| They introduce themselves
as Agents Lynam and Petersen, get offered seats in the
Chief of Police's office and get coffee too, which is
unusual. The young man who says he's the Chief asks
them what he can do for them as he sits back in his
chair. Dean figures they've been made from the
start, because there's humour in his eyes as he
waits. So he takes a punt and asks the Chief if he's
noticed anything weird recently, anything 'out of the
ordinary'. He asks if people have been going
missing, if there have been any unexplained deaths in the
town. It's at that point, and without a word, that the Chief gets up out of his chair, crosses to the open door of his office and leaning out, shouts, "Audrey! We've got another couple of fake FBI agents!" Dean glances at Sam and they both tense for a fight. They've been in one too many jail cells and it would be really great to stay out of one this time around. But when 'Audrey' appears in the doorway, the Chief just wonders back to his chair. She's slurping coffee, not a single pair of handcuffs in sight and neither of them look as though they're about to arrest anyone. Finally the Chief says, "Relax. It happens more than you'd think. I don't really care who you are because frankly we've got bigger problems than kids pretending to be government agents." Another glance at Sam and they both relax fractionally. "But I do have one question. Could you be more precise?" Dean frowns. "About...?" " 'Out of the ordinary'. You need to be much, much more specific. There's a lot goes on in Haven that constitutes 'out of the ordinary'." "Really? Okay." This is getting strange. "How about... people eating human flesh?" Most cops they speak to freak out at this moment. But this guy just nods. "We had a Wendigo." And Dean's eyes threaten to pop out of his head and roll across the Chief's nice, neat desk. "About a week ago. But we dealt with it." "No offence, Chief, but you seem very... accepting of that. Human-flesh eaters. In your town." "It's Nathan. My father was the Chief. And yes, we're really open minded people around here." "Mind telling me why?" He looks as if he's about to say no, but a small smile touches his lips and he shrugs. "Because three days ago we had an influx of dead people rising from their graves and making trouble for us living folks. And having dealt with that, a guy from our local newspaper kidnapped my partner over there and framed a very old friend of mine for her abduction, planting evidence in that hope that I'd go running over to his boat and kill him. Which I almost did. But luckily the guy's a fast talker and completely shameless when it comes to begging for his life and when he started to actually cry I started to believe him. We hooked up and went over to rescue Audrey from the clutches of the evil newspaper editor." He takes a deep breath while Dean’s still processing. "Before that it was some guy's clones all trying to kill the same kid, a puzzle that could collapse buildings in an instant and weeds that fed on hatred. So a Wendigo... not so strange, around here." Dean's trying to decide if he’s taking the piss. And once he’s settled on not he tries to decide if this rates as one of the weirdest days of his batshit crazy life at the same time as a second man, tall with dark hair and Vegas-magician facial fluff, appears behind the woman - Audrey - in the doorway. "Nathan - I've got a problem..." He watches Dean scrub his face with his hands. "Duke, you are a problem." Despite his words, there's an insane level of affection in his voice and Dean's gaydar spikes. "Tell me." "Everyone's at my bar." Even by Dean's standards it's an odd thing to hear. Nathan obviously thinks so too, judging by the expression on his face. "Surely... that's a good thing?" "No. I mean, *everyone* is at my bar. Like... hundreds of people. They say it's the second coming." Dean's stomach flips. He meets Sam's wide eyes as they say together, "Cas." * * * It's difficult to get close to the bar - The Grey Gull. There are cars parked five-deep on the road for a half-a-mile away from the place. They have to abandon the Impala behind Nathan's blue jeep - a vehicle almost as old as their own - and Duke's dirty Land Rover and walk the rest of the way. They let the three Haven residents take the lead, waiting until they're out of earshot before having a fast conversation. "What the hell's going on here, Dean? What the hell kind of place has Wendigos and Zombies -" "He didn't say Zombies." "He said dead people rising. Those are Zombies." "Only if they feast on human flesh." He can tell by the look on his brother's face that this isn't where the conversation is supposed to be heading. "Right. I don't know. This is a fucking strange town." "It's not just that they have these things, it's that it seems like... the norm. I mean - that guy, Duke, just turns up and says the town's gathered at his bar for the second coming and the local cops believe him and come waltzing over with no more than that? Usually we have to provide times, dates and a sworn affidavit from God that he is actually going to make a personal appearance." "But just because they're saying second coming, doesn't mean it's necessarily Cas, right?" Dean hates the idea, hates what Cas has become. Sam's aware of his brother's feelings, but there's apparently a huge difference between being aware and giving a damn. "It's his speciality recently, isn't it? Bringing