Chicago, One Year Later
"Slow down...Slow down. Dude, slow down," The hunter chastised. But of course that only prompted him to speed the Charger up, making it "purr" as he often said. " You want to catch them or race them?"
His "partner" looked over at him then, smiling a devil-may-care smile that was so like him to look during a raid like this. The idea was subtlety. The objective called for it...but did he care? No. Did he ever? No.
"Kid, the greatest lesson I can ever teach you is that when you're in a chase, never slow down," His partner replied. "Whoo, baby! I'm on fiiiiiiiiire!"
The hunter assessed his partner's mental condition. On the outside, he looked fine. His green eyes were too excited, brighter than normal. After that scuffle he had with the prey they were hunting earlier, his light brown hair was in slight disarray but other than that, he looked fine.
That's what scared the hunter.
Well, you could complain all you wanted about who your partner was in school, but when it came down to it, the hunting business required a strong companion...
No one could say Dean Winchester wasn't the best.
His younger brother, Sam, wasn't so bad either.
On the outside, they looked like normal people. More so than the demon, for sure. Sam was wearing a red and white plaid shirt over a t-shirt with blue jeans. Dean was wearing a long sleeved dark blue shirt that had the sleeves rolled up at his elbows, also wearing blue jeans and boots.
It was quite a spell to whip out the guns on the demon they were following and show him that humans could be just as a tricky as demons. Demons were almost too obvious. They always wore black, and depending on their age, the way they talked was obvious. But the best way to identify a passing demon was by thermal means.
Sam's eyes fell back on the demon they were chasing. The demon was about as manic as Dean was in his car. Not that he needed it. Demons didn't need cars for transportation but they didn't give him a chance to Jump when Sam and Dean gave pursuit.
Oh yeah, demons Jumped. They didn't fly. They got a lot of air and then descended and usually landed on their feet. Sam had seen all kinds of demons jump...Usually the demons that looked like humans could do that...and Sam encountered tons of those too. They looked human, they talked like humans. They aged slow if you happened to encounter one long term...and their body temperatures were extremely high.
There were other types out there too. More monstrous. Those ones were like the foot soldiers of the human looking ones. Those were more rare...perhaps more frightened of scaring the world than the ones that actually looked like they were part of it.
Because in truth, they were. At some point every demon that walked the earth was a human being at some point. But Hell...or another demon had twisted them into this way. It would have inspired empathy if they were actually capable of something called compassion.
Which none of them were.
"This Dodge was a birthday present," Sam grumbled.
"Oh, stuff it, Sammy. I'll get you another one," said Dean, looking over at him in a glance. "A better one."
"I should be driving!" said Sam as Dean weaved past an eighteen wheeler by an inch and took a sharp turn. "We're going to get pulled over."
Right on cue, Sam heard sirens behind them. His eyes went to the side view mirror and he spotted blinking red lights. A huge police SUV was in high pursuit. Squinting, he saw a pair of sunglasses on a stony face in the driver seat.
"Way to jinx it," Dean sighed.
Abruptly the black car in front of them swerved to the side. Dean barely hit the brakes but it was too late. At such momentum, he crashed into the passenger side of the card, spinning the charger around until they spun behind it. The police SUV managed his brakes on time, unlike Dean, stopping right in front of the black car. It was pure luck that there were no other casualties and that the demon decided to stop in the middle of a dark suburban area. This was the darker part of Chicago...a demon infestation if you will, during the bleak hours of the night.
Dean and Sam fell back in their seats and Sam felt very strongly that there was a crick in his neck. Future whiplash. Great.
But Dean didn't give time to assess the terrible damage to their front render and hood. He opened up the front compartment, pulled out a fake FBI badge and threw it on Sam's lap. "Stall the cop."
"Dean, what the hell-?!"
But Dean was already out of the car, bounding off after the figure ahead, leaving Sam behind. The cop came out of the car pointing a gun in Sam's direction over the hood of his SUV.
"Hands where I can see them! Now!" The officer yelled.
"Easy, easy," said Sam, holding up the badge. "I'm FBI. We're in pursuit of this criminal. Top...secret."
Dean was always the better liar. The police officer stared at him, but he lowered his gun.
"You aren't dressed like FBI,"
"Deep cover," said Sam, nodding. "Yeah. Real deep. My partner's been trying to..bag...this guy for a while now."
