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Dean visited his father every Tuesday evening.
It was quiet on Tuesdays. Most people waited till the weekend so Dean had his dad and the ward to himself. He’d started coming because there’d been hope that eventually their father would wake up, then because Adam told him that sometimes people responded if you talked to them.
There was always a hope their dad could hear them, Adam had said, and he’d begin to respond to what they were talking about. So Dean came as often as he could spare it and talked to him. It was hard at first. They’d never been able to talk before and Dean kept expecting his dad to open his eyes and tell Dean to stop being so soft. As time went by though, it became obvious that his father wasn’t going to wake up. It had been six months now and the machines hadn’t even so much as bleeped.
It got easier to talk to his dad when he couldn’t talk back. That had been till he’d started running up against things he didn’t know how to handle and his dad could have really come in handy. He had his father’s journals and Adam at home to research into them for him, but it wasn’t the same as actually being able to ask him about things. Sometimes the things his father wrote weren’t that clear, stained by age or overuse and on one occasion made illegible by blood.
It wasn’t easy being a Grimm when you didn’t have anyone else to help you.
His dad was lying in a hospital bed unable to help him, his brother Sam had skipped out on them as soon as he was old enough and there was Adam at home, but Adam had to stay at home. His dad had always insisted on that. There were creatures out there who wouldn’t accept his half-brother. Hell, there were Grimms out there who’d rather not accept Adam’s existence. Adam was safer if he stayed home. John Winchester had practically built his sons a fortress to live in. There were enough hiding places that someone could search the house ten times over and never find Adam. His father had made sure of that.
He couldn’t go to Sam. Sam had made it clear he didn’t want any part of their father’s delusions. He’d always called them delusions and he’d hated every moment of the training John Winchester had put them through. He didn’t like that he knew how to shoot a gun, didn’t like that Dean still carried one. He’d hated their survival hikes and the camping trips their dad had taken them on. He didn’t believe in their heritage and he probably wouldn’t be too pleased to know that Dean was the one now lurking in shadows, tracking down the creatures that went after people. Dean didn’t know how Sam could ignore their calling, how he could ignore it when his own brother was a creature but Adam said if Sam didn’t want to believe, they couldn’t force him. Still, if anything happened to Dean, it would be Sam that would be expected to step into his shoes.
Dean didn’t even know how they’d handle that, but he wasn’t dead yet. Besides, his dad wasn’t dead either. He could wake up. Adam spent a lot of time on the internet. He’d found any number of stories about people making miraculous recoveries so Dean wasn’t putting it past his father to wake up one day.
“And then I cut off his head,” he finished his story, sitting back in his chair to look at his dad’s face. If his father woke up tonight, then Dean wanted it to be to a good story, where Dean did the right thing and killed the creature. “Don’t worry. I burned the body. We’re not going to have any problems with him.”
His father’s face didn’t even flicker. Dean sighed, glancing around for something else to talk to him about. There was a vase of flowers on the bedside table. They hadn’t been there when Dean had visited the week before. He grinned.
“So, Sam came to visit you, did he?” he asked. “I knew he still cared. He calls sometimes. To talk to Adam mostly but sometimes we talk.”
Not as much as they had at one point. Sam didn’t like the way that Dean always followed their father’s orders, even when their father wasn’t around anymore. Sam had a good life for himself. He’d gone to law school and was now a junior executive at a local law firm. Occasionally he’d bailed Dean out when Dean hadn’t been fast enough getting away from a crime scene. Dean had a record now. That made getting a normal job hard and being a Grimm was pretty much a full time occupation. At least their father had paid off the house before his accident.
This wasn’t getting him anywhere and Dean kicked out at the leg of his father’s bed, hoping that something might happen but there was just the noise of his boot colliding with the metal post and nothing else. Dean cringed, turning round in his seat to make sure none of the nurses were around to see. He didn’t think they’d really understand why he’d done it. Dean didn’t even understand. He was just getting frustrated and lashing out was how he dealt with frustration. He stood up, looking around again. There had to be something out there tonight to kill. There was always some creature stepping out of line and Dean just had to find them and put a stop to it.
“Night, dad,” he muttered.
His father would never forgive him if Dean walked out of there without saying goodbye. If there was any part of John Winchester left in his body, then he’d remember when he came back to them. He’d never let Dean forget his manners.
He didn’t even bother hitting on the woman at the nurses’ station. She was pretty and human but Dean just wasn’t in the mood. He passed by room after room of patients, all of them with machines beeping away, keeping them breathing or their heart pumping. No one on this ward was getting better. Dean knew it even if he wasn’t ready to believe it.
He paused just before the elevator, glancing into the room to his right. He wasn’t the only one here late visiting it seemed. A man was sat by the bedside of an elderly lady, holding her hand. Dean took a cursory glance over the man. He was in his late thirties, had messy dark hair and pale skin and he looked like he’d come straight from work, still wearing his coat. Dean got used to looking at people in his line of work. The guy seemed harmless enough. Dean was ready to push the button for the elevator when the man turned his head and Dean saw it for a split second the wings protruding from his back – huge and black and suddenly the guy looked like the fucking angel of death.
His face lengthened, hardening – a flicker of bird like features before he melted back to someone with high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. Dean had no idea what he’d just seen but he knew it wasn’t human. The guy had obviously got a good look at him too because he’d dropped the woman’s hand and jumped from his seat.
“Grimm!” he gasped, backing away. Dean was used to people getting frightened when they saw him but most of the people he ran into where doing something wrong.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping inside the room and kicking the door shut behind him.
He glanced at the lady in the bed. She was still alive as far as he could tell, her breathing seemed even and there was some color in her cheeks so he’d got here before the creature had had a chance to do whatever it had planned.
“Want to tell me what you are?” he asked. “Or do you just want to tell me what you were doing? If you play along I might let you live.” Unlikely, but he needed to get an idea of what he was dealing with. His gun was in his car but he had a knife in his boot. He always carried some sort of weapon on him.
“I wasn’t hurting her,” the guy growled and Dean rolled his eyes.
“Sure, sure. What are you? Some sort of reaper? You come to kill her?”
“No,” the man said, gesturing towards the bed. “I came to heal her.”
Dean turned his head just a fraction, not willing to look away completely unless the creature took that as a chance to run. The woman’s eyes had opened. She blinked up at the two of them, not fully seeing them and Dean took that as his chance. He lunged across the room and grabbed the guy by the collar of his coat, hauling him out of the room even as he pressed the button by the woman’s bed for the nurses. He found an empty room and all but threw the man inside, shutting the door behind him.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
The guy looked terrified. Not at all what Dean had been expecting when he first saw him.
“Castiel. My name is Castiel,” he gasped, hand over his heart and Dean rolled his eyes.
“Knock it off. You just bought someone back from the brink of death. I’m not buying this soft and gentle routine you’ve got going. Only something really powerful can do something like that.”
“I’m not….” the man stopped then, sighing softly, seeming to visibly deflate under Dean’s gaze. “Who do you want me to heal?” he asked miserably.
That hadn’t been what Dean had been planning. He’d wanted to find out what he was dealing with because he couldn’t simply trust the strange Wesen. There was no way something that could mess around with life and death should just be offering its power up to Dean. These sorts of deals came with a catch.
“What will I owe you then? Pound of flesh? An hour of my life?” he asked, laughing hollowly. There was always something they needed.
Castiel shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t need anything,” he said, still looking dejected. “I just came here to help. You have to believe me. I’m not dangerous to you.”
He looked up at Dean, imploring him with his deep blue eyes and Dean had to look away because they were strangely hypnotic. He dug his phone out of his pocket, sending Adam a quick text to get him to look up bird Wesen and then cross reference it to hypnotism. He knew that his brother was uploading their father’s diaries onto his computer. Adam should be able to find that stuff quickly enough.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and took a deep breath. He’d been hoping for something to happen with his father, practically praying for it and then a Wesen that could heal people all but fell into his lap. There were a lot of hospitals in the city, a lot of nights. What were the odds this creature would be here at the same time as Dean? He knew his father wouldn’t be happy with him but he had to take the chance.
“Well, whatever your deal is I’ll take it,” he said, rubbing his hands on his jeans, feeling his tongue grow thick as he tried to force the words out. “It’s my father…”
Castiel to his credit simply nodded. “Take me to him and as I told you, there is no deal.”
Dean led him down the hallway, passed the gaggle of nurses and doctors who had rushed to the side of the woman who’d made her miraculous recovery and to his father’s room. His father had shrunk, the muscle and fat that had proved his life of hard living having melted away the longer he lay in the hospital bed. It made his scars seem worse. They stuck out now on his otherwise frail body. Dean didn’t miss the way Castiel shuddered as he saw his father’s body.
“John Winchester,” he whispered, more to himself then to Dean and Dean couldn’t stop the grin on his face. His father had been one hell of a Grimm. Everyone knew who he was.
“Yeah, that’s my dad,” he agreed, shoving Castiel in the shoulder, pushing him towards the bedside. “You heal him, okay? Work some of your magic.”
Castiel glared at him and took up Dean’s recently vacated seat primly. He leaned forward, picking up John’s hand and closed his eyes.
Dean watched, waiting for something to happen. He didn’t know how the magic would work, if he’d be able to see it or if there’d be no telling till his father opened his eyes. He just damn well hoped he hadn’t made a mistake bringing the strange creature to his father’s bedside. John wasn’t dead just yet. There had to be a lot of Wesen who’d like a chance to finish him off for good.
Castiel opened his eyes, frowning and he set John’s hand back down on the bed.
“What?” Dean asked. “Did you do it?”
Castiel shook his head. “I’m sorry. Your father is brain dead. There is nothing I can do for him.”
Dean clenched his fists. “No, he’s not. Heal him.”
Castiel shook his head again. “I can’t. Your father has already died. Everything that made him who he was has moved on. This is an empty shell. If I bought that to life he would be an abomination, a zombie. I cannot do that.”
He looked back at John, looking almost pained and Dean growled in the back of his throat. What right did the creature have to sit there and feel sorry? What right did he have to tell Dean that his father was never coming back?
“You’re not a doctor so forgive me if I don’t take your advice,” he hissed, grabbing Castiel by the shoulder and hauling him back up. He didn’t want to see the man anywhere near his father. “Get out. Just get out and don’t come back here. If I see you again, I’ll shoot you.”
Castiel nodded, his eyes wide and Dean let him go, watching the man scramble away. He turned back to his father’s body, swallowing down the knot in his throat.
“I know you’re not dead, dad,” he muttered.
**
Adam was up when Dean got home. He could tell because of the light in the upstairs bedroom, even if Adam didn’t come down to find him. There was a sandwich on the kitchen table – chicken, mustard and a bit of lettuce, and a beer. Adam took care of him. Dean probably would live off burgers in his car if he didn’t have his little brother to come home to. He was half way through finishing the beer when Adam came downstairs. The sandwich was just crumbs on the plate.
“How was dad?” Adam asked, leaning in the doorway and Dean took a quick glance at him.
Adam looked pretty much the same as he always did. He was to Dean’s mind a perfectly normal teenage boy, maybe a little tall, but then Sam was a giant. Supposedly Adam was beautiful but Dean just saw his kid brother’s face when he looked at him. Occasionally he saw something else, but Adam was good at keeping that side of his nature hidden.
Adam raised an eyebrow, obviously wondering why he was getting the inspection and Dean sighed.
“Same as normal. Any luck on that search?” he asked, setting his beer down.
“Yeah, couldn’t find anything that matched up completely. Nothing that hypnotizes but I think I got a match.” Adam reached it his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and he passed it to Dean. “Dad drew it. Does that look like what you saw? I scanned it in to my computer, cleaned it up a bit.”
Dean unfolded the paper, looking over the sketch of the wings and the dove-like face and nodded.
“That’s what I saw. What is it?”
“An Angel. At least that’s what dad’s journal says. It always says to stay away from them, they don’t like Grimms much,” Adam said, watching him nervously.
Dean sighed. He knew Adam was frightened one night Dean wasn’t going to come home, that he was going to be alone in the world with just Sam for protection and that thought worried Dean too but he didn’t like seeing Adam worried.
“I didn’t do anything. He’s gone home,” he reached up, scratching the back of his head. “I saw him heal this woman. It was…kind of amazing.”
Adam nodded. “Dad doesn’t have a lot to say about them. That’s kind of cool though, that they can heal people. I’ll add it to the file.” He bit his lip then, looking up at Dean with the same expression he wore when he wanted to ask Dean if he could borrow the car. Dean already knew he wasn’t going to like the question. “Do you think he could heal Dad?”
Dean could have laughed. Sometimes he and Adam were so similar it was scary. Other times Adam reminded him of Sam – so straightforward, so honest and sometimes Dean couldn’t tell where Adam was coming from. He shook his head, picking up the bottle again and taking another swig.
“No,” he said, licking his lips. The beer tasted so good and he wanted to just get down into the bottom of the bottle and then drink another one and another one till he blocked out the conversation in the hospital. Castiel and his worried, nervous eyes on Dean as he told him he couldn’t heal his father. It was going to take him a lot of beer before he could drink away that image. “No, he can’t help.”
Adam nodded. He didn’t need to be told any more. “We’ll find something. Dad’s not going to be in that hospital forever.” He smiled at Dean and Dean didn’t have it in him to smile back.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
One day their dad would be coming out the hospital; in a pine box most likely.
