CHAPTER 2

Finding the information that he needed was more difficult that Castiel had anticipated.

The computer was filled with many resources devoted to helping one track someone down, but none of them were remotely useful in his search. For one, there were a multitude of results when Castiel entered Dean Winchester's name, which he had not expected – it had not occurred to him that there might be multiple people in the world who carried that name. He found more information than he ever could have asked for, including a variety of home addresses, several phone numbers, and an article that spoke of a serial killer who had been murdered a few months ago. The problem was that he couldn't tell which of the dozens of Dean Winchesters was the one that he was searching for. Looking for Sam Winchester's name proved to be equally frustrating.

He wasn't about to give up, though, so he returned to his original search – How do I find someone? As he had noted when he'd first asked that question, there were over a billion results for him to sift through. The first website may not have been helpful, but he was bound to find something, if he searched for long enough. Castiel settled back into his chair – sensing that this was going to take him a while, so he might as well make himself comfortable – and clicked on the next result. Reading through every single result was tedious, especially since most of the pages were completely useless, but Castiel refused to give up. He was determined to continue until he found something useful.

He was on the thirtieth page of results when he suddenly leaned forward, squinting at the screen. The page he was looking at was morbid, with a black background and splotches of red along the side that looked like bloodstains. The content of the text was centered around witchcraft, and Castiel had been preparing to skip to the next result, but he had figured that he might as well skim through the text, just to be sure.

That was when his eyes had landed on the Latin chat.

Castiel stared at it, his mind automatically providing a translation, even though Castiel wasn't sure where he had learned Latin. He must have picked it up at some point in his past, though, because he understood every word.

He also suddenly had the overwhelming sense that the spell was real.

He leaned ever closer to the screen, scrolling back up to the top of the page so that he could read the entire text again, carefully this time. And somehow, the more that he read, the more that he grew certain of its legitimacy. He couldn't explain it, except that there was something familiar about it, as if he had known it at some point. And maybe he had. Maybe he'd performed spells back before he had lost his memories. Considering that he was here because he was trusting the words of angels, witchcraft didn't exactly seem odd to him.

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind him. Castiel started in surprise, and spun around in his seat. The librarian was standing over him. He hadn't heard her approach.

"The library is closing now," she said. "You're going to have to log off."

"Oh." Castiel frowned, and glanced out the window, realizing for the first time that darkness had already fallen. That meant that he must have been sitting here for eight or nine hours, which would explain why his entire body felt so stiff and sore, and why his stomach was growling.

He supposed that he should be upset that it had taken him such a long time to find any information that was even remotely useful, but he wasn't. He had planned on taking as much time as necessary, after all. Given the wide plethora of information that the computer had provided him with, he supposed that he should be grateful that it hadn't taken him even longer. The only thing that upset him was that he had to leave so soon after finding something useful, especially since there was no guarantee that he would be able to find this page again.

"Is there any way that I could take this information with me?" Castiel asked, gesturing toward the computer screen without much hope. "It really is extremely important."

The librarian gave the screen an odd look, looking as though she didn't know what to make of the bloodstains that decorated the background of the page, but she nodded. "I'll print out this screen for you," she said. "Fifteen cents a page."

Castiel immediately agreed, and the librarian leaned forward to click some buttons on the computer, which Castiel didn't understand. But a minute later, she was handing him several sheets of paper with the information that he wanted printed across it in black and white, so Castiel considered his search to be a success, even if the pages did cost him a dollar to print.

Once outside, he paused under the nearest streetlight to read through the last of the pages. The farther along he got, the more certain he felt that this spell was precisely what he was looking for.

Now, all that was left was to perform it.

It wasn't terribly difficult to find a store that was still open at this time of night, and since there was still had quite a bit of money in the wallet, obtaining the necessary ingredients was even easier. Luckily, the spell didn't call for any exotic ingredients. The power lay within the chant itself; the other materials were simply a conduit for the magic to move through. Or, at least, that was what the pages claimed.

He exited the store with his bag in one hand, and immediately turned to head to the back of the store. He hadn't seen anyone back there, and it was a semi-private area where he was unlikely to be observed. It seemed like as good a place as any to perform the spell.

He knelt in the dirt behind the store, laying his bag beside him, then pulled out the book of world maps which he had purchased. He flipped through the pages until he found a map of the United States, then ripped it out and placed it on the ground in front of him. He had no way of knowing whether the Winchesters were within the United States or not, but it would be easier for Castiel if they were in the same country, so that was what he hoped. Plus, the spell indicated that the spell worked better when one used a map that covered a smaller distance, and though the United States was quite large, it at least was smaller than a map of the entire world. Any anyway, if the Winchesters were in some other country, it would be simple enough to repeat the spell on different maps until he found them.

