The Price of Freedom

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Farrah grimaced. The boys had been praying and Cas had been trying to talk to her nearly nonstop for a week now.

She was currently in a motel in Sam Diego, where she was working a skin walker job.

Farrah, answer! Castiel pleaded. At least let us know you're alright!

Simultaneously she heard Sam. Dear Farrah, for goodness sake's, just answer! We're worried sick! Farrah, Dean won't eat or sleep, he's always reading or just sitting there staring at the wall. Please. This is as close to heartbroken as I've ever seen him. Please, at least tell us you're safe.

Next was Dean. His were most consistent and usually the most heart-wrenching, because she could hear tones in them, as if she was talking to their faces.

Farrah, I feel stupid doing this, you know. You haven't answered for a week, and I don't expect you to answer now. I know you won't, you're too stubborn. But, Farrah, if you're ever in trouble, just send me a text. You don't even have to say it, but contact me somehow. I don't want you to ever feel alone or unsafe.

Her head started to hurt with all the words pressing on her mind, but she was restraining from telling them to stop. This was their form of grieving; she didn't want to deprive them of that.

But she needed a minute to think. So when they got it out of their systems and finished talking to her, she immediately opened her laptop to research. She had three hours, tops.

Dean looked up from his prayer and looked at Cas. "Anything?"

"No," he replied sadly. "Not from Farrah at least. The angels are anxious to have me back in heaven. They are scared, confused, and I cannot explain to them why I can't return because they have never experienced anything similar to this. This is confusion, anxiety, fear. It feels like heartbreak. Dean, Farrah may have cut herself off from me." He had been thinking it for a few days, but decided to tell them now, even as a slight headache formed in the back of his mind.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up. "How?"

"She may have said that she didn't love me, or perhaps used a spell."

"Would that work?" asked Sam. Dean was silent, and could've been mistaken for asleep if he had been laying down. The bags under his eyes and the looseness of his clothes made him look like a walking corpse, only adding to the affect.

"Perhaps. But I will not try it. Maybe if I were to ask Philip. He may have answers."

"What kind of answers?" Dean suddenly piped up without looking at them. "Answers as to where my daughter is, or answers for how she's staying hidden? We used her angel GPS to find you. Why can't you do the same?"

"I cannot sense any emotional or physical distress. I am sorry, Dean."

"Sorry doesn't bring Farrah back, does it?" It was the first time he'd said her name in days, and Sam glanced at him. His fists were clenched and his back turned, but Sam could tell he wasn't angry at Cas.

"It is the best I can offer," Cas sighed.

"Dean, just relax. He loved her as much as we did, and you can't just take out your anger on him."

"Who then? You? It's my fault she left, Sam." He walked outside and slammed the door, making his brother flinch.

"Sam," gasped Cas.

"Don't worry. He just needs to cool down." He turned back to his computer and continued looking for people who looked like Farrah, although it could be a lost cause.

"Sam-"

"Relax, Cas. Dean wasn't-"

"SAM!" he finally shouted, and the man in question spun in his chair. Cas was grabbing his stomach and gasping for air.

"Dean!" he exclaimed, throwing the door open. His brother was sitting on the hood of the Impala. "Dean, it's Cas!"

In an instant they were both inside and on either side of Cas. "What's wrong?" Dean said immediately.

"She's been stabbed."

"Okay, so physical distress-tell us where she is!" Dean shouted.

"San Diego." He grabbed their shoulders and tried to fly, but his pain caused him to be, for lack of a better word, grounded.