Warnings: This story contains major spoilers for season three and season four of Supernatural. Minor spoilers for seasons one and two are also included.
Summary: In the city of lost souls, Spike is the one who ends up found.
Thank you A.J Hofacre for all of your help. I really appreciate it.
Some dialogue from Season four of Supernatural is used.
The next day found Dean sitting in the garden, the bright sunlight shining down on him. He paid it no mind, his thoughts occupied by the events of the previous night. He was still having a hard time believing that an angel had raised him from the dead. In his experience, these things did not happen. Angels did not exist, but one had stood before him last night, wiping away years of doubt, but still leaving many unanswered questions as new fears and doubts began to form.
Looking over his shoulder, Dean could see the others in the lobby, joking and laughing, books spread out before them. Giles had rejoined them and was currently cleaning his glasses and shaking his head. From the look on Buffy’s face, Dean guessed that Giles’ current state of frustration was her doing, and that she wasn’t repentant at all. Not that Dean actually felt sorry for the Watcher. Upon learning that an actual angel was responsible for Dean’s renewed gift of life, Giles had badgered Dean for several hours, often repeating questions, hoping that he would remember some small detail that would give them the answers they sought. Spike and Buffy had eventually tagged teamed the Watcher, allowing Dean the chance to slip outside and gain a brief respite.
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice came from his left, causing Dean to nearly fall off the bench in fright.
“Don’t do that,” Dean grumbled, heart racing. His shoulders sagged minutely, his hope for some peace slipping away.
“There is something I need to discuss with you,” Castiel said, gaze intent, voice solemn.
“And here I thought we‘d had our heart to heart last night,” Dean said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“This is about Sam.”
“You leave Sam out of this,” Dean growled.
“Last night he left while everyone was sleeping,” Castiel said. “He used his powers to tear a demon from a man’s body.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised.
“We don’t know what Azazel had planned for your brother,” Castiel said. “He covered his tracks well.”
“He’s saving people,” Dean argued, though a small bit of doubt colored his words.
“He’s playing with fire,” Castiel‘s voice was firm. “Stop him, or we will.”
The next few days were hectic. Research, interspersed with Dean’s nearly nightly visions, caused Dean to put his talk with Sam on hold. It wasn’t like Dean had wanted to wait, but how was he supposed to tell his brother that God didn‘t approve of his demon removal methods. Luckily there had be no more surprise visits, but Dean didn’t think Castiel would wait much longer.
Sighing, Dean pulled on his t-shirt, then dragged one of his button downs over top. Standing he grabbed his wallet, knife, and gun, then headed downstairs. The gun went into the back of his jeans, the knife in the sheath on his belt. He opened his wallet, quickly counting the cash inside. His supplies were running low, and Dean figured now was good as a time as any to get Sam alone. He just prayed that his brother would be willing to listen to him.
When he reached the lobby, Dean found Spike and Buffy arguing, again. Though from what Dean could tell, there was no heat to it. In fact it sounded more like a combination of flirting and bickering, and a smile broke out on his face. Then he heard exactly what they were arguing about and Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“Dude,” Dean said, interrupting the couple. “You guys are so lame.”
“I am not lame!” Buffy protested instantly. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that she didn’t correct his observation about Spike. From the look on Spike’s face, it hadn’t passed by his notice either.
“You two were arguing over the best method for getting demon goo out of carpets,” Dean pointed out, eyebrow raised. “Next thing you know you’re going to start asking Buffy to speak in French and making out while discussing the best beheading techniques.”
“Hey!” Spike yelled, pointing at Dean. “I wouldn’t do that.” Seeing the look on Buffy’s face, Spike quickly backtracked. “Okay, so I wouldn’t ask her to speak French, girl butchers the English language often enough, never said I would turn down the chance at a good snog.”
“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, his grin turning to a smirk. “Whatever you say Gomez.”
“Nice try,” Buffy groused, though her lips were twitching. “You’re still in the dog house.”
“Woof,” Spike said, growling softly and eyes sparkling. “Care to join me, Slayer?”
“Very funny.” Buffy smacked Spike lightly in the chest.
Dean smiled, shaking his head at their antics. “You two seen Sam anywhere? I need to pick up some things at the store and I thought I’d drag his lazy ass with me.”
“He’s in the office with Willow,” Spike said.