together groups of innocent people and smiting them?" Jealous bitch. No one holds a grudge like Sam. Still, he's got a point. It isn't until they get down to the bar and push their way through the throng behind Nathan and his partner that they see their first guess was correct. Cas - in his rain coat and shiny shoes - is holding court, preaching to the crowd, half of who are listening, enthralled, half of who are starting to get angry, starting to shout. Any second now, it's going to turn into a blood bath. Dean heads for Cas, who actually seems pleased to see him for a moment. He's a macabre sight close up; the skin on his face looking as if it's melting from the bones. Dean hears Sam say to Nathan, "Everyone's in danger, we need to get them out of here." What he expects to follow is an argument but the cops here in Haven are in every way different to all the other cops they've dealt with, and for whatever reason Nathan takes Sam at his word. Together, the three of them start to shoo the crowd back while Dean approaches Cas with a huge amount of trepidation. 'Pleased to see him' lasts no more than a heartbeat. "Why are you taking away my audience?" "Because the guy who owns this nice establishment doesn't want it covered with the blood of these nice, innocent people." Cas raises his head, steady gaze settling on the restless but retreating crowd. "This town is far from innocent. People here... are different. Some of them are God's children, some of them are disbelievers and mean the others harm. This is a divided town, I must unite them or slay those who will hurt it." He side-steps Dean who turns and grabs his arm then drops his hand in the next breath, thinking better of it. "Listen, Cas, this vengeful God thing isn't really you, you know? It doesn't suit -" Cas doesn't move but Dean suddenly feels burning hot fingers around his throat, squeezing like a vice, cutting off air and blood. He raises his own hands to grab instinctively at the wrist but there's nothing there, nothing to grab. "CAS!" Sam's coming up fast, "Stop!" He makes a grab for Castiel and Dean can't stop him from being an idiot. "Cas, please!" "Hey!" That's the Chief - Nathan - and despite Dean's blurred vision he can make out both the local cops coming forward, guns drawn. "Let him go!" There's a buzzing in his ears and a darkness in his head, and he feels the sick feeling that tells him he's about to black out. Then he hears a gunshot, feels himself falling, the decking coming up to bite into his hip and his shoulder before his brother's hands are on him. Someone shouts something angry, moments before a blast of yellow and heat temporarily blinds him. Dean has no idea what immediately follows. When he pulls himself together he's leaning against Sam's solid, mostly dependable form. Cas is gone. There's a streak of black on the building, making it look as if a lightening streak has tried to split the frontage in two - top right to bottom left. And on the deck in front of the bar's entrance the two cops are crouched down over the owner of the bar. Dean can see his legs and feet, they’re shaking like he’s having a seizure. "Cas got angry," Sam tells him quietly, needlessly. "Duke took it in the chest." * * * Chief Wournos has gone from relaxed to desperate in a matter of an hour. Dean's certain that it has everything to do with the bar guy - Duke - being in the hospital with burns over 90% of his body. No one expects him to make it. Nathan's response has been to throw Sam and Dean in a jail cell, because they can't explain their connection to Cas and Nathan's blaming anyone and everyone for what's happening to Duke. He's swinging between anger and grief, periodically visiting them since he came back from the hospital, pacing backwards and forwards in front of the cell, asking them all sorts of questions they can't answer. Between frequent visits, Sam sits on the wooden cot with his head in his hands while Dean sits next to him with his head back against the wall and eyes raised to the ceiling, muttering prayers and incantations; anything he can recall to ask for Cas' help. They can't answer Nathan's questions. "Who is he?! Where can I find him?!" The fourth time around they try, but, "He's God," and "In heaven," doesn't go down well and he leaves again with some empty threat linking Duke's death to the cessation of their freedom. He and Sam have been in this position more times than he can count and they've always found a way out of it. Together, there's nothing they can't accomplish. So he's not worried about their own predicament right now. He is worried about the pain Cas is causing here though. He has no idea why, but there's something about Nathan and Duke that has touched a nerve with him. Something about what Nathan said earlier - about he and Duke 'hooking up'. Sam used that same phase the night they first... moved things out of the usual realms of a brotherly relationship. There seems to be enough trouble in this town and they've added to it with their own problems. "This isn't your fault," Sam tells him. "You're not responsible for what Cas does." "Then why do I feel like he's some kind of embarrassing -" They're interrupted again for the fifth time and this time the fight's gone from Nathan. He leans against the wall opposite the bars of their cell and tells them that he's known Duke since they were five; that they've spent years fighting. He says something