Chapter Text
The machetes jingled against the other knives in the bag as Dean tossed them into the back of the trunk. He ducked his head further under the hood, straining to reach the plastic bottle of dead man’s blood in the back. The half-full gallon jug sat nestled between the water bottles filled with holy water.
“My shirt got completely ruined,” came Sam’s muffled voice from above him. “I don’t think I can save it.”
Uncapping the jug Dean set it down on the edge of the trunk and held out a hand for his brother to pass him the unused syringes. “Dude.” His hand hovered there a second longer before he popped his head up. “Stop nursing your shirt and gimme those!”
Sam released the hem of his button-down with a sigh. “It’s just that this is the third one I’ve had to trash this week. I liked this one, it has these pockets on the side that I--”
“Can you go through a fashion crisis later? I wanna be back at Bobby’s by tonight.”
“Pockets are lifesavers, Dean, you just don’t understand that yet.” Sam pulled the two syringes from his back pocket and tossed them over.
“Pockets that small aren’t worth anything alright? It’s pants pockets that are the real heroes, trust me.”
“I’m just saying, if you have shirt pockets you can also--” Sam paused, pulling out his phone. “Ah, it’s Bobby.”
“Tell him not to wait up.” Dean finished emptying the syringes into the jug and returned it to the back corner. He shut the trunk and then patted the side a few times as if to congratulate the Impala for playing her part in the successful hunt. Catching sight of his reflection in the driver’s mirror he leaned in closer to wipe off the few specks of blood still splattered across his left cheek. There was also a thin glob of skin that definitely wasn't his hanging off his eyebrow. It caught onto his finger as he tried to pull it off, sending him flailing his arm in wild circles until he finally managed to hurl it loose and into the grass where he kicked it away.
Finally he opened the car door and slid in, stretching out into the comfort of the familiar seat. “Sam, are you coming?”
“Okay,” Sam said into the phone. “We’ll get there as soon as we can. Let us as soon as you find out anything else. Yeah,” he hurried around to the side and hopped into the passenger seat, gesturing for Dean to start driving. “we’re headed there now. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour or so.”
Dean slammed the driver’s door shut and shoved the keys into the ignition. He didn’t need to know anything else; it was all there in the hunch of his brother’s shoulders, the nervous bobbing of his knee, and the way his fingers were curled into the fabric of his shirt. Something bad had happened. Something beyond another werewolf attack or ghoul sighting.
“Miller, South Dakota,” Sam muttered to him before turning back to the phone. “Yeah, I’m still here. I know. Okay.”
“At least it’s on the way home,” Dean grumbled, pressing his foot against the gas pedal. Once Sam had hung up he asked, “So what’s the headline?”
“Cas. Well, Bobby. Cas called Bobby,” Sam corrected himself.
“Isn’t Cas off playing Family Feud in Heaven?”
“Guess not. He asked Bobby to evacuate the town, said there was a bomb or something.”
Dean tightened his grip, the rubber rim of the steering wheel digging into his palm. “A bomb threat? What’s he playing FBI for?”
Sam shot him a look. “It’s Cas, Dean. It’s not going to be a normal bomb, it must be something to do with demons. Or angels. Or both. He told Bobby he can’t move it or stop it, he can only delay it.”
“Okay, so what’s Bobby’s theory?”
“Well, Bobby said he got through to the mayor of the town. He told them that there’s a toxic waste leak and got them to start moving people out.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, forehead creased in consternation. “That won’t last for long. In a few hours someone from the FDA is actually going to come down and then that’s going to be trouble. We have to find Cas and the bomb and get them both out of there before that.”
“Wait--find Cas? Didn’t he make the call?”
“Yeah, that’s the other thing.” Sam reached towards the backseat to grab a change of clothes. “He refused to tell Bobby where he was. In fact he told Bobby to tell us not to come. He just wanted Bobby to get the people out.”
“Dumb-ass of the lord,” Dean sighed. “Like we’re gonna leave him alone with a literal ticking time bomb.”
* * *
As the Impala snaked up the winding road leading to the entrance of the town Dean noticed the orange cones starting to pepper the side of the road. It wasn’t long before the roadblock came into view, a black and yellow striped barrier preventing anyone from coming in. Another set of cones partitioned off the out-going lane for a long line of cars trying to leave.
Dean nodded to Sam who pulled out one of his badges as an officer approached the window
”Oh thank goodness you’re here,” the officer said, tilting her cap at them. “We’ve been doing our best to get everyone out but it ain’t easy asking people to leave their home on a short notice like that.”
”Of course.” Sam offered her one of his patented placating smiles. “We’re going to do everything we can to find out what’s wrong so everyone can return safely as soon as possible. How many people are still in the town?”
“About a third.” She rested her hands on her hips, squinting against the setting afternoon sun. “We’re doing our best, Agent, you just let me know if you need any kind of assistance. Most of our officers are busy helpin’ folks head out but there are a few volunteers if you need--”
“Oh, thank you, Officer--” he leaned in to see the name tag on her uniform “--Officer Kingsley, but it’s best if everyone moves out. We don’t want to risk exposing anyone else to the danger.”
