya think?"

"I don't understand why he doesn't just fix everything."

Dean shrugged. "Some weird mojo thing. The scars are invulnerable or something."

"That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, I know."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Sam hated how the distance kept growing with each day, but he didn't have the luxury of trying to fix it right now. Dean would never understand anyway.

"Sam?"

Sam broke from his thoughts to regard Dean. "Yeah?"

"If I ever do something…weird, you'll stop it, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Promise me, Sam."

"I'll promise as soon as you tell me what's wrong."

Dean took a hard swallow and looked at the ground. "I ain't right, Sam. I don't know if I'll ever be."

Sam refused to hear this. "What did Cas tell you?"

Dean continued to stare at the ground, refusing to meet Sam's gaze. Defeated. He always looked so defeated. This time Sam could tell it was more than the weight of Hell on his shoulders. What haunted Dean ran much deeper.

And he wasn't sharing.

"You won't tell me."

Again, Dean remained distant as he looked away. Something had happened when Dean had disappeared. Sam didn't need a decoder to figure that out.

Then it dawned on him. "You know what's wrong. Castiel told you."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Sam…"

"No, I want to know. It can't be as bad as having demon blood in you."

Finally, Dean's eyes locked onto Sam, burning with anger. "Something's messing around with me."

So Ruby was right. It had to be the angels. Angels had changed Dean. He probably hadn't been right from the start. All these months. Everything that had happened to the both of them. How much had the angels been involved? How much had Castiel been involved?

Dean must have read the unspoken question in Sam's face and he shook his head. "Cas wasn't part of it."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. Not intentionally, anyway."

Sam wasn't buying any of it. He might have only met Castiel briefly, the few times he appeared to both of them, but those meetings were enough to make Sam uneasy. He could see why Dean would latch onto Castiel. Even if Dean would never admit it, who wouldn't have some kind of connection to whatever saved them? And on the surface, the angel seemed to be decent. But what went on behind the scenes? Sam was torn between liking the angel and wondering what his agenda could be. Dean was plain blind.

"Why are you trusting them?" Sam finally asked.

"I don't trust those sons of bitches. They've been nothing but trouble."

"Yeah. Right. Connor was right. You're a lousy liar."

To Sam's surprise, Dean didn't bite back a lame insult. He shot him a deadly glare, but the turned to his bag, rummaging through the contents until he found a Snickers bar. The gnawing fear that something was seriously wrong with Dean started to creep back.

"Dean-"

"Whatever. Believe me. Don't believe me. Not my problem." He took a final swallow before tossing the wrapper in the car. "We got a job."

Sam jerked. "A job? We're already on a job."

"You mean the one we just royally screwed up?"

Sam rolled his eyes. They weren't going to start arguing about werewolves now.

"You gonna ask me or we gonna make goo-goo eyes all night?"

Sam crossed his arms. "What's the job?"

"There's this person," Dean said, "called a Watcher. This Watcher is some kind of middle man in the whole demon world apocalypse thing. We got to find him before anyone else does."

This was news to Sam. He'd never heard of any Watcher. Ruby had never mentioned it and neither had Bobby. "Where did you get this?"

Dean hesitated. "Cas."

Sam sighed. Of course. "So, we're working for angels now."

"Of course not. Let me ask you this. Do you want this…whatever it is to fall in with the demons?"

It was a stupid question. Sam wanted the demon plan blown out of the water as much as Dean did, even moreso. Jumping on board with angels who wanted to kill Anna and send Dean back to the Pit didn't seem the best way to go.

Then there was the underlying fear that Dean wasn't suggesting this because he wanted to keep the person away from demons. He could be nothing but a mouthpiece for the angel agenda and Sam would have no way of knowing.

He refused to think Dean was just acting all this time.

"Why doesn't Cas just go find it himself?"

"I don't know. Some kind of supernatural cloaking device. Kinda like that deal they have going on in Dixville. Angels and demons can't pick up his scent."

That was fantastic. So he and Dean were just being used. "How are we supposed to find it?"

"Monsters."

"Monsters," Sam repeated.

"Monsters. Cas said angels and demons can't figure out who the Watcher is, but monsters are all over this thing like pimples on an ass."

"That's disgusting."

"It is what it is."

There was one way to settle Dean's claim before they ran off on yet another distraction. Sam crossed over to the Impala's trunk and took out his laptop.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if you're right."

"Dude, I'm always right."

Sam ignored him and pressed on the laptop. He had to admit the fact there was a newly formed werewolf pack in town was a convincing starting point. In the end, that was all it was: a starting point.

Despite the numbness in his fingers, Sam continued to type on his laptop. If Dean was right, then there should be a trail of monster sightings or attacks leading up to Brighton or within Brighton. Whatever shield was keeping the demons and angels away, might just be a homing beacon for supernatural creatures in a given radius.

