(A/N: Sorry everyone for such the late update, drivers ED had been a bust. But, the conclusion to this is finally over, and I can now sleep soundly. Enjoy! :3)
Night crept up from behind them like a stalking cat.
Dean hadn't noticed, nor did Sam until the neon motel lights flickered outside their window. The team was so nose-deep in books and taking shifts monitoring Cas' spiraling condition, that they didn't take the time to realize day had already passed them by. So, Dean hurried from his side, keeping a watchful eye on the angel while he slowly shut the blinds, and pulled the curtains. He made sure that every movement they made inside the small, cramped room, whether that be the creaking in the floorboards to the flipping of worn-out pages, that it was to be quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Sam huffed from the corner beside and drummed his fingers along the edge of his laptop. "Any ideas on how we're going to find her?" That was the question everyone had been asking. Thank you, Sammy, for stating the obvious.
Dean, in an act of spite, replied, "Like I know? I'm not an angel."
Sam scowled and rolled his eyes, "O-kay, noted." His brother gave him a look of mild annoyance, and faced the other way; back to his screen. Idly scrolling through the newest suicide reports. All were sadly victims of Famine's work, shoved food down their throats, making love until they died… horrible things Sam could once only imagine were possible by such a being.
A pang of guilt hit his heart to think of all the families that lost someone over these last few days because of him. The crude explanation they were given by autopsy workers was that their son had choked himself to death by overeating. Or that their daughter had passed away from an unexplained overdose of prescribed medication. His head craned to the old hunter in an attempt to redirect his thoughts away from the topic looming over him. "Bobby, got any ideas?"
Bobby shrugged, meeting Sam's gloomy eyes, "Don't look at me," He shifted in his seat, one hand fiddling with the corner page of an old scripture. He glanced over to Castiel's paled body, crumbled up in the sheets like a discarded piece of homework. "Why don't we ask him? He might have an idea." he poked a curious nod to Cas. It wasn't a bad idea, but with the state he was in—
"You think he'll be able to answer that? Bobby, he can barely lift a finger! Let alone—" Dean replied almost protectively. Now lounged back in his position beside the bed, his feet propped against the bed frame. Leaning back in the same old chair that trembled underneath his weight. He didn't even notice the angel had already flung himself upright, bleary-eyed and a dazed expression plastered on his face; like he'd just been summoned into a hurricane. His hair was greasy and wild, strands slicked back while others poked out. His skin lost its golden-tinted richness and was now a moon-kissed white. Or near too, if he got any whiter, he might as well have been considered a ghost haunting them (once again, not far off. He still scares Dean shitless nonetheless).
"Woah- woah- woah, hey slow down tiger…" Dean flew to the angel's side immediately, holding his back with a firm hand. Squeezing his ruffled white shirt tightly, his eyes tracked up Castiel with an analytical glint. Taking extra time near his lips as he panted quietly. The hunter couldn't see any flickers of white poking out from the bottom of Cas' lip, which was a good sign for the time being, which meant that his grace was still fighting tooth and nail against the blood. But it was only a matter of time. "Not so fast, you're gonna pass out," He ordered, "Sam, get me a cold towel, pronto."
His brother nodded, hustling and removing the laptop from its perch on his legs. The sound of Castiel's labored breathing made the room all the more tense, the air dense and thick.
"Here," Sam handed his brother a freshly wet, cold towel; its dampness was a perfect remedy to combat the angel's profuse sweating.
After a heavy moment of silence, and Castiel leaning into the towel as much as he could, Bobby finally spoke up. "Now, are we all gonna be hush-hush or are we gonna ask him some damn questions?"
"Bobby!" Dean snapped back, shooting a glare the old timer's way. "Not helping. Can't you see he's struggling to even stay upright? Or is it only me right now that thinks pressuring him when he's kicked down is a bad idea?" he finished, the towel's water leaking down his forearm.
Bobby scoffed, visibly rolling his eyes for all to see, he nodded to Sam. "Broody much?" He scoffed, though it was enough for Dean to hear… being in close earshot after all. His brother mumbled something else, which must've been amusing given his reaction and stifled a laugh.
Dean echoed the eye roll, and an exasperated sigh drowned out the noise of the two chatting behind his back at the other end of the room.
His nose scrunched in scrutinized annoyance. "Don't mind them, they're just trying to rush you," he reassured, patting Castiel's neck until it was no longer blistering with heat. God, he was bad already when it came to being a human radiator, but it felt a thousand degrees hotter when he was less than a foot from him.