He just wasn’t ready to tell Adam that.
**
Sam Winchester had worked at Milton and Adler for nearly two years. They’d offered him an internship after he graduated and Sam had slowly worked his way up the ranks from there. He was currently working under Gabriel Tricksler, one of the companies most cut-throat lawyers, although you would never have known it to look at him. Sam had learned a lot from him.
Despite that, and the fact that Sam respected his boss, he found he could never relax around Gabriel. He always had the feeling that something was off about him.
Once, Sam had come into his office and Gabriel had been eating fat, pink worms. Gabriel had paused, smiled and told Sam they were made of marshmallow, but as hard as Sam tried to believe that, he couldn’t. He was sure he’d seen them wiggling.
Then there was the fact that Gabriel picked up anything shiny that caught his eye. When Sam had come to work for him, he’d had a silver pen that had gone missing within the week. Sam had found it eventually in Gabriel’s office, in a draw stuffed full of pens and watches and glinting, colorful things. Gabriel had apologized, had explained that he had a problem and had given Sam his pen back, but Sam noticed other things disappearing after that – a pair of scissors, his pot of paper clips.
Sam would have called Gabriel a magpie but he was hesitant. Out of the corner of his eye, occasionally, he thought he saw something that wasn’t there. He thought he saw Gabriel covered in feathers.
Sam knew that couldn’t be true. People didn’t turn into birds or wolves, or creatures from fairy tales. Sam’s over-active imagination was to blame. His father had told Sam and his brothers too many stories when they were children, had encouraged them to see things that weren’t there. Even now Sam was older, even when he’d put away the childish beliefs of his youth, he found it hard to shake the feeling that some people weren’t completely human.
Sam had a read a lot of books and he saw a therapist ever two weeks and they were working through his issues. Sometimes Sam had to take a deep breath and remind himself that the things he saw weren’t real, but he was doing well. He had a good job and his own apartment; he was beginning to move on.
Sam knew he wasn’t the only one who suffered because of their father’s delusions. Adam was almost a recluse and the less said about Dean, the better. Sam had to be the strong one, the one that worked hard to prove the whole ‘Grimm’ thing that had dogged his whole life wasn’t real. Sam had to be the one who had a normal life his brothers aspire to. He could show them it was possible to leave all that behind. He could at least convince Adam.
He had to, Sam told himself as he made a cup of coffee, his fingers trembling. He needed the coffee to steady his nerves.
He’d been to Gabriel’s office again, collecting files, and Gabriel was preening, looking at himself in a pocket mirror, smoothing down the feathers that Sam adamantly refused to admit he had.
Gabriel didn’t have feathers. He didn’t.
Something was wrong with Sam because he kept seeing things that weren’t there. He needed to book a holiday, take some time off and relax. He need to do it before he did something stupid like ask someone else in the office if they’d noticed Gabriel appeared to be a bird person. Worse still, he might tell Gabriel he knew that he wasn’t human.
Somehow, Sam didn’t think his boss would take well to that.
Sam would finish his coffee, taking a deep breath and fill in a holiday request form.
**
Dean awoke to someone pounding on his front door. His head was pounding too. He hadn’t been able to sleep without a couple of glasses of whiskey inside him. The meeting with the strange Wesen had thrown him off-balance. Dean hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what he’d said – that his father was dead and there was nothing that could be done. Dean had drunk till he’d stopped feeling, but his dreams had still been haunted by knowledge that John Winchester was never going to get up out of his hospital bed.
Dean groaned, sitting up and feeling the room lurch involuntarily around him. Whoever was downstairs was still knocking. Dean wondered if he could just lie back down and shove a pillow over his head until whoever was at the front door either went away, or Adam got up to open it instead.
The banging continued and Dean forced himself off the bed, grabbing his dressing gown. Adam was probably somewhere with his headphones on, blissfully unaware that there was anyone at their door. Dean grumbled to himself as he headed downstairs, hoping that it wouldn’t have anything to do with unpaid bills. Dean tried to keep on top of money, he tried to make sure everything was paid up to date but sometimes things got away from him.
He reached the door and wrenched it open.
Charlie stood on the doorstep, her fist raised to knock again. For a second, her features changed. She had a muzzle, two pointed ears and red fur over her face, the same color as her hair. Then the change was over, and she looked human again.
Dean covered his eyes with a hand. It was too early and too bright.
“Charlie,” he said with a sigh. “What time is it?”
“10 o’clock,” Charlie said. “Late night?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Dean said. He hadn’t realized it was so late in the day. He’d thought it was much earlier than that. He gestured for Charlie to come in, stepping away from the door, trailing into the kitchen, knowing that Charlie would follow him. “What’s up?”
Dean knew his dad would never have approved of his friendship with Charlie, but Charlie wasn’t like other Wesen. She’d been the one in trouble, the one Dean had needed to help. He hadn’t even known what she was – a Fuchsbau – until after he’d saved her. He knew what his dad’s journal said about Fuchsbau, that they were sly and cunning, untrustworthy, but it was hard not to warm to Charlie.
As far as Dean was concerned, Charlie wasn’t like other Wesen. She liked video games and Star Wars, and disappeared at weekends to go LARPing. Charlie wasn’t a threat or danger to anyone. Dean was pretty sure it had never crossed her mind to try taking a bite out of one of her neighbors.
She was also a really useful friend to have on his side. It was good to have some insider knowledge on the Wesen world. Charlie told him when things were happening, she heard about things before Dean did and she helped him. His dad wouldn’t have understood, but his dad wasn’t around.
Charlie pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table, sitting down, watching Dean as he fumbled around the kitchen, trying to make himself a cup of coffee.
“I’ve got a job for you,” she said. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it. I need you to help a friend of mine.”
“A Wesen friend of yours?” Dean asked warily. “Charlie, you know that’s not my job. You are the exception to the rule.”
“Dean,” Charlie whined. “He’s a really good guy and he’s in danger. You’re the only person I could think of to ask.”
“Charlie, I protect people. I don’t get involved in Wesen disputes.”
Charlie frowned. “Wesen are people too, Dean.”
“Debatable,” Dean muttered.
Charlie ignored him, launching back into her appeal. “I really, really wouldn’t ask you to help if this was just some internal dispute about territory or something. I’m asking you because there are some really bad guys around – Geiers and Skalengecks.”
Dean shuddered. He didn’t need Charlie to tell him how bad those Wesen were. Geiers were vulture like creatures that were involved in all kinds of shady, black market deals like the illegal trade in human organs – more often than not taken from still living victims. Skalengecks were lizard creatures that enjoyed pain and intimidation. Neither of them were creatures he wanted around his neighborhood.
“What did your friend do to get those guys involved?” he asked Charlie.
“Nothing!” Charlie said hurriedly. “I promise. He’s really sweet. They’re interested in him because of what he can do. He’s a very rare type of Wesen. I didn’t even think they existed any more until I met him.”
“And where did you meet him?” Dean asked. He still didn’t trust that this guy was really as good and sweet as Charlie kept trying to convince him he was.
“Local bookstore. I was getting an Asimov. He was in there picking up books on gardening. We struck up a conversation and do you know he doesn’t even own a TV? I had to help.”
Dean couldn’t help grinning at that. Charlie had probably tried to fix the guy up with all sorts of technical gadgets and the latest up to date, state of the art sound system and plasma screen. Dean found himself almost feeling sorry for the guy if he’d really just been in the bookstore to get some tips on gardening.
“Okay,” he said. “Let me eat something and grab a shower. Then we’ll go see your guy and I’ll find out if I can help him. But Charlie, I’m warning you, if he isn’t honest with me or I think I can’t trust him, I don’t care how much you like him, I’m not helping.”
Charlie nodded. “I guess that’s fair,” she said slowly, although she didn’t sound completely convinced. “I think you’ll like him though.”
Dean shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to argue.
As far as he was concerned there was only one Wesen he liked and she was sitting at his kitchen table. Dean wasn’t suddenly going to become some bleeding heart Grimm who cared more about the Wesen then he did about the normal people he was supposed to protect.
He also couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t going to be as cut and dry as Charlie was making them out to be.
**
The house Charlie took him to had the most beautiful and well-cared for garden Dean had ever seen. Everywhere there were flowers in bloom, big and bright, in red and pinks, blues and whites, even yellows. They weren’t in neat rows, but growing free and Dean thought that should have been ugly, a muddle of color and purpose, but it just looked natural. The grass on the lawn was neatly trimmed. There was a bird feeder in the middle of it, filled with seeds and nuts.
Whoever lived in the house obviously loved his garden very much.
Charlie bounced up the garden path, leaving Dean to trail behind her slowly, pausing to look around him now and again. When Charlie reached the door, she knocked once and then waited. Dean joined her on the doormat, wiping his shoes.
A few seconds later, the door was opened and Dean gaped in shock at the man on the other side.
Dean knew him.
He was the Wesen he’d seen at the hospital, the one who’d told him his father was dead. The one who’d said his name was Castiel.
The Wesen on the other side of the door looked equally as shocked as Dean felt. He tore his eyes away from Dean and looked at Charlie accusingly.
“You said you knew someone who could help me! You never said he was a Grimm!”
“I didn’t think you’d let me ask if you knew he was a Grimm,” Charlie said with a shrug of her shoulders.
“No, I wouldn’t have,” Castiel said. He took a deep breath, drawing himself up and addressed Dean. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, but I won’t need your help. I’d consider it a great favor if you would leave now and never return.”
Dean blinked. That should have been his cue to turn around and walk off, wash his hands of the whole messy business, but Dean wasn’t ready to go just yet. It was the second time Dean had run into this guy in as many days. He didn’t believe in coincidences and more than that, his instincts told him that he needed to learn this guy’s story.
“Yeah,” he said, throwing his arm out to stop Castiel shutting the door in his face. “Sorry about that, I can’t leave.” He pushed past Castiel, heading into his house. “Charlie said you’re in trouble, I’m a Grimm. I deal with trouble. What’s going on?”
Castiel grumbled to himself, letting Charlie in and closing the door behind her. Dean was already in the living room, looking around at the shelves full of books. As far as he could see, they were all first editions. Most of them didn’t have English titles. Dean wondered what he was looking at, if they were Wesen books. He reached out, pulling one from the shelves and heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him.
“Put that back,” Castiel said.
“Why? Got something to hide?” Dean asked, opening the book and flipping through its pages.
Castiel stepped forward and snatched the book from his hands. He snapped it closed and shoved it back into its place on the bookshelf.
“No,” he said, icily. “It’s just rude to touch someone’s things without asking them first.” He turned to look at Charlie. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Dean can behave. I’ll watch him and make sure he keeps his hands to himself,” Charlie said.
She sat down on Castiel’s couch, pointing at the spot beside her for Dean. He sighed, flopping down next to her. He didn’t like Charlie talking about him as if he was a naughty child. Dean was a Grimm, they were Wesen. If Dean wanted to look at Castiel’s book collection, he ought to be allowed to.
Castiel sat down gingerly across from them in a big arm chair.
“So, your problem?” Dean prompted. They might as well get down to the business of why he was here in the first place.
Castiel sighed, deflating slightly.
“I really don’t like asking a Grimm for help,” he said, looking away from Dean, staring at the floor.
“Sometimes you just have to accept the help you’re given,” Charlie said. “Believe me, Dean’s not as bad as he makes himself out to be. He saved my life.”
“Oh, I think he’s just as bad as he says he is,” Castiel muttered.
Charlie looked confused, glancing at Dean. Dean supposed there was no point in pretending that he and Castiel had only just met, especially when Castiel was prepared to be civil about it.
“We’ve met before, me and Castiel,” Dean supplied. “Last night at the hospital.”
“You threatened me,” Castiel said angrily.
“You’re a Wesen, I’m a Grimm. It’s part of the job,” Dean said, glaring at Castiel. He still didn’t trust him or believe his innocent act. He still thought Castiel was lying about being able to heal his dad. He just didn’t want to do it because then John Winchester would be back and creatures like Castiel would be running scared again. Dean balled his hands into fists, leaning forward, his blood thumping in his veins.
“Okay!” Charlie interrupted. She placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, shoving him back down from where he’d started to rise from his seat. Dean hadn’t even realized he’d been doing that. His anger had overtaken him. “You need to calm down.”
Castiel shook his head. “You see, Charlie? This is never going to work.”
“Yes, it will,” Charlie said, sounding determined.
“Do you know his father is?” Castiel demanded, waving his hand in Dean’s direction.
“John Winchester, I know. Come on, Castiel. It’s not as if any of us can say we don’t have ancestors we’re ashamed of,” Charlie said, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.
Dean frowned darkly. He didn’t like hearing his father discussed as if he was some monster and Dean was tainted by his association with him. Dean’s dad had been a hero.
“Hey! I am proud of my dad!” he said angrily.
Castiel leveled an unimpressed glare in Dean’s direction.
“This is impossible,” he muttered.
“No, I’ll tell you what‘s impossible,” Dean said, getting to his feet, ignoring Charlie’s attempts to pull him back down. He towered over Castiel in his armchair, poking him in the chest with a finger. “You have Geiers and Skalengecks after you and you think I’m just going to walk out of here and ignore that. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Castiel brushed his hand away, looking up at Dean defiantly. Dean stared him down and slowly, Castiel’s resolve seemed to waver. He glanced away from Dean, seeming to deflate down in his chair, sinking lower.
“Fine,” he said. “I suppose you already know what I am?”