Next, he produced the book of matches that he had purchased. He took a deep breath, then struck a single match and held it over the map holding it over the map as he recited the Latin that he had hastily committed to memory. The information that he'd read about the spell had emphasized the importance of clearly picturing the person who you were trying to find as you performed the spell, in order for the results to be accurate. Castiel did not know either of the Winchesters, which made this step a tad difficult, but he repeated Dean's name again and again in his mind, trying to focus his thoughts on everything that the angels had ever said about this man.

He could feel the power building within him, and when he dropped the match onto the map, the flame flared much higher than Castiel had been expecting. It was an effort to keep himself from flinching away.

The map burned away in a matter of seconds. For a second, Castiel feared that the entire paper had turned to ash until he lit another match and used its light to help him search. And sure enough, lying on the ground before him was a single scrap of pink paper which read Montana in black letters across the front of it

The match burned out, and Castiel quickly scrambled to light a second one, then flipped through the book in search of a Montana state map. He found one just as this next match reached its end, and ripped it out as well.

The words flowed easily from his lips as he performed the spell a second time. This time, he was expecting the rush of power that swept through him, and the burst of flame that rose up. This fire burned a tad bit slower than the last, and once it was gone, this scrap of paper was even harder to find. Castiel made his way through five matches in his search for it, and was honestly beginning to worry that the scrap may have been lost, or that the spell had gone wrong somehow.

Then he found it. A scrap of paper, barely the size of Castiel's thumbnail, just big enough for the word Woodloch to be written on it.

Castiel couldn't help but grin his success, though he did hurry to scramble to his feet before anyone could come to investigate the flames and find him here. But he did not think that there was anything that could contain his excitement at that moment.

He had a location. He had found where Dean Winchester was, and now he only needed a way to get to him, but that could be arranged. What was important was that he had found him, and it was looking more and more as though the angels really existed. Castiel wasn't yet sure whether that was a good thing or not, but he couldn't help but be relieved that he wasn't completely insane.

Or, he didn't know that for sure yet, but at least it was looking as though he had his sanity. That was more than he would've been able to say this morning.

He still needed more proof before he could say for sure, though. Meaning that now, Castiel needed to actually speak with this Dean Winchester, just to be absolutely certain that he was real, and to discover how the truth of the man matched up to the vague things that the angels said about him, most of which Castiel didn't fully understand.

The next step seemed clear. Castiel needed a way to get to Montana.

That part of Castiel's plan also ended up being a bit more difficult than anticipated, but he managed in the end.

He suspected that he would not be able to find a mode of transportation in the middle of the night. And even if he could find one at this time, that would require him to first wander around the city in search of transportation, which did not strike him as the best plan. He considered returning to the shelter, just for the night, but something about that struck him as wrong as well. If he relied on their hospitality for one last time, he would feel guilty about not remaining to help with the chores in order to repay them. And seeing as he already felt a small burst of guilt over the fact that he had no intention of speaking with Father Garcia again – despite the fact that Father clearly wanted him to – Castiel thought that it was best to remain on his own and not increase the weight on his conscience.

This led to a very long and uncomfortable night spent lying on a concrete sidewalk in an area that did not strike Castiel as being particularly safe, but nobody bothered him, and he managed.

Finding transportation did not turn out to be much of a problem once daylight came and the streets swarmed with people. Castiel simply took to approaching people who looked as though they would react kindly and asking how he could travel to Montana. His first few inquiries weren't particularly helpful, but then a nice woman pointed him in the direction of the nearest train station, which turned out to only be a three-mile walk from where he stood. Several hours and an incredibly frustrating ticket-buying procedure later, and Castiel was boarding the first of the trains that he would need to take. This train would take him to a larger city, where he had successfully preordered a ticket for a different train, which would take him as close to Woodloch, Montana as possible. The city did not have a train station of its own, but once Castiel was in the nearest city, he should be able to catch a taxi that would take him to where he needed to go, though he had warned that the fare would likely be pricey.

The credit card in the wallet had proven to be invaluable during these proceedings, and Castiel was increasingly grateful that he had been carrying it in his pocket when his memories had been lost, even if he felt a bit wary of spending large amounts of money when he wasn't entirely sure where it came from. He only hoped that the money truly was his, which seemed to be a reasonable assumption, all things considered. Even so, he felt a bit guilty as he signed the name "James Novak" across the receipts.

