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huntertales · 6 years ago

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Part One: Looking In All The Wrong Places. (Goodbye Stranger S08E17)

Episode Summary: After a few months of silence, Castiel reappears in the reader and Winchesters' lives telling them Crowley has unleashed several demons into a small town to search for Lucifer's Crypt, which hold a valuable asset. While interrogating a demon, the four of them have been torturing Meg, who knows the exact location of the Crypt the king of hell is after. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 6,077.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You and the boys had been calling the Men of Letters bunker your home for the past few months now and slowly reinventing it your own. There was still so much you needed to do in order to declutter and figure out what you had on your hands after the past owners mysteriously abandoned the place. You stumbled up plenty of objects and weapons you’ve never seen before. Instead of putting them back into storage and forgetting about them all together, you decided to go through them and see if they might be useful to you on a future hunt...if you knew exactly the weapons you were looking at.

You were told by one of the last remaining Men of Letters that their bunker was home to every supernatural artifact collected over thousands of years. You had a feeling a few of them would be rolling around in their graves if they saw all of their precious and priceless cargo collected over the past several hundred years was reduced to their boxes being stacked up on top of one another in the library, hopefully not scuffing up their wooden floors. You were particularly fond of them, it’d be a shame if they got ruined because of this.

The brothers were the ones who pulled all of this stuff out after you discovered it while searching through the bunker, wondering what kind of rooms other rooms they built during their stay here. It was the perfect hideout layer for a hunter. You had a fully furnished kitchen to make actual meals and enjoy them. A shooting range if you wanted to practice your aim and a gym you used a few times to remind Dean that, while you were pregnant, you could still kick his ass if provoked. There was even an infirmary and morgue, luckily no dead bodies were found. And so many other rooms you felt like you haven't even touched yet. This place still managed to make you feel like you hit the jackpot on having the best home ever.

You and Dean had been going through the boxes for the past hour, not finding much of anything interesting to catch his attention while you had been at awe with everything. You felt like a little kid at Christmas from all the artifacts and history you were going to learn about these old things. Dean pushed back the top to another wooden crate he found and pulled out something peculiar that caught his eye. It appeared to be a weapon of some kind that was ancient for sure, but what it was and why the Men of Letters had it didn’t interest him.

“What the hell is this?” He muttered to himself, discovering a rectangular box that held a spear from the looks of it. He shifted around the box and found a small title card telling him what this thing was supposed to be. “Spear of Destiny? What is this—God’s toothpick? You know, would it have killed these asshats to label these boxes in something other than hieroglyphics? It's ridiculous."

“Already one step ahead of you.” You made your way around the pile of boxes with your phone to take pictures of the wording on the side of the box after placing post-it notes labeled with a number to give you a system to work with. Dean watched as you intently worked on taking the picture after labeling another box with a number, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat at the sight of you so diligent to get this for. You rolled your eyes from his reaction. "What? We need to know if these things are spell protected. And what all of these artifacts used for.”

“‘Artifacts’? Please. This is a bunch of junk at the most.” Dean said. He put back the next object he’d been observing in search for another that might be the slightest more interesting from the last one he observed. He watched you work for another few moments, your face full of concentration on what you were doing. “Let me guess, this is your kind of fun. Stuck with a bunch of dusty knick knacks and hours of research ahead for you. And here I thought Sam was the biggest nerd between the two of you.”

"Yeah, well, this nerd somehow saved your ass a few times. I might have not got a lot of action in my life, but I did get myself pregnant with this really handsome, but not all there in the head guy.” You teased him, smiling when you caught his reaction at your comeback. Dean reached for another priceless artifact that appeared to be a red and gold Faberge egg. You rolled your eyes when he made the mistake of opening it up and taking a whiff, only to flinch at the dusty odor. "It won't hurt us to see what we got on our hands. And get some kind of filing system down of our own. See what we’re working with and if we could use in the future. After all, our kid’s gonna inherit this stuff.”

“That’s you and Sam’s job. Right?” Dean asked his brother, expecting to hear a response that sounded like he was the least bit excited for the tedious work ahead for you and him. All Dean got back as a response was silence. When he was left hanging without an answer, Dean looked over to see the younger man was engrossed with his laptop, too caught up in his typing for at least some kind of verbal answer. "Hey. You listening to me?"