"I see," said the officer. "You need any help?"
"We're good. Very good," Sam assured him. "Nothing to see here. We have it all under control."
Dean jumped over parked cars, past street signs and a few passerby. It was two am. Only the freaks came out at night, especially in this part of the city. None of them gave him a passing glance. He was going too fast. His breath came out labored and harsh, but he could bet the demon wasn't breaking a sweat.
He had to catch up to him before the demon made a jump. Dean could see the back of his head as he continued to run. Black hair, black jacket. He was holding something. Stolen, probably. It was pure luck they encountered him. He was on the wrong side of town at the wrong time...That could only mean they were getting bolder...
Maybe leaving the car was a bad idea. It probably had some juice left in it to keep going. The demon was being smart too. He kept himself at a distance of ten feet from Dean, just out of tackling range.
He spun around a corner, knocked over trashcans to slow Dean's speed. Dean hopped over them, let the orange lights pass over his head as the demon reached a fence and began to jump. Dean felt his heart stop for just a second when he thought the demon was going to disappear into the night sky, but he only jumped enough to clear the fence. Which Dean had to stop for and climb before hopping down on the other side, still in high pursuit.
The demon had abandoned his plan of zigzagging to avoid Dean, running a straight line down the alley, and running for his life. Perhaps he had too much pride and he seriously thought he could outrun Dean. Perhaps he didn't have the juice to make the jump. Dean would be insuring that for sure. Breathing hard with a painful stitch in his chest, Dean drew out a silver and black pistol from his belt and held it steady. He closed one eye as he took aim and fired. The bullet penetrated the demon's left foot.
Dean saw a splash of blood as he faltered in his run, beginning to limp. Amazing, he was still trying to run.
Dean didn't have to run very much to catch up to him, tackling him into the ground where they both faceplanted the concrete. That would definitely bruise up in the morning. But Dean stayed on top of him, turned the demon over and caught his face.
Yeah, he definitely looked like a human. Could have been a kid at about seventeen or eighteen with dark blue hair that Dean had mistaken for black earlier. He didn't give Dean a minute to examine him before punching him across the face. Dean saw a brief flash of stars before hitting the ground on his side. The demon jumped up and started to run again, still continuing to drag his injured leg behind him as he went.
Dean was on him in a second, body slamming him front first against the alley wall where the brick no doubt caused him at least some pain. It was enough for a stun at least. He heard the demon grunt underneath him as Dean pulled away, unconsciously holding onto his jacket and pulling it off. The demon had on a black muscle shirt that exposed his arms and Dean caught a glimpse of a black symbol on his upper right shoulder.
The gun he held level to the demon's face. Dean wiped a bit of blood off the end of his lip. "Seriously, man. I'm really thinking about keeping you alive just so I can make you pay for Sam's car."
"That won't kill me," said the demon gloatingly. Slight British accent.
"You're right," Dean indulged him, and clicked the gun removing the magazine and digging in his pocket as he replaced it. "Not with those bullets...but these ones...Oh, I beg to differ."
"Stigma. Clever boy," said the demon.
That annoyed Dean. The demon looked physically younger but he probably wasn't. Even then, it was the principle. " Give me what you stole and I won't unload this thing in your face."
"Unload it...See if I give a damn. You haven't stopped anything...You're just a minor inconvenience," The demon taunted, stepping forward so that the end of Dean's pistol was an inch away from his forehead. "Come on, baby. Are you scared?"
Dean's finger stayed on the trigger where he prepped to pull it. He had killed demons before...with Stigma bullets. These were bullets coated with some kind of poison that hurt demons, for the most part, made them turn into ash almost instantly.
Looking at that gloating face, he didn't feel the need to hesitate. The actual intent was to capture it. And he never bothered to capture a demon before...What was the point now? Who cares what they were up to? Who cared if they were multiplying rapidly in the big cities?
It was worth the shot. Literally.
"No," said Dean as he pulled the trigger.
His hand was thrown to the side as something collided with his arm and made him shoot off to the side, but his bullet still grazed the demon's neck. He looked up to see something black cloud his vision as instinct made him bound for the gun.
There was someone standing exactly where Dean had stood except Dean couldn't really see his face, only getting a side shot. There was something strange clutched in his hand except Dean's mind refused to believe it was what it looked like it was.