“They call you an Angel, right?”
Castiel smiled sadly, nodding.
“An angel of mercy, I can heal the sick and the dying,” he said.
“And the Geier want you for that?” Dean asked, confused.
“I’m sure you know that Geiers are part of the illegal trade in human organs. They like to take their donations from people who are still alive and still conscious. They mostly prey on runaways, people who won’t be missed but it’s not a steady supply,” Castiel said. He spoke slowly, nervously. “Imagine you ran one of those operations, and you had someone on side who could heal your donors as soon as you’d removed the organs you wanted. You’d have an endless supply of body parts, all regrown, all healed. And those people would never die, they’d just suffer constantly.”
Castiel shuddered, shaking his head at the possibility. “It’s too horrible to contemplate. I won’t be a part of that. I won’t.”
“But you’ve got no choice?” Dean guessed.
“So far there have been requests and threats, but I think they’re growing tired of waiting,” Castiel said, slumping back into his chair unhappily. “I don’t want to help them, not willingly, but I think force is coming next.”
Dean sighed. He wanted to be angry with Castiel. He wanted to tell the Wesen that he’d been stupid, trying to handle this on his own and that he should have involved a Grimm from the beginning, but he realized that Castiel wouldn’t have had any way of contacting him, even if he had been willing to go to Dean for help. Castiel looked so small sitting in his chair, his hands folded in his lap, completely out of his depth and Dean felt sorry for him.
“So,” Charlie said, reminding Dean that she was there. He’d almost forgotten, he’d been so focused on Castiel. “Do you think you can help?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “This is right up my street. Me and Charlie will keep you safe, Castiel, and I’ll take down the Geiers operation so you don’t have to worry about them again.”
“You’re really going to help me?” Castiel asked, sounding as if he didn’t believe it.
“Of course. My job is to protect people and that’s what I’m going to do,” Dean said, allowing himself an easy grin, meant to reassure Castiel. The man looked at him dubiously but Dean thought that was better than nothing.
A part of him wondered why Castiel hadn’t called the cops, but Dean though he already knew the answer to that. Calling the cops invited a lot of questions, questions that Castiel wouldn’t necessarily be able to answer. They’d want to know how he’d found out about the organ ring and why he didn’t report it immediately. Wesen didn’t necessarily trust the police. They either policed themselves or they had Grimms to do it for them.
Dean realized slowly that that was what he was going to have to do, work as the police. He needed to protect Castiel, rescue the people the Geiers had abducted and make sure the Geiers themselves could never cause problems again. That was where Dean differed from the police. He could gun down his monsters.
“I think you should leave the house,” he said.
“Leave my house?” Castiel repeated, the idea coming as a shock to him.
“Unless you want me to move in here with you. They know where you live right, they’ve been here?” Dean paused, waiting for the nod of conformation from Castiel before he continued. “So our best bet is to move you, hide you somewhere.”
“Do you want me to check into a hotel?” Castiel asked.
Dean shook his head. “No point. Hotels are expensive and I want you somewhere I can keep an eye on you. I’ll take you to my house.”
“Your house? No, I couldn’t do that,” Castiel said, sounding actually scared.
“It’s okay,” Charlie said quickly. “It’s a normal house, not a sex torture dungeon. I’ll be there too, and Dean’s brother. We won’t leave you on your own.”
Dean hadn’t planned for two house guests instead of one. They had the room. He might have to put Charlie in Sam’s old room. Dean was loath to do that. He had kept Sam’s room just the way it was since Sam had left. It was a sentimental, stupid thing to do but Dean hoped his brother would come back one day and he wanted Sam’s room ready so Sam could walk straight back in to his life. He’d put Charlie in the spare room, Castiel in his own room and Dean would sleep on the couch.
“Fine,” Castiel said. He stood up, looking a little shaky but his shoulders were set and he seemed quietly determined. “Let me pack a few things.”
**
This was not the sort of help Castiel had wanted. He’d gone upstairs to pack and had, for one mad moment, considered climbing out the window and running for it. That plan had been halted though when Dean had come to find him, asking what was taking him so long. Castiel didn’t want to be on the run from a Grimm as well as from other Wesen. Dean still hadn’t apologized for his behavior at the hospital, and Castiel doubted he ever would. Dean seemed to think that every choice he made was the right one. He couldn’t even see that he was as terrifying to Castiel as any of the other things hunting him.
Castiel had packed the bare minimum of clothes and comforts from home and gone downstairs with Dean two steps behind him. Dean’s car was big and black. Castiel rode in the backseat, his suitcase clutched protectively to his chest, nausea swirling in his stomach as he was carried away from the home he knew, towards something undefined and possibly dangerous. Did Dean and Charlie realize the trust Castiel was putting in them? Did they understand how loath he was to go with the Grimm? It went against all of Castiel’s instincts, but he was still trying. He hoped he had not misjudged them.
They had driven for what seemed like an eternity to Castiel. He’d started to imagine that they were driving to somewhere secluded, that Charlie wasn’t really his friend but an enemy and that any moment now, Dean was going to stop the car, order Castiel out and chop off his head. His thoughts were morbid but Castiel couldn’t stop them. It became clear however, that they were driving towards houses, not abandoned land and Castiel let himself relax a little.
The house they drew up in front of was big, larger than Castiel had been expecting. It was old fashioned, a turn of the century period house with high windows and an ornate iron fence around it. It was a foreboding house. Castiel could easily imagine any number of hidden passageways in the house, maybe even underground rooms from which there was no escape. His fear came back tenfold.
Dean opened the backdoor for him and Castiel got out obediently. He resisted the urge to run again. He trusted Charlie. Charlie had told him it would be okay. He glanced at her and she smiled at him, probably sensing that Castiel was still not completely comfortable with this arrangement.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, putting a consoling hand on Castiel’s shoulder.
Dean went on ahead of them, unlocking the front door. Castiel stepped in behind him, not sure what he was expecting but the spacious, airy house that greeted him certainly wasn’t it. Dean caught his shocked expression and smiled.
“What? I have to live here. Do you think I want to live in a dark, dank hovel?”
“No, I just…it’s hard to picture a Grimm having a normal life, that’s all,” Castiel said slowly, aware that it probably sounded rude.
“Yeah, well, I’m surprised you had such a nice house too,” Dean said with a shrug. “I’m putting you up in my room, okay? I’m going to grab the couch while you’re here and Charlie, you take the spare room.”
He reached out, taking Castiel’s case from him, heading up the stairs. Castiel blinked after him in surprise, taken aback by the fact that Dean was, in a rather gruff way, trying to be polite, before he regained himself and ran up the stairs behind him.
“I don’t want to be any trouble. I can sleep on the couch,” he said.
“No,” Dean said, glancing over his shoulder at him as he headed down the landing. “I’m the first line of defense, I sleep downstairs.”
He paused, pushing open a door. Castiel peered past him, into a room that was much more in the style he’d been expecting. There were weapons on the walls – knives and blades, a big axe. Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, wondering when they were last used. The rest of the room was Spartan, utilitarian. There was a bed and a wardrobe, but it was largely devoid of color or personality. There was a photo on the bedside table but that seemed to be the only personal memento in the whole room.
Dean threw the suitcase down on the bed and turned to face Castiel.
“It’s memory foam so it might feel a bit weird at first,” he muttered, gesturing to the bed. He reached out, grabbing hold of the picture and turned it away from Castiel. “I’ll put this away.”
“I don’t mind sleeping downstairs,” Castiel said again. He knew Dean didn’t really want him in his bedroom. It might seem cold to Castiel, not like a real home to Castiel, but that didn’t mean it important to Dean.
“No, it’s fine,” Dean said. “Look, if anything gets in, you’ll have all of this to protect yourself with.” He gestured to the weaponry on the wall and Castiel suppressed a shudder.
“Yes, I will,” he agreed, seeing that this was a losing battle. Dean obviously thought the arsenal should make him feel safe. Castiel disliked implements of death and pain. He was made to heal. It was an intrinsic part of him, the desire to cultivate life. Dean and the Grimms like him were the harbingers of death. They didn’t make Castiel feel safe at all.
Dean was still holding on to the photograph. Castiel wished he could see it. He’d caught a glimpse of it before Dean had grabbed hold of it and it looked like a family photo. Castiel wished he could see it. He thought it might help to humanize Dean, make him seem more normal than the rest of the room did.
Dean shifted uncomfortably.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go downstairs. We can’t stay up here all day.”
He pushed past Castiel, holding the picture close to his chest. Castiel followed him, shutting the door to Dean’s bedroom behind him. They went quietly back downstairs and into the living room. Charlie was already there, sitting on the sofa, waiting for them. Dean put the photograph down, pointedly turning it to face the wall away from the two Wesen. Castiel wished he could see the picture, could see what Dean was trying so desperately to hide from him.
It must be important to Dean or he wouldn’t have bought it downstairs. He wanted it with him when he went to sleep. It was so human and Castiel wished he could know what was so special about it.
Dean sat down, staring at Castiel until Castiel realized he should be sitting down too. He perched on the couch next to Charlie, feeling the weight of the situation weighing down on his shoulders.
“So,” Dean started, but as he did there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Castiel stiffened, wondering who it could be. He thought they were alone in the house.
“Don’t worry,” Dean said quickly. “It’s my little brother, Adam.”
A young man bounded into the room with them. For a second, Castiel looked into a young face with soft blue eyes and sandy brown hair, but then that face twisted up, becoming something grotesque. Castiel scrabbled back in his seat, his heart beating fast.
“He’s a Hexenbiest.”
The boy shook his head, his face reverting back to something beautiful, something human.
“Don’t worry, I’m not dangerous,” he said.
Castiel looked at Dean, waiting for an answer, completely at a loss. Hexenbiest were always dangerous. They were witches, warlocks. They crafted potions and spells. What was one doing in the house of a Grimm and why had Dean said that it was his brother?
Dean sighed.
“I guess you’re looking for an explanation, right?” he said, smiling at Castiel sheepishly. “Adam’s my half-brother.”
“And I can’t do any magic. I’ve got Grimm blood in me. It makes me completely useless,” Adam said, pulling a face.
“You’re not useless,” Charlie said.
Adam smiled at her. “I’m not dangerous like he’s worried about, at least.”
“But I don’t understand,” Castiel said.
Dean shifted uneasily in his chair. He opened his mouth to say something, but Adam got their first.
“My dad wasn’t exactly as black and white as he liked to think he was. I’m the result of an affair, and yes he knew who and what my mother was. I live here because it’s safer, Dean protects me. I’m an abomination to Grimms and Hexenbiest.”
Castiel nodded slowly. He could see know why Dean had looked so uncomfortable. That wasn’t something most people knew about the great John Winchester, that he’d had a child with one of the creatures he hunted. Castiel would never have guessed it. He supposed it wasn’t something that the Grimms wanted widely known. It undermined them, one of their own, having an affair with a dangerous Wesen.
Castiel was glad to discover that John Winchester had been fallible. It made him less frightening and it made Dean less frightening too. Dean cared for his part-Wesen brother, protected him. Castiel found himself wondering what other secrets Dean kept hidden.
“Why are you here?” Adam asked suddenly, bringing Castiel back to the here and now.
“I…I’m in some trouble,” Castiel said, glancing at Dean. “Your brother offered to protect me.”
“Oh, right,” Adam said, clearly having lost interest. “I’m making chicken pot pie tonight. That okay, you’re not a vegetarian, right?”
“No, that’s fine,” Castiel said, a little surprised by the conversational change. Evidently, Adam wasn’t interested in hearing about his brother’s activities as a Grimm.
Adam left the room, heading back upstairs and Charlie shook her head, grinning.
“You need to socialize him more,” she said.
Dean shrugged. “He never goes out. You know what it’s like.” He turned to look at Castiel, watching him warily. “You don’t tell anyone about Adam. I’m trusting you, do you understand me?”
He was trusting him, Castiel realized. Adam was obviously something Dean considered a weakness, a sore spot, something that could be used against him but he’d still insisted Castiel come to his house, still insisted on protecting him the best way he knew how. Dean must have known Castiel and Adam would meet. He had given Castiel an insight into his family and his secrets, knowing that Castiel could use them against him if he so chose. It humbled Castiel to think of just how much trust Dean was placing in him.
“I won’t tell anyone,” he said honestly.
**
The problem with the Angel, Meg thought, as she hammered on the door to the quaint little house, was that they’d been too kind to him. The little idiot thought it was something he had a choice in. There’d been too many promises, too many offers and attempts to get Castiel to see their point of view.
Meg had said from the beginning that there was no point in trying to persuade him. Hitting him over the head and carrying him off had been her suggestion, but she’d been voted down. Angels were powerful beings. They were rare too and the true extent of their powers was unknown. They could heal, but they might be able to kill just as easily. The softly-softly approach had been adopted as their first line of action, but Meg was beginning to tire of it.
“Castiel!” she called, banging on the door. “Open up! I want to talk to you!”
She glanced around, but there was no twitch of the curtains, no movement from inside the house. It didn’t mean Castiel wasn’t inside, lying low and hoping she’d go away. Meg had visited him on a couple of occasions and she was certain that if he was dangerous, he would have shown it by now. He’d always seemed to her like some crouching, cowed little bird that had had its wings clipped. He was frightened of her.
“Castiel!” she called again, waiting for a moment but there was still no response.
