Awareness came sudden and sharp, like an icepick into his brain. Sam blinked rapidly and tried to make sense of the scene before him. He appeared to be in some sort of shed, his hands tied securely to a wooden post behind him. What a sad indictment of his life that this was not an unusual occurrence for him or Dean. There wasn't much light, but what little moonlight there was filtered in through some small square windows at one end. Where the Hell was he? He could see several large objects, some kind of boats maybe?
"Dean?" he said hoarsely. "Dean!" There was a groan to his right and when he looked over he could see a familiar figure lying on the floor, slumped against one of the boats.
"You're awake," a voice observed and Sam turned to his left to see Officer Bradley standing there, watching him. He pointed his flashlight at Sam, making him squint.
"Looks like," Sam said stupidly, hoping he could get some information by playing dumb.
"You know, you're really a terrible liar," Bradley said, sounding amused. "I made you as soon as you opened your mouth. Y'know, just mentioning the Winchester brothers strikes fear into the hearts of many creatures. And yet, I find the reality rather less than terrifying."
"Everyone has their off days," Sam muttered sourly and Bradley laughed at him, fangs flashing in the beam of the flashlight.
"Indeed. What a pity for you. I was going to kill you, of course. But then I got a better offer." Sam shivered. That did not sound like good news.
"Who?" he growled. "Who would make an offer for us?" Bradley grinned at him.
"Someone who wants you both, very badly. You pissed off a lot of folks over the years it seems." Sam kept his focus on Bradley as he manipulated a small blade concealed in his belt. "I think I'll let you wonder about that for a while." Dean gave another groan and Bradley's attention switched to Sam's brother. There was a sound from somewhere else in the room and a shorter, older man stepped into the moonlight. Sam gasped in recognition.
"You're Mario Santelli!" he exclaimed and the man looked annoyed.
"Yes. And I was enjoying my well-earned retirement, right up until you two started nosing around," he complained, baring his fangs at Sam. Sam cursed under his breath. "I staged a nice little disappearance, paid off a few friends in the Boston PD. Another friend of mine made up the crazy disappearing act story, you know. Adds a bit of mystery and spice. Everything was going exactly as planned."
"And Jayne Grant? Where does she fit into all of this?" Sam demanded. He'd manipulated the small knife upwards and was carefully sawing through the rope at his wrists, trying not to wince when it slipped and sliced into his skin.
"Oh, yes. Lovely little Jayne. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bradley here was clearing up the crime scene on the Common when Jayne runs up to him and tells him she saw me after I supposedly disappeared. So, she had to go. We brought her here and had a little fun with her before we dumped her in the river." Sam wanted to throw up at the leer on Santelli's face. He could hear struggling and cursing behind him and turned to see Bradley wrestling with Dean. He wiggled in an attempt to finish cutting through the rope tying his hands but his fingers were numb and clumsy and panic was beginning to close his throat. Dean bucked and kicked his bound feet into Bradley's face, square in the mouth, an explosion of blood and teeth drawing a hiss. He launched himself back at Dean and the hunter grunted in pain as the vamp's elbow landed solidly in his solar plexus.
Santelli grabbed Sam suddenly and the blade fell from his hands with a clatter. No matter, the rope was bare threads and he could tear his arms free. He whipped his hands forwards and punched the newborn vampire in the face. Not the most effective attack, but it had the element of surprise and gave Sam the needed time to get to his feet. He looked around desperately for a weapon. The knife in his boot was not nearly large enough to hack off a vamp's head, or even slow them down. He stepped backwards and almost tripped over something on the ground. Bradley was prowling towards him so he knelt quickly and grabbed it, figuring anything was better than nothing at that point. Anything turned out to be an old-fashioned boat-hook, a vicious-looking thing that was almost like a spear. It might at least fend the vamp off for a moment while he figured out a better plan. He lunged forward, impaling Santelli on the point and then pressed forward, pinning the vamp to the wall with an obscene crunching sound. Santelli cursed and writhed but was trapped, at least for the moment. Dean was still grappling with Bradley on the floor, the policeman banging Dean's head hard against the concrete. Sam, all out of options, retrieved the knife in his boot and lunged at Bradley, jabbing it into his Achilles tendon. He ripped the knife sharply from left to right, severing both tendons and then shoved Bradley away from Dean. The vampire turned on him with a snarl but Sam's attack had done its intended job and left him unable to walk. Dean was lying awfully still but Sam couldn't pay him any attention at that moment because behind him, he could hear Santelli pulling himself off the wall. Shit, shit, shit.