A sword.
"You," said the demon contemptuously. And for the first time, his eyes widened in what looked like real fear. He certainly didn't look like that with Dean's gun in his face. He actually looked left and right, looked up like he was contemplating the Jump. Any avenue of escape.
To Dean's shock, the cut he gave the demon began to close and disappear leaving only a drying line of blood where it had been.
His leer to the stranger was the most disturbing thing. The emblem on his shoulder glowed an eerie yellow light just before the stranger spun around and decapitated the demon in a quick stroke. His head flew through the air, landing before Dean before it, like the body, burst into ash. Tiny droplets of blood splashed Dean's face but that along with the ash pile was all that remained of him.
Dean was left on the ground, feeling the wind whisk away most of the ash as he looked up at the stranger.
It was definitely a sword. The stranger sheathed it in something underneath a black jacket. And then he turned to look at Dean...Some light touched him and he saw a very pale face and gleaming blue eyes that looked like jewels in the darkness. He wore black pants and black shoes with a dark leather jacket over a white t-shirt or tanktop. He had a lean, muscular build, but not over the top. That shirt clung very tight to his body.
Dean's first instinct was demon. But he spotted a silver chain on his neck. A crucifix. Demons didn't like crucifixes...it didn't weaken them, but they certainly wouldn't wear crosses proudly.
"Thanks, I guess," said Dean uncertainly, pulling himself to his feet. The stranger was a few inches taller than him.
"They'll come at you out of nowhere," The stranger told him, his voice deep and slightly husky. "Now that they know your face. They'll never stop coming for you."
"Big surprise. Demons hunting demon hunters," said Dean sarcastically. He squinted a little at the stranger. "For the record though, I had that guy down. If you hadn't jumped in."
"Your bullets wouldn't have made a difference," said the stranger. "That demon was a Tarana demon."
"A teriyaki demon? Didn't look like he was zesty and sweet on the tongue," Dean commented.
"Tarana. It's nothing you've encountered before...though there are many more of their kind. They look much like the demons you've encountered, but they are not them. Your poison-ridden bullets won't make a difference," The stranger told him. He knelt beside the ash and Dean had to suppress a slight shudder when he watched him brush away the ash.
There was a symbol burned on the ground glowing yellow. A cross with an x through it and a strange half circle below it. It was the sigil that Dean spotted on the demon's shoulder from the side in full view.
"What is that?" Dean questioned, peering closely at it.
"Nothing good," said the stranger, getting up. Without a word, he turned and began to walk down the alley where the demon had been heading before Dean had caught up to him.
"Hey, hold on!" Dean called out. He placed his gun inside his jeans and took a few steps towards the stranger's retreating back. "Hey! You're a hunter, too, right? You from around here? You got a name or...something?"
"I'll be in the neighborhood," said the stranger with a slight twitch of smile that Dean caught when he stood in the moonlight. He turned back to his path and kept walking, hands deep in his pocket. "See you around...Dean."
Dean watched him for a long moment, expecting him to reappear. But there was no sign of that. In the distance, a sound came like a hundred deck of cards being shuffled at once. Dean wasn't sure if he imagined it or not. He heard footsteps behind him and Sam turned to the corner.
"Dude, where the hell have you been? I've been playing small talk with the cop for like an hour," Sam complained, walking up next to Dean. His expression of disapproval fell just slightly at the look on Dean's face. "What's wrong?"
Dean didn't answer that. Instead, he poked the tiny glowing sigil with the end of his foot. "You ever see something like that before?"
Sam was successfully distracted. He knelt before the sigil and touched around it, observing it closely. "No...But then again, there's a lot of things I haven't seen in the books at the library...I could check it out."
"It was branded on that demon I was chasing," said Dean, furrowing his eyebrows in some frustration. " I shot him. It didn't work."
"Then how did...?"
"Someone came," said Dean. "A guy. Another hunter, I think. Used a sword. Legit, Sam. A sword."
"A sword," Sam repeated. "Well, that's new."
"I know, right?" Dean trailed off, looking down the alley where the stranger was long gone. "I didn't even get his name."
Sam noted the strange wistfulness in Dean's voice and called him back to reality. "Come on, car's on and it doesn't have much life left in her...Let's get to the library."
Dean started following him back the path he had come running from. "It really didn't look that bad when I looked at it."