Sam looked up from his laptop at the sound of his brother's aggravated tone of voice from being ignored. "Yeah." He agreed to whatever it was that the man was talking about, hearing snippets of the conversation while he worked to not have a clue. "You should probably write it all down in your journal for the archives, you know?"

"Yeah, thanks." Dean muttered underneath his breath. "You're a lot of help."

You worked for another minute of labeling boxes and taking pictures to help ease your workload when you had to stop for a minute. You felt yourself coughing a few times from a sudden tickle in your throat. Thinking that it was done, you tried to go back to what you were doing, but it started back up again. Even worse than before. You felt yourself suddenly having a coughing fit that wouldn't stop. You made your way down the steps and to the table where Sam was sitting, grabbing a tissue when you felt something come out from your throat. You covered your mouth before it could escape and make a slight mess.

"Hey, little Miss. Tuberculosis," Dean called out to you when he noticed you were starting to sound pretty serious that made him grow a bit concerned. "You all right over there?"

When you felt yourself under control once more, you pulled the tissue away from your mouth to examine what you caught, expecting it to be nothing more than saliva or phlegm. Sam looked away from his laptop and to you when he heard the coughing fit that sounded like it took a bit out on you. While you appeared to be calm, you felt a rush of anxiety come over you at what you saw in the middle of the once stark white tissue—blood. Little droplets of red. You crumbled up the tissue and threw it into the trash, pretending like what just happened was nothing more than you having a coughing fit. Your lungs had a strange burning ache when you tried to take a deep breath before speaking.

"Yeah. I'm fine." You reassured the boys. "I just think I'm coming down with something."

Dean took your word for it, deciding to continue on going through the boxes to see what else he could find while you decided to take a break and a quick drink to help your throat. Most of the things he found was junk had no use for and would eventually end up forgetting about. He pulled out a folder from one of the boxes and discovered something that was worthwhile all of dragging out these boxes from storage. Dean hit the jackpot—retro porn.

Before “Busty Asian Beauties” there was a little magazine called "Voluptuous Asian Lovelies." Dean couldn't help himself when he started to flip through the magazine to see what kind of lovely women posed for back in the day. He felt a smirk slowly starting to spread across his lips at all the seductive faces.

"These Men of Letters weren't so boring after all." Dean said. He decided it would be wrong if he kept this find to himself when he headed over to you and his brother to tell you what he found, thinking you were going to be excited as he was. "Hey, check this out."

"What do you have?" You asked out of curiosity, thinking he had something actually important to show you. When you saw the cover of the old magazine he was holding his hand, you scoffed and rolled your eyes. You should have known better than to believe it wasn't going to be about something perverted. A room full of historical and priceless artifacts verses scantily clad women were no match for him. "What is wrong with you, Dean?"

"What is wrong with me? You kidding me? This is a first edition, sweetheart." Dean said. You leaned back in your seat and raised your brow, wondering why you should care about that fact. "You know what this would go for on eBay?"

"No. Why?" You asked. "Do you?"

Dean looked up from the magazine when you asked him a question, breaking his concentration away from the pretty ladies. You crossed your arms over your chest and have him a curious look as to what his response was going to be. He smiled slightly, as if he was trying to lie. "No. Maybe." Dean responded. You nodded your head slowly, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing at how terrible he was lying. And how caught he was. You didn't care, you just thought how adorable he got when he was embarrassed. "Shut up."

"Never gonna happen." You said, reaching for the other half of Sam's untouched sandwich he'd been ignoring for the past ten minutes while Dean pulled out a seat for himself. "Did you find anything interesting for us, Sammy?”

“I did, yeah—dead bodies showing up all over the midwest last week. Benton, Indiana; Downers Grove, Illinois; Novi, Michigan; and then again last night in Lincoln Springs, Missouri.” Sam said, listing off a few cities that didn't seem like they were anything special. Dean wondered why all of these cities were connected in your kind of way. "Because each of the victims had severe burns around their eyes, hands, and feet, puncture wounds through the backs of their hands, eyes and internal organs liquefied."

Dean smacked his lips and nodded his head, knowing well enough that it was the right amount of crazy to catch his attention. “That sounds like us.”

"Yeah. Also, no link between any of the victims.” Sam said, as if you needed more information to get you interested in the case. “Uh, one was a real-estate agent. Another was a local historian. Woman killed last night was a teacher.”