He turned to see the younger vamp standing behind him ready to pounce, the boat-hook still stuck gorily in his chest. Sam grabbed it and yanked, hard. The hook apparently snagged on several internal organs and ripped a huge hole out of Santelli's chest. He collapsed to the ground, still alive but rendered immobile by the sheer scale of the damage. Sam turned to face Bradley again, and was stunned to see Cas gripping the vampire police officer's head with one hand. Bradley died in a blaze of white light and the angel threw the corpse aside with an audible growl, dropping to his knees next to Dean.
"Cas!" Sam cried. The angel ignored him, running his hands over Dean in a way that suggested he was checking for injuries. A gurgling sound behind him attracted Sam's attention again.
"Fucking bastard," Santelli gasped. "We should have killed you when we had the chance." Sam gave him a savage smile.
"Yes, you should have," he told him.
"Sam," Cas rumbled and a skittering sound brought a machete to Sam's hand. He picked it up and stood over the prone vampire.
"I suppose it's pointless for me to beg for mercy?" Santelli whined. Sam's smile got broader.
"Completely. Now tell me who Bradley was going to sell us to." Santelli grimaced.
"Some German dude. Herr Doktor Schatten. That's all I know." Sam swung the machete once and Santelli's head rolled across the floor. He turned around to look at Cas and his brother.
"How bad is he hurt?" He asked the angel and Cas frowned. He cupped Dean's face in his hands as his head lolled over his shoulders.
"Cas..." Dean slurred, his eyelids flickering. "Leggo. 'm'alright…" Cas leaned forward, so close that his nose was almost touching the hunter's.
"You have a concussion," the angel said solemnly. Dean's eyes fluttered again and then opened sleepily, his unfocused gaze seeking Cas' eyes. He gave a slow smile that shot sensation straight through the angel's gut.
"Hey, Cas," he said, his voice low and gravelly. The angel watched him carefully as he seemed to gradually regain his senses. He blinked twice, his pupils suddenly blowing wide and his breath catching. Cas swallowed at the hunter's sudden reaction to their proximity and went to lean back but then Dean's eyes dropped to his mouth and he froze. Dean dragged his gaze back up to Cas' and then tilted his head slightly. It would be nothing at all, no more than a small movement to bring their mouths together, Dean thought fuzzily. But he didn't move and neither did Cas. They just stayed like that, breathing unsteadily and staring at each other.
"You came," Dean breathed and Cas could feel it ghosting across his skin as the hunter lifted his head ever so slightly. Yes, definitely time to move away. Or he could… He swallowed and Dean's gaze followed the movement of his throat. He jerked away suddenly and covered his confusion with a cough.
"Dean," Cas said, his voice rough with the sensations he was not going to examine or put a name to. He touched the hunter's face gently, extending his Grace to heal Dean's injuries. "How are you feeling?" Dean nodded slowly, still looking disoriented and weak.
"I'm OK," he mumbled. Sam watched the two of them, feeling rather like he was intruding on a private moment. Dean was leaning against Cas, the angel's arms around him like he never wanted to let go. If it hadn't been for the blood and Dean's ripped clothing, Sam might have described the scene as cute. Dean noticed him looking at the sight of him wrapped around Cas and pulled a face. But he didn't move away. Sam nodded uncomfortably at Cas, and then turned and left the boathouse.