"Any car accident looks better at two am...then you see it in the morning," said Sam, giving him a slight glare. "It's going to take weeks to repair this...Looks like we're not going to be taking any long trips."
"There are so many better cars out there...and you had to insist on the delicate daisy Charger," said Dean.
"In what book is a Dodge a delicate car?" Sam asked incredulously.
They continued bickering like that all the way back to the car. Sam had managed to park it near the sidewalk. The demon's stolen car must have been towed away and the police SUV was gone as well. It made the street look as deserted as ever, only streetlights and a few open curtains in the nearby buildings showing signs of life.
Dean let Sam take driver's seat this time. Only because he was tired...and Sam wanted to anyway. When he got in the passenger side, he leaned into the window. So sleepy...yet his mind wandered vaguely to the demon and the hunter that came after him and killed him. Sword or not, he was definitely practiced with that weapon. He was no amateur.
And he knew Dean's name. That wasn't that surprising. Hunters were few...and Dean had heard quite a few names of people he'd never even seen pictures of. Knowing the name wasn't a problem, sure...the way he said it...velvety and soft. The way someone spoke a secret to a lover.
"I wonder who that guy was," said Dean out loud.
"Like you said, another hunter," said Sam. "Believe it or not, man, but there's more of them than you may think...outside of just us."
"Kind of hard to imagine, huh? Most of them work in packs and groups and I got the sasquatch," Dean complained, yet there was a hint of a smile on his face.
"Yeah...You said he used a sword though...That's weird," Sam commented.
"Tell me about it...Whatever floats your boat, though, right?" Dean replied, pulling out his pistol. "I prefer this...but he mentioned something about the demon. Said it was a Tarana demon."
"Tarana?" Sam frowned. "Doesn't sound familiar. I can look it up. What else did he say?"
"Nothing. Not even a name," said Dean. "I mean for himself. I asked...he just said he'll be around."
"Should be careful," Sam warned. "Some hunters are like that. They don't like anyone else messing around on their territory."
"I don't know," said Dean uncertainly. "Didn't seem mad that we were here...Just pretty much said that since one of the Tarana demons was dead, we might be having some problems."
"Well, that sounds great," said Sam sarcastically.
They remained in silence for the rest of the ride home with Dean staring out the window, occasionally giving a growl at Sam's strict obeying of traffic laws as he went slow and stopped at every red light even though the roads were pretty much empty. He had said it before. No one was out this late at night, not even cops. But tonight, he might as well have had a change of tune.
Sam parked them in front of the library. It was closed, obviously. But this was the peak time to go in. Especially since this was an all-nighter operation. Sam exited the car first, whipped out his phone and walked to the front of the charger. He snapped a few pictures of the damage from the front.
Annoyed, Dean got out and watched him, leaning against the side of the car. "What are you doing?"
"Sorry, Dean," Sam apologized. "Dad called while you were away...and I kind of told him about what happened. He wanted me to show him the damage. Sorry. I told him I'd send a picture...Easier than you know...him seeing it in the morning."
"Sam," Dean growled through his teeth. "You didn't think to tell me that in the car?"
"You seemed tired...and distracted," Sam explained.
"Daddy's boy," said Dean, smacking his head as he passed him. He walked up the steps to the library and proceeded to taking out an elongated paperclip and undoing the lock. Dean didn't seem bothered. And soon Sam joined him, kind of covering the public view of Dean by looking around and casting a shadow over him.
The lock came undone and Dean slid inside with Sam following. They passed a darkened reception area, heading straight for the adult sections at the top of a spiraling staircase. Sam knew exactly where to go. They had been here too many times to count...He picked out his more common books and started piling them one by one on a back table where Dean had his phone on display to provide a decent amount of light for him to use.
And Sam set off to work. Dean so very rarely helped him with research but it wasn't something Sam was offended about. He had attempted in the past and the many questions and observations Dean made at the graphics in the books were more of a hindrance than an actual help.
"I can't believe you told Dad," said Dean after a few minutes of tossing a crystal ball up and down near the stair ledge.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Look, I wasn't trying to get you in trouble, Dean. You know he's just worried about you."
"Worried for what reason," Dean remarked. "I'm not doing anything."
"You're reckless. He stopped accompanying us one time and you wreck the car...What do you think he's going to say?"
