CHAPTER 4

It was not the most comfortable night that Castiel had ever spent on the street, but it wasn't the worst, either. The important part was that nothing bothered him in the night, which was always a relief.

He woke early the next morning – or, he thought that it was early. He wasn't entirely sure, considering that he didn't have a watch, nor any other way of telling the time. Still, the sky was still just dark enough to tell him that sunrise had not been too long ago. He wasn't sure if it was too soon to return to the Winchesters' motel room, but then, they had not specified a time for his visit, so he supposed that it would be fine.

Sam was the one to answer Castiel's knock. He was wearing a different flannel shirt than he had the night before, and his hair was dripping water, so he had clearly been awake long enough for him to wash and dress himself. That made Castiel feel better about knocking at such an early hour.

"Hey, Jimmy," Sam said with a grin as he opened the door to let him inside, though his smile faltered as he continued to stare. Castiel fidgeted slightly, wondering what had caused this reaction in Sam, though he wasn't entirely sure if he wished to ask or not.

After far too long, Sam opened the door the rest of the way, allowing Castiel to step inside. "You didn't shower or change clothes?" Sam asked.

"I didn't get the chance," Castiel said honestly. He had thought of finding a gas station in order to wash up, but he had decided against it, preferring to simply come straight here. "Would it be possible for me to borrow your bathroom?" he asked after a moment. At the very least, it would be nice to clean up a little bit.

"Uh, yeah," Sam said. "No problem. Dean's in there right now, but you can go shower as soon as he's out, if you want."

"Thank you," Castiel said fervently. It had gotten to the point where his own stench was beginning to bother even him, and he would be grateful to be rid of some of it, at least.

"No problem," Sam repeated, then frowned and asked, "Hey, Jimmy? Where were you last night?"

"In an alley about fifty feet from here," Castiel replied.

He saw in an instant that there was something wrong with that answer, judging by the way that Sam stiffened, looking surprised. "Wait, were you sleeping on the street?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Castiel said. He supposed that that wasn't technically true. He did have the credit card, and could have easily used it to purchase a room at this motel. That likely would have been the smart thing to do. But though he still didn't quite understand how this plastic card could possibly stand in place of money, he did understand enough to know that using it would be taking money from its real owner. That may not be an issue, if it turned out that he was the real owner, as it appeared that he was. But until he knew for sure, he didn't feel comfortable using it for his own gain unless it was absolutely necessary, particularly since he had already spent so much on the train tickets he had used to get here.

Sam was giving him a look like he was going to say or ask something more about the fact that Castiel had spent the night on the street, but he didn't. Instead, he just asked, "Have you eaten anything? Dean went out and got doughnuts earlier this morning." Sam snorted. "Because that's Dean's idea of a healthy breakfast, apparently. We've got coffee, too, if you want some."

"Both sound wonderful," Castiel said, not because he knew what either of those things were – well, he had a general idea about coffee – but because his stomach was beginning to grumble again, and he would be grateful for anything that could fill it.

Sam nodded, then winced and reached up to touch the right side of his neck, which looked as though it had been covered by a clean bandage this morning.

"How are you feeling?" Castiel asked, a little anxious. It certainly looked as though the venom had worn off completely, but that didn't necessarily mean that Sam was alright.

"Fine," Sam said shortly. After a second, he elaborated, "Hurts like crazy now that the venom isn't numbing it at all, but it's fine, I've had worse."

Castiel nodded, deciding to believe that.

"Here you go," Sam said, setting a cup of coffee and a bag that Castiel assumed contained doughnuts onto the table and gesturing for Castiel to take a seat. Which he did, and eagerly reached for the bag, pulling out the first doughnut that he touched and taking a bite. A doughnut turned out to be a type of pastry, and was absolutely delicious, though Castiel thought that he preferred the taste of the hamburger from the night before.

"Go ahead and take as many as you want," Sam offered, dropping down into the seat opposite him and reaching for his laptop, which was sitting open in the center of the table. He began to type something on it, though he looked up long enough to say, "I've already eaten, and Dean's like a bottomless pit when it comes to food. You'd better eat your fill before he gets his hands on them." Then he tilted his head and added, "It sounds like Dean's getting out of the shower now. You can borrow a pair of his clothes, if you don't have anything else to change into."