Glancing at the office‘s closed door, Dean couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping. “Those two are getting their geek on, aren’t they?”
Buffy’s eyes widened dramatically as she leaned forward as if to impart some age old wisdom. “He understands Willow techno babble. It’s not natural.”
“Sam was always the brains of the outfit,” Dean said with a laugh and quite a bit of pride.
“I wasn’t the one who made a working EMF meter out of spare parts,” Sam said as he and Willow exited the office. Dean could see Willow’s eyes light up at this, and he ruthlessly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Trust Sam to ruin Dean’s carefully crafted reputation as the charming rogue.
“Do you think you could show me how you did it?” Willow asked. “I’m sure with more resources we might be able to make one that detects more than spirits.”
“Later, Red,” Spike said, saving Dean. “Man’s got some errands to run and simply wanted to know if Sam here wanted to tag along.”
“Oh.” Willow’s shoulders drooped slightly and Dean felt absurdly guilty. It really sucked. He hadn’t even done anything wrong.
“How about I show you when I get back,” Dean offered as he reached over the counter and grabbed his jacket. “Sam, you coming?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Think we can stop by my hotel first? I want to get my things. There’s no sense in paying for a room if I’m never there.”
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” Dean yelled over his shoulder as he headed towards the front doors. “Sammy! Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”
Once outside, Dean stood back to admire the Impala. When Sam and Bobby had first arrive, he had been pleased to see that Sam had kept the car in pristine condition. His only complaint was that he’d not had enough time to get behind the wheel. Now was his chance, and he wasn’t letting Sam cheat him out of it.
“Keys,” Dean demanded, hand held out. He could hear Sam sigh as he reached into his pocket and handed him the keys. Walking to the car, Dean lovingly ran his hand over the roof, a beaming smile on his face. “Hey sweetheart, you miss me?”
Dean opened the door, ignoring the way Sam rolled his eyes at his antics. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Dean ran his hands over the steering wheel. It felt so good to be back in his beloved car. Putting the keys into the ignition, Dean stopped suddenly, staring at the Impala’s radio.
“What the hell is that?” The horror in Dean’s voice filled his eyes as he turned and glared at his brother.
“It’s an iPod jack.”
“You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up.”
Dean,” Sam started, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought it was my car.”
Dean didn’t say anything, just stared at Sam for several minutes before shaking his head and turning the key. To Dean’s continued horror, soft rock began playing on the radio.
“I can’t believe you,” Dean muttered as he pulled the iPod jack out of the radio and tossed it onto the backseat. He then began running his hand gently over the Impala‘s dashboard. “Don’t worry baby, I won’t let Sam douche you up again.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean put the car into drive and promptly turned the radio to one of L.A’s classic rock stations. “So, hotel first?”
“Sure,” Sam said, rolling his eyes again. “You’re driving.”
“Damn right I’m driving.” Dean grinned as he pulled into L.A traffic. It took them about thirty minutes to reach the hotel Sam and Bobby were supposed to be staying in. They went straight to Sam’s room so that he could clear out the room before checking out.
Watching his brother pack, Dean could feel the muscles in his shoulder’s tensing again. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but with Castiel’s warning ringing in his head, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Hey, Sam,” Dean said standing from his slouched position. His hands were in his pockets, eyes on the floor. He really didn’t want to do this.
“Dean?” Sam asked, taking in his brother’s stance. “What’s wrong?”
“I got another visit from Castiel.”
“What?” Sam yelled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because he told me to stop you,” Dean ground out. Seeing the look on his brother’s face, Dean felt his heart drop.
“From using your powers,” Dean explained.
“Look,” Dean said, holding up a hand to stop Sam’s words. “Just promise me you’ll stop using them.”
Sam’s face shut down. When he turned his back to Dean, shoving clothes into his bag with jerky movements, Dean could have kicked himself for not realizing how Sam would take things. Now because of the grim warnings of an angel, they were back to square one, tip toeing around, not sure how to talk to each other, and even less sure as to how to act.
“That’s real hypocritical coming from you.” Sam’s voice filled the room and Dean’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing at the hard tone in his brothers words.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, Sam?” Dean asked, hands on his hips.
“You’re allowed to use your gifts, but I can’t?”
“Sam, you got yours from a demon,” Dean said, enunciating each word slowly.