He was feeling guilty about quite a lot lately. He wasn't particularly happy about that, but there didn't appear to be anything that he could do about it.

He arrived in Woodloch around five o'clock that evening. His travels had taken quite a bit longer than he had wanted, but supposed that he could only hope that Dean Winchester was still somewhere within this city.

Of course, now that he had finally arrived, he still needed to actually find a way to track down this Dean, whoever he was. Which would be a bit difficult, considering that Castiel didn't have the slightest clue what the man even looked at. He did think briefly about trying to find another map and working the spell again, but the town was small enough that he wasn't sure if anyone had even created a map of it. He supposed that he could ask the computer again, but he wasn't quite in the mood for another ten-hour search for useful information. He supposed that he might have to, though, as he didn't know where else to go.

For the moment, though, he just wandered down the street, as if Dean Winchester would magically appear and introduce himself if Castiel just waited patiently enough.

He did not meet Dean while he was wandering, which wasn't a surprise. He did, however, encounter something very interesting.

There was a woman walking in the same direction as Castiel, her arms filled with piles of paper. A few of her pages happened to fall from her arms as she passed by, which was lucky. Otherwise, Castiel might not have noticed her at all.

"Excuse me," he said, hurriedly grabbing the papers from the ground and rushing after her. "You dropped these," he said, holding them out for her to take. As he did so, he happened to glance at the paper, and then found himself staring. The word MISSING was printed across the top of the papers in bolded letters. Beneath them was a picture of a teenaged girl, smiling up at him from the image. Castiel hardly had enough experience to accurately judge someone's age, but even so, he was reasonably certain that she couldn't be older than seventeen or eighteen.

"Your daughter?" Castiel asked after a moment. It was unlikely that the girl was anyone else, considering the intense resemblance between her and the woman in front of him.

The woman swallowed and nodded. "Went missing last night," she said, and her voice sounded as though she were choking down tears. Now that Castiel was looking closer, he could also see that her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. "Hasn't been gone for that long, but I know she wouldn't just leave without at least texting. I… Something must have happened, I know it."

"I'm very sorry," Castiel said sincerely, but didn't know what else to do after that. It wasn't as though any words could make her feel better. So instead, he squinted down at the paper for a moment, committing every detail of the photograph to memory, then said, "I will look for her, and I hope that she is found quickly."

"Thank you," the woman said quietly, then turned and walked away without another word.

It was about twenty minutes later when Castiel happened across his next interesting piece of information.

He hadn't eaten since about eleven that morning, since he'd bought a late breakfast at the train station and then not bothered to eat anything for lunch, and his stomach soon began to grumble fiercely. Castiel pulled out the wallet and – after ensuring that a sufficient amount of money remained – ducked into the nearest building that looked as though it would sell food. It turned out to be a small café that offered a variety of coffees and sandwiches. Castiel studied the menu for a moment, but did not recognize the majority of the options, so he simply ordered the cheapest items, then stepped to the side to wait.

That was when he saw the newspaper, which was lying on one of the unattended tables. THREE MYSTERIOUS DEATHS IN THE PAST WEEK, the headline proclaimed. Castiel frowned and stepped over to take a closer look.

Three people had gone out at night and never returned. They had all been found a few days later, with puncture wounds on their necks and no blood in their bodies. There seemed to be no connection between any of the victims, other than the fact that they were all dead now.

Castiel's thoughts instantly went to the woman from earlier. No wonder she had been so worried about her daughter's disappearance.

It didn't take longer than a minute for Castiel to skim the rest of the article. There wasn't much information, though Castiel got the impression that it was because there wasn't much information to be told. It talked a bit about the victims' families, and then ended with a warning that nobody should walk around Pine Croft park after dark, as two of the victims had disappeared from there, and it was suspected that the third victim may have been in the same general area at the time of his disappearance as well.

Castiel did have to wonder why people would continue to frequent the park at night after the first disappearance, let alone continue to do so after three people had turned up dead. But then, the article did state that the Park was a "breeding ground of immoral behavior among teenagers". Castiel wasn't quite sure what they meant by that, but perhaps that explained why so many people seemed intend on continuing to visit the park after dark.

Castiel still couldn't understand it, though. You'd have to be positively moronic to visit a place where people were constantly being kidnapped and killed.

Which was, of course, the reason why Castiel found himself entering the park just as the sky began to darken.