He glanced up. Dean was leaning against the Impala, arms crossed, with his eyes shut. Sam was relieved he didn't look quite as pale, though there was no denying the exhaustion in his worn face. He had his doubts Dean was up to tackling this job at all.

The ping from his laptop bought Sam's attention back to his searches. News reports from the next town over mentioned a few missing persons, and the next beyond had a few brutal murders. Both had no leads. Other than the proximity, there was nothing that stood out as strange.

They didn't have time to waste finding patterns in the dead of night. One man would already have the jump on any monster sightings.

Sam took out his phone.

"Who ya callin'?" Dean had one eye cracked open.

"Bobby, it's Sam." Through the corner of his eyes, Sam saw Dean straighten. "I need your help on something."

"Shoot."

"Have you heard of any monster attacks or sightings in or around Brighton, New Jersey?"

"I thought you boys were hunting a ghost in Andover?"

"We got called in on a werewolf in Brighton. Heard of anything?"

"Got a map?"

Sam glanced at Dean and nodded.

The two of them flattened out a road map against the surface of the Impala's hood and put Bobby on speakerphone. While Bobby read off the reports from hunters who had been in touch with him, Sam used a black marker to circle each location. Dean mainly watched, leaning onto the Impala for support, though from the glimmer in Dean's eyes, Sam could tell he was keeping a running tally on everything Bobby listed.

"Huh," Bobby said. "Well, that ain't suspicious."

"They're converging on the center of town," Sam said. He almost didn't believe it himself.

"Whoever this Watcher is, he's in the heart of town." Dean pointed to the center of the map. "What's there?"

"Shops. Restaurants. Cafes." He regarded Dean. "Could be anything."

There was a gruff sound from the phone. "Wait, what's this Watcher business?"

Sam locked onto Dean. He seemed to hesitate, maybe from the fear of letting Bobby too close to his secret or maybe because of some other agenda, but in the end he finally nodded and relented.

"We got some intel on a person called the Watcher. Heard of it?" Sam asked.

"Vaguely. Something to do with a demon war." There was a pause on the end. "Aw, crap. What mess are you boys in this time?"

"Don't you worry. We got it covered," Dean added.

"The hell you do. Where'd you get this so-called intel?"

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Castiel."

"Angels? You know this is a dumb move."

"Better than letting the demons nab him," Dean said.

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Dean wouldn't look Sam in the eyes, leaving Sam to stare at the quiet phone. Bobby's lack of faith and trust in anything he couldn't qualify was nearly as severe as John's, and they both weren't afraid to use a sharp tongue, but Bobby lacked the black and white edge their father had followed when he was alive. Sam could respect the breathing room Bobby gave them, even as he had grown to appreciate John's approach more and more.

"I suppose telling you this is a bad idea isn't gonna stop ya."

"We'll be careful," Sam assured him.

"You call me the minute something gets hairy."

"Will do," Dean said.

Sam shut the phone and turned to the map. The Watcher was located somewhere in that dead zone. Supernatural creatures of all kind would keep shrinking that bubble as they pressed inward, leaving him and Dean with little time to find this person. With no ideas where to start and the clock clicking against them, they didn't have many options.

He blew into his hands and rubbed them together again. "Aren't you cold?" Sam asked.

Dean's face grew sour. "Extra insulation."

Sam wouldn't bring it up again. "Did Cas give you any more information? A name? A business?"

"Nadda."

"That doesn't give us much to go on."

"Playing pick and choose is going to take forever," Dean said. "I say hit up one of these hotspots."

"The highest concentration of hits is on the east side of town," Sam said, tapping the street name. "The one closest to the center makes the most sense."

"All right. Let's go." Dean was already on his way to the driver's side door.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"What? Oh, come on. We've been through this before. No way I'm staying behind."

"You're forgetting that people actually saw you-saw us-in town. Dean, the wings were in full view. There were at least a dozen or so witnesses." Sam hoped that the townspeople would forget the incident or be too embarrassed to talk about it. Out of sight, out of mind. That would all change if Dean kept showing up in public. "What if it happens again? Waltzing into town is going to give us a lot of unwanted attention."

"What am I supposed to do? Stay in the barn?" Dean muttered. "Not gonna happen, Sammy."

Spending all night in the cold arguing about whether Dean was going or not was pointless. Sam hated giving in, but he had other plans for Dean. Besides, leaving Dean completely alone in a barn outside of town wasn't the best choice. The last time he had left him alone back in Dixville had been a disaster.

"I'll investigate, and you'll keep lookout."

"Go it alone?' Dean scowled. "I don't think so. You gonna make me stay in the car?"

"No. I can't force you to do anything. But you know it's the most sensible thing to do."

Dean muttered something unintelligible under his breath. After a bit of theatrics, he finally nodded and upon seeing Sam jangle the keys, shuffled over to the passenger's side. After they packed up, both of them climbed in. Sam started the engine.

It was time to find out what this Watcher was all about.