Meg glanced up and down the street, making sure no one was watching her or walking by just at that moment, then reached into her pocket. She kept tools on her for just such on occasion. If Castiel was hiding in the house then he was going to be sorry. It took her only a few seconds to unlock the front door. Castiel didn’t have any bolts or second locks. He wasn’t careful the way he should have been. Meg was almost surprised that he hadn’t bothered to upgrade.
She stepped inside the house, shutting the door behind her.
“Castiel!” she said. “Come out, little bird. You can’t hide from me.”
Meg didn’t want to play hide and seek. She didn’t enjoy games unless she was the one who’d suggested them. Hunting around Castiel’s house to try and find him was not her idea of an afternoon of fun. She checked the kitchen and the living room, but he wasn’t in either of them. Upstairs in his bedroom, Meg discovered Castiel’s suitcase missing and clothes strewn over the bed.
It was obvious that Castiel had run. Meg had known they were being too considerate, giving him too much space and freedom. Castiel couldn’t be convinced. He had to be captured, had to be controlled. If she had been in charge, if she had been listened to, this would never have happened.
She sighed, digging her cell phone from her pocket. She punched in the number she wanted, hunting round the room to see if she could find a clue to where Castiel had gone.
Someone picked up at the other end of the line.
“Our little bird is gone,” Meg said. “He’s flown away. We’re going to need to check hotels and transport out of the city. We can’t let him get too far.”
She hesitated for a moment then said “And when we find him, no more chances. We bring him in.”
**
Dean collected some pens and paper together. The least he could do was get an idea of who he was up against. He knew what they’d look like transformed, but he had no idea what they looked like otherwise. He might brush up against them in the street and if they were good at hiding themselves, he’d never know that they were really Wesen.
Castiel had moved into the kitchen. Adam was cooking and he’d made coffee for everyone. It was as good a place to be as any. Castiel sat at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee and exchanging small talk about pastry with Adam. Dean found himself watching them, standing in the kitchen doorway and enjoying how normal and familiar the whole thing was. Castiel slotted in to his home easily. It was a surprise to Dean that another Wesen could seem so natural in these surroundings but maybe Castiel was like Adam and Charlie. Maybe he was special.
Dean shook his head, reminding himself that he had a job to do. Wondering about Castiel would have to wait until after Dean had made certain his life was no longer in danger.
“Hey,” he said, putting his collection of paper and pens down in front of Castiel. “Can you draw?”
Castiel looked up at him, surprised, but he put down his coffee cup and drew the paper towards him, picking up the nearest pen.
“I can,” he said.
“Good. I want you to draw these guys who are after you, what they look like when they’re not showing their Wesen forms. Think of it like a police sketch. I need a good idea of who I’m going up against,” Dean said, drawing up a chair to sit beside Castiel.
Castiel nodded. He bent his head, uncapped the pen and started to draw. Dean watched him intently, watched his fingers as they slid up and down the length of the pen and gripped it tight for the broad strokes and lightly for the subtle details. Castiel was a good artist. Once he’d finished with the preliminary sketch, he put the lid back on the pen and reached for the colored ones Dean had included. He carefully added color to his sketch, bringing to life each of the people he’d drawn, making them more than just black and white marks on the paper.
When he was finished, he carefully collected the pens together again, made sure they were all capped and then slid his sketches across to Dean.
“There,” he said. “And I’ll tell you anything I can about them.”
Dean was impressed. Castiel was both thorough and orderly.
“Okay,” he said, looking at the sketches before he pointed to one of a young, blonde woman. “She doesn’t look like much of a threat. Who’s she?”
“That’s Meg,” Castiel said. He folded his hands on the table in front of him, looking decidedly unhappy. “Don’t underestimate her. I would say that Meg was the most dangerous of the lot. She’s determined and very focused.”
Dean knew he shouldn’t be surprised by that, but he was. He mentally reminded himself not to be taken in at face value. He’d been doing this job long enough to know that a monster could hide behind any beautiful face, but it still seemed wrong that someone who looked like Meg – sweet, young – could be caught up in this sort of thing.
He moved on, pointing to a man who was imposing looking, even in Castiel’s drawing. There was less detail in that drawing than in the other’s Castiel had worked on.
“Him?” he asked.
“That’s Azazel. He’s their leader,” Castiel said, a shuddering running through him. “I’ve only met him once. He told me I should help them, that it was my job to help him. I didn’t agree with him.”
The name stirred a memory for Dean. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard it, but it certainly sounded familiar. He made a mental note to himself to check his dad’s journal once he’d finished talking to Castiel, just to see if his dad had found any information on the Geiers.
He listened to Castiel describe the others, but they appeared to be mainly grunts. Castiel had seen them once or twice, but he’d mostly dealt with Meg. Still, Dean determined to study the sketches and ensure he’d notice the men if any of them appeared skulking around the neighborhood.
“Do you know where they keep their victims?” Dean asked. If Castiel could draw him a map, Dean was certain he’d be able to track the Geiers down and preform a rescue mission.
Castiel shook his head regretfully.
“I’ve never gone with them,” he said. “I know if I went with them, I’d never come back. I’m sorry, I wish I could do more to help you. You must think I’m a coward, that I wouldn’t help those people, but I didn’t know what to do. I know I didn’t want to consign them to eternal suffering and that’s all I could do. I would heal them and then the Geiers would hurt them again.”
Dean wasn’t sure what Castiel wanted him to say, if he wanted Dean to absolve him. Dean wished that Castiel had done something before now. People were dying and he knew about it. It was hard not to find that repulsive. Maybe that was why Castiel had been at the hospital, healing the sick he saw there. Maybe that was his way of trying to repent, to wipe his slate clean.
Dean reached out, covering Castiel’s hand with his own and squeezing.
“You didn’t know what to do, I get it. I know what to do. It’s going to be okay, Castiel,” Dean promised him. He’d make sure it was okay. He’d save those people and he’d save Castiel.
That got him a little smile from Castiel. It was easy to warm to him, easy to want to help him.
Dean was glad that Charlie had forced him to get involved. He’d have to tell her she’d been right, but not just yet. He didn’t want it going to her head.
**
A few days later:
Dean was getting used to having unexpected house guests around. Castiel was quiet, hardly made a sound and if it had just been him staying, Dean was sure he would have hardly noticed him. Charlie was a different matter. Dean had ended up staying up late with her, Charlie in no mood to go to bed and Dean unable to when she was still in the living room with him. They’d debated the merits of classic Star Trek verse the reboot. They’d talked about the Hobbit films and Charlie’s love of the book. Dean had tried to get Charlie to admit that Batman was better than Superman, although she’d clung firmly to the idea that Lois Lane was better than both of them. They’d played video games. Charlie had eventually gone to bed in the early hours of the morning and Dean had spent an uncomfortable time tossing and turning on the sofa until he heard Castiel come quietly downstairs in search of breakfast.
After a couple of nights spent the same way, Dean was sleep deprived and his back was aching. He almost wanted to ask Castiel to swap with him for a night and let Dean sleep in his own bed, but he didn’t. Dean couldn’t shake the feel that that would be rude. Castiel didn’t want to stay in his house, Dean had insisted. He need to make Castiel feel as comfortable as possible while he was there.
The only way Dean was getting back into his own bed was by solving the case and sending Castiel home. He’d had Adam trying to check news reports, seeing if there was any information about bodies being found but the reports Adam could find were stark in their descriptions. People didn’t care about the murders of the homeless. It didn’t grab the headlines. The might be a paragraph here and there about a body being found, but there was too little information. Dean couldn’t be certain if it had anything to do with the Geiers he was tracking or if the death was unrelated. There wasn’t even enough information to let him guess at possible dumping grounds.
Dean needed more information and the only way he was going to get that was by visiting the police station and charming someone in to letting him see their files.
Dean had a strained relationship with the police at best. He’d been helpful to them on a few occasions, tipping them off when he needed them to finish something he’d started, but he’d also been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time once too often. He’d been warned off, told to keep himself out of trouble but it wasn’t something Dean could listen to.
He was a Grimm, he had a job to do. If he thought anyone on the police force could be trusted or that they’d understand, he would have taken them in to his confidence, but that just wasn’t the case. Dean didn’t want to reveal the existence of Wesen to just anyone. He wanted to completely trust whoever he told and Dean found it hard to trust the police.
Still, he found himself inside the station, heading up to the third floor and asking for detective Harvelle. If there was a cop Dean thought he might one day be able to trust, it was Joanna Beth Harvelle. She’d arrested Dean more times than Dean would like to remember, but she’d also had his back on numerous occasions.
Dean could see her now, sat at her desk, her blonde head bowed as she typed something up on her computer. He slipped through the office, trying to keep his head down, hoping no one would recognize him.
“Hey,” he said, tapping the desk to get Jo’s attention. “I need some help.”
Jo looked up quickly, her eyes widening.
“What have you done this time, Dean?” she asked, frowning at him.
“Nothing,” Dean assured her. “I was hoping you could help me with something I’m looking into.”
“You know if you’ve become a Private Investigator, you need a license, don’t you?” Jo said, glancing away from him, back to her computer screen.
“I’m not being paid, I’m working as a private citizen,” Dean said, looking around him. He saw a vacant chair at an unoccupied desk. He grabbed it and dragged it across to Jo, sitting down next to her.
“Dean,” she sighed, already typing away, trying to ignore him.
“I just want a little bit of information, Jo. I want to know about homeless murders. Have more people been going missing recently? Unidentified bodies turning up?” Dean asked, leaning closer and lowering his voice.
Jo turned to look at him, her expression shocked. Then her eyes narrowed.
“What do you know?” she hissed.
“Nothing,” Dean said, feeling a little thrill of triumph because obviously something was going on, something Jo knew about. “I’ve just heard things.”
“What kind of things?” Jo asked.
“How about we exchange information off the record?” Dean offered.
He couldn’t tell Jo about Castiel or about what was really going on, but he could give her a few hints and hopefully stop more homeless people ending up as unwilling organ donors.
“Right,” Jo said, pushing her chair back and standing up. She strode off and Dean hurried to catch up with her. She led him into an interview room and indicated for him to sit down. She took the seat across from him, staring at him intently. “I swear, Dean, if you know anything and you keep it back, I’ll have you in here again and it won’t be off the record.”
Dean nodded. He understood the score. Jo couldn’t protect him and she couldn’t play favorites with him. “You go first and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Jo pursed her lips. For a moment Dean thought she was going to insist he talk first and then Dean would have floundered, but instead she relaxed back into her seat.
“It’s hard to tell when people go missing off the streets. It’s not reported. People don’t notice,” Jo said with a sad shrug of her shoulders. “There have been more bodies turning up lately. People do die on the streets all the time, it’s not unusual but these people are young and the manner of their deaths is strange.”
“Missing organs?” Dean asked. “Or blood? Eyes?”
Jo looked at him piercingly and Dean knew he’d said too much.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “How do you know that? We’ve been trying to keep it out of the papers as much as possible, which hasn’t been hard considering the deaths of homeless people don’t rank highly, even ones who were murdered.”
“I’ve heard some things,” Dean said, cursing himself for letting more slip than he’d meant to. “I’ve heard there might be an issue with the illegal trade in organs.”
“Where did you hear this?” Jo asked.
“Hospital gossip,” Dean said quickly. “I visit my dad in hospital every Tuesday and I hear things.”
If Jo wanted to check up on that she’d find that Dean was being completely truthful with her about the visits. The fact that nothing else was true wasn’t important.
“It would explain why young people are targeted,” Jo said thoughtfully. “Their organs are more likely to be healthy. There are lots of runaways. Not all of them are involved in drink or drugs, and some of them have only just started so the damage isn’t very far progressed.”
“Really, that’s all I know,” Dean said. “I was curious, I wanted to see if there could be any truth to the rumors.”
He didn’t want to stay in the interrogation room with Jo for much longer. He didn’t want to involve himself with the police investigation any more than he already had. He’d given the police a false lead. He didn’t know if Jo would follow it, but he wasn’t eager to assist any longer. There was just one more piece of information that Dean wanted.
“Where are you finding the bodies? Just anywhere?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual although he doubted he did.
“Out in the woods,” Jo said distractedly. “At first, we thought the organs were missing because animals had eaten them. The state of decomposition was rather advanced. Then we started finding fresher corpses and it became obvious that someone was removing them.”
Dean could see her thinking, could see her matching up the marks on the bodies to a surgeon’s knife. Maybe Dean had given her a useful lead. He and Castiel had met at the hospital. Dean hadn’t even asked Castiel how the Geiers had become aware of him. It might have been in just the same way Dean had. Dean had been so intent on chasing a lead, trying to find something external, that he hadn’t realized the lead he needed could be right back at his house. He needed to find out where Castiel had met the Wesen perusing him. If it was the hospital, Dean had just given Jo more information than he’d intended.
“I need to go,” he said, getting to his feet. He needed to get back to see Castiel. Dean didn’t know how he could be so dense. He’d been so focused on getting Castiel to stay with him, so convinced when Castiel said he had no clues to offer, that he’d taken that answer at face value.
“Yes,” Jo said vaguely. She looked up at Dean as he passed her. “If you hear anything else, I’d like to be made aware of it.”
“Sure,” Dean said. If he needed some help, he might tip her off but he wouldn’t do it again by accident.