about wasted time; Dean's doesn't catch it all but can fill in the gaps. Then he slides down the wall until his ass hits the floor, knees bent, arms outstretched, palms up as if asking them for help Dean isn’t sure they can give. "There must be some way of finding this guy, of getting him to take it back...." The desperation is clear in his voice and in his eyes. He's stopped threatening them, starting pleading with them. Dean gets up off the cot and hangs his hands through the bars. "I'm sorry, man. I don't...." He has no idea what to do or say. "Maybe if you took us to see your friend...?" "He's in intensive care." Tears start in Nathan's eyes. "He's swathed in bandages and breathing through a fucking ventilator. He's a pain in the ass but I'd never have wished this on him. And now... we only just worked things out. People here say he's important to Haven. But... he's kind of important to me." Sam gets up too, comes to stand next to Dean, hand brushing the small of his back. "Take us to see him," he says gently, and Nathan nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Dean will never understand what makes people cave whenever Sam asks for things. That doesn't stop him taking advantage of it. Still, he isn't sure what they can do here. All he can think is that once they're out of the cell it'll be easier to make their escape. But that isn't Sam's plan, apparently. Dean isn't even sure that he has one. At the hospital they follow Nathan up to the Intensive Care unit. They're not allowed in the room. There's a wall of glass through which they can see Duke's lying under a ton of life support and monitoring equipment, with only his face free from the dry gauze bandages. Audrey's there, keeping a vigil, standing guard. She's been crying too. They were doing okay, Dean thinks, before he and Sam came along. Not great by any means, but they were coping. Now they're in hell. "It's not just the burns on his skin," Nathan explains, "they say his organs have been damaged too, somehow...." "Dammit, Cas...." Dean smacks his hand against the toughened glass, tips his head back and yells upwards, "CAS! Get your ass down here you bastard!" He honestly, actually expects it to work. Maybe that’s why it does. He isn't surprised when the sounds of bells chiming and wings unfurling ring in his ears. He hears Sam's intake of breath and sees Nathan's hands flatten on the glass when Cas appears inside Duke's room. "Leave him alone!" Nathan shouts and the nurse at the Intensive Care station rushes forward. Cas turns to look at them, slowing down time, giving them a small, bloody smile before reaching to touch his fingertips to Duke's forehead. It’s obvious that he’s losing the battle to maintain cohesion. His host is compromised, never designed to hold so many souls. "Thank you," Dean mouths through the glass. And in return Cas' cracked and bleeding lips shape the words, "I'm sorry," before he winces, tenses, and vanishes. The end is nigh, as they say, and Dean's more determined than ever to find a way of saving Castiel. As Nathan pushes his way into Duke's room, Dean grabs Sam's arm. "We have to go." "Yeah," he agrees, but they hang on just long enough to see a mummified Duke struggle to sit up, and a relieved Nathan helping him, with arms around his shoulders and a kiss to his head. "They'll be okay," Sam reassures him, and Dean knows he's right. Miraculously, they've survived the Winchesters. So many haven't. * * * "This is getting to be a habit, you almost dying." Nathan sits at the bar watching Duke as he does the little jobs - wiping the glasses, cleaning the optics, checking the stock levels. "Believe me, it's one I'm trying to break," Duke replies. "Contrary to popular belief, I would be happy with a boring life." Nathan smiles at him, mouth quirked in a question. "For a little while." "Yeah." He's been nursing his beer for so long it's warm but he's not here to get drunk. Mostly he's here because he can't bear to let Duke out of his sight right now. Finally Duke stops with the diversionary tactics and comes around to sit on a stool next to Nathan. "Who - what - was it that hit me, Nate?" "I have no idea. It looked like... lightening, but it came from the man - if that's what he was - those guys called 'Cas'." "Who were the two guys?" "I have no idea about that either. Not FBI agents, that’s for sure. But they knew a lot about the kind of stuff that happens here. And they knew a lot about Cas." "Have they gone, all of them?" "I think so. I think Cas is following them. However they're connected, he's a part of their story not ours." Duke chuckles. "Great. So I'm just back to worrying about men with compass tattoos, Zombies...." "How many times?! They weren't Zombies!" "Dead people coming back to life are Zombies!" "Only if they have an appetite for human flesh!" "Where is that actually written? Who made you the Undead expert?" Nathan rolls his eyes, tilts his head and meets Duke's gaze up close. Unlike the first time, when they crashed together on to the floor of Duke's stateroom, fingers clawing in shirts, mouths meeting in a clash of teeth and blood, this is achingly tender. They lean towards one another, lips touching, mouths opening, tongues meeting hesitantly. "Promise me you'll try to stay out of trouble, at least for a few weeks?" Duke nods, brings his hand to his chest. "Cross my heart." "I should hope so. Keep it safe, Duke. I've got plans." |