CHAPTER 15

The forest was wet. The dampness that covered the grass was seeping through Castiel's shoes, and he found himself thinking that he did not like having to hike over half a mile toward where the hiker's body had been discovered – though, to be fair, he was certain that the hiker had enjoyed being murdered far less.

"Never had a problem with any kind of wild animal before," the park ranger was saying as she led the way toward where the first body had been found. It had long since been transported to the morgue, but they had insisted that they still wanted to see the sight of the attack, of course. "We've gone thirteen years without a single attack, and even then, the last attack just led to a guy needed a sling and a couple stitches. Don't even remember the last time we've had a death in these woods."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure that we'll get to the bottom of it," Sam assured her with a smile.

She smiled back. "Hope so," she said, then gestured to a small clearing directly in front of them. "The body was found in there," she said, then added, "I'll let you three take a look around. Let me know when you're ready to head the sight of the next attack."

"We will," Sam said. "Thank you."

Castiel wondered if he should thank the woman as well – she had been incredibly helpful, even agreeing to spend her day off hiking through the woods in order to help them solve the crime. Dean, though, simply pushed through the foliage without a word, and after a single second of hesitation, Castiel followed directly behind him, trying to keep as close as possible.

He still was not certain why Dean's behavior had changed so drastically, but he was determined to figure it out.

It was obvious that the clearing had been the scene of something violent not that long ago. The trees were covered in long, parallel scratch marks, and splashes of blood still stained the ground in certain places. Castiel took careful steps, trying to get the best look of the scene as he could without running the risk of contaminating the evidence.

"Look over here," Dean suddenly said, and Sam and Castiel hurried over to where he was crouching. "These don't look like any animal footprints I've ever seen."

Castiel looked, and sure enough, the train had clearly been made by a human of some sort. And likely a small one, considering the size of the prints. "Perhaps our victim came this way?" he asked.

Sam shook his head immediately. "The guy was six-foot-five and over two hundred pounds," he said. "No way his feet could be so small. I'd say we're looking for a woman, or else a man with small feet."

Dean snorted. "Poor guy," he said, turning to grin up at Sam, adding, "Since, you know what they say about foot size and all."

Sam glared at Dean, clearly not amused. Dean rolled his eyes but didn't say anything more about the size of the person's feet. Instead, he said, "The dude was apparently hiking all by himself, and no witness has stepped forward, so I'd say that these probably belong to the attacker. Werewolf?"

"Could be," Sam said. "The missing heart certainly fits."

"Awesome," Dean said, and nodded. "I'm going to go take a look at the trail, see where it leads. You keep looking around for anything else that could help us."

"I will accompany you," Castiel said at once, taking a step closer to Dean. "It may be dangerous to investigate alone."

Dean stiffened, and didn't look over at him. "If it is a werewolf, then they're harmless during the day," he said.

"And if it's not a werewolf?" Castiel asked, because after all, that wasn't a certainty.

Dean just shrugged. "Then I guess I go figure that out," he said, and turned and headed off without saying anything more.

Castiel thought about going after him, but he was certain that Dean would not appreciate that in the slightest. So instead, he turned back to look at the crime scene, doing his best to ignore the fact that Sam was watching him with a worried expression.

"Are there any other signs of a werewolf attack that we should be looking for?" Castiel asked, taking a step toward one of the blood stains and squinting down at it, to ensure that there was nothing unusual about it. There didn't appear to be anything, and he stepped toward a second stain, giving it the same investigation.

"Nothing in particular," he said. "We'll probably have a better idea once we head down to the morgue and take a look at the-"

Sam's voice abruptly cut off, and a second later, he cried out with what sounded like pain.

Castiel snapped his head up, just in time to see Sam stagger and fall to his knees, clutching at his forehead. Castiel ran to his side and also dropped to his knees beside Sam, his hands hovering above Sam's back, unsure of what he should do, whether he should stay here with Sam or if he should go find Dean.