He let himself out of the interrogation room, leaving Jo sitting there in silence, lost in thought. Dean kept his head down, his thoughts over running and he tried to remember if the faces Castiel had sketched for him matched any of the nurses or doctors at the hospital. He thought one of them might have been an orderly. Maybe he’d seen that Meg girl before. She might be a nurse there. Or maybe Dean was just imagining it, creating a false memory in his mind.
He was so deep in thought that he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, preoccupied with the possibilities suddenly opened up to him. He walked headlong into someone coming from the other direction, another person as equally engrossed in his own thoughts as Dean was.
“Watch it!” Dean said angrily, looking up at the man.
He regretted it instantly.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, looking up at Dean from the file in his arms.
“Sam,” Dean said. He swallowed, a bubble of emotion rising in his throat and sticking there, making it impossible for him to say anything else. He hadn’t expected to see his brother in the middle of the police station. He hadn’t seen his brother in months.
“Dean,” Sam said and he seemed to be struggling just the same as Dean was.
Finally, Dean managed to find his voice.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m here visiting a client,” Sam said, holding the file close to his chest now. “What are you doing here? Did you get arrested again?”
“No,” Dean said sharply. He hated that that was where Sam’s mind jumped immediately. He knew that the last few times they’d spoken, it had been because Dean needed Sam to post bail, but that wasn’t Dean’s fault. Sam was the one who’d cut himself off. He was the one who’d said Dean could only call him in emergencies. Dean had just been respecting his boundaries.
“I’m here working on a case, actually,” he continued. It still stung that Sam and he didn’t talk, but Dean could put on a brave face and show Sam that he had moved on. It was Sam who’d made the decision to keep himself isolated.
“Is it about dad?” Sam asked, taking Dean by surprise. He looked hopeful. “Do they have any leads? Do they know who attacked him?”
“No, they don’t. It’s not related,” Dean said, shaking his head. He wished he had some news for Sam on that front.
“Oh,” Sam said.
Dean swallowed. He hadn’t given up searching for whatever or whoever had attacked their father. It was always there, always the case he was working on but there were other things he had to do. Dean couldn’t devote all his time to it. He wondered if Sam ever looked into the case.
“I saw you’ve been visiting,” he said quietly. “I saw the flowers you brought.”
“Yes, I go on Mondays,” Sam said, nodding slowly.
“Getting all the nasty chores out of the way early in the week?” Dean asked and he knew he sounded cruel but he couldn’t help it. It hurt that Sam would visit their father, the person he really had a problem with, but ignored Dean. It was easier to talk to John Winchester when he couldn’t talk back, Dean got that, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less.
Sam stiffened.
“It’s been good to see you, Dean, but I really need to get on,” he said abruptly.
“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, stepping out of Sam’s way to give him a clear path. “Run off, you’re good at that.”
Sam glared at him then stalked off down the hall. Dean stared after him, regretting what he’d said immediately. He almost called out to Sam, almost ran after him but he couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t move his feet. He was rooted to the spot by his pride. He watched his brother disappear down the hall and through another door, not sure when he’d see him again. Dean knew that was his own fault. Sam might have started the separation but Dean was just as guilty of keeping it going.
**
Castiel knew he was a wanted man and he knew that he was in hiding, but staying inside the house of a Grimm made him twitchy. He didn’t know how Adam could stand being cooped up inside all day. Castiel needed to be out in the sunshine. He’d tried his best, sitting outside in the back garden but it was the most sparse and uncultivated bit of land Castiel had seen in a long time. There was grass, but it was turning brown. The flowers that were there were weeds. There were dandelions and other weeds that had been blown there by the wind. It was a sad, unloved place and Castiel felt almost as bad walking around it as he did holed up in the house.
Eventually, he just couldn’t stand the lack of color and life. Dean was out. He’d gone after breakfast, muttering something about looking for leads. Castiel had helped Adam wash and dry the plates. He still felt an impulsive dislike of the boy, even though he’d done nothing to prompt it. Adam was nice, friendly in a brisk manner, but Castiel knew what he was under his skin and it made it hard to relax around him.
He had licked his lips, hummed under his breath, and finally voiced the suggestion that he’d been playing with.
“I’d like to buy some plants and work on the garden a bit,” he’d said.
“Cool,” Adam had said, nodding.
That had been that.
Charlie had been more than happy to drive him to a gardening store he knew. Castiel wander up and down the rows of flowers, looking for just the right ones to plant out back. He’d also find something to help with the lawn. Watering and something to feed it with, give it the nutrients it was obviously lacking, and Castiel was sure he could soon have the lawn looking lush and ready for mowing.
Castiel walked along the rows, bending occasionally to inspect a plant that caught his eye. He tried to imagine what Dean would like best. Castiel instinctively favored blues, lilacs and whites. They were soft colors, soothing. Somehow, Castiel didn’t think that would be something that would appeal to Dean. When Dean looked out the window in the morning, he’d want to see something stirring. Castiel thought he’d look for reds and oranges, maybe some beautiful bright yellows.
Charlie loitered near the front of the store. Castiel caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye as he wandered along. She wasn’t interested in flowers. Castiel reminded himself that he shouldn’t spend too long looking. Charlie was being very kind, driving him about and waiting for him. He shouldn’t try her patience.
Castiel picked out a few packets of seeds – bright, beautiful, easy to grow seeds that he could show Adam how to tend. All they’d need would be a watering every now and then. He grabbed a bottle of plant grow and headed to the till. Castiel knew he’d have to get a trowel and a spade too. He didn’t think Dean had those around, although he seemed to have a lot of other tools. Castiel wanted to weed the garden and dig out the beds by hand. He always thought the personal touch made things look better.
He carried his purchases up to the cashier and laid them down on the counter.
“I’d like these please,” he said. “And I need to grab something. Can you keep these for me?”
“Sure,” the cashier said, not sounding terribly interested. Castiel nodded, not certain the things he’d picked would still be there when he got back, and went to find the hardware section.
He’d been browsing for a few minutes, picking up little shovels, testing their weight and grip, when he felt the weight of someone’s gaze upon him. Castiel turned slowly, hoping it would just be Charlie, but the bald man watching him wasn’t anyone Castiel recognized. Castiel didn’t find the idea of strangers watching him comforting. Castiel wasn’t the most observant person in the world. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been in the presence of a Grimm until it was too late. The man must have been staring hard at him for Castiel to notice.
Castiel turned away from the man, walking slowly and purposefully towards the other end of the store. He heard footsteps behind him and he walked faster. He didn’t dare look back over his shoulder, but he was convinced now that the man was following him.
Charlie was still waiting at the front of the store, scrolling through her phone with a bored expression on her face. Castiel grabbed her arm, startling her and tugged her towards the doors.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Charlie asked, confused.
“We need to leave now,” Castiel said. “I think we’re being watched and I think we’re being followed.”
Charlie looked back hurriedly over her shoulder.
“I think you’re right,” she said, digging in her pocket for her keys.
They walked quickly across the parking lot to Charlie’s car. Castiel’s mind was racing. He still hadn’t looked back and even though Charlie had told him she thought his suspicions were correct, Castiel still thought he might be overreacting. It seemed too fantastic that someone could have found him here. How had they known where Castiel was going to be? Was it a coincidence or was something else at work?
Charlie reached the car, unlocking it with fumbling fingers. Castiel ran round the car to the passenger side door and over the top of the car, he saw the man advancing towards them. Charlie got her door open and jumped in the car. She slammed her door shut and turned the keys in the ignition. Castiel slid into the passenger seat, locking his door. The man was still heading towards them. Charlie put her foot down and the car burst into life, speeding past the man and out into the street, right into traffic. The narrowly missed causing an accident. Horns beeped, people swore but Charlie didn’t seem to hear them.
Castiel clutched at his seat belt and clung on for dear life as they rounded a corner, going faster than he thought they needed. He wondered if Charlie knew better and this was some sort of defensive driving she was practicing.
“Did you recognize that guy?” Charlie asked as she turned down a small side street, cutting across town.
Castiel shook his head.
“No,” he said.
Charlie made an unhappy noise. They took another shortcut and arrived in front of Dean’s house in less than thirty minutes. Dean’s car was already in the drive. Castiel took a shuddering breath. There was no way of keeping this from Dean. He’d known on an intellectual level that he had to tell Dean, but he also knew that Dean was going to be angry. Castiel didn’t want the Grimm to be angry with him.
He got out of the car slowly, shutting the door as quietly as he could. There was a banging noise though and Castiel looked up sharply. It was Dean, coming through the front door, banging it shut behind him.
“Where have you been?” he hissed as he reached them.
“I took Castiel out for a bit,” Charlie said. “He couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house. Dean, it’s not a big thing.”
“Of course it is,” Dean said angrily. “I didn’t know where you were. I’m supposed to be protecting him. How can I do that if you’re driving around the city? You could have been anywhere.”
“We weren’t,” Castiel protested weakly. “We just went to buy some plants. I thought the backyard needed cheering up.”
“It’s my house,” Dean said, staring at Castiel as if he’d gone mad. “I’ll decide if it needs cheering up!”
“Adam said I could,” Castiel said, knowing that he was already on shaky ground.
He and Charlie shouldn’t have gone out. Dean was right, he was supposed to be protecting Castiel and he couldn’t do that if Castiel disappeared. He clenched his hand, digging his nails into his palm. If Dean was angry already, he was going to be furious when he discovered that they’d been followed.
“Adam doesn’t make the rules here, I do!” Dean said.
Castiel nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. He licked his lips a few times, trying to get some moisture back.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It was my fault, please don’t blame Charlie.”
“Blame her for what? Being sneaky and underhanded? I didn’t expect anything less from a Fuchsbau,” Dean said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Charlie stiffen. Her face changed rapidly, her human continence fading away to show the fox underneath. Her ears were pricked up, her eyes were wet but then she was normal again, her form shielded. What Dean had said had still hurt her, Castiel knew that.
“We made a mistake and it was my fault. Don’t be angry at Charlie, she didn’t do anything wrong,” Castiel said. He didn’t want Dean and Charlie to fight because of him. He didn’t want Charlie to leave. He couldn’t stand being in Dean’s house on his own, not with Dean so angry at him. Castiel knew that was selfish but he was scared and he didn’t want to be alone.
“Dean,” Charlie said with a heavy sigh. “There’s something else.”
Castiel shook his head desperately. He knew he shouldn’t try to keep it a secret. He knew that Dean had to know what had happened, but he didn’t want to tell him, not after how Dean had reacted. He didn’t want Charlie in any more trouble. He couldn’t understand how she could be so collected.
“What?” Dean snapped, taking his eyes off Castiel for a moment to look at Charlie.
“When we were at the garden center, we were followed,” Charlie said slowly. “It wasn’t someone Castiel recognized. He followed us right out to the car.”
“Did he follow you home?” Dean asked sharply.
“No, we lost him,” Charlie said.
“Get inside, both of you,” Dean said, his voice low.
It made Castiel uncomfortable. It sparked something in him, something primitive that told him to run away. Dean was dangerous, he was a Grimm and Castiel would only be safe if he took flight. He managed to control himself and headed into the house, walking past Dean with his head bowed, unable to look the man in the face.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered to Charlie as they brushed against each other in the doorway.
“It’s okay,” Charlie said, but Castiel could tell that it wasn’t.
**
Castiel couldn’t sleep. He wanted to, but he wasn’t able to, not with the atmosphere in the house. He lay in Dean’s bed, in the grooves he’d left behind on the memory foam mattress and wished he could turn back time and make a different decision.
Dean had been cold and brisk all evening. He’d made Castiel draw a sketch of the man who’d followed them but that was as much as he’d spoken to Castiel all evening. He’d berated Adam for agreeing to Castiel’s plan, starting another fight and causing Adam to run upstairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Charlie had retired to bed early, continuing the icy coldness that had settled over the whole household. It was so different to just the night before when Charlie and Dean had stayed up together, talking into the small hours and keeping Castiel awake with their laughter. There was no laughter now.
Castiel screwed his eyes up tightly, trying to force himself to go to sleep but he couldn’t. Everything felt wrong and Castiel knew it was his fault. He couldn’t sleep with that weighing over him. He pushed back the covers and crawled out of bed. It felt wrong to be wandering around a house that wasn’t his own but Castiel couldn’t just sit in bed, doing nothing but worrying.
He headed quietly downstairs, hoping that he wouldn’t wake Dean up. He didn’t want to disturb Dean, especially when Dean was already in such a bad mood. Castiel cringed as one of the floorboards squeaked under foot. He stood still, waiting for Dean to descend on him, but nothing happened.
Castiel padded softly down the hallway, heading for the kitchen and the backdoor. He knew it was the middle of the night, but Castiel felt at home outside. The dark didn’t frighten him. The feeling of being trapped frightened him. Castiel belonged in the outside.
He found the kitchen door already open and peered out. Dean was standing in the back garden, in the middle of the battered yard, gazing up at the stars. Castiel bit his lip. He could turn around and go back upstairs. He could pretend that he had never come downstairs at all. He could avoid the conflict that was sure to start when he made his presence known.
He didn’t though.
Castiel stepped out on to the dry grass, feeling it crunch under his feet.
Dean turned quickly.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said.
“Yes, it’s me,” Castiel agreed. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah, me neither. I thought coming out here might help, but it didn’t,” Dean said quietly. He glanced around the yard and sighed. “It’s a mess.”
“I just wanted to make it better,” Castiel said, licking his lips. “I wanted you to have something nice to look at, somewhere to relax.”