“So, chupacabra.” Dean sarcastically guessed what might to be blamed for all of this. "So what do we got? Power tools got rogue? Wait—are we talking a 'Maximum Overdrive' situation here?"

“I don’t know.” Sam admitted. “Worth a shot, though.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a fun one. I'll grab my gear. We should probably leave in five. And you might want to make another sandwich for the road, Sammy." You said between the last bite of the sandwich before swallowing it down. Sam only noticed now that you had polished off his lunch when you mentioned it, you gave him a smile at how annoyed he look. You got up from your seat and grabbed the plate, Dean continued to sit where he was with his full concentration on the magazine. “Unless of course, someone needs more time with Miss October.”

“What?” Dean asked, not sure what the conversation topic was anymore with his complete and total concentration on the magazine. He noticed you standing up with a hand on your hip, giving him a playful dirty look at what he was doing. "Yeah. Make it ten."

“You’re such a pervert.” You told him, knowing it was nothing new. It was part of Dean's charm that you enjoyed when the moment called for it, and grew to get annoying at times if you had to be honest. You smiled and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Good thing you’re cute, lover boy.”

The both of you smiled at one another before you headed off to pack a bag for the next few days and gather the supplies you might need. Dean flipped through a few pages before he decided he should get started on packing as well. He threw the magazine to the table and leaned in his chair to get himself back up to his feet. In doing so, his gaze casually glanced over the trash can. noticing crumpled up pieces of paper and notes written over the past few days. Dean found his attention focused on something that stood out like a sore thumb.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean called out to his brother. The younger man was passing by and heading to his bedroom, only to be stopped for a strange sounding question that seemed like it came out of nowhere. "You get a bloody nose or something today? Paper cut?"

"No." Sam said. He made his way back to his brother, wondering what the questions were prompted by. When he noticed Dean was still holding the trash can, he peered down to see what he was staring at. Sam spotted a crumpled up tissue on the top of the papers, with something suspicious on it. "Wait. Is that—"

"Blood? Yeah." Dean muttered the response he didn't want to say out loud, because it meant what he'd been staring at for the past few seconds was real. He dropped the trash can back to the ground and let out a heavy sigh, knowing it came from you. Back when you had that coughing fit that wasn't the start of a cold. "Something's going on with Y/N. I know there is."

"It could be nothing. I mean, she's been coughing pretty badly over the past few days. She could be coming down with something. Maybe she cut her lip." Sam tried to suggest a possibility to help ease the worry he could tell was starting to come over his brother from what he saw. It didn’t. "Don't you think if she was feeling off she'd tell us?"

"Would you if you were in her situation?" Dean questioned his brother, knowing well enough what his response was going to be after he fell silent. If Sam was the one who was doing the trials and coughed up a little bit of blood he'd say nothing about it. Because that's how all of you functioned. You ignored a problem until you were near the edge of death, or...well, dead. "I knew this entire thing was a bad idea. She's been acting all sorts of weird lately."

"Yeah. That’s kind of what’s to be expected with everything going on lately. And besides, she seems to be acting fine since we got back. Maybe all she needs is a little time alone." Sam said. "Besides, if there was something serious going on she'd tell us. She's reckless, but she'd never do anything to put the baby in danger like that. I mean, after all, that's the reason why she's doing the trials in the first place."

You had been acting a bit more normal lately after you disappeared for a few when all of you got home from the drive back. Dean tried asking you where you went, you reassured him that you just needed some time to think. You were okay. Dean wasn't convinced that a little self therapy could solve the deep rooted issues that had been plaguing you for months. And seeing the bloody tissue made him feel even worse about this entire situation. It wasn't the first time you put on a happy face and said everything was okay, only in the end you were doing your best to tame the inner beast inside of you from coming out. And even that you couldn't do all the time.

Something was going on with you, and he needed to get to the bottom of it before it was too late. He wanted to confront you about the bloody tissue and figure out what caused it, even though he had his suspicions. But Dean knew that if he got too over the top you'd shut him out. Every part of hm was trying to remain calm about the situation. He decided the only thing he could do was sit back and keep a better eye on you, waiting for any kind of unusual behavior to pull the plug on this whole operation. Dean knew how much doing these trials meant to you, they were the chance at giving your child a better future all of you never had. But he couldn't do it at the expense of your own health—and the baby's as well.