Back at the Impala, Sam's eyebrows rose as Dean, leaning heavily on Cas for support, dug in his pockets for the keys and handed them over without a word. He exchanged a look with the angel, whose expression was grave. He opened his mouth to speak but Cas shook his head and Sam closed it again with a snap. He climbed into the passenger seat and watched Cas carefully put Dean in the back seat, then slide in beside him. He pulled Dean into his body and Sam stared in astonishment as Dean curled around the angel with a whimper. The angel's face was stony and Sam gulped. What the Hell had happened to Dean while he was out? He started the engine and drove silently out of Boston as the first rays of sunlight began to stain the sky.
Sam was certain that after a few hours, Dean would demand he pull over and let him drive. But instead his brother had fallen asleep, cuddled in Cas' lap. Sam eyed the angel in the rear view mirror.
"How did you know how to find us?" Sam asked him. Cas gave him a strangely calculating look.
"Dean called me," he said finally. Sam frowned at him as he thought that through.
"They were pretty inept kidnappers, but seriously? They didn't even take his phone? And why didn't he call me?" Cas looked away and Sam felt like he was missing something.
"It's not important," the angel said. "What's important is that I found you both, and you're safe." Sam's lips quirked in a ghastly imitation of a smile.
"Is Dean OK?" he asked, too afraid to ask the question that hovered in the air. Cas looked down at his brother, his face pained.
"Yes. He'll be fine," the angel said. He looked down, stroking his fingers through Dean's hair, the tender expression on his face bringing a lump to Sam's throat. He rubbed one hand over his face. "Do you want to stop here and get some sleep?" Cas asked as a sign advertising a motel appeared by the side of the road. Sam took a deep breath.
"Yeah. I'm exhausted and we're still at least fifteen hours from the bunker." He swung the car into the motel parking lot and left Cas to deal with Dean as he got them a room. Cas unceremoniously carried Dean from the car to the room, and Sam expected Dean to bitch about being hauled around but his brother stayed quiet. It was beginning to unnerve Sam, this extended period of silence. He watched as Cas carefully removed Dean's boots and damaged clothing and Sam handed him a fresh shirt. Cas patiently dressed Dean, his expression inscrutable and then settled next to Sam's brother on the bed. Dean rolled over and curled into the angel's side. Sam shook his head at the strangeness of it all and then hauled himself into the bathroom to clean up.
Bright sunlight filtered through cheap, thin curtains and Sam groaned. He pulled his pillow over his head, determined to get a few more minutes.
"Get up, Sammy," Dean said, his voice muffled and rough with sleep. Sam raised his head. Dean was lying sprawled facedown on the bed, his eyes closed.
"Are you getting up?" Sam asked sleepily. He was answered with a light snore. Screw it. He was going to try and sleep again. A thump startled him from his half-doze and he looked up again to see a stray pillow on his legs.
"Did you just throw a pillow at me?" he asked, sleepily bemused.
"Yes. Get up, go get coffee." Dean mumbled. Sam grimaced but pulled himself out of bed. Dean had had a rough night, so it was the least he could do really. He looked around for the angel.
"Where's Cas?" he asked. Dean grumbled into his pillow about little brothers who needed to get their ass in gear. Sam gave up and pulled on his jeans and a shirt and went off in search of sustenance.
When he returned to the room, Dean was half-dressed in his jeans but no shirt and his hair was wet. He grabbed the coffee and slurped it down gratefully. Sam tossed a couple of sandwiches onto the table.
"I didn't know if you wanted some food…" he began. Dean gave him a weak smile and snagged one of the sandwiches. He unwrapped it and stared at it for a moment and then to Sam's dismay, pulled a face and dropped it back on the table.