He knew that it was an absolutely insane thing to do. There was no reason to think that he might be able to do a thing to help, should the need arise. Really, it was more likely that he would end up as the next victim, a random body found dead on the side of the road in a few days' time, and nobody would even know who he was. That thought alone should have been enough to make him turn around and seek a safe place to stay for the night – particularly since he had come here for such an important reason. It was quite possible that he was one of the only people – if not the only person – who could hear the angels, meaning that he was the one who had to find the Winchesters and figure out exactly what the angels wanted with them.

Castiel knew all of this. And yet, when Castiel had happened to see the park while he was wandering the street with no particular destination, he didn't hesitate before he turned and headed in that direction.

The park was large, and despite the warning, there must have been at least a few people wandering around the park, because there were three cars parked outside of it – a large red car, a smaller black one, and one that was so large and oddly shaped that Castiel wasn't quite sure if it was a car at all, though he wasn't sure what else he should call it. There was a sand pit near the parking lot, with a play area that looked as though it had been designed for children. Beyond that, it was nothing but grass and trees and hills, with a small stream that ran through it. It appeared to stretch on for quite a ways, and though the land was mostly flat, there were quite a few trees that obscured one's view. Castiel couldn't help but think that if you were going to murder someone, this would be a very good place to do it, especially if there were teenagers already coming here to do inappropriate things.

And once he had had that thought, Castiel was immediately sure that he couldn't leave. Whatever things the teenagers had come here to do, they didn't deserve to be murdered because of it. Castiel may not be able to do much, but he did feel as though he at least had to try.

He wasn't quite sure where this desire to save people had come from, but he felt as though it was a core part of his personality, which was interesting. With his memories gone, he felt as though he were still learning about who he was, one piece at a time. And apparently he was someone who was willing to give quite a lot in order to save someone else's life. That was good to know.

Despite the size, Castiel didn't think that it'd be particularly difficult to find the other people in the park. It was a still night, with no wind whatsoever. There wasn't a single sound, other than the muffled thud of Castiel's footsteps and the occasional rustle as a raccoon or some other type of creature moved past. Not even the angels were speaking at the moment. If Castiel saw any movement, or if he heard any noise louder than that of the animals, then it would have to have been caused by a person.

He did, however, think that he should have been smart enough to buy a flashlight before deciding to come looking for a killer. Although, he supposed that a flashlight would give his position away, and the moon was bright enough that the extra light wasn't strictly necessary. But still, it would have made him feel better to have it.

It also would have been much better if he'd thought to bring a weapon.

Castiel cursed himself. He had completely forgotten the need for a weapon. Or, maybe not forgotten, exactly. It was more like he had assumed that he already had one with him, like he was so used to carrying it around that he'd forgotten that it wasn't there. And Castiel wasn't sure where that particular feeling had come from, but a quick search of his pockets revealed that he held nothing except the wallet, which he had known already. He was dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a white button up shirt that had long since grown dirty to the point where he almost couldn't wear it any longer. They were the only clothes that he had, as he had been wearing them when he'd first woken in that hotel room, and he had been wearing them for over a week now. There was no room to conceal a weapon, and even if there was, Castiel was sure that he would have found it already.

So. He had decided to come to the place where a serial killer likely lurked, and he had not even thought to stop off at a store and purchase a knife that he could use to defend himself – and others – if necessary. That hadn't been the smartest decision that he could have made.

Castiel stood there for a moment, debating whether he should try to find a place that was still open at this time of night and purchase some form of a blade – even a kitchen knife would be better than nothing. He had just decided to head back to the parking lot and try to find such a store when he saw it.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to look. There were two young girls standing under a nearby tree, talking in voices too low for Castiel to hear. One of them was fairly tall, and looked like she was in her later teenaged years – though that was a rough estimate, considering that he was not good at judging ages at the best of time, and this girl was almost entirely concealed in shadow. He was, however, able to tell that the second girl had to be at least three or four years younger than the first. And whatever their actual ages, he was certain that they were too young to be out in the park at night, particularly with the danger of a killer on the loose.

Castiel frowned, then took a step closer to them. And now he couldn't leave, because he would worry for the entire time that he was gone that one or both of them would become the newest victim. Two young girls alone at this time of night seemed like the perfect targets. Weapon or not, Castiel felt obliged to stay here and see if he could keep them safe.

He was aware that if either of the girls saw him, they would likely panic, thinking that he was the killer. He wasn't, obviously, but it would be difficult to convince the girls of that, considering that he was a man who was watching them in the middle of the night. He thought that it would be best to avoid causing them that fear, and so he hung back a few dozen feet, far enough back that he was unlikely to be seen, but close enough that he could still watch them.