Castiel's eyes were noticeably squinting and slamming shut every few seconds, in rhythmic intervals with Dean's rise and fall of his chest. He had a good idea he could hear his racing heartbeat, his panicked breathing. He could probably feel every drop of water peppering his face and forehead. Cas slowly craned his head to meet Dean's gaze, before he coughed into his arm and sniffled.
"I don't…" he trailed off, his heaving chest rising fully, and compressing fast. He couldn't find the words to describe how he was feeling. Overwhelmed? Agonizing pain? It was all a jumble of What is this?
Dean slowly lowered his hand grasping the towel, "You think you can hold on for just a little longer?" he said softly, leaning forward to make sure Castiel wouldn't lose focus. "Can you do that? For me?"
With a swift breath, the angel dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "I believe…I can," he rasped out, sniffling once more.
The brother eased a lopsided smile and reached over to the nightstand connecting the two beds. One which held a dimly lit lap, covered in a thin black shirt from one of Sam's bags. And underneath it, was the alarm clock, its red digits striking eight-thirty. Dean's eyes flicked away from the clock and reached over another inch for the box of tissues. Delicately plucking one from the box, and handling it to Cas. Who looked at it with a confused, blank lost-puppy expression. "You blow your nose with it," he said simply, but the angel just blinked at him.
Expectantly, Dean had to demonstrate himself the gruesome task of blowing one's nose. "See? Instead of sniffling so hard that it reaches your brain, you blow out." he blew out a nasty sound that made even Bobby cringe mid-sentence; and once it was done, he sniffed a few times. One surprised face later, Dean crumbled the small tissue into a ball inside his paw. "Now you try."
Sitting like the leaning Tower of Pisa, Castiel inhaled sharply and let out a storm. Finished, he rubbed his red nose with the piece of paper. Or what was left of it anyway. Dean grimaced at the sight and handed him another one to ball it up in. "Feel a little better now? It sounded like you just released the next typhoon."
The angel nodded thankfully, "Yes, I do." the stuffiness that clogged his airways and tone had released, and though the relief was a small victory, it was sure to come back.
It seemed that the longer he was fighting the vampire blood, the more it acted as a sickness, like an angel flu of sorts. The thought centered him back to his main goal enough for him to launch up from his seat and whip over to Sam. "Sam, you pretty much ready to go?"
Sam paused his side conversation with Bobby and raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, why?"
"Because we're going."
"Now?" Sam questioned in one short breath, unready for his brother's sudden orders.
"No, when Hell freezes over— of course now! C'mon, before Cas gets any worse." Dean stormed out of the damp motel room, the door swinging agape. Sam shared an equally confused look with the hunter and noticed Cas flinched when the door hinges screamed, and the wooden door slammed into the wall behind it.
Sam listened as Dean's long, hurried strides got quiet. This was his warning call, "Should I—?"
"Go," Bobby huffed, "I'll keep watch while you two hunt for Anna." He drawled, grasping his shotgun on the circular could-be poker table.
Sam looped his hand through his tattered long-sleeve jacket. Reaching for his phone, he called to Bobby, "If anything happens—"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll phone ya. Now git, before Dean blows a gasket." Bobby grumbled to himself, his thick brows arching in annoyance; Dean sure as hell was impatient. Especially when it came to Cas.
The brother snickered, "Okay okay," he raised his hands in mock surrender, backing up towards the door.
"And Sam," Bobby stopped him just before his foot passed the flush door frame.
"Yeah?"
"Be careful out there." He warned, seriousness layering every syllable. He knew the consequences of trying to reason with angels, especially Anna. And that worried him, every time the boys left the house or motel or anywhere.
"Okay, Bobby." Sam soaked up the warning, offering a small, reassuring smile in return. "I'll call you if anything happens."
Sam's boots thumped down the long narrow stretch of hallway, before exiting the reception area and heading towards the Impala. Already humming to life, and puffing out smoke quietly in the nighttime air.
"Took you long enough," Dean bristled, his arms locked in an outstretched grip on the wheel. He was ready to go, to fly out of the dirt and pebble parking lot guns blazing if it didn't take Sam so damn long to mull his ass out of the motel room.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand while the other gripped the door and shut it firmly. He turned to Dean questionably, "What are we even going to do? We have no leads on Anna—"
His brother cut him off swiftly, "Don't need one," he deadpanned, shifting the Impala into First. Baby roared when Dean's foot pressed against the gas, and eased off of the clutch. The car simmered to a calm purr, and they began moving out of the lot.
