It's dark and dusty and guess what? There's absolutely no sign of Cas.
"We should've brought a cat," I joke, trying to lighten things up a little. Whether it's for my benefit or Thomas', I can't say. He doesn't laugh, but instead responds by pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and shivering. It's cold? Yes, I can feel it now. We are not alone up here.
"I can hear him," says Thomas. "Cas. Thinking."
"What's he thinking?" I'm whispering and I don't know why. Cas in the Attic must know we're here.
"It- it's so loud. He's angry that we came. This is his home, and we should get out now, while we still can, or he'll-" he breaks off with a gasp and crumples to the ground, clutching his head.
"Thomas!"
"I can't hear him anymore, he- he's yelling too loudly, but whatever he has planned- it's going to hurt. It is going to hurt like hell." He blinks up at me. "Anna. I think we should go."
"No way," I tell him, tugging the athame out of my pocket and pointing it out in front of me, doing a three sixty of the room. If Cas wants to play, we're going to do it my way. "I know you're there! Come out and face me, you coward! Or are you too scared of me? I've killed the living and the dead and I'm not afraid to do it again!"
In the corner of the attic, a light begins to glow. It grows out, expanding and contorting itself, until finally I'm faced with a boy with brown hair, in blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He meets my eyes and I smile.
"Hello, Cassio."
"Hello, Anna."
"You know my name."
"Only 'cause I heard him" -he points to Thomas, who is struggling to his feet- "use it." I nod.
"Are you going to try and kill me?" I question.
"I'm supposed to. I've never left anyone alone this long. People who come up here, they leave a few seconds later. But their bodies stay exactly where they were, until someone finds out they're gone and calls the police."
"And it's too late by then?"
"It's too late by then," he confirms. For a moment, I hold his gaze. Then his face suddenly contorts and, out of nowhere, he turns on Thomas, sending him flying into a wall. I cry out and rush over, but he's on the other side of the room by that point, flung around like a broken doll. So I face Cas again, raising the athame to do the job I should've done fifteen seconds ago, instead of hanging around making small talk with the murderer.
What right do you have to call anyone a murderer? A voice in my mind whispers.
Shut up! I hiss at it. I need to focus on the task in hand, not waste time bickering with myself. Besides, doing the world a favour isn't murder.
Yeah, right, Anna. Keep telling yourself that.
Cas is vanishing and reappearing in front of me; covered in more and more blood each time he materialises. But he doesn't make a move towards me, and for some reason, this is infuriating.
"What are you scared of?" I shout. "Come and get me!"
"No." What?
"What do you mean, no?" I ask incredulously. For the moment, Thomas is forgotten. "You kill everyone."
"I don't want to. I don't choose to."
"That's not... what do you mean? You kill because you're scared?" I can't blame him for that. In fact, I can empathise.
"No."
"Angry?" I can understand that, too.
"No, it's not that."
"Then what? You're not making sense."
"I don't know. Don't you get it? I don't know why I kill people. And..." he hesitates. "I don't know why I haven't tried to kill you."