"I've got some granola bars, if that's more appealing," he offered. Dean shook his head and ducked back into the bathroom. Sam unwrapped his sandwich and ate it, watching the bathroom door as he chewed. Eventually Dean reappeared and Sam pretended not to notice that his eyes were red and bloodshot and his face was pale.
"Wanna hit the road?" he asked tentatively. Dean nodded and held his hand out for the keys, which Sam surrendered with relief. If Dean wanted to drive, he couldn't be in such bad shape.
Three hours into the drive, Sam had come to the conclusion that he had been wrong about Dean's mental state. Something was definitely going in his brother's head. He hadn't spoken a word to him, responding to his questions with grunts and nods of his head. Finally, Sam's temper got the better of him.
"Are you going to spend the rest of this drive avoiding talking to me?" he demanded. Dean looked at him in surprise.
"I'm not avoiding talking to you," he defended. "I just don't have much to say."
"Really? Our last hunt goes completely to Hell, we're saved only at the last minute by Cas. Which he was only able to do because the vamps were idiots." Dean gave him a puzzled look. "And where is Cas, anyway?" Sam challenged.
Dean shrugged easily. "I don't know. He was gone when I woke up," he explained. He sounded disappointed, Sam thought.
"Have you tried calling him?" Sam asked and Dean gave a weary sigh.
"The vamps threw my phone in the river." Sam stared at him, a strange feeling beginning to unfurl in his stomach.
"Wait, Cas said you called him when you were snatched. How did you do that if your phone was at the bottom of the Charles River?" When Dean shurgged again, Sam tugged at his hair in frustration. "Are you saying Cas lied? Why would he do that? And if you didn't call him, how did he find us?" Sam watched in astonishment as a veil came down over his brother's face, wiping it of all expression.
"No idea," Dean said with an air of studied nonchalance. "Some angel mojo, no doubt." Sam wasn't buying it. Dean knew how Cas had found them but for some reason he didn't want to tell Sam.
"Dean…" he began and Dean cut him off.
"Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Cas saved our asses." Dean's voice broke alarmingly and he coughed. "End of story." His tone brooked no dissent and Sam subsided. Whatever was going on, Dean wasn't talking. At least, not right now.
Sam's stomach began to demand his attention and he looked over at his brother. "Can we stop and get something to eat?" he asked. Dean's mouth twisted.
"I'm not really hungry. Are you?" Dean asked, his voice low.
"Yeah, I am actually. Come on, Dean. You didn't eat breakfast and it's nearly 3 o'clock." Dean's shoulders hunched but he nodded in agreement.
"There's a diner up ahead," he noted. "And I need gas anyway."
The diner was small and crowded but their waitress led them to a booth in the corner after a few minutes wait. Sam perused the menu and cast surreptitious looks at Dean whenever he thought his brother wasn't looking. Which was often, Dean was mostly staring out of the window. The waitress gave them a beaming smile, which Dean ignored.
"Coffee," he muttered, not turning away from the window. Sam gave her an apologetic look.
"Yeah, coffee for me too. And the grilled chicken sandwich on wheat." He said, his eyes on Dean.
"Sure. You want fries, a side salad or you can have sweet potato fries for another fifty cents."
"A salad, thanks. Italian dressing on the side." He poked his brother's arm. "Dean, are you going to eat?" Dean shook his head wordlessly.
"OK," the waitress said brightly. "Coming right up."
As soon as she walked away Sam grabbed Dean's sleeve. "You have to eat, Dean. You've had nothing since lunch yesterday."
Dean pulled his arm away irritably. "Leave it, Sammy. I'll eat when I'm hungry," he growled. The door to the diner opened and Sam sagged with relief when he saw Cas walk in. He waved to the angel and was glad to see Dean's face looked a little less tense. Cas slid in next to Dean and nodded to Sam.
"Hey, Cas. How did you find us?"
Cas gave Dean a sidewards glance. "Dean texted me," he said.