Dean chuckled softly as if Castiel had said something funny. Castiel screwed his face up, wondering if Dean was laughing at him. He wondered if Dean thought he was stupid or foolish for caring. Dean noticed his expression because he stopped laughing and smiled softly at him instead.
“I just have a hard time believing you’re real sometimes,” he said. “I don’t know anyone else who’d want to do something like that for me.”
“You’re helping me, it would be the least I could do,” Castiel said.
Dean stared at him. He looked uneasy, shifting from foot to foot.
“I was kind of a jerk before to you and Charlie,” he said. “It’s just it’s my job to look after you. I’m supposed to know where you are. If something had happened today, I would have had no idea.”
“Is this an apology?” Castiel asked.
“Yeah, I’m not used to apologizing. How am I doing?”
Castiel couldn’t help but smile. There was something disarmingly charming about Dean, especially when he let his guard down and talked to Castiel as if Castiel was just another person, not some strange creature he didn’t know if he could trust.
“Pretty good,” he said, smiling back at Dean. “But it’s really Charlie you should be apologizing to. It wasn’t right what you said to her, Dean.”
Dean nodded, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, I know. When I get angry I just say whatever comes into my head. My dad was the same. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. I said I’d never do it and look at me now, pissing off everybody.”
Castiel waited quietly. He had the feeling that Dean wasn’t quite done, that there was something else weighing on his mind, something else he wanted to say.
“I saw my brother today,” Dean continued, sighing. “I’ve got another brother. His name’s Sam, he doesn’t want anything to do with us. He hated our dad, hated the way he brought us up and Sam turned his back on all of us when he was old enough. I should be better with him, I should tell him he can always come home, but whenever I see him I’m just so angry that he walked away. I fight with him and that isn’t what I want to do.”
“I’m sure he knows that it’s difficult for you, Dean,” Castiel said softly.
“Yeah? Because I just think I’m burning my bridges,” Dean said, shaking his head sadly. “I keep pushing everyone away. I pushed Sam away, now I’m pushing Charlie and Adam. You don’t even like me, you’re just here because you have to be.”
“That’s not true about me not liking you,” Castiel said, taking a step towards Dean. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I’ve come to respect you, Dean. When you’re not yelling at me and ordering me around, I like you a lot.”
Dean smiled.
“Really? Because when you’re not completely disobeying my orders and smart-mouthing me, I like you too.”
“I don’t smart-mouth you!” Castiel said.
“You’ve been arguing with me since the first time I met you!”
“You dragged me around a hospital. What was I supposed to do?” Castiel asked, feeling a strange thrill run through him as Dean stepped closer. “Was I supposed to let you man-handle me?”
“Yes,” Dean murmured, his eyes flickering over Castiel’s face and down to his lips. “You’re supposed to let me man-handle you.”
Castiel licked his lips, his breathing suddenly heavy. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, closing the gap between them.
He grabbed hold of Castiel, pulling the Wesen tight against him. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other. Castiel could see the question in Dean’s eyes. He knew this wasn’t what he’d expected when he came downstairs, but it was what he wanted know. He found Dean impossible, maddening, but he wanted him. Castiel knew they shouldn’t. Dean was a Grimm, Castiel was a Wesen. It was completely against their natures, but he didn’t want to stop.
He tipped his head up and pressed his lips to Dean, claiming the other man’s mouth with his own. Dean stiffened for a moment, his grip on Castiel harsh, but then he relaxed, holding Castiel in a loose embrace as he kissed him.
After a moment, Dean pulled away. He looked at Castiel with a guilty smile.
“I guess I shouldn’t really have done that,” he said, raising his fingers to brush over Castiel’s lips.
Castiel drew in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation. He whimpered as Dean pulled away.
“No, you should have done it,” he said, his voice low. “You should do more. I want you to.”
He opened his eyes and found Dean staring at him again. Dean swallowed, nodding his head.
“Okay,” he said, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”
He guided Castiel back into the house, closing the kitchen door behind them. Castiel felt as if his stomach was filled with butterflies.
Dean paused for a moment as they passed the living room.
“One moment,” he said, slipping inside. He came back out, holding a photo frame in his hands. Castiel recognized it as the same frame he’d taken from his bedroom on the day he first arrived.
Dean looked sheepishly at him. “I can’t sleep without this.”
“What is it?” Castiel asked him.
Dean looked at him for a second, weighing things up in his mind. Then he held the picture frame out to Castiel. Castiel took it carefully, looking down at it. The framed photo was of a younger John Winchester, surrounded by three little boys. Castiel recognized Dean, who must have been about thirteen, and a small, tubby little Adam. The boy he didn’t recognize must have been Sam, Dean’s other brother. He was a serious looking youth.
There was another photo tucked into the corner of the frame. It was smaller, the sort of photo that might be taken for a passport. It was of a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and a serene smile. Castiel glanced up at Dean questioningly, wondering who she was.
“That’s my mum,” Dean said, taking the picture back from Castiel. “She died when Sam and I were young. I just wanted a picture with my whole family together.”
Castiel smiled fondly at Dean. He’d known that whatever was in the picture frame would make Dean seem more human, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how much it touched his heart. Dean adored his family. He loved them all – dead or missing – and he couldn’t sleep without a reminder of them close to him.
He wasn’t as cold or gruff as Castiel had thought when he’d first met him. Once Castiel had scratched the surface, he’d found Dean Winchester was a thoughtful, determined man and Castiel wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know everything about him. Instinctively, he leaned in and kissed Dean on the cheek. Dean made a soft, pleased noise and then pushed him away.
“Come on,” Dean said, looking embarrassed, his cheeks slightly red. He wrapped an arm around Castiel, leading him up the stairs.
Their footsteps were quiet, both of them aware that they weren’t alone in the house. Castiel had no desire to explain what they were doing to either Charlie or Adam. He doubted Dean was too eager either. Castiel didn’t really have words for what was happening between the two of them. He wanted whatever was going to happen to happen. He could work out a name for it afterwards.
Dean eased open the door to his room, pushing Castiel on ahead of him. He stepped in behind him and closed the door slowly. Once it was shut, he crossed quickly to the nightstand and put down the picture, turning it so it was facing away from them. Castiel understood that. He understood Dean’s need to have the picture near them, but he didn’t want those faces looking at them either.
Dean sat down on the bed, grinning.
“I missed this bed so much,” he said with feeling.
Castiel laughed softly.
Dean held out his hand for him and Castiel took it. Dean tugged him into his lap and kissed him again.
“You mind sharing with me?” Castiel asked between kisses.
“That just makes it better,” Dean said, flopping backwards, pulling Castiel with him till the other man was sprawled over him.
They kept kissing, moving against each other, hands tugging at clothes. It was dark in the room but they didn’t need the light. They had fingers, mouths, and tongues with which to explore each other. They didn’t need the light to guide them.
**
Sam wanted to focus. He kept trying to focus. He looked at his computer screen, stared at it but the words just blurred on the screen. Whenever he looked up, his eyes went straight to the glass windows of Gabriel’s office. Gabriel didn’t have the blinds down, he didn’t seem to be aware that Sam was watching him.
He was eating worms again. Sam could see them wriggling as Gabriel held them up, inspecting them before swallowing. Sam had watched him eat about three, his stomach rolling.
Sam couldn’t deny what he was seeing. He thought about calling his doctor or his psychiatrist, telling them that he was having a break from reality but the problem was, Sam was sure he was. In fact, he was almost certain that what he was seeing was actually happening.
Sam glanced up again. Gabriel’s face was looking distinctly bird-like.
Sam reached out, fumbling for his office phone and he pressed the extension for an external number. There was only one person Sam could call. He didn’t want to call him, but Sam needed reassurance and he was certain this was the only way he was going to get it.
He needed to call Dean.
**
Dean’s cell phone rang, lighting up and wiggling as it vibrated on the bedside table.
Dean groaned and rolled on to his side, reaching out to grab it. He didn’t want to get up and he certainly didn’t want to leave the warm bed or Castiel who was already reaching out for him, trying to pull him back. He glanced at the screen and blinked, convinced he couldn’t be seeing the number right.
Dean knew the number. He knew it was the extension to Sam’s office. He’d snooped in Adam’s phone when Adam had left it unattended, recording the number to memory.
“It’s my brother,” he said, glancing quickly at Castiel.
Castiel understood immediately, letting go of Dean and sitting up a little, looking concerned.
Dean pressed accept and held the phone up to his ear.
“Sam?” he asked, worried.
“Dean? I need to see you,” Sam’s voice came from the other end of the line, sounding breathless.
“Is everything okay?” Dean knew his voice was tight with fear, but apart from their surprise meeting at the police station the day before, he hadn’t spoken to Sam for in the last month. Sam never called to speak to him. Dean could only think something awful ad happened.
“I just need to see you,” Sam said. “I think…I need to talk to you. Can you come to my office?”
“Sure, I’ll be there in half-an-hour,” Dean said, struggling out of bed, hunting around the room for his boxers and pants. Castiel slipped out of the bed, pulling the sheet with him, wrapped around his body, helping Dean to find his clothes.
“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said, sounding relieved. He hung up and Dean dropped his phone on the bed, pulling on his clothes.
“I’ve got to go out,” he said, turning to face Castiel. Castiel nodded, handing him his shirt. Dean tugged it on, over his head then reached for Castiel, pulling him close and kissing him soundly. “I’m going to help my brother but when I get back, we’re going to talk, okay? Don’t disappear.”
“I won’t go anywhere,” Castiel promised, his cheeks glowing, a smile stretching over his face.
Dean kissed him again before pulling away, heading towards the door. He paused just as he reached it, turning to look at Castiel.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you something? I forget after everything that happened yesterday. How did you meet the Geiers? How did they learn about you?”
“Oh,” Castiel looked surprised. “I thought you knew – one of them is a doctor. He saw me there, like you did.”
Dean banged the door frame in triumph. “I knew it! Thanks, Cas.”
He turned and ran down the stairs, his shoes next to the front door where he’d left them. Dean slipped them on and grabbed his car keys and jacket. He didn’t notice the strange car parked further down the road as he ran to the Impala. He was too focused on getting to Sam, on finding out what his brother needed from him. When he thought about anything else, it was about getting home to Castiel and back into bed with him.
Dean drove off, turning his music up loud, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Sam wanted to see him, Sam watched his help. Dean hoped this was a good sign, a sign that his relationship with his brother was on the road to recovery.
**
Castiel went back to bed when he heard the door slam down below. He curled up tight, wiggling into a warm little ball wrapped in blankets and smiled to himself. He still didn’t have words to describe what had happened between him and Dean the night before, but he hoped they could repeat it when Dean retuned. Castiel felt sore and sated, happier than he’d felt in a long time.
He dozed for a little while, unwilling to get up. He was conscious of noises, of the other people in the house getting up and out of bed, but Castiel was too contented to get up just yet. He also fancied that he and Dean had been louder than they’d intended the night before and he didn’t want to face any knowing looks from either Charlie or Adam.
Eventually the sunshine crept in to the room, sneaking under the curtains and Castiel found it impossible to sleep, even lightly. He got up, still smiling to himself and pulled on some clothes. He’d have a wash later but now he wanted a cup of coffee. Besides, Castiel like smelling like Dean. It was a Wesen thing. Castiel felt as if he’d been marked and mated. As embarrassing as it might be for everyone to know they’d had sex, Castiel wasn’t ready to wash away the proof just yet.
Castiel headed downstairs, surprised it as so quiet. He expected some noise, even if it was just the clatter of plates but there wasn’t anything. He stepped into the kitchen and found himself alone. Castiel thought the others would be eating breakfast but he shrugged and headed to the kettle, ready to boil some water.
As he rounded the kitchen table, heading for the sink, Castiel caught sight of the prone form on the floor. It was Charlie, her red hair matted with blood. Castiel dropped the kettle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He rushed to Charlie’s side and knelt down next to her, feeling for a pulse and finding one.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, ready to heal her, when a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Get up,” Meg said.
Castiel would know her voice anywhere. He shook his head quickly, not will to leave Charlie.
“Just let me stop the bleeding,” he begged.
“Get up or I’ll kill her,” Meg said. Castiel didn’t doubt that she meant it. He didn’t think Meg would be at all squeamish about killing an innocent woman in cold blood.
Castiel climbed slowly to his feet.
“I don’t know if you realize but this is the house of a Grimm,” he said quietly.
“One who’s not here right now,” Meg agreed, her voice childishly sing-song.
Castiel desperately wished she’d let him heal Charlie or at least call for help for her. He could only hope that Adam was still safe, that he was hiding somewhere and not wounded or worse. Charlie needed a doctor’s attention.
“When he comes back, when he sees what you’ve done, he’ll kill you,” Castiel said, completely confident of that fact.
When Dean found that the Geiers had been in his house, that they’d attacked his friends, Castiel knew he’d hunt them down. He found himself oddly calm as he talked to Meg. He was frightened for Charlie but not for himself. He knew Dean would come for him, that he would never stop.
“Come on, little bird,” Meg said, twisting Castiel’s arm behind his back in one quick, violent movement. “I know you can heal this wing if I break it, so I’m not worried about being gentle with you.”
Castiel licked his lips. He could heal himself, Meg was right, but it was something that would leave him feeling drained. He always felt drained once he healed someone. Staying safe and staying alert meant he had more chance of escape. He didn’t resist as she pushed him towards the front door and the car park outside in the street.