And it was lucky that he did, because barely a minute passed before the attack began.

The two girls had been swaying closer and closer to each other. From the looks of it, the older girl was saying something, and the younger girl was listening intently, though of course Castiel couldn't tell for certain. But the older girl bent down as if to whisper something in the younger girl's ear, and at that moment, a man came racing out from the shadows.

Castiel couldn't see much about the man, other than that he was alarmingly large and cloaked in shadows. But he could see the knife that the man had clutched in one hand.

The younger girl screamed and turned to escape, smart girl. The older of the two didn't move at all – she seemed paralyzed with fear.

Castiel also began to run, rushing straight for the man. In a far off part of his mind, a voice – his own, not one of the angels' – was telling him that rushing a man who was twice his size was suicide, but Castiel honestly didn't care what that voice had to say, and it didn't make him hesitate or slow down. Maybe he couldn't win, but he could slow the man long enough that the girl got away, at least. And hopefully she would stay safe, and not sneak around at night and invite danger again.

The man swung the knife for the girl's chest, and Castiel pushed himself to run harder, but he still had twenty feet to go and he could see the knife getting closer and closer to the girl's chest. She wasn't doing anything to defend herself, she wasn't even moving, and Castiel wasn't going to make it in time, the girl was going to-

The girl caught the man's wrist with one hand and twisted. He didn't drop the knife, but he cried out in pain. He was pushing hard against the knife, trying to close the last inch or so and slam it into her chest, and though it was obvious that the man had to be much stronger than the girl, the knife didn't so much as move.

A second later, the man was slammed up against the closest tree, and the girl was digging her teeth into his throat.

Castiel stumbled. It was only for a moment, and then he caught himself and kept running, but now his mind was racing with information. The victims had all been killed by bite marks to the neck, not a knife to the chest. And nearly all of them had been teenagers.

Castiel only had a moment to collect his thoughts and decide what to do, so it was a good thing that he thought fast. Two seconds later, he slammed his body against the girl's and sent her stumbling away from the man.

They each only needed a moment to regain their balance. Castiel stiffened as he faced her, his body tense and ready for a fight. The girl appeared to be the polar opposite. She was calm, as if this happened every day – and maybe, for her, it did. She tilted her head and regarded him with interest, but no fear.

She didn't look human. Not anymore, if she ever had. Her teeth had extended into long points – no wonder she'd been able to bite through the man's flesh so easily – and her eyes had a serpentine quality to them.

Castiel stared at her, shocked, for only a moment. But a moment was long enough.

She sprung at him, closing the space between them before he even knew what was happening. He barely managed to bring his hands up in time, which was the only reason that her fangs didn't bite through his skin right then. But it was close. Her mouth snapped only an inch from his throat, her hands flying up to grab his shoulders and hold him in place, but he squirmed away before she could hold him. He stumbled back, colliding against the tree where the other man stood.

"The knife," the man gasped. His voice was slow. It didn't sound as though he was in any pain – it sounded more as though he were on the verge of falling asleep. Frankly, that was more worrying than pain would have been.

Castiel didn't dare to take his eyes off the girl for even an instant, so he couldn't look over to see what the man meant. But he felt it when the man pressed the blade of a knife into his hand.

The world sharpened. Castiel spun the blade around in his hand, then lifted his arm, the blade of the knife pointed downward, toward the girl's heart. That had been where the man had aimed, so that would be where Castiel aimed as well. The girl was not human, and perhaps it was possible to kill her in the normal, human ways, but Castiel would not take the time to experiment. He would thrust the knife into her heart, and once that was done, he was going to turn to make sure that the man was okay, and then he would demand to know exactly what was going on.

First, though, he had to kill the monster.

She made another grab at him, and he dodged back. He had seen the way that the man's strength had not even come close to matching the strength of the girl. So Castiel wouldn't try to take her on in that way. He would need to get close enough to stab her without getting close enough to allow her to grab him, because if she did, then it was very likely that he would not be able to get free.

He swung the knife downward, toward where her breast had been only a moment earlier, but she was already gone. Already behind him. He spun around, bringing his knife down in another swing, and another miss.

They were circling each other now, wary.

"You did better than the other one, I'll give you that much," the girl said, with a dismissive nod toward the man. He was sitting now, leaning his back against the tree, one hand covering his neck and his breaths coming in sharp gasps. "But you're still going to die."

"Doubtful," Castiel said. He took a step toward her, closing half the distance between them.

"I wouldn't be so sure," she said. "I've faced hunters before. You're not so special."