Sam folded his arms and sat back. "From the bottom of the Charles River?" he demanded. Cas looked perplexed and looked back at Dean, who gave a heavy sigh.
"The vamps tossed my phone in the river, back in Boston," he said. Cas' face cleared and then clouded again when Sam glared at him.
"I'm not sure this is the right place for this discussion," Cas said finally, looking around the diner.
"Fine. You make Dean eat, and we can leave," Sam said firmly. Cas turned his gaze on Dean, who looked back defiantly.
"You need sustenance, Dean," the angel rumbled. Dean looked mutinous. "Don't make me force you to eat," Cas added, his tone indicating that he'd really hate to do that.
"Fuck off, Cas!" Dean snarled. "I don't need you fussing over me as well." Cas leaned forward into Dean's personal space and Dean retreated against the window.
"I will take care of you, whether you wish it or not," Cas growled. There was a suspended moment as Cas and Dean stared at each other and Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Then Dean pulled his gaze away from the angel in defeat.
"Fine. Get me a cheeseburger. Whatever," he grunted and Sam tried to ignore the small smile of victory on the angel's face.
Cas' triumph was short-lived. Dean poked his food around his plate listlessly, having only taken one bite of the sandwich. Sam demolished his food like a starving man. Funny how the tables were turned, Sam thought. Well, it wasn't that funny, not really. Finally, he asked the waitress to box up Dean's lunch and paid the bill with a sullen air before slouching outside.
Leaning against the door of the Impala, irritation marking the lines of his body, Sam glared at Dean. "Enough, Dean. Talk to me. What's going on?" Sam snapped, grabbing Dean bodily and shoving him up against the car.
"Get your damn hands off me, Sam!" Dean yelled, shoving Sam backwards and drawing the attention of a couple of truckers in the parking lot. Cas grabbed both of them by the arm and gave them a hard look.
"I think we should go somewhere there isn't an audience," he told the brothers sternly. Dean pulled away from the angel and yanked the door of the car open so hard it squealed in protest. He threw himself into the driver's seat, Sam scrambled into the passenger seat and Cas stalked away to his own car. Dean turned over the engine and roared out of the lot like a man possessed. Sam held onto the door handle tightly and kept his mouth shut. A few miles down the road, Sam's phone rang.
"Hey, Cas," he answered tiredly. Dean eyed him as he muttered into the phone. "Dean, Cas wants us to stop at the abandoned gas station up ahead." Dean made a face, but nodded in acquiescence. He spotted the crumbling gas station and pulled the car sharply off the road, making Sam swear under his breath. As soon as he threw the car into park, Sam shoved the door open and clambered out, pacing up and down. Dean climbed out and leaned against the fender, his face uncharacteristically pensive as he watched Sam's agitated movements. Cas drove up a few moments later and parked jerkily next to the Impala. He got out of his car and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, leaning forward to speak directly into his ear. Sam couldn't hear what he said, but the look on Dean's face was resigned and Sam squashed down a twisting sense of jealousy at the closeness between Dean and his angel. Dean turned his face to Cas, and they looked at each other, so close that their noses were almost touching. The angel's hand moved up Dean sleeve and for a moment Sam was convinced he would touch his brother's face. Then Dean pulled away, almost reluctantly it seemed, and wandered off, leaving Sam and Cas alone.
"OK, Cas. What's going on?" Sam demanded, planting himself firmly in front of the angel.
"A number of things," Cas said, looking off to where Dean was standing watching the road. "The vampires in Boston...mistreated Dean while he was held captive." Sam examined the angel's expression.
"Are you saying they-" he broke off, swallowing. "What are you saying, Cas?" Cas looked solemn.
"I'm not sure what happened, but it's causing considerable distress. He was concussed too, but I healed the physical damage. Psychological harm is not so easily remedied." Cas said, sounding like his heart was breaking. "I'm monitoring the situation, as best I can. We just need to give Dean space and time. I'm sure he'll talk to us when he's ready." Sam's shoulders slumped.