“Get in,” Meg ordered.
Castiel looked up and down the road, wondering if he should try to make a run for it, hoping that someone would notice something was wrong. He wanted someone to walk by, he wanted to shout out to them, but the street was empty. He bowed his head and got into the car as Meg instructed.
Castiel hoped Dean had some idea of where the Geiers lair was because Castiel couldn’t leave him a trail of breadcrumbs to follow, as much as he’d like to.
**
“So, what do you think?” Sam asked.
Dean wasn’t used to having someone hover over his shoulder who was actually taller than him. Sam sounded so nervous, so uncertain. Dean wondered if he’d forgotten everything their father had taught them or if he’d just spent so much time pretending Wesen didn’t exist that he found it impossible to accept it when confronted with one.
“Oh yeah,” he said, pushing Sam away, not too keen to have his brother perch on his shoulder. “Your boss is eating worms. I’d say he’s a Wesen. Do you want me to cut off his head?”
“Dean!” Sam yelped, horrified.
Dean shook his head, laughing.
“I’m kidding, Sam. I’m sure he’s not dangerous.”
Sam nodded, looking a little calmer. He stepped away from Dean, going back to his desk, shuffling the files he’d laid out. Dean turned to watch him. He didn’t think Sam was finished yet. He was certain that there’d be more questions. Sam had walked away from their life, he’d tried his hardest to forget it or force himself to believe it was made up. Dean knew the tricks people’s minds played on them, especially when they didn’t want to remember. Sam might have to relearn everything.
He didn’t know what he’d expected when his brother called him, but it had never been in his mind that Sam might be seeing Wesen. He thought he might have some lead on their dad’s case or he might have heard something from the hospital. The fact that Sam couldn’t ignore the truth any longer came as a relief to Dean. It felt like a barrier had been broken down between them.
Sam looked up at him, his face drawn. He dropped the file he’d been holding.
“Dean,” he said slowly. “I shouldn’t be seeing them, should I?”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked. “You’re a Grimm, it’s in your blood. Of course you should be able to see them.”
“But you’re still alive,” Sam said bluntly.
Dean felt as if he’d suddenly been struck by an icy chill. He knew what Sam was referring to. Supposedly, a new Grimm couldn’t be called until the old one died or was near death. It was true that Dean’s senses had heightened after their dad was put in a coma but he’d seen the Wesen before that. He’d been hunting with his dad before that.
“Sam, I’m fine,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll book in for a full check-up at the hospital but I think that’s just a superstition.”
“Okay,” Sam said, although he didn’t sound convinced.
“Look, do you want to come home with me? Talk about this?” Dean asked. “I’ve still got your room just the way you left it.”
“Dean, I was a teenager when I left. I’ve outgrown almost everything you could have in there,” Sam said, smiling fondly at his brother.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know when you were going to come back, did I? I didn’t realize it would take so long,” Dean said, his cheeks flushing red. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, why don’t you take a half-day?”
Sam shook his head.
“No, I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got mountains of paperwork. Could I come over tonight?”
“Sure, I’ll get Adam to make something nice and you can meet Cas and Charlie.”
“Cas and Charlie?” Sam questioned. “Let me walk you out to your car.”
“Yeah, Charlie’s cool. You’ll like her, she’s got a library bigger than yours and Cas is…I’m helping him,” Dean said, a wide grin stretching across his face.
“Uh huh,” Sam murmured.
He showed Dean out of his office and they walked to the elevator together. Dean reached up, scratching behind his ear, his cheeks pink.
“It’s early days, okay,” he said. “But Cas is nice. I think you’ll like him a lot.”
“Is he a Wesen?” Sam asked, lowering his voice. He pressed the call button.
“Yeah, but he’s one of the good guys,” Dean said.
The doors opened smoothly. There were other people in the elevator, it was almost full. Sam and Dean squeezed in and paused their conversation. It took a few minutes to get to the garage where Dean had parked.
“So, I’ll see you later,” Sam said. “I might not be able to get to yours till late. That’s not a problem, is it?”
“No, it’s fine,” Dean said. “I’m generally up. You might need to knock a little louder, I moved back into my own bed last night.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Sam shoved him in the ribs.
“Gross, Dean! I don’t want to know!”
Dean’s grin widened. It faded slightly as his phone began beeping in his pocket. He fished it out and frowned.
“Adam’s been calling,” he muttered. “Do you not get reception in your building?”
“It’s a bad area, that’s why most of us have office extensions,” Sam said. “Is Adam alright?”
Dean held up one finger, silencing Sam as he pressed the button to listen to his messages. His face fell further as he listened. Dean snapped his phone shut, shoving it in to his pocket.
“We need to go now, Sam. I’ll explain on the way, just get in the car,” he said, grabbing his car keys from his pocket and unlocking the Impala.
Sam didn’t question, didn’t protest. He jumped into the passenger seat. Dean had always hoped that one day he’d hunt with his brother at his side, but he hadn’t wanted it to be like this.
He hadn’t wanted people he cared about to be in danger when he did.
**
Dean raced across town, not caring if he attracted attention of not. He needed to get home as soon as he could. He filled Sam in on the details of the case as he drove. Sam nodded and made the odd noise, but he didn’t ask any questions which made Dean feel better. Sam was going to let him take the lead in this, he wasn’t going to slow him down.
They reached the house and Dean screeched to a stop outside it. He jumped out and ran inside, his heart skipping a beat as the front door opened with just one push. It wasn’t locked. Dean had always insisted it was locked, just like his dad had before him.
“Adam? Charlie?” he shouted.
“In here!” Adam called from the living room.
Dean didn’t know what to expected to be in the living room, but he was glad to see that both Charlie and Adam where there, sitting on the sofa. Charlie had a nasty cut on her head that Adam was tending to. Dean could see dried blood. He’d feared so much worse.
“Charlie,” he gasped, getting to her side and dropping to his knees, reaching out for her hand.
“I’m still mad at you, Winchester,” she muttered.
“I’m an asshole,” Dean agreed happily. “You can hate me later. I think we need to get you to hospital, get you checked over.”
“What happened?” Sam asked. Dean glanced over his shoulder at him. He’d almost forgotten about Sam in his rush to check on Charlie and Adam. Sam was standing in the doorway, his face pale. Dean remembered that Sam didn’t see a lot of blood close up. He saw crime scene photos and some of those were gruesome but it wasn’t always the same as seeing it close up.
“Sam?” Adam looked confused, as if he couldn’t believe his brother was really there. He shook his head quickly, getting over his confusion and back to what was important. “Someone broke in, a woman. She knocked Charlie out. I hid like dad said to and I called Dean but I couldn’t get through. Then I heard voices and she was talking to Castiel and she took him.”
“Did you see the woman? Can you describe her?” Dean asked sharply.
“I can,” Charlie said, closing her eyes and frowning. “Blonde, pixie cut, petite, nasty smile.”
“I think I know her,” Dean said grimly. “That sounds like Meg. Castiel said he was afraid of her, said she was dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Charlie groaned. “I’d say she was.”
“Come on,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around her and helping to ease her off the couch. “We’re going to get you looked over.”
“What about Castiel?” Adam asked breathlessly.
“He said one of the Geiers worked at the hospital,” Dean said. “We’ll kill two birds with one stone when we get there.”
**
For the moment the hospital was the safest place for both Charlie and Adam to be. Dean had left them with a competent looking nurse. Charlie was being kept in for observation and Adam was staying with her for as long as they allowed visitors. Once Dean was certain Charlie wasn’t going straight into emergency surgery or anything like that, he’d taken Sam to one side and explained just what they were looking for.
Dean headed straight for the floor he’d first met Castiel on. Now that he knew Charlie wasn’t in any danger, he was running on pure anger. Someone had been in his house, they had threatened his family and they had taken Castiel. Dean wasn’t going to play by the rules now. He didn’t care what he had to do, he was going to get Castiel back alive and in one piece and he was going to destroy the Geiers organ ring once and for all.
Sam followed him cautiously.
“This is the ward dad’s on,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, I met Castiel here,” Dean said, glancing up and down the hallway.
Sam’s face lit up for a second.
“Could he heal dad?” he asked.
Dean looked at him and slowly shook his head.
“Sam,” he started, not sure how to tell Sam that their father wasn’t coming back. Dean hadn’t taken the news so well. He’d put off telling Adam and he’d hoped that Sam would just somehow know. Sam talked to the doctors too, he probably listened to them which was more than Dean did most of the time.
Sam nodded, his eyes growing wet. He didn’t need Dean to say anything more.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I asked him, I begged him, but he couldn’t do anything,” Dean said, his voice strangled as he forced the words out.
“It was a long shot,” Sam said. “I just hoped…”
“I haven’t told Adam yet, I don’t know how he’ll take it,” Dean said. He shook his head, wishing he wasn’t having this conversation. He had a job to do. He needed to focus on that. “I’m sorry, Sam. I should have called you or said something before.”
“I didn’t make it easy for you to call,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed softly. “I still should have tried.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Dean couldn’t look at Sam and Sam was focused on a spot over Dean’s shoulder, staring into one of the rooms.
“Dean,” he said, lowering his voice. “There’s a doctor in the room behind you. I think he might be one of the things we’re looking for.”
Dean turned quickly. He saw the man watching them, saw his face flicker and change for a second and that was enough for Dean. He pushed open the door and threw himself at the man, pinning him to the wall.
“Sam, lock the door and pull down the blinds,” he growled.
“You can’t do anything to me,” the man squeaked angrily.
“I’m a Grimm,” Dean said angrily. “If you want to keep your head, you’ll tell me where you’ve taken the Angel.”
“You can’t do anything!” the man said again, although he didn’t sound so convinced this time. Dean heard the click of the lock behind him and then the soft noise of the blinds coming down.
“I think I’ll start by breaking your fingers,” he said.
**
Dean didn’t have to break more than two of the guy’s fingers to get him to talk. It wasn’t something Dean was proud of, and he’d seen the looks Sam had given him afterwards, but Castiel was in danger and Dean knew that sometimes going direct was the best way to get results.
As soon as he’d got the location out of the man, he’d knocked him out and left him locked in the room. The one good thing about being on the coma ward was the patients didn’t suddenly wake up when there were loud noises, not even when there was a fight taking place right next to their bedside.
Dean knew where he was headed down, a remote little spot in the woods, and he also knew that Sam couldn’t stay with him. The fight Dean was headed into was dangerous. Sam was out of the game, had been for years. He also had a nice, normal life that didn’t deserve to get screwed up. If Sam was caught at a crime scene, his whole career would be gone.
“Look,” Dean said, “You need to call Detective Jo Harvelle and tip her off about where I’m going. Don’t give your name, don’t tell her about me. If I need back up, then Jo’s the best person I know.”
“What about me?” Sam asked.
“Sam, you can’t,” Dean shook his head. “It’s too dangerous and you know it. Stay in the hospital with Adam and Charlie.”
“But what if you get hurt?”
“Hey,” Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “If I’m watching out for you, I’m much more likely to get hurt. I need to be on my guard and I can do that if I know you’re here and safe.”
Sam sighed but he nodded.
“Okay, I get it,” he said, although he didn’t look happy about it. He frowned. “Just be careful, Dean. I really don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine, Sammy,” Dean said, the old nickname rolling easily off his tongue. He saw Sam wrinkle his nose.
“It’s Sam,” he said, shaking his head.
Dean smiled. Some things never changed. He pulled Sam into a quick, tight hug then pulled back.
“Remember what I told you, call Detective Harvelle!” he said, turning away from Sam and sprinting towards the Impala.
Dean was glad Sam was listening to him, that he hadn’t insisted on being involved. Dean wanted Sam to be a part of his life, he wanted to hunt with him but Dean knew Sam didn’t know what he was doing. Dean had an idea of what he was heading towards, enough to know that he might not be able to protect Sam once he was there. He couldn’t watch Sam’s back. Dean needed as few distractions as possible.
He had Castiel to worry about. There might be other people there, the unwilling organ donors, and Dean need to get as many of them as possible out alive. He couldn’t lose someone because he was focused on his brother.
It was a hard choice to make, to head into the fight without back-up, but it was the choice Dean had to make.
He hoped Sam would listen to him and call Jo. He was counting on her to be the cavalry.
**
Castiel shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see the body in front of him. There was an IV attached to the boy’s arm and the blood was slowly being drained from his body. Standing so close to him, Castiel could tell he was hovering between life and death. If he lost just a little more, then he’d be gone.
“Aren’t you going to help?” Meg asked. She was standing beside Castiel, watching him.
It was hard to resist the urge to help. Castiel wanted to reach out, he watched to touch the boy and help him but he didn’t think he could. If he helped now, he’d help the next time and the time after that. He had to stand strong, even if it meant the boy died. He couldn’t be a part of this. He had to resist.
The boy took a struggling breath and Castiel squeezed his eyes tight shut, shaking his head, desperately trying to ignore the noise.
“If he dies, it’s your fault,” Meg said airily. “I won’t care. We’ll just get another and when he dies, that will be your fault too.”
Castiel felt sick. He knew that was the truth. Whatever Castiel did, someone suffered. If he helped the boy on the operating table in front of him, then the boy would live but he’d live a half-life, constantly depleted to provide a fresh supply of organs. If Castiel didn’t save him, then another homeless kid would be snatched and they’d suffer just as badly before they died.