"I was hoping nothing because I wasn't planning on telling him," Dean retorted coldly. "I was planning on having it repaired and have us back on the road...but now we're stuck in this shitty city, with these shitty demons...and a shitty car...and now an angry dad. Really, Sammy, you are the worst wing-man ever."
"Whatever," Sam replied, looking back down on the book and shining Dean's phone over the text. "I think I found something."
"Finally," Dean leaned off the ledge and came over Sam's shoulder where he just saw a glob of text in small font. "What is it?"
"Right here. It mentions the Tarana...Well...Order of Tarana, actually. Says he was an extremely powerful demon. He came from the ground and destroyed an entire city with a scream...and died shortly after. The ones in his vicinity...they heard his scream and apparently the sound was so profound, they were changed by it," Sam explained, running his fingers over text that looked like it said nothing of the sort. Next to Sam was his journal where he translated the strange language.
"So big shot Tarana is dead and his demons are around. That's great," said Dean. "Talk about following a fallen idol. Does it say anything about how to kill them?"
"No," said Sam, turning the book over and showing Dean the cover. It was a newer book compared to the dusty ones he usually saw Sam going through. It still had that transparent tape over it. But the title said Demonology: Facts and Fiction. Wasn't exactly a demon hunter's ideal book for actual hunting.
"It does say they're immortal," Sam continued. "But that's about it...Superhuman speed and agility...and that they're distinguished by a mark. Doesn't show a picture of the mark. But I'm guessing it's the one you saw."
"Big help. They're all immortal. I already knew that...I also already knew that there's a mark," said Dean, standing up and returning to the stairs.
Sam sighed but he returned to his research. When the clock ticked three-thirty, Dean's eyelid began to droop. Lucky for him, or maybe unlucky for him, his phone began to ring. He pulled out the phone from his pocket and eyed the name and number with blurry vision.
"Oh hell," Dean muttered.
"What?" Sam looked up, of course he was wide awake.
"Hold on," Dean clicked on the green line and put the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"
"Don't 'yeah' me," said a stern voice on the other side. It sounded uncannily like himself, and he had been told over a thousand times that they sounded identical...but when John Winchester used this voice, Dean really had no idea what they were talking about. "Sam told me what happened. You crashed the Dodge."
"It was the heat of the moment," Dean explained, somewhat lamely. "I had to, Dad. Don't get angry. You have to understand-"
"Open the door. I'm locked out,"
"What. You're-You're here?" Dean stuttered, eyes darting to the closed doors of the library. No mistaking it. There was definitely someone standing there with a silhouette holding a cellphone to their ear. "Dad."
"We'll talk when I get inside. Now open the door," John all but demanded.
Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair and making for the door just as Sam asked, "What's up? What's going on?"
Dean unlocked the library doors and shifted to the side as John entered. He followed him, but it seemed John's anger was too much for stair steps. He whirled on Dean. John was a man of about forty of fifty possibly, but he didn't look a day older thirty or thirty-five. It was no wonder they were mistaken for brothers rather than father and son. They looked nearly identical except for a few differences. Notably, John's love for his dark brown leather jacket and heavy clothing.
And his eyes burned with rage as he looked at Dean. "I let you go out without me one time, one time...and this is what you pull?"
"Dad. We had to catch the-the...demon," Dean stammered, looking down despite himself.
"You crashed the car! You put Sam in danger! You put yourself in danger! In what world is that all right?! You could have been killed!" John ranted, coming close. "No demon is worth your life. No matter what kind it is. Jesus, Dean. It's just like when we fought the Anema last month. You ran off ahead and the Anema nearly consumed Sam and me because you wanted to play hero."
"That was different! The Anema was-"
"No, I don't want to hear it," said John, holding up a hand and sighing. He looked tired. So tired. "We're going in my truck from here on. I'll make the repairs to the Charger."
"What? No. I can take care of it. I'll pay for everything, Dad. Just let me go on the next hunts by myself. I can take care of Sam. I promise," Dean swore, coming close to take his father's arm in plea, but John moved out of the way before they could touch.
"Clearly, you can't," John answered.
"Dad, go easy on him. It really wasn't his fault," said Sam from the stairs, clutching a book in his hand. "He was just trying to keep speed up with him. It was the...demon that swerved and made us crash."