"What? What do you mean?" Sam sneered, quirking his head curiously.
Dean's face hardened, a mix between disbelief and all seriousness. Of course, his brother didn't believe he had a solid idea. Angels were unpredictable, which meant most of all untrackable without some sort of spell or summoning; things only Castiel knew by the looks of it. "If we want to find Anna, we'll do it the old-school way. I mean, how far could a hormonal angel go?"
"Anna!" Dean shouted out into the frigid February air. They'd spent about an hour or two on the road, and the moon sat comfortably above them. Watching their every move as they yelled (More like just Dean) into the alleyway in an attempt to summon the angel. Since that always went well over Heaven's management anyway.
Sam stopped screaming a minute into their attempts, deciding not to yell and look like crazies. "Anything yet?" He asked innocently. His hands were now shoved inside the confinements of his warm pockets.
"No," Dean snapped back hoarsely, "I swear, whenever we need these damn angels' help, they suddenly become deaf, illiterate, and blind." he grumbled, cupping his freezing hands around his mouth, "Anna!"
"Maybe you're just not putting enough heart into it," Sam teased playfully.
"Oh, shut up. Anna!"
Sam laughed through his nose, watching the stream of condensation float up and disperse, bored. "Calling her in the open isn't going to work, Dean."
"Oh really? It seemed to work fine the last time!"
"Dean."
"What Sam?" Dean watched his brother's face shift, easing into surprise, shock, awe, and maybe a dabble of fear. He finally felt the wind behind him, and the familiar sound of wing flaps. "She's right behind me, isn't she?" He breathed.
Sam swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple shifting stiffly, continuously staring as his brother turned around to meet the eyes of a familiar redhead.
Anna's face was stern, hell, maybe a little pissed by the way her eyebrows went inwards. Creasing her perfect forehead and squishing her hazel eyes with a contemptuous scowl.
"This better be good." She deadpanned with a sour face, her arms crossed tightly around her chest.
Dean squinted at the angel tensely, "Nice to see you haven't lost your touch, Anna." He commented sarcastically. "Now, we need your help. Cas is in trouble and only you can lend us a hand."
"And why would I help you? I have better things to—"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're busy trying to fix Heaven's management. But fixing Cas don't you think is a little bit more… I don't know, important?" Dean stepped forward, his boot splashing into a puddle with a thump. Anna's eyes flicked to his approaching motion momentarily, before scowling.
She sighed deeply, "I understand you are worried for Castiel, but I can't just fix him. That's not how it works. And you haven't even given me the greatest of details yet."
The hunter's fists slowly began clenching together, his jaw clenching in frustration. She was never this stuck up until she got her green card to come back after her angelic unemployment, and it was starting to get on his nerves. "Cas is turning into a vamp." He hissed. Another step, "And sadly, you're the only halo around that seems to give a sliver of shit about him. So why don't we make this quick, so that we don't lose more time than we already have before it's too late?"
Dean had finished, and all Anna did was blink. In her mind, she couldn't believe it, it was unheard of… an angel being turned into a vampire? The brothers watched closely, witnessing her scowling and stiff frame slowly loosen. Her facial expressions softened and molded into one of pure concern and worry. Her folded arms unraveled, "Are you…sure?" She said slowly, "I didn't know that was possible." Her eyes dragged to the ground, searching for an intangible answer that was just out of her grip.
Sam tip-toed over and rested a firm hand along his brother's shoulder. Squeezing it, he pulled him back; a silent signal to let him take the wheel on the conversation. Dean defused slowly behind his brother, and Sam stood parallel to the contemplating angel casually.
"It's possible, Anna. We saw it. We believe it has to do with his lack of grace." He explained calmly, watching Anna's reaction. And a face of recognition and recollection made her eyes widen.
"He's vulnerable." She continued off of Sam's anagogy smoothly, her hand moving her chin as she began to pace. Deep in thought, she spoke, "Without his grace, he's nearly human. So that means he needs another angel's grace to combat it."
"Yes," Sam breathed, holding out his arms to stop her from pacing back and forth. "And we need a donor. Badly."
A moment of harsh silence enveloped the cold, dark alleyway. Dean was pawing at the puddles under his feet restlessly, releasing audible and exasperated huffs now and again. Sam and Anna couldn't help the urge to peek in Dean's direction, watching him move around like a worried mother.
"Wow." Anna whispered to Sam.
Sam shrugged in a 'what can you do?' manner, and shook his head, "You haven't seen the half of it." He joked, and the angel grinned lightly.