Castiel swallowed quickly, and said, "Thank you. Really, this is all incredibly kind of you."

Sam just smiled. "Hey, you pretty much saved my life last night," he said lightly. "I think we owe you." Then he added, "Besides, we're the ones who have to sit around in the same motel room as you. Believe me when I say that we have an ulterior motive to not wanting you to stink."

Castiel looked down at his disgusting clothes and grimaced. "Even so, thank you."

Sam shrugged. "Really, Jimmy, it's the least that we could do."

Castiel frowned, hearing the fake name spoken yet again. Sam had already said it many times that morning, to the point where Castiel was beginning to grow used to hearing it, as if he had almost begun to think that it really was his name. But he thought that it was time to correct them. "About my name," he began.

Then he stopped, Dean's words from the night before suddenly flooding over him. Dean and Sam had had some experience that involved a crazy hunter, and Dean in particular was not inclined to trust any other hunters any time soon, which was what they thought that Castiel was.

He thought of all of the people from the men's shelter, and how they had reacted when he claimed to hear the angels' voices. Most of the men had given him strange looks and done their best to stay away him. Father Garcia had been the lone man to not react poorly, and to not treat Castiel as though he were something dangerous and odd that must be avoided, but even he had not actually believed that the angels were speaking to him.

Now, Castiel had proof that the angels' voices were real. They had led him to Sam and Dean Winchester, after all. And as far as Castiel could tell, most people didn't know that monsters existed. So perhaps Sam and Dean would believe in other things that normal people did not.

Or perhaps they would also believe him to be insane, and refuse to have anything to do with him once he had shared this bit of information.

Castiel was suddenly struck by how badly he didn't want that to happen. It shouldn't matter to him whether or not these two men believed his words, except that he wanted to figure out the truth about Azazel and the angels, and he needed the Winchesters' help in order to do that. But somehow, his desire ran beyond that. He liked the Winchesters. He had enjoyed listening to them banter the night before, and he had enjoyed speaking with Dean, however briefly that had lasted, and he enjoyed the kindness that Sam was showing him now. And all at once, Castiel didn't think that he would be able to stand it if the Winchesters threw him from their motel and declared that he was insane, particularly since Castiel didn't have the slightest idea where he would go or what he would do if that happened.

He could still correct them, still say that he was named Castiel and that Jimmy was simply a fake name that he used, as Dean had suggested the night before.

But then, he didn't know for sure that his name really was Castiel, even if it somehow felt familiar to him. He had only heard the name Castiel because the angels had spoken it, had only adopted it as his own because he liked the sound of it. What if it wasn't his name any more than the name Jimmy belonged to him – or perhaps even less so, as he at least had an identification card that called him Jimmy? That was proof that at some point in time, he had called himself Jimmy, even if it didn't feel as though it was actually his name. He had no such proof with the name Castiel.

"Jimmy?" Sam urged, after a moment had passed without Castiel saying a word.

Castiel swallowed, and made up his mind.

"Novak," he said. Sam gave him a quizzical glance, and Castiel explained, "My last name is Novak. I'm not sure if Dean mentioned that to you or not."

The words felt deceitful, even he wasn't entirely sure if they were or not. But he also felt as though calling himself by this name was less dangerous, and less likely to lead to them learning the truth about the voices that he heard. Still, though, he couldn't help the pang of regret that jabbed hard at his conscious at the thought of purposefully deceiving Sam and Dean.

Sam, however, just smiled.

"Well, then, Jimmy Novak," he said, "it's nice to meet you."

As promised, Sam and Dean allowed Castiel to use the shower before they asked him any further questions, and even gave him new clothes to wear and a disposable razor that he could use. He had had to ask them to explain how to shave, which had earned him some strange looks from both of the brothers, but it had been worth it to remove the stubble from his face. It wasn't that the hair looked bad, exactly, but he realized that he vastly preferred the way that he looked without it.

He undressed himself as soon as he had finished with the shaving, and made a face at his disgusting clothes before shoving them as far down into the trashcan as he could. Then he stepped into the shower, relishing the feeling of the water streaming down his skin. There was no warm water left, but Castiel didn't mind – he had grown used to that during his time at the men's shelter, and he was merely grateful for the chance to wash at all.