The decision was made for him an instant later. The park ranger pushed her way through the brush, a worried look on her face. And Castiel was just about to send her after Dean, when Dean burst into the clearing, a panicked expression on his face. "Sam," he shouted, and dropped onto Sam's other side, reaching out to grab Sam and hold him tight as Sam let out another shout.

Then, suddenly, it was over. Sam's hands twisted in his hair, still holding tight to his head, but his eyes opened. He was out of breath, panting hard as if he had just gotten through one of the morning jogs that he liked to take, but Castiel couldn't hear any pain in the sound.

"I'm alright," Sam said, and reached out to squeeze Dean's arm, hard. "It's over," he promised. Dean still looked worried, but he nodded.

"But what happened?" Castiel asked, and he was fairly certain that his voice shook more than Sam's did, which was fairly embarrassing. But then, it had frightened him severely to see his friend collapse like that, so perhaps it was excusable. Especially since Dean seemed to be just as shaken as Castiel felt.

Sam looked over at Castiel, then glanced at the park ranger. "It was nothing," he said. "Just... something that happens sometime."

That was obviously untrue, and Castiel would have protested, but then Sam tilted his head toward the park ranger in a fairly obvious fashion, and Castiel understood. At least, he realized that he shouldn't speak in front of her, and that it would have to wait until they were alone.

Sam climbed to his feet, already looking fully recovered, which was reassuring. But he turned toward the park ranger and said, "Sorry, but I think we need to head back to the car now. Do you think you could lead the way?"

"I-" the ranger stammered. She looked just as shaken as any of them, like she didn't know what she was supposed to do or say. But after a moment, she nodded. "Of course. It's right this way."

"Thank you," Sam said, and took off. And for all that he had talked about needing the ranger to show them where to go, he didn't seem to have a problem with taking the lead as they set off into the woods, with the other three scrambling to keep up with him before he left them behind completely.

They arrived back at the car in record time, mostly due to the fast pace that Sam insisted on setting. Nobody said a word until the three of them were settled into the Impala, at which point Castiel leaned forward to stick his head between the driver and the passenger's seats, then demanded, "What happened back there?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead, which made Castiel worry for a second that the pain was returning. But no, Sam appeared to be more worried than in pain. "It's a long story," he said.

Castiel merely waited, and sure enough, after a moment Sam sighed and said, "Sometimes I have visions."

Castiel frowned. "What?"

"You know how I mentioned that the demon – Azazel – seemed to be collecting children for some reason?" Sam said slowly. "I've only met one other child, so I can't say for sure, but I think that we all have powers of some sort."

"Powers," Castiel repeated. "What type of powers?"

"Well, the other guy was telekinetic – had the ability to move things with his mind," Sam said slowly. "With me, it's the visions. I see something happen before it actually does." He paused, then said, "Usually, I see people die."

Castiel wasn't entirely sure what the proper reaction to that was, so he remained silent for the moment. Then something occurred to him. Seeing visions and hearing voices weren't so different, after all. But wait-

"You said that all of the children that Azazel is collecting are twenty-three years old, correct?" Castiel asked.

"What?" Sam asked, looking as though that wasn't the question that he had expected to be asked. But he nodded. "Uh, yeah, it looks like all of them are, at least."

Huh. In that case, then Castiel found it highly unlikely that the voices that he used to hear had been connected to Azazel, though he supposed that might have explained why the voices spoke of Azazel so often. But even if the driver's license had had the wrong age, there was quite a large difference between thirty-two and twenty-three, so it seemed unlikely that he was connected to Azazel's children.

Which meant that he was still left with no explanation as to what had caused the voices. He pushed that thought away for now and returned his focus to Sam.

"What'd you see this time?" Dean asked.

Sam winced and rubbed his temples with his first two fingers. "Murder-suicide, I think," he said slowly. "But not a normal one. Guy just walked into a gun store, calmly loads a gun, tells everyone that it's going to be okay, then kills a worker and offs himself."

"Huh," Dean said. "Okay, that's odd."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, his voice tight. "It's okay, though. We've still got time."

Dean held up one hand, which didn't do any good, considering that Sam's eyes were still closed. But then Dean snapped, "Woah, woah, what do you mean we've got time?" That made Sam open his eyes and turn to Dean incredulously.

