Chapter Text
It was quiet.
The dark outline of the abandoned building was towering above them, casting its long, dark shadow over the yard. Silhouettes of feral bushes and deserted flowerbeds danced before their eyes when the cone of Dean’s flashlight swept over the premises, tracing along boarded shut windows as the two of them vigilantly advanced towards the porch.
“You sure this is the right place?” Sam gazed up towards the sealed windows on the second floor. In response to his question, Dean simply pointed his torch to the door,where the light fell upon a single, bloodied handprint, smeared out across both the handle and door frame.
“Positive,” he grunted.
With a quiet glance at each other they both reached for the blades in their belts. The guns were useless; the drying blood by Dean’s hairline and the cut on Sam’s upper arm bearing silent witness to that.
Slowly, they crept up the steps of the front porch, noting the crimson stains covering the floor boards on their way up. Dean frowned.
“That’s a lot of blood…” he commented warily. “I thought you said that last cut missed?”
“It did,” Sam objected. “I mean… It felt like it did.”
“Well, at least now we know the bitch is capable of bleeding.”
Dean reached out to push the front door open, but Sam grabbed his arm and stopped him before he could reach it
“Hey. Shouldn’t we wait?” He threw a guarded glance over his shoulder. “Cas said he’d be back as soon as he could.”
“And risk losing track of her?” Dean snorted. “No way.”
“We tracked her down once, Dean. We can do it again.”
Dean resolutely shook Sam’s large hand off as he raised his blade, pointing its tip at the door.
“No. We’re ending this now.”
Sam looked as if he was about to say something else, but meeting the defiant look from Dean’s eyes he simply sighed and took a step back, accepting the fact that caution would have to fold this time. Licking his lips, Dean nodded, swallowing hard.
“Alright then…”
The creak of the door was almost inaudible when they opened it, but the sound bounced off the bared surfaces of the empty house nonetheless. It echoed through the hallway, making both brothers cringe and grimace at the shrill noise.
It was pitch black inside; the light of the moon barely making its way through the few cracks and openings of the boarded windows. While their eyes adjusted to the dusk, the bright columns from their flashlights found more blood leading towards and up the staircase, both rail and wall soiled with bloodied stains.
The stairs only creaked slightly louder than the door had, yet they were more than loud enough to alert anyone residing on the upper floor that they were no longer alone in the house. Once up the ledge, they found that the hallway above branched out into two corridors, both leading in the opposite direction of the other. There were no traces of blood in either of them.
Sam looked at Dean, and Dean nodded back in silent agreement. They split up, Dean heading east while Sam slowly crept down the west hallway, their footsteps muffled by the stained old carpet on the floor.
Why was it so quiet anyway? Dean didn’t like it one bit, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong here. As if the roles of hunter and hunted had switched the second they pushed that damn front door open. He felt observed, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing up in wild attention as he moved forwards, and shit, he almost regretted that they hadn’t waited for Cas to come back before moving in.
The first door on his right led into what must have been a nursery once, judging by the colorful design of the wallpaper. He could see obscure shapes of ponies and flowers poking through the more obscene graffiti that had been sprayed on top of it over the years, leading him to guess that the room had most likely belonged to a little girl once.
The door to the closet was wide open, no uglies in there, and after a quick look around he could conclude that there were no signs of the enemy ever entering this room.
“Dean.”
Dean should be used to it by now, he knew that, but nonetheless he whirled around, blade cutting through the air, only to come to an absolute and abrupt halt when a hand closed around his lower arm in an iron grip.
Blue eyes regarded him calmly through the darkness, seemingly without any surprise of the violent greeting.
“Damn it, Cas!” Dean hissed, not sure whether he should be relieved by the sight of the angel, or pissed off over how jumpy he was. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?”
The angel released his arm, but didn’t pay much attention to the berating tone of his voice. Instead his expression, which had looked so calm moments ago, shifted, a worried frown deepening on his brow as he looked around the room.
“Where’s Sam?” he demanded, making Dean scowl.
“Out in the hall.”
Castiel’s hand shot out and grabbed Dean by the hem of his jacket, yanking him forward.
“You split up?” He asked, voice lowered into a whisper, and Dean could only shrug in response as he did his best to ignore just how close their faces suddenly were.
“It’s not like we can’t take care of ourselves you know,” he defended himself, voice unconsciously lowering to match Castiel’s near nonexistent volume. “Why so tense, anyway? It’s just a grumpy old witch.”
“Is that what you think you’re hunting?” Castiel’s eyes narrowed at him, only to widen as he released the grip of Dean’s jacket, turning towards the door.
“We have to get you out, now.”
“Wait, Cas, hold on.” Dean’s hand clasped over the angel’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Castiel turned around once more, mouth open, but whatever he had been about to say died on his lips as his eyes locked on to the partially dried blood at Dean’s temple.
“You’re bleeding,” he noted quietly. Dean reached up, fingers brushing against the wound. Truth to be told, he had already forgotten that it was even there.
“I guess,” he agreed, absentmindedly. “But I’m still better off than that… witch, thing, whatever it is. Sam managed to cut it open pretty good back at the school. Bitch screamed like crazy. It took some time, but we managed to trail her all the way back here.”
“You followed its blood?” Castiel squinted.
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “I don’t know how the hell he got close enough, but Sam must’ve— Hey where are you going?”
