Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
The Impala coasted along the highway toward Virginia, one of the few states they had somehow never hunted in before.
It was nearly ten o'clock. Sam was already passed out in the passenger seat, a line of drool trailing down his chin onto his faded blue and green plaid shirt. Castiel sat in the back, staring out the window as if he could see everything in the darkness beyond. Maybe he could. Dean still didn’t know the full extent of his powers after all these years.
He gripped the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles turned white, his gaze fixed on the stretch of road illuminated by Baby's headlights. They were heading toward what was most likely a routine vampire hunt, but he felt more like a man driving to his own execution.
They didn’t say a word to each other. The truth was, they barely spoke these days to begin with, ever since…
No. He didn’t want to think about that day. Castiel's death. His confession.
Dean didn’t know which was worse.
The angel had reappeared not long after everything had returned to something resembling normal. One day, Castiel had been gone, and the next he'd simply walked back into Dean's life as if nothing had happened.
Classic rock played on low volume, a welcome reprieve from what would most likely be deafening silence. Dean focused on the white lines of the road, guiding Baby towards their destination like he had thousands of times before. He had lived in this car, and he had no doubt that one day, he would die in it, too.
At least with Sam awake, there was a buffer to avoid all those pesky thoughts and feelings and the need to punch Castiel in the face for everything he had done. Now, all he had was himself, the open road, a drooling little brother, and the angel who drove him up the wall.
An hour later, an exit appeared, along with a dimly lit sign advertising Merril’s Diner, just off the interstate. He was starving, had barely eaten before they hopped in the Impala and left. Dean had been antsy for the past few weeks, as Sam insisted they take a much-needed break after everything that happened. Castiel was looking a bit rough himself, so Dean begrudgingly agreed - though time off was the last thing he needed or wanted.
He leaned over and gently shook his brother awake. “Rise and shine, Sammy. There’s a diner burger calling my name.”
Sam startled awake, and then visibly relaxed when he saw it was just Dean. He nodded, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sage-green military jacket.
It was times like these when Dean regretted picking his brother up from college all those years ago. What would have happened if he had just let him stay there and live his life? Would Jess have been spared? Would they be happily married with a couple of mini-Sams by now?
It was one of the many, many thoughts that kept him up at night.
They reached the diner a few minutes later and piled out of the Impala. Dean checked that his gun was secure beneath his jacket before heading inside, greeted immediately by the smell of grease, coffee, and happiness.
He doubted he'd need a weapon in a backwoods diner off the interstate, but experience had taught him that monsters didn't care much about convenience.
An older waitress somewhere in her sixties, with tired green eyes and gray hair escaping a messy bun, led them to a booth in the back. The red vinyl seats were cracked in several places, stuffing poking through the tears.
“What do you want?” the waitress asked, brushing the stray hairs out of her face. Her tone wasn’t unkind, but she sure as hell didn’t seem happy that they were there.
“Hello, Ma’am,” Dean said, plastering on his most charming smile. “How are you doing tonight?”
She raised an eyebrow and just stared at him expectantly, and he raised his hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll have the cheeseburger special, with a large chocolate shake,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
Across from him, Sam looked vaguely irritated at having to fold himself into a booth designed for people six inches shorter than him. Still, he offered the woman a polite smile.
"I'll have the chicken Caesar salad and an iced tea, please."
Dean rolled his eyes at that. “Why even look at the menu?”
“Unlike you, sometimes I like to change it up a bit,” Sam huffed, placing his menu at the edge of the table.
“And you?” the waitress asked Castiel, ignoring their dialogue.
The angel didn't need food, but after years of pretending to be human, he'd learned it was easier to order something than explain why he wasn't eating.
After a moment, Castiel tapped the page.
"I will have the hot fudge sundae."
"Anything else?"
The angel considered this carefully, as if he were trying to figure out what weapon to use, rather than ordering 'dinner'. "Extra hot fudge."
She said nothing more, just gathered up the menus and stomped away, muttering incoherently about them, most likely.
“I hope she doesn’t spit in our food,” Dean whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward.
“Spit might be the most appetizing thing we get here,” his brother replied, resting an elbow on the table. We better give her a huge tip."
Dean glanced around at the flickering lights and peeling wallpaper. "Fair."
“So, tell me more about this case,” Sam asked. “And where did you say it was?”
It was Castiel who answered, since he was the one who had found out about it. Apparently, even the angel was getting restless cooped up in the bunker 24-7.
“It is located in a town called Mystic Falls, Virginia,” he said. “There have been multiple reports of animal attacks, several bodies drained of blood, and a theft of blood supplies from the local hospital.”
Dean nodded once. “Bloodsuckers, then.”
“I believe so,” Castiel agreed, though he spoke to Sam and not Dean. “Although the situation is unusual. There is no widespread panic, no official intervention, and very little hunter chatter.”
Sam frowned as the waitress came with their drinks and left right after. “That either means they’re new… or they’re careful.”
Dean’s jaw tightened slightly. “Or it’s a trap.”
Castiel tilted his head. “Vampires do not typically construct traps in the strategic sense.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Well. They also don’t typically run into us.”
That earned a brief silence at the table.
The diner hummed quietly around them; flickering lights overhead, the soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen, the distant murmur of the only other customer in the place as she spoke on the phone. It felt too normal for a conversation like this.
Castiel spoke again, calm and direct. “I could go ahead and eliminate them before you arrive. It would be efficient.”
“No,” Dean said immediately.
The angel tilted his head. “That was a faster refusal than usual.”
“We’re not doing the angel solo special,” Dean said. “We go in first. Scout it out. Get a feel for the place.”
Sam nodded. “Dean’s right. We don’t know what we’re walking into. Could be a nest, could be something bigger, could be nothing, and the reports are just… exaggerated.”
“Exactly. We look around. Talk to people. See what’s actually going on before we start burning anything down.”
Castiel looked between them. “So the plan is observation.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Observation. Blending in. Low profile. You know how we do things by now, man.”
Sam gave a quiet, disbelieving huff.
Dean shot him a look. “What?”
“You,” Sam said, “in a low-profile town.”
Dean leaned forward slightly. “I can be subtle.”
Castiel did not look convinced. “I will accompany you,” he said simply.
“That’s not up for debate,” Dean replied.
Sam set his glass down. “So you two go off by yourselves, or we all stick together?”
Dean thought about it for a second, eyes flicking toward his best friend. “Together,” he said. “And we don’t do anything stupid.” At that, he looked pointedly at the angel again.
If looked could kill, Dean would be dead. Again.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘stupid.’”
The older Winchester rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Then we proceed cautiously,” Castiel agreed.
“Cautiously,” Dean said slowly, like the word tasted unfamiliar.
The waitress chose that moment to reappear with their food, setting their plates down without comment. For a second, the conversation dissolved into silence again - ice clinking, sugar packets rattling, the smell of fried food drifting through the air.
But the moment she walked away, the weight of it settled back in.
Mystic Falls. Dean had never even heard of it before. He didn't like the unknown of it. The place sounded made-up.
Dean wrapped his hand around his shake and exhaled slowly. “Damn,” he said, after taking a loud sip from his straw. “This is delicious.”
Sam nodded at that. “This is probably the best iced tea I’ve ever had. I wasn't expecting that.”
Outside the diner windows, the night stretched on; quiet, waiting, and already holding secrets they hadn’t uncovered yet. Dean hoped that it really was just a boring, routine vamp hunt. But when had they ever been that lucky?