He emerged from the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, clothed in the tee shirt and jeans that had been given to him. The shirt hung a bit loose in the shoulders, and the jeans had had to be rolled up in order to fit his legs, but other than that, they fit quite nicely. It appeared as though he and Dean were nearly the same size.

"You were sleeping on the street last night," Dean asked, as soon as Castiel joined him and Sam at the table.

Castiel frowned, surprised that that was the first thing that Dean had wanted to know. "Yes," he said simply, then hurried to assure him, "Don't worry, I'm used to doing so. It doesn't particularly bother me anymore."

"So, what?" Dean asked. "You travel around sleeping on the streets and hunting monsters?"

"Well, the monster hunting is new," Castiel admitted. "But yes."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, and then Sam asked, "How exactly did you know our dad?"

Castiel stiffened, unsure how to answer. Originally, he had planned on telling the truth, which was that he didn't have the slightest idea how he knew John Winchester, or even if he knew him. But since he had decided to leave out the truth about hearing the angels' voices, that didn't leave him with many options of what he could say without sounding as though he was crazy.

Also, Sam had said the night before that Castiel would be useful to them if he had known their dad, and the prospect of the Winchesters thinking him useful was strangely enticing.

"I don't know him well," Castiel finally said, which was technically truthful.

"Did you help him hunt the demon at all?" Sam asked eagerly. "Azazel, I mean?"

Castiel frowned. "I know a bit about Azazel," he said, carefully avoiding the question. "And I've heard quite a bit about you two, mostly regarding the fact that Sam is one of the children that Azazel has chosen."

"And what the fuck does that mean?" Dean asked.

"I wish that I knew," Castiel said honestly. "That it what I came here to try to discover. Although, if you two don't know anything more than I do, then I don't think that I will be successful."

"We know a bit," Sam said. He glanced over at Dean, who frowned and glared for a moment, but finally inclined his head in a brief nod. Sam nodded back, then turned to look at Castiel again. "There's a group of us – we've only met one other person, but we get the feeling that there's more. We were both born in the same year, and both had our nurseries burned down and our moms killed when we were exactly six months old. We're still trying to figure out what the connection is."

Castiel nodded, absorbing that information. "How do you intend on figuring that out?"

"We've got a friend," Sam said. "His names Ash. We met him about a week ago, and he's apparently a computer genius. He's making a program to find all the children who had fires in their houses six months after they were born, so we can try to figure out what the connection between all of them is."

"You know, we should have him look up the name Azazel while he's at it," Dean suddenly said, looking over at Sam, "if that's the name of the demon who did all this."

Sam glanced back over at his brother. "Yeah, good idea," he said. "Wait, if Dad told you Azazel's name when you were at the hospital, why didn't you think of it when we were at the Roadhouse last week?"

Dean shrugged and looked away. "Didn't think of it," he grumbled. "Sue me."

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean looked as though he didn't want to hear anything more on the subject, so Castiel quickly cut in by saying, "Do you know anything else about the demon? Or about any other connection between the children?"

For a second, Castiel saw Dean and Sam's eyes flicker towards each other. "No," Sam said. "There doesn't seem to be anything else connecting us."

"Why?" Dean asked, his voice almost challenging. "You know something?"

Castiel shook his head. "Sadly, no, that's all I've heard." There was a chance that he might be able to learn more, but he couldn't guarantee that – after all, he wasn't sure what exactly the angels were going to say.

Dean shrugged, not looking surprised, and stood. The car keys were on the table in front of him, and Dean grabbed them, tossing them up into the air and absentmindedly catching them as he said, "Well, give us your number, we'll call if we find anything else out."

Castiel thought that that would be rather difficult, considering that he didn't have a phone, but he didn't say that out loud. Instead, he asked, "Are you two going somewhere?"

"Sammy found a case this morning," Dean said. "Third one in a row for us, whoop-de-doo." He shook his head, then said, "It's a haunted house down in Nebraska that looks like it might actually be, you know, haunted."

Castiel frowned, turning to look at Sam – or, specifically, to look at the bandage on his neck. "You're going to work another case so soon after being injured? Is that a good idea?"