Castiel was already heading out the door, not paying any attention to Dean’s question. Dean followed, catching up to the other man just a few paces down the outside hallway.
“Cas, c’mon man, what the hell—”
“There’s no time,” Castiel cut him off, leaning through a nearby doorway to throw a hurried glance into yet another empty room. “Where’s your brother?”
“I told you; he’s following the blood.”
Castiel turned around, and Dean swallowed hard when he saw the grim expression on the angel’s face.
“These creatures don’t bleed, Dean,” Castiel said gravely. “It’s been tricking you.”
Dean was just about to open his mouth to ask how the hell Cas could know that, when an ungodly shriek sliced through the air, followed by a loud crash from the west wing of the house.
“Sam!?”
Dean took off running, down the corridor towards the sound of breaking glass and more screaming from whatever that thing was, leaving Castiel behind. He had just rounded the corner of the staircase when one of the doors in front of him suddenly flew open with a bang as Sam’s limp body came flying through the opening. He smashed against the opposite wall of the corridor with a crackling sound Dean wished he hadn’t heard, sagging down into a slack, unconscious pile on the floor.
“Sam! ”
Dean scrambled to his brother’s side, but before he managed to get close enough to see if Sam was even still alive, Castiel grabbed him by the back of his jacket. He tore him away, throwing Dean back into the hallway from whence he came.
“Get back!” he rumbled, stepping in front of Sam’s lifeless body. There was a deafening noise, like the crack of a whip, and through the broken door came a lightning bolt the size of a Buick, striking Castiel square in the back.
Whatever screams Castiel made got drowned out in the explosion that followed, leaving Dean feeling like his eardrums had just shattered. He watched in horror how the light closed around both Castiel and his brother in a sizzling sphere of sparking electricity, forcing him to throw a hand up in front of his face to shield his eyes from the blast.
Somewhere from inside the room the creature screeched in triumph, and Dean felt his stomach drop to his knees.
He tightened his fingers around the blade in his hand, preparing to fight with whatever strength he could muster when something inside his head, just behind his aching ears, popped.
For a split second everything else in the world was put on mute, and he felt rather than heard Castiel’s voice as it came drifting through his consciousness, calm and steady like the earth itself.
Dean. Shut your eyes.
Not even thinking about objecting, Dean did as he was told, and then there was light everywhere.
It flooded the rickety building; blasted through every crack and crevice with frightening speed, purging it to the very core. The pulse it emitted mixed with Dean’s own, sending his heart racing inside his chest as his blood rushed through his veins, burning hot, and sweet, merciful God, he could feel it all. Drowning in the sensation, he barely heard the creature’s victorious cry change, first into disappointment, anger and then finally pain as the raw power of Grace burned it alive.
It lasted only a few seconds and then it was all gone, leaving Dean gasping for breath in the afterglow while panting and shaking furiously, feeling like he had just gotten every last bone in his body ripped out of him.
Forcing his trembling limbs to drag him towards the spot where he assumed the others to be, he tried to blink away the bright dots of gold and black that were dancing before his vision. He did not succeed, and the fear of what he would find when he reached the other end of the hallway sat like a block of cement inside his chest, weighing him down.
“Cas…?” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Sam…?!”
“Dean…”
The voice came from somewhere to Dean’s left, and when he turned towards it he could see a familiar silhouette sitting propped up against the tattered wall.
“Cas…? Cas, are you alright?!”
He crawled to his feet and grabbed Castiel around the waist, supporting himself against the wall in order to hoist the other exhausted man to his feet.
“That was… harder than I anticipated…” Castiel groaned next to his ear, from what Dean could tell barely conscious. As he watched, blood began to trickle down the corner of Castiel’s mouth in a narrow trail.
“It’s okay, you’ll be fine,” Dean assured him, trying not to linger on the way Castiel’s eyes failed to focus on his face as he spoke. “You’ll be fine,” he repeated. “Just… let me grab Sam and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”
The body beneath Dean’s hands suddenly stiffened, and then it slumped down, worn and defeated.
“Sam…” Castiel whispered. “Dean, I— I’m so sorry… I tried…”
For an eternity, Dean’s world froze dead around him, because no.
No, not that, not Sammy…
Not again.
His lungs drew together tight, his heart aching inside his chest, but just as he felt his knees begin to buckle beneath them both, a new, unfamiliar sound came drifting out from somewhere within Castiel’s trench coat. A low whimper, followed by a gurgle and a snort.
Bracing himself on Dean’s shoulder, Castiel shrugged the wide piece of clothing out of the way to reveal a small bundle made out of what Dean immediately recognized to be Sam’s jacket.
As Dean watched, two very, very small hands reached out and up towards his face, another one of those strange sounds emitting from inside the fabric.
“I tried…” Castiel repeated weakly, his voice filled with remorse as he held out the bundle for Dean to take. “But I couldn’t stop the curse completely.”
With trembling hands Dean took the wrapped up jacket out of Castiel’s grip and looked down, warily folding the corner of the collar away so that he could see its content.
Bright blue eyes seemed to widen at the sight of him, and Dean could feel the world around him tilt, the wooden floor swaying beneath his feet.
“Sammy..?” he croaked in disbelief.
From within the jacket, the baby in his arms let out a shrieking, bubbling laugh, and then farted loudly.