+ + +

The next morning you and the boys were in Missouri, speaking to the widower of your latest victim to have died under suspicious circumstances that lead you here in the first place. Mr. Morton still seemed broken up about the unexpected passing of his wife, which made him willing answering any sort of questions the FBI might need answered. Anything to figure out what might have caused his wife to go out the way she did. Sam lead with the questions while you and Dean casually let your eyes roam around the home, trying to find anything that might explain what lead to the death of Ann.

“We just have a few routine follow-up questions about your wife, sir.” Sam said. Mr. Morton nodded his head in complaisance. “Did she have any enemies?”

“Ann? Honestly, I can’t think of a soul who’d want to hurt her, even after everything that happened.” Mr. Morton said. You found what he lead with a bit curious. You repeat back what he said to you, wondering exactly what he meant by that. "About a week ago, something changed in Ann. She was out of sorts, not herself at all.”

Personality changes was always a red flag for you, it meant the person Ann was and who her husband married might not be exactly who he remembered. Either she had someone riding around in her skin controlling her every action, or you were dealing with an invasion of the body snatchers here. “Out of sorts how?” Sam asked the man.

“It’d be better if I show you.” Mr. Morton said. You and the boys followed him down to the basement to what he found that was the first thing telling him something was wrong with the woman he loved. "She stopped sleeping. She stopped eating. She went out in the middle of the night, going God knows where. I tried to talk to her, but...she would just mutter to herself."

At first the basement looked like any other one you been in; old junk stored away, tools neatly put away for when the couple might need them, bikes hanging up. There was no indication that Ann was secretly a serial killer or keeping a prisoner, but she was up to something. You noticed a scale model of the town on full display, something that had to have taken someone a very long time to complete. If you cut out sleeping and her day job, it would give her endless amount of time to create an exact replica. You bent down to inspect the craftsmanship, Ann went as far to add little people to make it more realistic. It was unsure if she did this on her own, or the person pretending to be here did.

The most troublesome thing you noticed wasn't the model township she did in her free time, but the little bags of dirt that were hanging from the ceiling. You reached out to grab one of the little baggies, pushing on the contents to wonder what it was. Guessing from how it felt, it was dirt You heard of people collecting a small amount of sand from beaches they went to, collecting dirt was a strange habit that wasn't normal. You let the bag of dirt go, causing it to swing slightly in the air. You directed your attention back to Mr. Morton, wondering what Ann muttered to herself.

“Something about an orchard? Finally, I just followed her one night, and she went to the playground. Over here—the elementary school.” Mr. Morton pointed to a spot on the map where you spotted a little playground with trees and people, even toy cars as well. “And she started digging. She would leave with these little bags full of dirt. Hung them here. All these bags represent holes that she dug in the ground.”

“Were these holes, I don’t know,” Dean took a wild guess of how Ann worked and how far she went to find something from digging. "Six feet deep?"

“No. She dug for hours. She never broke a sweat. Straight down ten, maybe fifteen feet.

"Did you notice anything else?" You asked, hopeful there was more evidence to shine a light on the woman's odd behavior.

Mr. Morton fell silent from your question. Your expression softened from the thought that came to his mind, something that sounded like it would come from a crazy person. You didn't need to say anything for him to hesitate. Every little bit of information helped figure out what happened to his wife. All it took was a nod of reassurance that you wouldn't judge him for what was about to come out of his mouth.

“I didn’t say anything to the cops ‘cause I didn’t want them to think I was crazy.” Mr. Morton admitted. “After Ann came home, I came down here to confront her, and she was on the phone.”

“Any idea who she was talking to?” Dean asked.

“No. But I know what I saw. And it wasn't my Annie. After I called her out, her eyes...they turned black." Mr. Morton told you something that sounded like it was a trick of the mind. You and the boys knew that it was a direction into what was going on here. You felt your jaw tightening from the thought of having to deal with demons. "Now, I know I must have imagined it. I know I did. But I left. I went to the bar, probably had too much to drink, and by the time I came back...my Annie was…”

Mr. Morton let out a heavy sigh, not needing to say about what happened to his wife. It was the reason why the three of you were here in the first place. It meant while he was gone someone was already onto what Ann was, broke into the house and did your job for you. "I should have stayed. I should have protected her.” Mr. Morton mumbled, feeling guilty for all what he could have done to save his wife. “I’m moving into my sister’s place today. I can’t be here anymore.”