Sam shrugged. "It looks like a routine salt and burn," he said, as if that was supposed to have some sort of meaning to Castiel.

Dean snorted. "When is it ever just a salt and burn?" he asked.

Sam ignored his brother. "Besides, a group of teenagers broke into a supposedly-haunted house earlier this week on a dare, and since then, one of them had died of mysterious causes every night. We're already going to have to hurry if we want to make it before the next person dies."

"Ah." Castiel didn't know exactly what Sam meant by all of that, but he did understand the reason why they would hurry away, if lives were at stake. He couldn't blame them for wanting to leave as soon as possible, in this case. Perhaps he should just feel lucky that he had woken early enough that he had gotten to see the two of them at all this morning.

Still, though, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He had come to like the Winchesters quite a bit.

Sam stood as well, and Castiel hastily followed suit, preparing himself to say goodbye.

Instead, though, Sam looked at him and frowned. "Hey, Jimmy," he said slowly. "What exactly do you plan on doing next?"

Castiel hadn't even considered that. He tilted his head, his frown deepening. After a minute of considering, the most honest answer he could give was, "I'm not entirely sure." He squinted, still thinking hard, and could finally add, "I think that I would like to continue with this hunting business, to make sure that creatures such as the one that we faced last night aren't able to continue hurting other people. And I will try to learn more about Azazel, of course, and try to discover what his plans are."

"Well, yeah, I figured it was something like that," Sam said. "But what exactly are you going to do?" Castiel just blinked at him, not comprehending, and Sam amended, "I mean, where are you going to sleep? What are you going to do about food?"

Again, that was something that hadn't even crossed Castiel's mind until that moment. "The streets really aren't so bad," he said after a moment, "as long as you stay to yourself and don't attempt to cause trouble." He had received that advice on his very first night, from a man who had been sleeping on the streets for over a year at that point. "And I will find a way to get myself food." Again, he did have the credit card. He still had no intention of using it for everyday purchases, but it would be there in case of a true emergency.

He would find a way to survive. It would be fine.

Sam looked over at Dean, who immediately scowled, not looking happy about whatever Sam was trying to silently communicate to him. But that apparently didn't matter to Sam, because he turned back to Castiel and said, "Do you want to come ghost hunting with us then?"

Castiel stiffened. "What?" he asked, not entirely sure if he'd heard that right.

"You don't have anywhere to go right now," Sam said. "You might as well hunt with us for a bit. Just until you figure something else out."

"I- Yes," Castiel said immediately. "Yes, I would love that. Thank you."

"No problem," Sam said.

"Jimmy," Dean said, in a tone that thoroughly contradicted Sam's last statement, "would you mind taking our bags out? You can just pile them next to the car, we'll come out and load them in a minute."

"Of course," Castiel said, anxious to prove that it had not been a poor decision to allow him to come. There were two duffels lying on the beds. Castiel slung one over each of his arms and hurried out the door.

He left the duffels beside the Winchesters' car, just as Dean had asked, then walked back to the motel room. Inside, Sam and Dean were speaking to each other, and Castiel once again found himself standing behind a door, eavesdropping on one of their conversations.

"Just chill, man," Sam said. "It's one case. And anyway, you saw the way he fought that Vetala – it's not like he's going to be a liability."

"Since when do we work with other hunters, though?" Dean insisted.

"Let me repeat myself," Sam said. "It's one case. It's not like we're inviting the guy to come live with us. And anyway, he doesn't have anywhere else to go, and he did kinda save my life last night."

"I would've gotten there before she actually killed you," Dean insisted. Silence, then he added, "We should drop him off at the Roadhouse, make him Ellen's problem."

A pause. When Sam spoke again, he sounded thoughtful. "You know, that's not a bad idea," he said. "I mean, he said that he wants to hunt, right? That'd probably be a good place for him to go, and he'd be able to help Ash out with the research and stuff. We should ask him if he wants us to give him a ride down there."

"Good," Dean said.

Sam continued, "But in the meantime, we've got a ghost that's going to kill someone later tonight. We've got to get down there before we do anything else."

Dean groaned. "Guess that means we're stuck with him for now, huh?"

"It's one case, Dean!"

Castiel cleared his throat and pushed the door open. "I placed the bags beside your car, as you wished."