"Okay, I'll help." The volume of her voice raised for Dean to hear, "Take this. It should be enough." From the confines of her black leather jacket confines, a small, glowing syringe illuminated her small hand. This is what they used to contain grace? Sam thought with absolute wonder, taking the needle gingerly from her grasp. His analytical brain began to take in every little detail, down to the slight lip at the point of the needle. The intricate curves and swoops used with the mystery metal give the item an almost ethereal look.
"Where…?" He started, eyes still locked onto the bright grace inside. Watching it swirl and flick endlessly was quite mesmerizing and alluring, to say the least.
Anna pointed a finger to the side of her neck, "The neck, preferably."
Sam inclined his head in thanks, and rushed over to Dean's side yet again, showing him the vial, but not allowing him to touch it just yet.
On their way to the car, Dean's mouth was still dropped, whipping it between Anna who was patently standing there, hands inside of her jacket, and back to Sam who walked carefully with the grace. "When'd you learn how to coax like that?"
"Relax, what matters right now is that we got the grace. Can you call Bobby and tell him we got it and we're on our way back?" He raised his arm up, just enough for his brother to reach inside of his pocket, and find it vibrating violently.
Dean took a moment to read the contact, and picked it up immediately, "Bobby?" he looped the hood of the impala, ready to slide in, but he stopped at the car door.
"Balls! Cas— Cas!" Bobby grunted on the other end, the sound of broken glass and splintering wood catching the brother's full attention.
"Did—did you just get thrown?" Dean gasped, leaning away from the car.
"You boys better be getting back, dammit! Cas' gone full she-beast!"
Dean lowered the phone, watching Sam slowly rise out of the car, all the color drained from his face as they exchanged horrified looks. "Bobby, we got the grace, do you think you can hold on just a bit longer?" Sam questioned loudly.
"I wouldn't be callin' you if I could ya idjit! No— you get away from there!" Bobby was audibly panting on the other line, he paused, "You boys—" Dean held his breath at the sound of the tone dial flatlining, and threw the phone from his ear.
"Son of a bitch! We need to go, now!" He turned from his brother, "Anna. we—"
Bobby felt the claws of Castiel dig into his lower abdomen, the once-angel growling at the end of the room with a stoned face. The motel was trashed, holy oil bottles were smashed, and a good amount of the floor and beds. Bobby had scattered books and guns all around the room, but Castiel didn't bother to grab any of them, he was more determined to either get out of the room or kill Bobby.
"Balls!" He cursed under his breath, holding his side as the pulsing welts from the earlier scuffle, bruised. Bobby had managed to board up all of the windows and drench them in splashes of holy water. With the addition of using that circular table and propping it up vertically by the door. A somewhat useful barrier to plant himself between the rabid angel and the outside world. He scolded himself for letting the two go and run on that damn goose chase, but as they said on the phone, they got the grace, they found Anna after all.
It was just a race to see if they could get there in time before either Cas gets decapitated or Bobby has his head on a stick.
"Cas, you need to calm down!" Bobby barked from the other end of the room, hearing the angel's feet scuffling against the carpet. The only pro of his becoming a classic drone was the fact he had less than a brain cell to work with— if he was somewhat himself, he would plow through the windows, the walls, hell even Bobby if it meant getting outside to feed, but he seemed rather…lethargic? Like he wasn't all there.
Castiel grunted in protest, and Bobby hugged himself against the wall with his loaded shotgun in hand, prepared for yet another gruesome RO-KO—
But there was nothing. A deafening silence overtook the room. "Cas?" The old hunter whispered, clutching his shotgun and finger hovering over the trigger. His eyes scanned the room only to find it was empty. The windows were broken, and the bathroom door or closet doors weren't moved from their broken hinges.
It was as if the angel had up and disappeared.
"What the—" Before he could make another sound, a big claw gripped the collar of his jacket to the left of him, and his face met Castiel's crazy eyes. The blue was gone from them, and in their place was a blood-red amber.
His feet disconnected from the ground, and his body flung straight into the wooden headboard of Sam's bed. Splintering from the impact, the hunter rolled and crumbled off the bed. His gun was thrown out of his grip, and blood dripped in a cascading waterfall from his mouth. Clinging to his beard, staining it.
This is how it's going to end, huh? Bobby choked on his thoughts, spitting out another wad of blood onto the ripped carpet.
Another silence overtook the room, and instead of a fearsome finishing attack, a voice from behind the motel room's clawed at door sounded. Followed by a rhythmic three knocks.
Dean.
