Chapter Text
“You were okay as a girlfriend, but I was just more like his wife
I’ll do the push-ups, I’ll wear the makeup, I’ll do whatever he wants all night”
Father by the Front Bottoms
--- 7:00 PM October 20 th , 2009, Walden, MN ---
Sam leaned back from the laptop, rubbing his temples. The atmosphere in the motel room was getting dim, now that the sun was setting. The only real light was coming from his computer screen. Dean looked over at him, sidelong, trying not to look sympathetic.
“You find anything on the son of a bitch?”
“Sort of? Not really. It’s a ‘bauk’. I think. This creature in Serbian folklore, kind of like a bear? But it lives in shadows, especially caves and abandoned buildings. None of the lore can agree on whether it’s like, a bear ghost or a bear ghoul or a totally independent thing that just like, looks like a bear, kinda? And almost none of the stuff out there about it is in English, since they aren’t normally in this part of the world. And the translations I’m getting aren’t really top quality.”
“A bauk …” Dean looked lost in thought, turning the word over in his mind, feeling the edges of it. He rose from the bed abruptly and grabbed John’s journal out of Sam’s duffle, rifling through it with great purpose.
“Dean, I already looked there, come on. There was nothing about a bauk in there.” But Dean shook his head, muttering something.
“Nah, Sammy, gotta be. Must’ve been, what ’94?” He looked up briefly, crunching numbers in his head as he met his eyes. “Yeah, somewhere around there – you’d just turned eleven, school was out so yeah, summer ’94.” He returned to the task of flipping through the journal, zeroing in on the date. He reached a single page, scanned it rapidly, flipped it over, scanned the other side, then flipped back to the front, brow furrowed in frustration.
“What, Dean?”
“It should be here, between these entries – between the ghoul case in April and the wendigo case in September. I know it was between these. But it just isn’t in here.”
“You mean, Dad faced one of these?”
“Yeah, and I watched him write about it in here . So where the fuck is it?” They stared at each other for a moment, and Sam watched, fascinated, as Dean’s consciousness seemed to sink into itself, like he was rifling through the papers in his brain, looking for something. He was surprised when Dean’s vision snapped back into focus, and he slammed the journal shut, shoving it back into Sam’s bag.
“You remember something? Wanna share with the class?”
“Yeah, uh, he, um. He wrote it down and then I think he left it in the motel room by accident. He wrote it on the motel stationery, but forgot to tape it in the book.”
“Well, that’s just great, fuck. Our stupid fucking - “
“Come on, Sam, he wasn’t perfect but I hardly think it was because he forgot something in a motel room once. Cut the guy a little slack on this one.”
“Okay, sure. But we still have no leads, and it won’t be long before our bauk friend gets hungry again. Are we just supposed to crash in, guns blazing, when we don’t even know what’ll kill it?”
“I mean, we do have a lead, it’s just…inconveniently located.” Dean had the beginnings of a smile on his face, which absolutely vexed Sam.
“Dean, what are you talking about?”
“We happen to know a guy who can make time his bitch, when he wants to. Maybe he can snag the notes for us?”
“You think Cas is going to take us on a damn field trip to read notes? He’s an angel not fucking Ms. Frizzle, Dean. Besides, I haven’t seen the guy in weeks.” Sam didn’t know why the idea was so ludicrous to him, but it was. Dean just waved his hand dismissively, now all out grinning.
“Ah, he’ll come help, don’t worry.” Before Sam could object, Dean sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes. “ Hey Cas, you got your ears on? I’m trying to hitch a ride back to 1994, get a little something I left behind, wanna help? Come on, angel, I know you can hear me.” He opened his eyes, smiling still, and he winked a little at Sam.
“Yeah, Dean, I don’t think he’s going to – “
“Hello Dean. What did you leave in 1994? As I understand it, you were 15 years old at that time.” Sam whipped around to see Cas, standing as awkward as ever, by the bathroom door.
“Heya, Cas. Yeah, I guess it’s more something that Dad left back there. We’re up against a bauk, weird bear sonofabitch, and he left his notes on the case in a motel by mistake. We need them to figure out how to gank the thing. Can you zap us back there?”
As he often was, Sam was amazed at how Dean’s whole demeanor seemed to soften around Cas. As soon as the angel had arrived, Dean had risen from the edge of the bed, almost unconsciously closing the distance between himself and Cas. Even the way he phrased things to Cas, it was like he was trying to add more casual language and euphemisms than he normally would, like he was pushing back against some sort of expected professionalism between them. Not for nothing, but it was interesting to see how Cas responded to it, too. When Dean wasn’t around, Cas was rigid, calculating. With Dean, he always seemed more hesitant, more considering. Like he was trying to find ways to accommodate Dean, both in literal fact and in the way he behaved toward him.
“I do not know if I can transport us all back…my Grace is, um. Inconsistent, at times. It would not be wise to overextend myself. But, if there is something you need there, I would…be amenable to going on my own, to retrieve it. If you want?”
“Yeah, that works for me.” Dean was still smiling, but Sam could see something flickering in his expression. Something like anxiety.
“When exactly in 1994 should I find John?”
“Dean thinks sometime between April and September,” Sam offered, hearing how broad it sounded out loud. Cas pressed his lips tightly together in consideration.
“It would take a long time to sift through that many days. Do you have any other identifying information? Perhaps a location?”
“Iowa. Some dinky little town in Iowa. We were there for about three weeks. And, gun to my head, I’d put it at late July, but honestly I couldn’t say for sure.”
“Can you remember anything about the motel? Or the town?” Cas reached out to Dean, who was now less than a foot in front of him, and placed a hand on his forearm, almost casually. Dean didn’t seem to notice. Sam watched in quiet curiosity.
“Hmm…motel wasn’t anything special. It was across the street from a big bar, always real busy, real loud. Something like “The Empty Bottle”, real cheeky name.”
“Okay, I think I can find it, with what you’ve given me. Can you…would you mind staying here, in this room, until I’m back? I don’t know how long it will take, and I don’t know what…condition…I will be in when I return. I may need assistance, when I get back.” Cas looked embarrassed, like asking for something so simple was a real imposition, even when he was the one doing a favor.
“Of course, buddy. We’ll stay right here, alright?”
“Alright. I will see you both soon.” And just like that, he was gone. Dean inhaled sharply as he felt the sudden release of pressure on his forearm where Cas had been holding him. Sam looked up at his face, finding a mix of gratitude and fear.
“You okay, man?”
“Hmm? Okay, yeah, I’m okay. Just, uh, you know, didn’t get to wish the guy safe travels or whatever.” He was smiling, but it looked pained.
“He’s gonna be fine, Dean. You didn’t send him anywhere dangerous, it’s just some shitty motel in Iowa, not like, a nest of demons or something.”
“You’re right. You wanna order something to eat?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a motion Sam associated with his brother’s stress. He offered a sympathetic smile to his older brother.
“Yeah, and I’ll go get the food. You know, in case he comes back while I’m out.”