"Awesome," Dean said, jangling the keys again and heading out the door. "Let's hit the road, then."

Castiel nodded and turned to walk to the car. Sam smiled at him as they all climbed into their respective seats. It didn't make Castiel feel much better.

Castiel was careful not to say anything during the long drive to the haunted house that they were going to investigate. Dean and Sam bickered about which radio station to listen to, and took bets on what exactly the ghost's spirit would be tied to, and got into a long argument about the merits of Star Wars versus Star Trek which made them nearly come to blows. The entire time, Castiel remained silent in the backseat, partly because he had no opinion on any of these topics, and partly because he didn't wish to impose on the Winchesters any more than he already had.

Sam brought it up around noon, when they pulled off at another fast food restaurant to buy lunch.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, turning around in his seat to look at Castiel for the first time in the entire drive. He had to turn his torso fully around, instead of just turning his head, which likely would have pulled on his stitches. Castiel couldn't help but think that that position didn't look comfortable, and wondered why Sam bothered with sitting like that, when it would be just as simple to speak to Castiel while facing forward.

Castiel considered asking for something – he was getting hungry, after all – but then he thought of the amount of money that was left in the wallet, and realized that it wasn't going to last for very long if he continued to spend it regularly. So he shook his head. "I don't require anything."

"It's fine," Sam said quickly. "We're buying."

That was a very nice offer, one that Castiel was very tempted to accept, but he merely said, "I am fine."

Sam nodded and turned back around, but nevertheless, a minute later Dean was passing a hamburger back to him.

"We're going to be fighting a ghost tonight," Dean said in way of explanation. "You'd better at least eat something first."

Castiel frowned down at the hamburger in his hands. "Thank you," he said, wondering if Sam had forced Dean to buy this for him. He had not heard Sam say anything of the sort, making it seem as if Dean had made the decision on his own, but Castiel had already realized that Sam and Dean were experts at having silent conversations. Castiel felt a flash of guilt, and wondered if he should offer to let either Sam or Dean eat it instead – hadn't Sam said something about Dean always being hungry?

In the end, though, Castiel's hunger won out, and it didn't take long for him to consume the entire hamburger.

"You've been really quiet, you know," Sam suddenly said, turning to glance over his shoulder at Castiel. "What's going on with you?"

Castiel frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said.

Sam shrugged. "It just seemed a little weird, is all," he said. After another second, he asked, "So, how did you get into hunting?"

He didn't know Sam would be interested in his response, but even so, he endeavored to answer as best he could. "I learned that people were being killed, and I decided that someone should put a stop to it."

There was a long pause, then Sam raised his eyebrows, looking at Castiel in surprise. "So, you just decided to become a hunter one day, completely out of nowhere?"

Yes, that was essentially what had happened, now that Castiel thought about it. "It wasn't as though I were doing anything else with my life," he said after a moment.

"Still, though," Sam said, and didn't add anything more to that sentence. Instead, he said, "Dean and I were raised into it. Which you probably know already, if you know our dad."

Castiel made a small noise, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and turned his attention to staring out the window, enjoying the view of the many buildings and people that they passed.

Sam didn't ask any more questions after that, and returned to bickering about the radio station again, even though even Castiel could tell that Dean was going to win this argument. For the rest of the car ride, neither Winchester said anything to Castiel, not even when they stopped again to buy something for dinner.

But Dean once again handed him a paper bag, this kind containing a sandwich made of some other type of meat. Chicken, Castiel thought it was. Castiel once again murmured his thanks, and Dean merely nodded as he took off down the road.

They arrived in the town at about ten o'clock that night.

"Too late to go talk to the witnesses," Dean remarked as they drove down the road. Castiel couldn't help but agree. It was already dark outside, and it looked as if the town had shut down for the night. Castiel wasn't sure if the remaining teenagers who had broken into the house earlier that week would even be awake now, and even if they were, Castiel got the impression that they would not wish to tell them about the ghost house at such a time.

Of course, Castiel thought that if getting the information from them was the most important thing, then they should go speak to the teenagers immediately, regardless of how rude the families may find it. But then, he had never hunted before, so he supposed that he would let Dean and Sam choose how to handle this, as they were the ones with the experience.