“And you’re half demon.” The words were out before Sam could stop them. Dean’s eyes flashed black and before Sam knew it his back was hitting the wall behind him. His jaw hurt and he could taste blood in his mouth.
“Nice to finally know what you really think of me,” Dean snarled. Turning he stalked out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him. He kept walking, the bright sun shining on his back. When he reached the Impala he jerked the door open and slid inside. Slamming the door shut, Dean sat for a minute, hands on the wheel.
“Damn it!” Dean yelled, hitting the steering wheel with his hand. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
He kept hitting the wheel, over and over again, as his vision blurred. He finally stopped when he felt the wheel start to buckle. Arms stretched out, Dean leaned his head against the seat, eyes closed. His harsh breathing filled the silence of the car.
“Your brother does not understand.”
“Fuck!” Dean yelled, jerking away from the angel sitting calmly next to him. “Give a guy some warning next time would ya? You damn near gave me a heart attack.”
“You’re avoiding the issue,” Castiel said, a frown marring his face.
“No shit,” Dean grumbled as he reached forward and started the car. It rumbled to life, and the familiar purring of the engine helped calm Dean’s nerves.
“If Samuel continues down this path, drastic measures will be taken.”
Dean had to swallow around the bile rising in his throat. “I know.”
“Talk to him.”
When Dean looked over, Castiel was gone. Sighing, Dean turned back to face the windshield. He was just about to put the car into reverse when the passenger door opened and Sam slid inside.
“Get out.” Dean‘s voice came out as a growl, and he was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror his eyes would be an unnatural shade of black.
“I said get out!” Dean yelled.
“I’m sorry all right!” Sam yelled back as he turned to face Dean. “But you’ve got to admit that it’s a bit hypocritical of you-”
“They’ll kill you if you don’t stop,” Dean said, overriding his brother’s words. Silence followed and Dean turned his head to look at his brother. “At least, that‘s what he implied just now.”
“Castiel was here?” Sam asked. His voice sounded small, and Dean’s guilt sky rocketed.
“But I don’t get it,” Sam said, confusion coloring his words. He was slumped down in his seat, eyes focused on his lap. “My method saves people.”
“They don’t see it that way,” Dean replied. “Your powers came from a demon, Sammy. The demon I’ve got, was shoved into me so that these damn visions wouldn’t blow out the back of my head.”
“I know,” Sam said, falling silent.
“Fuck, Sam,” Dean ground out, hands clenching around the steering wheel, his head resting between his hands.
“I get it!” Sam said, voice rising. “The angels don’t like me using my powers.”
“Not that,” Dean said through clenched teeth.
“Then what?” Sam asked, exasperation making his words harsh.
“Vision,” Dean said, as he jerked back against the seat, eyes squeezed tightly shut. His hands flew up to grip the sides of his head as the pain spiked, causing him to groan and curl up around himself. When the vision finally ended, Dean was slumped down in his seat, head resting against the door.
“Here.” Sam’s voice was soft as he slowly helped Dean sit up. After a few minutes, Dean finally opened his eyes to see Sam leaning over the seat. When he settled back down, he was holding a bottle of water in one hand and a bottle aspirin in the other.
Dean gave Sam a weak smile before taking the water and the pills. He quickly opened the bottle, downing three pills and then emptying the water bottle in one long pull.
“Fuck,” Dean whispered as he slumped back against his seat, hand rubbing his temple to try and ease the pain faster. “Sammy, remind me to stay clear of Halloween candy.”
“Um, Okay,” Sam said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But what did you see?”
“Some guy eating Halloween candy.”
“He almost immediately started coughing up razor blades,” Dean finished, a shudder running up and down his spine. “Wife finds him on the kitchen floor.”
“Then we have to figure out where this guy is.” Sam turned in his seat, reaching for the door handle. “Halloween is only two days away-”
“No,” Dean said, eyes staring forward, but distant. “This feels like its already happened.”
“Then why show you this?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” Dean sighed. “Maybe we’re supposed to figure out what caused it.”
“All right,” Sam said, brow furrowed in thought. “Did you see anything that could tell us where this guy lived?”
“No, but I got a name,” Dean replied. “Go get your stuff. We need to get back to the Hyperion.”
“All right.” Sam nodded then got out of the car. Watching Sam walk back into his old hotel room, Dean had a sinking feeling that Sam still didn’t understand exactly what kind of fire he was playing with.