Castiel didn't know what that meant, but now wasn't the time to ask.

Another step forward, and another swing. This one, she dodged easily, as if she had been waiting for it.

She rushed him, her hands once again going for his shoulders, to try to grab him and hold him in place so that she could bite. From the way that her eyes flickered to his hands, she was clearly expecting him to swing again, and was prepared for it.

Castiel flipped the knife in his hand, changing the direction that the blade was pointing, and stabbed upward.

That, clearly, had been a surprise. She jerked away, and managed to avoid a fatal stab to the heart, but the knife still bit through her skin, leaving a long slice through the center of her chest. She screamed.

Then she was on top of him.

It had been a mistake, one that he'd been stupid to make. He'd expected to have more time before she recovered. He'd been prepared for the next swing of the knife to be the last, and had expected her to die before she'd overcome the pain enough to fight back.

He'd been wrong.

He was slammed to the ground, his back against the grass and her weight on top of him. Blood oozed from her cut chest, dripping down onto Castiel's shirt. He'd managed to get the knife up, and held it between them, trying to push it up into her chest. The knife was close enough to her skin that the tip of the blade touched the fabric of her shirt, but he couldn't push it any farther. It only took one hand for her to hold his hand in place. The other hand was on his shoulder, and though the knife was holding her at bay for the moment, he knew it wouldn't last long. Any second, she was going to move his arm and then sink her teeth into the side of his throat. He was certain of it. And he was equally certain that there was nothing that he could do to stop it, though he wasn't going to stop fighting, regardless.

Her hand tightened around his wrist, and a second later, his hand was pushed aside and slammed against the ground, hard enough that the knife fell from his hand. He brought his other hand up to her face, struggling to push her away. She just reached up and caught his wrist, her long fingernails digging into his skin hard enough to cut his skin and bring a drop of blood beading to the surface, and then his other hand was pined as well.

She lowered her head to his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to buck her off of him, but his struggles were pointless. He could not get away, and he knew it, even as he attempted to fight.

Then she stiffened, and didn't bite down.

Castiel opened his eyes. The girl was frozen above him. She'd lifted her head, and he could see that her eyes had widened in shock and pain.

That was the first thing that Castiel noticed – the eyes. It was only a few seconds later that he realized that she had been stabbed through the back, hard enough that the point of the knife was sticking out through the front of her chest, straight through her heart. The girl still lived, though. She was gasping, agony written across her every feature. Her head kept twitching to the side, as if she was trying to turn her neck and see who had stabbed her, but she was so weak that even that effort was beyond her. And Castiel thought that he should be wondering that same thing, that he should look up and try to see who had done this, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her face.

Then the knife twisted to the side.

In an instant, he girl began to shrivel. It was the only way to describe it. Her body grew brown and wrinkled, as if all of the moisture had been sucked from her with amazing speed. A second later, there was nothing left of her except for a crumpled corpse that barely even resembled the girl – the monster – that she had been.

Castiel gasped frantically for breath, shoving the corpse off of him and rolling away from it as fast as he could, because that was the quickest way that he knew to put as much distance between himself and that thing as possible.

"Are you okay?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Castiel took a deep breath, trying to force his panicked breaths to slow. "I'm fine," he said, and strangely enough, it was true. He had been terrified, yes, but he was already beginning to calm somewhat. Considering how close he had come to dying, he was pretty sure that he was supposed to be far more traumatized than he felt.

He opened his eyes, and instantly realized that the question had not been meant for him. There was second man crouching in front of the first, carefully supporting him and examining the bite marks on the first man's neck. The second man had clearly been the one to speak, and had been addressing the question at his companion.

As soon as Castiel spoke, though, the man looked over at him. In the darkness, Castiel couldn't see much of his features, but he could see the smile on his face. "Good," he said, before turning back to the first man. "Come on, let's get you to the car."

The first man nodded, but made no indication that he was going to move any time soon. The second man stood and bent to wrap his arms around the first man's shoulders, saying, "Come on, Sammy, up you go. We've gotta get out of here and get you all bandaged up."

"Yeah," the first man – Sammy – gasped, and this time, he made a slight attempt at lifting himself off the ground. Even with the other man's help, it was still largely unsuccessful.

"Here," Castiel said quickly, and scrambled to his feet. He took a moment to grab the knife from where it had fallen. He didn't know what to do with it, so he just held it loosely in his left hand as he went to wrap his right arm under Sammy's shoulders. With two of them helping now, they managed to haul Sammy to his feet and keep him upright as they began the walk to the parking lot, though he swayed with every step, as though he were going to collapse at any moment.