"Sure. Too many memories." You said, nodding your head at what the man was feeling at the moment. You gave him a sympathetic smile from the unexpected loss he was going through, and the list of unanswered questions he would be burdened with for the rest of his life. "Thank you very much for your time. We're all very sorry for your loss."

You and the boys excused yourselves out after saying a formal goodbye to Mr. Morton. You had an idea from what was going on here. And you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Demons were always a pain in your ass with their sketchy plans to complete some sort of project their king wanted done without having to get his hands dirty in the first place. Crowley had been quiet for a few months now after you busted his plan of torturing that poor angel. After you murdered his pet you knew it a matter of time until you came face to face with him again. The question was what him and his goons were doing, and how someone was killing them.

For some reason that little detail was bothering you the most. You followed behind the boys out of the house and to the Impala parked on the sidewalk, just a few feet away. You placed a hand on your chest from the burning feeling slowly creep into your chest. You presumed it was just heartburn, one of the many fun things about pregnancy. You had it a few times before, but it never quite reached your lungs like it had yesterday. You made your way down the steps, taking in a deep breath to compose yourself after the pain passed by.

“So, somebody’s killing demons. Well, that is awesome.” Dean said. He sounded a little too enthusiastic about hearing the news that shouldn't be possible for hunters. There were only two weapons for someone to kill demons from what you knew. And one of them was always in you and the boys’ possession. Dean didn't seem to linger on the details, he was just happy someone was helping carry the load. "I feel like we should send a card or flowers. What kind of flower says 'Thanks for killing demons'?"

“Yeah, but who’s killing demons? And why?” Sam asked, sounding confused as you were from what was going on here. Demons were the type of monster who liked to possess people and get their hands dirty by torturing and killing to get what they wanted. Not in the sense of getting down on their knees to dig for something. "And, by the way, since when does a demon possesses someone, then go all 'Beautiful Mind' and digging in the dirt? Does any of this seem right to you guys?”

"I like the part about killing demons." Dean said, giving no help. "That sounds right."

You rolled your eyes from the lack of help he could give on the insight of the case and what you might be trying to stop here. You opened up the backseat door and slipped yourself inside, knowing there was still one more lead you had to chase along with a few phone calls you needed to make on the way to the next house on your list.

Sure, it was nice someone was going out of their way to take down demons. It made your job a little easier from the number of possible enemies working on this little project of theirs. That part really wasn’t bothering you. It was how they were going upon it and icing off demons that was making you feel saying thank you to the person helping. You had a feeling it wasn't a hunter who was taking down the common enemy the both of you shared.

+ + +

On the drive to the next house, you made a phone call to another victim's spouse to see what she could tell you about her husband's sudden passing and if she had to say the same as Ann's husband did. You listened to what she had to say, jotting down notes about the same behavior Ann had inhibited before her passing. When you felt the Impala slowly coming to a stop, you looked out the backseat window to see that the three of you arrived at your next destination. You tucked away your small notepad into your jacket pocket and blazer's pocket and opened up the door with your free hand, all while finishing up your conversation.

"Of course. Well, thank you very much for all your help. I really appreciate the time. Alright. Goodbye." You ended the phone call, slamming the backseat door with your hip and stepped onto the sidewalk to join the boys and tell them what you found. "So, the real-estate guy's wife said he was acting weird. Historian's hubby said the same—just got all obsessive and weird. No one saw any black eyes, but still, where there’s smoke, you know…”

"I wonder what they're all looking for." Sam said. You shrugged your shoulders from the lack of any lead you had going for you and the boys, heading up the porch steps and to the front door.

“Well, Wendy Rice here was the last person to speak with Ann so let’s see if she can tell us.” Dean said.

Sam knocked on the door as you pulled out your badge from your pocket, making sure it ready when you saw it open a few moments later. You saw a woman who looked to be in the middle of getting ready from the curlers in her hair answer the door, only to be bombarded with three badges to greet her. "Special Agent Lynne." Sam introduced himself to Wendy, along with his brother and then yourself. "These are my partners Special Agent Tandy and Special Agent Koerner. We'd like to ask you a few questions about Ann Morton."

"Oh. Uh, uh, uh, of course. Please come in." Wendy nervously chuckled at the sight of two handsome faces on her front porch, when she wasn't the least prepared to look her best. She smiled and softly played with her curlers to make sure they were in place before welcoming you into her home. She ushered you to take a seat in her living room and came back with four cups of coffee to discuss the reason why all of you were here in the first place. "I had never met her before she called the other night.”