"Room service!" Dean called in a high-pitched mimicking voice of a classical woman. Though it was a very poor job, it gave both of them a pause in their brawling, and a wash of relief to Bobby's spiked nerves and busted back.
Two muffled steps later, the door swung from its creaking hinges, throwing the table in Castiel's direction. The table legs caught against the door, swinging back and nearly colliding with Dean's face head-first, but Sam slipped in front and held the door open.
The brothers flooded inside and took in the damage to the room, Sam spotting one wounded Bobby hunched back and away from sight behind his— or what was his bed. "Dean," he said and threw the vial to Dean, the brother clutching it in mid-air, turning his attention briefly to the wounded hunter and then circling back to Castiel.
Castiel's wild eyes flicked around the room, watching Sam leap over the bed and slide down to help Bobby back up, then to Dean, to whom he began circling. "Cas, I need you to calm down for a second. Okay?" he pleaded calmly, holding out a trembling hand.
But Cas wasn't listening, he couldn't hear anything except the beating hearts of his prey, his mind flooded and overrun by the vampire blood. The blood was running him to fight, to kill, to feed. He wasn't an angel, or a human anymore, he was a trapped and starved animal pinned into a corner. This animal having freakishly long nails, teeth, and overall deadly fury and killing power.
The angel growled at the hunter when he took a small step closer, the angel grabbing the nearest weapon he could find. A chunk of splintered wood from the leg of the table Dean had thrown with opening the door. Great, just great, he has a weapon now.
"Cas, put the wood down," Sam tried to rationalize, pulling his attention from his brother to himself.
"Sam what—" Bobby stifled, holding the side of his chest.
"It's okay, I got this." He reassured, slowly moving up with both of his hands extended out. "There you go, easy," he continued slowly, his voice and body lower to the ground. Sam didn't remove his gaze from Castiel's savage and twisted gaze. His goal was to keep himself calm, so that Cas didn't attack, and so Dean had an opening. That's all they needed, was an opening for himself or Dean to stick that needle into his neck. Not to mention enough time for them to actually inject the grace.
(This is the most Jurassic World thing I've ever written lmao)
A moment later, Castiel's shoulders slowly began to lower, staying locked onto Sam's slow and deliberate movements. Trapping the angel in a sort of staring contest, to only hone in on Sam and Sam alone. Slowly, he raised his hand up, pointing a finger gun upwards.
Dean got the signal immediately, and stalked in Cas' shadow, creeping closer from behind, and closing the distance easily. Bobby witnessing the whole scene with mild awe.
The oldest brother raised his left hand, holding the needle firmly, and whipped his right arm around Castiel's neck. The angel instantly began to kick and buck, clawing and scratching, hell, even biting down on his arm restraining him inside the headlock. But it wasn't enough, as the needle punctured his neck, and the burning sensation of grace pulsed through his veins.
Within a few tight breaths, his body soon fell limp inside of his arms. "Oh crap—" The wind caught his lungs, aligning with Cas' body onto the hard floor. "Sammy….help…" He choked for air, the weightless sack of knocked-out potatoes that was an angel of the Lord now unconscious, draped over his body.
"Okay, okay." Sam ran over, looping the fallen table in the middle of the room and with help, lifted his body up. "You got him?"
"Yep, yep," Dean swallowed, spitting out some of Castiel's hair that made its way into his mouth, and eventually threw him over the less damaged of the two beds. Panting heavily, the brothers exchanged a look of exhaustion, "Remind me to never let Cas go hunt a nest alone ever again."
Bobby chuckled, flinging himself against the wall for support, rubbing his face and tired eyes, "You had me at 'never'."
The trio all shared a good laugh now that their little mission Cinderella was over, the weight of the damage finally started to weigh in on them. But, like always, before they could pivot their minds to that growing problem, Castiel's unconscious form coughing caught them off guard. Dean shimmied by Sam, and went to his side, looking at his features now that he wasn't all vampy. "Cas? Can you hear me?" The color in his face reverted back into the familiar golden tone, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. And blue eyes stared back at all of them, especially the small smile he offered once he sat up. He held his head with one hand, and massaged it lightly. "What happened?" he rasped, his voice sore and dry.
"'What happened?' You…you turned into goddamn bloodsucker, that's what!" Bobby huffed, hands on his hips.
Castiel's thick brows furrowed, and surveyed the damage he somehow committed, yet, he had no recollection of any of it. "I-I did…?"
He felt a burly hand press against his shoulder, "Let's start from the top then," Dean smiled softly, and sat himself beside the confused angel. "We got all the time in the world."