"Are you sure that you're alright, uh, Sammy?" Castiel asked, stumbling a bit over the name. But the way that he was acting worried Castiel. He tried to search his mind for any information that he had on the effects of bite wounds, and couldn't come up with anything useful, except for a vague feeling that he should not be acting this way.

"It's Sam," he said, and it took Castiel a moment to realize that he was talking about his name. Sam stumbled then, and Castiel and the other man had to tighten their grips on him in order to keep him upright. Sam took a deep breath and righted himself, then added, "It's just the venom."

Castiel frowned. "Venom," he repeated slowly.

This time, it was the nameless man who answered. "Yeah," he said, like he was surprised that Castiel didn't already know this. "Vetala venom will mess with you for a bit. It'll knock you unconscious if you get enough of it, and make you act all drugged up like Sammy here if you don't, but it doesn't last for all that long."

Castiel just stared. The man looked over and met his eyes, then asked, "Wait, you didn't know what the Vetala was? What, did you just rush into a fight without knowing what you were dealing with?"

"Yes," Castiel said, because he decided to be honest, and that was exactly what he had done. Hearing it spoken out loud, though, it did sound foolish.

"Huh," the man said, and snorted. "Hear that, Sam? This guy didn't even know what he was fighting, and you were still the one that got your ass whooped the hardest."

"Shut up," Sam grumbled, weakly. His words were slightly slurred. "I thought that you were going to be there to back me up, you know. Where were you?"

"Taking care of the other one," the man said.

Castiel stiffened. "There was another one?" he demanded. "Where is it?"

"Dead," the man said simply, and didn't add anything else. After a moment, Castiel decided that that was a sufficient response.

They reached the parking lot a moment later. The nameless man led them over to the black car and unlocked the passenger side door, and together, the two of them managed to wrestle Sam inside. Sam did very little to help this process, but he didn't fight them, either, so it wasn't terribly difficult.

The other man tilted Sam's head to the side, using the light from the inside of the car to examine the bite wounds closer. "You're fine," the man decided after a moment, though he shrugged off the plaid shirt he was wearing over a gray tee shirt and pressed it against Sam's neck. "Keep pressure on that. I might have to stich you up a bit when we get back to the motel, though."

"Great," Sam said, though Castiel didn't know why he would be excited about the prospect of having stiches sewn into his body, particularly somewhere as sensitive as the neck. Sam certainly didn't sound happy about it, despite his words.

"Don't worry about it," the other man said lightly, giving Sam a squeeze on the shoulder. "Good news it, that Vetala drugged you up enough that you probably won't even feel it."

Sam didn't respond. He just sighed and leaned back against the seat, his eyes sliding closed.

The other man closed the door to the car and locked it, then turned to Castiel. "Think you could check the RV by yourself?" he asked. "I don't really want to leave my brother alone when he's so out of it."

Castiel frowned. There were several things that he didn't understand about that sentence, but he decided to start with the most obvious thing. "RV?"

"Yeah," the man said. "The RV over there." He gestured to the large vehicle that Castiel had noticed earlier, the one that looked as though it was too large and oddly-shaped to be a car. "They had to be keeping their victims somewhere close, and the police have searched the whole park without finding anything. Makes sense that they'll stick their vics in a car or something, drive them away during the day and then drive back here when they want to go hunting."

Castiel still didn't quite understand, but he trusted that the man's logic was sound. He was the one who knew about the Vetala, after all, whereas Castiel hadn't known what he was dealing with until after the thing was already dead. "You think that some of the victims may still be alive?" he asked, trying not to let himself become hopeful. He didn't want to set himself up for disappointment, but if they hadn't all been killed yet-

The man was already nodding. "They like to feed slowly," he said, as if that explained everything. Then he added, "I'll just go check it out myself."

"I can go," Castiel said quickly, feeling a bit guilty that he hadn't moved to go to the RV already.

The man shook his head. "I'll get it," he said. "You stay here, okay? I think that there were only two of them, and they're both dead, but still. If anything does show up, you don't let it anywhere near Sammy, alright?"

Castiel nodded at once, and switched the blade over to his right hand, holding it tight so that would be prepared to strike in an instant. "I promise that nothing will touch him."

The man looked surprised at the suddenness of Castiel's movement, or perhaps he hadn't expected Castiel to be quite so willing to defend his brother. Either way, the man said, "Yeah, I'd believe that. I saw the end of your fight earlier. Good job on that, by the way, especially if you didn't know what you were dealing with."