"All right." He looked at his brother and then back at the angel. "So how did you find us in Boston?" The angel shuffled and for a moment Sam thought he was going to deflect the question.
"Dean and I can communicate telepathically," Cas said, looking embarrassed.
Sam peered at him curiously. "OK," he said slowly. "How long have you been able to do that?"
Cas looked down at his feet. "Technically, we've always been able to do it," the angel admitted in a low voice. "Dean only became aware of the extent of it recently." Sam studied Cas carefully and considered his next question.
"Cas, are you and my brother... close?" Cas looked up and gave him a puzzled look.
"You know that we are, that we share a profound-"
"Bond, yeah. I know that. I meant...something else." The angel continued to look baffled. "Uh, I mean are you sleeping together?"
Cas glared at him. "You know I don't sleep. But that's not what you mean, is it? You're asking if I'm having sex with your brother?" the angel said loudly and Sam almost swallowed his tongue. He cast a nervous glance at Dean, who was scuffing at the ground with one toe.
"Yeah, OK. Keep your voice down. Dean will kill me if he knows I asked you that." He looked back at Cas. "Well?"
The angel gave him an exasperated look. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. Sam gaped at him, shocked at the violence of his response.
"I don't see what's so ridiculous," he defended. "The way you two look at each other, is it really so surprising that I would think something was going on?" Cas was stiff and his face went totally blank. Sam was reminded strangely of Dean's face earlier.
"I believe you are misreading the situation," Cas said primly. "There is nothing sexual about my relationship with Dean." Sam breathed through his nose, trying to keep a rein on his temper at the blatant lie.
"Fine. So, explain the telepathy thing. And the fact you spend every night in Dean's room." Sam challenged and the angel jerked back in astonishment. "What, you think I hadn't noticed?"
"It's not what you think," Cas said, his voice unsteady. "It's just the nightmares."
Sam frowned at him, remembering his conversation with his brother a few nights ago. "Dean said he was having trouble with nightmares. That you check on him, every night." Sam paused, eyeing the angel's face for his reaction to his next statement. "But I know for a fact that you spend the whole night in there with him, more often than not." he asserted.
Cas met his gaze, a savage light in his eyes. "Dean suffers from night terrors. It started not long after you moved into the Bunker. He would scream and tear at himself. I found him one night clawing at his face. If I hadn't intervened, he would have scratched his eyes out." The lines around the angel's mouth tightened in remembrance. "So I stay in the room and watch him sleep. If I detect a nightmare starting, I can enter Dean's mind and steer his thoughts in other directions. This almost constant presence in his mind made Dean aware that we could communicate this way. He doesn't care for it, and usually reserves it for emergencies. But when the vampires grabbed him, he screamed out for me so loud I heard him even though I was… far away"
"You can't have been that far away," Sam observed. "To get to us in time. Since you can no longer fly."
Cas looked uneasy. "I had help," he said. Sam glared at him. "Lucien brought me to Boston." Now it was Sam's turn to feel wrongfooted.
"Lucien?" he faltered. Cas gave him a searching look and he got a grip on himself. "So, you're saying there's nothing more going on that you watching over Dean as he sleeps." He was deliberately trying to provoke the angel and the way Cas' face contorted for a moment before closing down told him what he wanted to know.
"Sam, I know you are not trying to be insulting. To you, it seems a simple thing. You seem to forget I am not human," Cas said reprovingly. Sam barked out a laugh.
"Come on, Cas. Don't give me that angels don't have sex crap. You know for a fact that I know it isn't true," he said, irritated and amused when Cas growled at him. "Fine. Have it your way. But I know what I see when you two are together." A flash of pain in the angel's eyes made him regret saying that almost immediately. He pinched the bridge of his nose, an incipient migraine throbbing at his temples, then turned on his heel and headed back to the car. Cas closed his eyes.