“Now,” Sam smiled at the woman when she handed him a cup of coffee, asking her a question that might lead you one step further into what was going on. “Why was she calling you?”

“She was looking to find an original map of the city.” Wendy said.

“Did she say what for?” Sam asked in hopes for more specific information.

“Well, she didn’t, but she did mention an old orchard that had gone missing.” Wendy went on. You raised your brow slightly from what she said, wondering what caused it to disappear in the first place. “This town was wiped from the earth by one of the river’s hundred year floods. It was rebuilt. But all of the original records were lost. I’m—I’m a PhD candidate.”

Wendy nervously chuckled once again as she played with her curlers. You sat on the love seat next to hers, knowing well enough the school girl giggles was because of how accomplished she sounded to the boys, who she was facing while the conversation went on. You subtly rolled your eyes. Wendy got up from her seat to grab a binder from her desk to show all of you what Ann had searched out for. You put down your cup and scooched out of your chair to inspect the detailed map Wendy had created and laid over the coffee table.

"And this is my research. My dissertation is on the history of this town and its connection to the underground railroad and whatnot.” Wendy went on, smiling at her accomplishments she got to brag about. She pointed a finger at the stop in which Ann was talking about. “I've been working to re-create a map for years as part of my research, and this is the old Jakubiak orchard there. I found out yesterday it’s where Downey meets Bond street.”

“Now, did Ann say why she was looking for the site of an old orchard?” Sam asked the woman.

"No. We set a time to meet, and she never showed. Then I read about her in the paper. It's just tragic." Wendy said, falling silent for a moment from the unexpected turn of events she never saw coming. "Ann's assistant called this morning, though, asking if I still had the map."

You and the boys exchanged a glance from hearing about this assistant that Mr. Morton never mentioned, and found a little odd of why Ann would have one in the first place, considering she was just a high school history teacher. All of you got up to your feet and followed behind Wendy when she answered the door, revealing this so called assistant. You were expecting one person to pick up the map, not three men to do a simple job.

If you already had your suspicion any of them being Ann's so called assistant, you were proven right when they showed themselves for what they truly when you saw three pairs of inky black eyes in your direction. You had beaten them to what they wanted. But it seemed nothing was going to stop them from getting what they came here for.

One of the demons grabbed a hold of Wendy and threw her across the room as if she was nothing, knowing she was no more than a bystander in the fight that was about to break out. If it was a fight they wanted, it was one they were going to get. You thought you were still more than capable of defending yourself against anyone who wanted to pick a fight with you, even in your condition. You were waiting until a demon crossed your path again. While the brothers were drawn into a fight, there was still one that was unaccounted for.

You saw the third one trying to grab the map from the floor, where an unconscious Wendy laid. You managed to beat him to the piece of paper before he could get his grubby hands on it. While you were ready to do anything you needed to make sure it stayed that way, you didn't take into consideration he wasn't going to go down without a fight. And the knife that could kill him was currently in Dean's hands. You felt a sudden rush of pain in your face from the punch the demon threw, making you stumble back slightly. Any other day you would have been able to defend yourself in a fight, but for some reason you were off your game today.

You felt the map slip out of your hand when a grip around your throat came out of nowhere, cutting off the supply of oxygen that you needed to breathe. Normally a punch to the face and a hand around your throat was nothing more than adding fuel to your anger from how the demon was trying to pick a fight with you. You were all set to kick his ass, but you were more concerned with the fact that you couldn't breathe. The demon dragged you over to the nearest wall and tried to keep this fight going with you, however he didn’t take into consideration that there was someone else wanting to pick a fight with him.

Sam thought he managed to subdue one demon long enough to throw the one off you before he could choke you to death. Dean was about ready to stab the demon he was fighting against, but before he could, he watched as he slipped out of his meat suit in favor for Wendy. Everything happened so quickly after all. You saw one of the demons somehow manage to escape with the map while Sam tried to fight the one you went up against. The younger Winchester managed to only throw a few punches before he found himself being blinded by an unexpected burst of light.

When the air began to come back in your lungs and the room stopped spinning, you noticed that Wendy was subdued and the demon that attacked you were dead. His eyes burned out of his sockets. The person who saved your life was somebody you hadn't seen in a good few months after he disappeared under strange circumstances—Castiel.

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