"Time to stop this," he said. "Dean, someone's going to die today, we've got to at least do something."

Castiel thought that that was a fair point. Dean, though, shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I don't think that we should get involved in this demon crap."

"Get involved?" Sam repeated. "Dean, we're already involved. Now we've got to figure out what's actually going on."

"It sounds dangerous," Dean said.

Sam just snorted. "And staying here to kill a werewolf isn't?" he asked.

"See?" Dean suddenly said, perking up now and looking like Sam had just said something perfect. "We've got bodies piling up here, who's going to keep more people from getting killed if we go running off chasing your visions?"

Sam was silent for a moment. Then, "Fine," he said. Castiel turned to him, surprised that he was giving up so soon, only to see that Sam was reaching for his cell phone. "I'll call Bobby to come work this case."

"No way-" Dean started to protest.

Sam turned and just gave him a look, but it was enough to make Dean stop talking at once. "Dean, we need to figure out what's going on," he said firmly, then sighed and added, "We don't know what the hell is up with me, man, and we've got to figure it out, otherwise who knows what's going to happen?" He paused, then added, "Come on, Dean, we've got to go figure this out. At the very least, we've gotta know what we're up against."

Dean scowled, but he nodded once. "Fine," he said, and turned the key in the ignition. The Impala roared to life, and Dean took off down the bumpy dirt road without another word.

"No, Bobby, it's fine," Sam said as he paced back in forth in front of the motel room beds. Castiel glanced up as he finished packing the last of Dean's clothing. Dean and Sam had both gotten on their phones the moment that they had arrived at the motel, leaving Castiel to be the one to pack up everyone's belongs. It was a simple task, though, considering that they'd only stopped off in the motel room long enough to change into their FBI outfits earlier.

"Another case came up, so if you could-" Sam continued, then broke off, listening to something that Bobby said on the other end. "We don't actually know yet, we-" He sighed and shook his head, then turned to look at Dean, who was sitting at the table on the other side of the room. Pressing the phone against his chest for a moment, he called, "Hey, do you know where we're going yet?"

"Ash is working on it," Dean called back, not bothering to lower his cell phone or move it away from his mouth at all. "I'll let you know when- Wait a minute." He paused, listening, then added, "Okay, Ash's gotten it now. We're headed to Guthrie, Oklahoma."

"Have Ash check for demon omens. Both now and in 1983," Sam called back, before returning the phone to his ear. "Guthrie, Oklahoma. We're only a couple hours away, it'll be- It's kind of a long story, Bobby, but we've really got to work this one ourselves. Do you think you can make it up here to take care of the werewolves? Okay, thanks, Bobby. I'll let you know when we've gotten this thing more figured out."

"Cool. Awesome, Ash," Dean said at the same moment, and both brothers hung up their phones.

"Bobby's driving down here to handle the werewolf situation," Sam said as he slid his phone into his pocket. "Apparently he just finished up a salt-and-burn in Kansas, so it shouldn't take him too long to get here."

"And Ash says negative on the demon signs in Guthrie," Dean said. "But there is one kid, Andrew Gallagher. Mom died in a nursery fire when he was six months old. I'm guessing he's our guy."

"We know where to start, at least," Sam said, then glanced over at Castiel. "Are we ready to go?"

"The bags are all packed," Castiel confirmed, holding up Dean's duffle to prove it.

"Thanks," Sam said, absentmindedly grabbing his own duffel and headed out to the car. "Now let's go. We don't know when my vision's going to happen, and we might still be in time to stop it."

They weren't in time to stop it.

Ash had given them the address of the gun store from Sam's vision, and that was the first place that they headed. It was clear that they were slightly too late, though. They drove down the street just as they were carrying a sheet-covered body out on a stretcher.

"Shit," Sam said, low enough that Castiel could barely hear it.

"Come on," Dean said, pulling off into the closest parking lot, then backing out onto the street and heading back the way they'd come. "I saw a motel a couple blocks down. Let's head there first and then figure out where to go from here."