Castiel opened his eyes and reached out for the boy’s hand, holding it gently between his own.
It wasn’t a good choice, but it hurt the fewest people. Two people would live, even if one of them would be in constant pain.
Castiel didn’t have to look at Meg to know she’d be smiling.
He took a deep breath and willed the boy on the table to heal. As he watched, colour returned to the boy’s cheeks and his breathing evened out. His eyes opened and he looked disorintatedly up at Castiel.
“What’s your name?” Castiel asked.
“Kevin,” the boy said quietly.
“I’m sorry, Kevin,” Castiel said, clutching his hand tight.
He didn’t know what else he could say. The boy looked at him, uncomprehending. Castiel wondered if he thought this was some kind of miracle, if he thought he’d been saved. He couldn’t know that this was the worst day of his life, the day he first saw Castiel.
Meg pushed past him, breaking the contact. She uncapped the IV and quickly bandaged the small wound on Kevin’s arm. It was all precise and business-like. She must have done it hundreds of times before, Castiel realized.
“Good,” she said, looking at the bags of blood Kevin had filled. “I think we’ll let him rest a bit and then remove his liver. You can help us with that, can’t you?”
Kevin looked up at Castiel fearfully, begging him silently to help. Castiel turned away, unable to look at the prone boy. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. There was a whimper and Castiel turned back quickly to see Meg administering a shot of something into Kevin’s other arm.
“What are you doing?” he asked, horrified.
“Relax,” Meg said, rolling her eyes. “It’s just a little something to help him sleep. How do you think we keep them quiet? Even out in the woods like this, someone might hear screaming. We just keep them doped up until we need to operate.”
It was slick, so well-planned. Castiel couldn’t conceive of something so horrible being so well planned, but it was. It was deep out in the woods, the property of one Dr. Azazel. Behind his house there were two big barns. The one Castiel was inside was a sterile operating room and storage center. It was spotless and soulless, a place close to Hell.
Castiel had passed the rooms of human body parts drying out, ready to be ground and sold on as ingredients for potions or used in their raw form as aphrodisiacs. Castiel had never understood how anyone could use human body parts as a sex aid. They knew they were buying something that meant someone, somewhere, had had to die, but they still brought it.
In a perverse way, Castiel wondered if the interest in these aphrodisiacs wouldn’t grow when it got out that he was helping the Geiers. No one needed to die. Wesen with an ethical aversion to humans being killed might not feel the same about aphrodisiacs that came from an undying source. Castiel hated that he might be helping the Geiers to increase their market.
Kevin relaxed on the table, his eyes closing and he murmured something nonsensical.
“Time to put him back in the holding pen,” Meg said. “Come with me. You can meet your little fledglings. You’ll be looking after them from now on, after all.”
Castiel followed Meg obediently as she wheeled Kevin away through a set of doors, away from the sterile room they’d been in, to a dark, dank little barn. Castiel could run. They were outside. He could run but he was confident Meg would catch him. He was also sure that he couldn’t leave, not now he’d seen Kevin. He couldn’t leave him and the others like him to suffer on their own. Castiel would try to protect them as best he could. He would try to save them.
Meg pushed the door open. Castiel recoiled. There was a horrible smell. The lights were bright and he could see a huddled group of young men and women. Some of them were hardly more than children. They looked up in fear, then surprise. Castiel wondered how often people came back once they were taken or if they never came back. Meg helped Kevin up off the table, shoving him on unsteady feet back towards the rest of his group.
“As I said, we’ll remove a liver next but we’ll have to wait for Dr. Azazel before we start. I’ll leave you some time alone to get acquainted.”
Meg wheeled the operating table away and shut the door, leaving Castiel standing, blinking in the bright light. He didn’t know what to say, only that he couldn’t begin to apologize for the pain he was about to bring in to their lives.
**
Dean parked the Impala down a little side track into the woods. It was mostly used by the forestry workers but Dean had found it useful in the past. He left the car behind, aware that the noise of it would give him away and Dean needed the element of surprise. He took two guns from the trunk of his car, one which he strapped on with a thigh holster and the other that he carried in his hand. Dean was a good shot. He didn’t plan to miss.
Dean made his way towards the house he’d been directed towards, hoping that the information he’d been given was accurate. If it wasn’t, Dean would call Sam and tell his brother just what to do next to get the directions. He doubted Sam would want to do it but sometimes it was a case of putting necessity before your own feelings and sensibilities.
Dean hoped he wasn’t heading to an innocent person’s house. The last thing he wanted to do was burst in, guns blazing.
He headed up behind the house, keeping in the shadows of the trees. As had been described to him, there were two barns out back. Dean moved towards the smaller barn. That was, supposedly, where the kids who’d been kidnapped of the streets were held. Dean hoped Castiel would be with them. He also hoped they’d follow him. He knew they’d be sacred, probably frightened out of their minds and Dean wasn’t the most reassuring presence. He had to get them out though. He couldn’t leave them.
Detective Harvelle could deal with the Geiers and their underground organ trade. Dean wanted to get Castiel and the kids out. They were his priority.
Dean pressed against the side of the barn, wondering if there was a window or a back door but a quick check round the sides proved that he wasn’t going to be that lucky. It was a prison. The only way through would be the front door.
The only thing Dean had on his side was the fact that there was no one on guard. He supposed this deep in the woods there was no fear about someone just stumbling on the secret in the barn. There was probably a higher chance of runaways, but the woods were dense and the kids brought out here wouldn’t know where they were or how to find their way back to safety.
Dean took a deep breath. He knew he wouldn’t have long once he opened the barn door. This was when he’d be most vulnerable. Checking that the cost was clear, Dean darted to the barn door, opening it and letting himself in. The lights in the barn were burning bright and there was a horrible smell, the smell of unwashed human bodies packed close together. Dean blinked in the light, stunned for a moment, then remembered to pull the door shut behind him.
“Dean!” a familiar voice called out.
Dean shook his head, his eyes adjusting to the brightness and he was able to recognize Castiel, kneeling on the floor surrounded by a group of half-dressed, frightened looking kids. Castiel got up quickly, making a soothing sound in the back of his throat as the kids tried to shuffle away.
“Cas, are you okay? I came to get you, to get all of you,” Dean said.
“I’m fine, but Dean, they can’t go anywhere. Most of them are drugged. It’s how they’re kept quiet. I don’t think they’d be able to run, even if you told them to.”
“I told Sam to call the police,” Dean said nervously. “Someone will be here soon. They’ll find out what’s happening. We should go, Cas.”
“I can’t leave them,” Castiel said, shaking his head stubbornly.
Dean didn’t think he’d be able to explain his presence to the police. If Detective Harvelle found him here, she’d want to know exactly how Dean had become involved and he couldn’t tell her that. It would be safer for both himself and Castiel to be out of the way. They could hide in the trees at the edge of the property, see that the kids were okay before they made their escape.
That was if Detective Harvelle turned up. Even if she believed the anonymous tip Sam was supposed to leave her, she might not be able to make anyone else believe it. If she did come up to follow the lead, Dean wasn’t at all convinced that Jo wouldn’t be given a tour of the house and the smiling, polite surface and be sent away, confident that there wasn’t anything in the tip she’d been given.
“Can you heal them? Get the drugs out their systems?” Dean asked.
He looked at the kids. They were hardly dressed, missing shoes. They couldn’t run very far and Dean didn’t have the space in his car for them. He had no idea what he’d do with them.
Castiel shook his head.
“No, if I could then I would, but the drugs aren’t an illness. They aren’t endangering them and no one’s near death. I can’t just detox them,” he said irritably.
Dean didn’t know if Castiel was upset with himself for not being able to help or upset with Dean for asking stupid questions.
“Okay,” Dean said. “Who’s the worst? Who can walk? We need to get out of here.”
“Dean, I’m not sure…”
“Cas, we don’t have time. I know it isn’t the best plan, but it’s the only plan we’ve got.”
Dean heard the door open behind him. He spun around; raising his gun but it was knocked out of his hand.
Dean recognized the man standing in the doorway. He was the one Castiel had named as the boss. Azazel. The Doctor whose land and property they were on. Dean reached for the other gun in his thigh holster but Azazel raised his hand, shaking his head.
“I wouldn’t,” he said quickly.
“And why not?” Dean asked warily, his fingers tapping against the gun, ready to pull it out and fire.
“Because your father was reaching for his gun when I killed him and I could do the same for you,” Azazel said.
Dean didn’t know what he’s expected the man to say but his world ground to a halt. Everything seemed suddenly to be in slow motion. His fingers closed around the gun, but he didn’t pull it free, his fingers frozen. Azazel moved forward gracefully, something sharp and metal glinting in his hand. Castiel shouted and Dean looked down to see a scalpel buried in his side. It didn’t feel as if he’d been stabbed. It felt as if Azazel had punched him but Dean could see the blood.
He sank slowly to his knees, feeling breathless and light headed.
“I suppose it’s you I have to thank for the police being here,” Azazel said, stepping over him. “Meg is dealing with them. You’ll bleed to death in here and we’ll cut your organs out later. I can’t imagine what price the organs of a Grimm will fetch. I imagine there are some who’ll pay a high price to have a piece of you.”
Azazel bent down, twisting the scalpel deeper into Dean before pulling it free. Dean gasped in pain, his vision going white for a second.
“Your father was much harder to kill,” Azazel said, sounding disappointed. “I hardly had to try with you. Still, you got closer to my operation than he ever did, so I suppose you can be proud of something.”
Dean could hear Castiel in the background, could hear Castiel scrabbling to get him and then his head was being lifted up, cradled in Castiel’s lap.
“You heal him and I’ll slit the throats of everyone in this room,” Azazel snapped.
“Don’t do it, Cas,” Dean said, shutting his eyes because he couldn’t stand to look at Castiel’s face and the only other place to look was at the man who’d killed his father.
“But you’ll die!” Castiel said, his fingers brushing through Dean’s hair.
Dean swallowed. He tightened his grip on the gun. He had one chance at this. Even if he missed, it didn’t matter. Gun shots would bring Jo to the barn. Even if Dean had to die, he’d do so protecting Castiel. He’d promised he’d save him and he would.
Dean opened his eyes, the light painfully bright. Everyone around him was just blurs and shadows. He pulled the gun free from his thigh holster and fired. He heard the scream, heard the sound of the gun going off and he knew he’d aimed right. Even dying, Dean was a good shot.
The body of Dr. Azazel fell to the floor, lying half inside and half outside the barn. Dean could hear shouting, noises. The police where coming. Castiel would be safe. The kids would be safe. Dean had done his job.
He passed out, content that if he died, he’d finished his father’s last case.
**
Castiel pressed his hand over the bleeding wound in Dean’s side.
“Come on, heal,” he whispered, leaning over Dean. “Heal!”
He could feel the blood on his fingers, warm and wet and it didn’t seem to be stopping. Castiel knew there was only so much he could do, that after healing Kevin he had been drained, but he’d hoped desperately that he would have enough power left to save Dean. Dean didn’t deserve to die. Dean had protected him, he’d come for Castiel, come to save him and he shouldn’t bleed to death on the dirt floor of a barn because of that.
Castiel shut his eyes, screwing them up tight and pressed his lips to Dean’s. He willed himself to work, willed everything he had left to go towards Dean. He could feel himself growing weaker, could feel his energy, his life, being tugged on and fed into Dean but Castiel didn’t care. He didn’t care if he hurt himself as long as Dean got better.
He could feel the wound closing, could feel the blood flow stop. He kept kissing Dean until he lost consciousness.
Detective Harvelle found them a few minutes later; Castiel slumped over Dean, both of them still breathing, although only barely.
***
A Few Months Later:
Dean had never liked funerals. He hated the somber atmosphere, hated all the black but the thing he hated most was knowing that it was a final goodbye. Seeing his father’s coffin lowered in to the ground had been one of the hardest moments of Dean’s life, almost as hard as the decision to turn off his life support machine. Dean had stayed at his bedside, kept talking and hoping for a miracle but his father had sleep peacefully away.
Adam laid flowers on the grave, a lovely bouquet of red and yellow. Castiel had grown the flowers himself in their own back garden. He’d moved in once Dean was released from hospital. It was one of a number of things that had changed.
Dean had had to take Detective Harvelle into his confidence. There wasn’t anything else to do, not after she’d found him collapsed like that and the bullets in his gun matched the one dug out of Dr. Azazel. Now they were working together, unofficially, on cases where Jo suspected there might be some Wesen involvement.
Sam reached out, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Dean knew it was closure for all of them, finding out who’d killed their father and making sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else ever again. It had been hard, at first, finding common ground again after so long, but now Sam was over at the house every other night. They were a family again.
The only regret Dean had was that his dad had never got to meet Castiel. Maybe he wouldn’t have liked him, maybe he would have told Dean it was a mistake to get involved with a Wesen or maybe he would have understood? Dean didn’t know and he couldn’t ask him now, but he would have wanted his dad to know that Dean was happy.
He turned away from the grave side, giving Castiel’s hand a squeeze and he kissed his cheek, enjoying Castiel’s slightly confused expression. Dean wasn’t normally affectionate in public but they were with family now. Dean hoped there was some kind of life after death and he hoped that his dad could see them now and see that Castiel was family too to Dean.
“Come on,” he said, to Castiel and to Sam and Adam. “Let’s go home. Charlie’s coming over and we’re all going to raise a glass in memory of dad.”