Castiel didn't know what to say in response to that, which was fine, because it turned out that a response wasn't necessary, because the man immediately turned and headed for the RV. It appeared as though the door was locked, which apparently didn't bother the man in the slightest. It only took a minute for him to get the door opened, and then he disappeared inside.

Castiel remained at his post, wondering who exactly these people were, and how they knew these things. Sam appeared to have fallen asleep, though, and Castiel didn't want to wake him and bother him with these questions, and so he held his tongue.

The other man returned only a moment later, but now, he was holding a small figure in his arms. She was wrapped in a blanket, but even so, Castiel immediately recognized her as the girl from the MISSING posters that he had seen earlier.

"Get the door," the man said, and tossed his keys at Castiel, who managed to catch them and unlock the car, and then opened the back door so that the man could slide the girl inside.

"She was the only missing person that I know of," the man said, "and the only one in there. She's lost a lot of blood, but she'll be fine. We'll swing by the hospital and drop her off on the way to our motel."

Castiel nodded, and glanced at Sam. He still had his eyes closed, and his face was unnaturally pale, though Castiel thought that they might have something to do with the odd-colored light coming from the streetlights above them. Even so, he asked, "Should we take your brother to the hospital as well?"

The man shook his head. "Nah, I can patch him up. He didn't loose enough blood that he needs a transfusion or anything."

The man certainly seemed confident of that, but still Castiel couldn't help but worry. "Are you certain? He doesn't look well."

"It's fine," the man said. "Trust me, if Sammy needed a hospital, I'd get him to the hospital, but the bites aren't so bad. We're used to this kind of stuff."

"Who are you?" The question escaped before Castiel could hold it back, his curiosity bubbling to the surface and overflowing, until he couldn't prevent the question from coming out, even though he knew that there were other things that they should be talking about.

The man didn't seem to think that this was a poorly-timed question. Or, at least, he answered calmly enough. "Dean Winchester," he said casually, "and that's my brother Sam. And you are…?"

Dean was obviously waiting for Castiel to say his name in return, but Castiel was struck silent.

They were Dean and Sam Winchester. The men that the angels had been speaking of, the ones that Castiel had traveled here to see. Now that he knew the truth, he couldn't believe that he hadn't realized it earlier. He'd known that the Winchesters were somewhere in this town, but it hadn't occurred to him that these could be the men he was searching for, not even when he'd learned that the taller one was named Sam. Now, though, it made a startling amount of sense. Of course the angels would talking about people as strange and extraordinary as these two. Why wouldn't the angels have an interest in two men who killed monsters?

"You okay?' Dean asked. Castiel supposed that there must have been something odd about the look on his face, to warrant such a question.

"I was looking for you," Castiel said, instead of answering the question. Which probably wasn't something that he should have just blurted out of nowhere, but he still felt as though he wasn't quite thinking as clearly as he should be. He guessed that that had something to do with the near-death experience, though if he was being honest, he'd say that meeting Dean and Sam Winchester threw him off guard more than the discovery the monsters were real had.

Now that he thought about it, he should've been more surprised by that, shouldn't he have? He didn't know why, but for whatever reason, it had hardly bothered him at all.

Then again, he was now reasonably sure that the angels were real, so why shouldn't monsters exist as well?

Dean gave him an odd look, staring at Castiel like he didn't quite know what to make of what he had just said. Then he glanced at Sam and the girl in the backseat, and said, "Well, you found us. Climb in next to the girl, we can talk at the motel."

Castiel nodded. Again, he wasn't entirely sure what was going on. And again, he decided that the best course of action was just to do as Dean had said. So he headed around to the backseat and opened the door, but before he could climb inside, he heard Dean say, "Wait."

Castiel glanced up. Dean was on the other side of the car, preparing to get into the driver's seat, but right now, he was staring at Castiel intently from over the top of the car. "I don't know you," he said. "Hell, I don't even know your name, and I'm not exactly in the habit of giving rides to random hunters. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because you protected Sammy back there, but don't try anything, okay?"

Castiel didn't know exactly what Dean meant when he said "try anything", but he could hazard a guess, at least. So he nodded and said, "I will do nothing to harm either yourself or your brother, I can promise you that."

Dean looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded back. "Okay," he said and climbed into the car. Castiel followed suit, and as soon as the doors were closed, Dean took off.

Castiel studied the brothers as they drove down the road, presumably heading for the nearest hospital. They were much different that he had expected, he thought, squinting at the back if their heads, which he could barely see in the dim light from the streetlights that they drove under. Then he smiled