"I don't care who swerved or whatever," said John angrily. "I don't. You're reckless and you don't give a damn about any one else. That's not being a team player. What is the one thing I've always told you to do, son?"
Dean faced the ground. He felt something burn the inner corners of his eyes. "Look out for Sammy."
John clamped down a hand on his shoulder. "And you always disappoint me."
Dean's jaw tightened. Twenty-five years old and his Father could still make him feel like a twelve year old that had failed to bring his brother along to an arcade.
John swept past him and went to Sam. "Tell me you found something on that demon."
"Some," said Sam, with a worried glance at Dean, who wasn't looking at him. "I'll show you."
Sam led him back up the stairs. The sound of their footsteps spurred something in Dean. He followed them up and stopped at the top. Sam was already sitting with John leaning over the book he had showed Dean earlier. "Can I do something to help?"
John didn't even look up. "Just go home, Dean. Books aren't your specialty."
Dean's face fell just slightly. He didn't know what made him say it, but he couldn't stop his tongue sometimes. It was about as reckless as he was. "If that's not my specialty, what is?"
"What?" John glanced at him.
"Then. What. Is?" Dean enunciated slowly. "You just chewed me out for how I hunt...if I can't even help you guys research either...Why am I even doing this?"
"I don't know, Dean," John countered evenly, glowering at him. "Why are you?"
"I don't know," Dean echoed him. "Maybe I should quit. Do something else. Find a better profession. Find my own way. Away from all this demon and hell crap. Anything in the world is better than being around you for another second."
And he turned and stomped down the stairs. He didn't hear any pursuit behind. he left nothing behind but a stunned and fuming silence. Dean didn't stop until he was out the double doors. He saw John's giant black truck parked in front of the Charger and he very much considered smashing it or at the least shooting it up with his gun.
But he didn't. He just went down the dark street corner.
Now, this was a bad decision. Only because the city was infested with demons and he knew it. The demons in this city were on par with the amount of humans...and now with the "Order of Tarana" that the stranger mentioned.
He didn't know why he was thinking of him. Or the Order...but the stranger...what a convenient place to intervene. Had he been watching?
But it was his looks that startled Dean. He had never seen someone look that way before. It was...inhumane the way the stranger looked. Even dressed up in all black, brandishing a sword, there was a certain grace to him...a certain allure. His husky voice...his blue eyes. Dean felt like he had seen him before. And he wondered if he would see him again.
Dean turned a sharp street corner, passing under a light when his unspoken thought was answered. There he was. The stranger from earlier, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was easier to see with a street lamp on his face...and under the radiance, he still looked unusually beautiful. He had a smile on his face, tracking Dean with dark eyes as he passed.
"Hey. It's you...I was actually just...," He cut off, not really wanting to admit that he was totally having this guy he knew for all of three minutes. Dean cleared his throat instead. "I was passing by. I didn't think I'd see you again so...soon?"
"I'm in the area," said the stranger quietly. "So are you, it would seem."
"Yeah...I needed some air," said Dean, nodding. They were silent for a moment while Dean continued to look at him.
The stranger tilted his head. "You look like you have a lot on your mind."
"I...Yeah, I guess you could say that," Dean scratched his head.
The stranger leaned off the wall and stood upright. His dark eyes fell on Dean's with a look of promise. "I know a place that'll help clear your head."
He was so close to Dean now. Leaning down in a way that should have been illegal. Dean felt a quick breath from the stranger release on his lips and suppressed a shudder. So cold...and he smelled like mint.
Dean's mind pulled a complete blank. "Um? What did you say?"
"A place. To clear your mind," The stranger repeated.
It was impossible to resist. It should have been totally possible though. "Sure...? But uh..what's your name? I never did catch it."
The stranger pulled away and looked at Dean for a long moment, seeming to measure his eyes, measure something as he evaluated Dean. It was like he was looking for something with great concentration. Finally he spoke, almost a whisper. "Cas. You can call me Cas."
"Cas," Dean echoed. "That's kind of...hah..weird."
Cas tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps."
He talked weird too. But Cas was already turning away, retreating further down the street. Just like the first time he had seen him. Except this time he did stop, without Dean calling out to him. Dean caught a brief glimpse of the sword he saw him whip out earlier, strapped to his back underneath a black jacket. It gleamed as he turned his head in Dean's direction.
"Come with me."