"What is the plan?" Castiel asked, speaking for the first time in roughly four hours. Sam glanced back at him, looking surprised, as if he hadn't expected Castiel to speak up at all. Which wasn't particularly surprising, Castiel supposed, considering how long it had been since he had said a single word.

"There were six teenagers who broke into the house of one Charles Maison two days ago," Sam said. "It's been standing empty ever since his death, local legend it that it's haunted. They hung out for a couple hours, played around a bit, then left. And that was all. Absolutely nothing spooky."

"Dude," Dean said, "and you know this how?"

"I found one of their blogs," Sam said.

Dean made a face, muttering something about blogs and stupidity, but gestured for Sam to continue. Castiel thought about asking what a blog was, but thought better of it after a moment. There were more important things to worry about right then.

"Then the next night at about eleven o'clock – the same time that the kids had broken into the house the night before – one of them was killed. Autopsy report said he was strangled, but no signs of any bruising on the body," Sam said. "The next night, same deal. A girl from the group died at eleven o'clock from strangulation, but there's not a single mark on her."

Castiel nodded. "That does sound suspicious," he said slowly. "You believe that they were killed by a ghost?" He knew what ghosts were, though if he had bothered to think of them before today, he would have assumed that they were merely children's tales. Still, though, if demons and angels and Vetala could exist, then he wasn't about to start questioning the idea of ghosts.

This time, it was Dean who answered, which made Castiel suspect that both brothers already knew everything that Sam had just said, and that Sam had only been repeating it for Castiel's sake, which was thoughtful. "There's some local legend that says that some crazy old bat hanged himself in the attic," he said. "Sam didn't get the chance to check up on how true that is, but it fits with the way that the vics have all been killed."

Castiel nodded. "That sounds like a reasonable assumption," he agreed.

"I already did a check online, and it turned out that Maison was cremated, meaning that there's no body for us to go dig up," Sam added, looking back at Castiel. Castiel just nodded again, and tried to look as though he understood. Sam looked doubtful, as though he could tell that Castiel wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. He didn't say anything about that, though. Instead, he just paused for a minute, and then continued, "So anyway, we have two options here. We could try going to the houses of the remaining teenagers, wait for the ghost to show up so that we can put a stop to it. Problem is that there are four possible targets left, so even if we split up, we'd still be leaving one person unprotected."

Dean didn't wait for the rest of Sam's words before he nodded in agreement. "So we head down to Maison House or whatever it's called, see if we can find what's tying this ghost here and burn it before he kills anyone else."

"Exactly," Sam said.

Castiel agreed – he thought that that sounded like the best course of action. Neither of them asked his opinion, though, so he remained silent.

They arrived at the house about five minutes later. It was a large, gothic mansion, which was completely overgrown by weeds, as though nobody had tended to it in years, if not decades. Dean parked the Impala – Castiel had learned that that was what this car was called – over to the side, behind a pair of large shrubs, where it wasn't visible from the road. They all climbed out of the car and circled around to the trunk, which Dean popped open to reveal an impressive assortment of weapons. Dean and Sam both immediately began to arm themselves, and after a few seconds, Dean glanced over at Castiel, who hadn't moved since exiting the car. "You don't have a weapon, right?"

Castiel shook his head, and a second later, Dean pressed something metal into his hands.

"It's filled with salt rounds," Dean added, noticing the confusion on Castiel's face.

Castiel nodded, then added, "How exactly do I use it, though?"

Now, it was Dean's turn to appear confused. "You don't know how to use a gun?" Castiel shook his head, and Dean looked even more surprised. "How can you hunt if you don't- You know what, never mind." Dean took the gun – if that was what it was called – from Castiel's hands and tucked it into his own pocket, then reached into the truck on the Impala and drew out a long metal crowbar. Castiel recognized the tool from the time that he had helped repair the steps of the men's shelter.

"Solid iron," Dean said, handing it over. "It'll work just as good as the salt, figured that it'd be more your style."

"Thank you," Castiel said, accepting the crowbar, as well as the flashlight and the small container of salt that Sam held out to him. Castiel wasn't quite sure what the use of the salt was, except that it apparently repelled ghosts. Dean just nodded. He and Sam finished arming themselves with a variety of weapons, and then the three of them headed for the house.