After another round of effusive gratitude and an enthusiastic handshake the officer moved the blockage aside and Dean inched the Impala forward. Once the roadblock was behind them he sped up a little, trying not to draw attention to them as the only car heading into and not out of the town. Sam stared out the window, watching for any telltale signs of demonic activity. A few clusters of people could be seen here and there, loading bags into their cars or hurrying their children out of the house, but for the most part it was quiet. The stillness of desertion hovered over it like an invisible mist.
“Okay, how are we supposed to defuse this bomb if we don’t know where it is or where Cas is?” Dean peered to the left and right of the windshield, as if hoping a little red siren would helpfully go off in the designated danger zone.
“I don’t know if--hold on.” Sam held up a finger and put the phone to his ear. “Yes, we’re here. The post office? Okay, yeah--people are leaving. Okay, I’ll let you know.”
“Mail bomb?” Dean quipped, making a left turn onto the next road.
“Not quite. Bobby said Cas called again to say that he saw people still at the post office. He was worried that they weren’t leaving. Bobby checked the maps and there’s an abandoned fabric factory behind the post office area, he thinks that’s where Cas might be.” Sam frowned, his left knee still bobbing rhythmically. “Cas still doesn’t want us to be here.”
“Yeah, well, when has that ever stopped us?” He eased the Impala into the narrow lane behind the post office. “It’s probably just because--”
“You don’t think that maybe--”
“No,” Dean said firmly, this time turning to face his brother. “This isn’t Samhain, this isn’t another seal opening or anything. Lucifer is in the Cage and he’s not coming back out, okay?”
A pinch of hesitation lingered in Sam’s eyes but he nodded, stilling the motion of his knee with one hand.
“This is just a bomb,” Dean said, pulling up outside the crumbling shell of a wide building with a flat roof that sagged in the right corner. “And we’re gonna get some pliers and cut the red wire or whatever.”
“I doubt this is the kind of bomb with wires."
“Better bring everything just in case."
The front entrance to the fabric factory was a barely standing door that wheezed noisily on the remaining pair of hinges it hung from. Rust sank its teeth into every inch of the door frame and the stench of mildew stuck to the underside of their nostrils as they stepped inside.
“Cas?” Dean called out, pivoting the beam of the flashlight around the hobbled shadows. “Cas, where are you?”
Sam gestured to the left wing of the factory. “I’ll look down there, just shout if you find something.” He hesitated. “And don’t try to take apart anything that looks like a bomb okay.”
“Right, like you know how to defuse one of those, Tom Cruise,” Dean smirked as he walked off. The rhythm of his footsteps wove between the overturned machinery and loose screws scattered across the floor.
Sliding one hand to the demon blade in his back pocket Sam kept the other hand clenched tightly to the flashlight handle. The yellow halo of light danced across the blackened walls, exposing the rotten and perforated beams of the sagging structure.
“Cas?” he called out, and then stopped to silence the reverberation of his own footsteps.
“Cas?”
There.
He heard something. A sound, not so much a voice as a strained gasp, like clenched teeth pulling for air.
He spun around, moving towards it quickly and then cautiously. It could be Cas or it could be whoever he’d been fighting or whatever was trying to blow up the town. A blotchy silhouette shifted in the far right corner of the room.
Sam paused. The knife came out of the pocket, the edge of the blade glinting like a star. “Who are you?”
The shape pressed deeper into the dark. “You shouldn’t be here,” a voice rasped.
Squinting against the glare of the flashlight Sam caught sight of a beige coat sleeve. “Cas? We’re here, we’re here to help now.”
“Are they all out yet?”
“Who? Who was here?” Now that he was almost within arms reach Sam could see that it really was their angel. He was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and head tucked between his arms. He reached out a hand. “Are you--”
“Don’t,” Cas hissed sharply, withdrawing as much as he could within the small space he was already crouched in. “Don’t touch me. Get the people out of the town and then leave.” He lifted his head a few inches, illuminated by the glow of the flashlight. “You need to leave now.”
Sam froze and then slowly pulled back. “Dean!”
The call ricocheted throughout the building, immediately followed by the pounding of running footsteps. “Sam,” Dean panted, pulling up to an abrupt stop. “What is it--Cas?”
“Yeah.” Sam let the flashlight sweep over him again. Cas had turned his face to the wall but his clenched hands were clearly visible in the flashlight’s beam. They held the same ripples of blue under the skin that Sam could now see were traveling up Cas’ neck as well.
Dean surged forward, only stopping when Sam flung an arm across his chest.
“Dean, wait.”
“Cas, what happened here? Where’s the bomb? How do we disarm it?”
“You can’t.” Slowly Cas twisted around, exposing the map of blue veins pulsing across his face. His closed eyelids fluttered open, revealing luminescent blue orbs ablaze with burning white light. “It’s me.”