Nobody said anything the entire time that they were driving to the motel room. Dean's eyes were locked on the road, for once, and Sam leaned his head on his hand and stared out the window, completely silent. He sighed once, like he was thinking about the death, and Castiel hesitantly leaned forward and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder as Dean turned into the motel parking lot.

"It is not your fault that we did not make it in time," Castiel told him solemnly, as Sam glanced over at him. "You did your best."

The corner of Sam's mouth turned up into a smile, though it was obviously forced, and not even close to being reassuring. "Thanks," he said, then turned away, once again looking out the window. Then he suddenly sat up, his body stiffening as he stared at something. Castiel quickly glanced out his own window, but could see nothing unusual. Apparently Sam thought otherwise, though, because he said, "Hey, Dean, look."

Dean glanced over, then stared for a moment before turning his eyes to the front windshield again. "What the hell is he doing here?" he asked.

"Don't know," Sam said. Dean put the car into park, and Sam was already climbing out, with Castiel and Dean hurrying to follow suit. "Let's go find out."

There was a man standing over by the front lobby. Castiel assumed that that was who they were talking about, as there was no one else around. He was proved correct a moment later, when Dean called, "Hey. Bobby! What are you doing here?"

The man – Bobby – crossed his arms and glared at Sam and Dean like they were idiots. "There's something going on with you," he said. "Don't even try to pretend that there's not. And I figured that you weren't going to tell me about it, so I figured I'd better get my butt down here and figure it out for myself." Then he shrugged and added, "Besides, I've got something for the two of you that I'm sure you're gonna need, and this seemed like a good time to bring it to ya."

"Thanks," Sam said slowly, "but how did you find us?"

"I assumed that you nimrods would be here, since it's the closest motel to that suicide down the street," Bobby said. "That must be what you're here for, since everyone I've talked to has insisted that nothing weird has happened around here before that. Strange thing, though, it didn't happen 'til about twenty minutes ago, right about the same time I was rolling into town, so there's no way you could've known about it when you were calling me a couple hours ago."

Sam frowned, and ran one hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. "It's a long story," he said after a moment. "I can explain."

"Oh, you're gonna," Bobby said, then glanced over at Castiel for the first time. "And who's this?"

"My name is Jimmy Novak," Castiel said, instinctively repeating the name that Sam and Dean knew him as. It was strange how natural it felt now; if anything, the thought of introducing himself as Castiel felt a bit odd, even though he still felt that that name suited him better than Jimmy did, and even if he still referred to himself as Castiel in his own head. "I have been hunting with Sam and Dean for the past few weeks."

"He's a friend of Dean's, mostly," Sam interjected, causing Dean to scowl at him.

Castiel frowned. "I had thought that we could be considered friends as well," he said, feeling the slightest bit hurt.

"We are," Sam said quickly. "Just, a different type of friend."

Castiel thought about that, then nodded in agreement. He had never felt the slightest desire to kiss Sam, after all, so he supposed that their relationship was quite a bit different. Dean, meanwhile, looked as though he was going to kill Sam the first chance that he got.

"Right," Bobby said, looking from Castiel to Dean and then back again. "Well, nice to meet you, Jimmy," he said, holding out his hand.

"Likewise," Castiel said as he shook it.

Bobby nodded, then turned back to Sam and Dean. "Well, come on," he said, turning and heading off into the motel room like he was expecting them all to follow after him, which they immediately did. "Let's go get the rooms sorted out, and then you're going to tell me what exactly is going on."

"Good idea," Sam agreed, stepping up to walk beside him. "Mind if I room with you?"

"Why would you-" Bobby started to ask, then stopped and looked back at Castiel and Dean again. It appeared as though by now, Dean had stopped looking murderous and was simply doing his best to act as if this whole conversation wasn't happening. "Oh," Bobby said, then added, "Yeah, sounds like a good idea, boy."

Sam smirked back at Dean, looking as though he were quite obviously trying to tell Dean something. Whatever it was, Dean didn't seem to get the message. He was still steadfastly refusing to look at anyone as they walked into the motel.