Until We Meet Again, My Angel

Chapter 10: Disguise and Demand

   Sam sat up, the sunshine on his face waking him from a deep sleep. Sam groaned, wiping his face with his hands. He turned his head to see Dean holding Castiel's hand, both practically comatose. As Sam turned back around, wondering where the shower was in their new motel room, a deep voice made him jump, "Good morning, Sam." Clutching his chest, Sam spun to find Castiel, still clasping Dean's hand, staring at the ceiling. Sam, his breath ragged, closed his eyes in relief. "I apologize for startling you," Cas paused, then added, "I would have gotten up, but..." He gestured to Dean's hand. "Yeah, no worries," Sam assured, "Wait, I thought Angels don't have to sleep?" "We don't have to," the Angel reasoned, "but we can." "I can see that." Sam said sharply. Sam's conversation mate merely shrugged.
   Dean stirred in his sleep, murmuring, "Take Sammy? Dad, where's mom? Don't make me leave..." Dean sat straight up as if on command. Dean's savior, concerned, asked him, "What is it?" Dean grunted and dropped his head, mumbling, "Nothing. Nightmare. Need coffee." Sam chuckled, "Wow, Dean, that was almost alliteration." Dean frowned at his brither, growling, "Shut it, you nugget of a Pantene model." Cas, his face full of confusion, wondered aloud, "Nugget?" Dean turned to his lover and barked, "I told you I need coffee."

   After Sam and Dean had taken their showers, Cas had changed into his suit and trench coat, and Dean had chugged about a gallon of coffee, a phone began to ring. As Sam and Dean pulled cellphones from every pocket and crevice on their clothes, Cas asked, "How many phones do you have?" "Bout twenty." Dean answered. "Yeah, but only like six or seven are active right now." Sam added.
   Dean reached into a boot next to his bed and found the cell. He was about to open it when Sam shouted "My turn!" and lunged for the phone. Dean narrowly dodged his baby brother's grasp and whined, "You got it last time!" Sam caught up to his best friend, yelled, "CUPCHECK!" and punched Dean in the groin. Collapsing onto the motel carpet, Dean put pressure on the pained area, and muttered, "Punk." Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother curled up on the floor, and opened the phone.
Putting on a professional voice, Sam greeted, "Hello?" From the floor, Dean could hear the voice on the other side, but couldn't decipher it. After a minute or so, Sam thanked the caller and assured that they would be there soon. Closing the phone, Sam shook the hair out of his face and spoke, "Bobby found us a case." Cas' attention was switched to Sam as he asked, "How's Claire?"
"She's good. She says she loves you and she's learning a lot at Bobby's," Sam answered. "But get this," he went on, "There's a town about an hour from here, and people are dropping like flies."
"So what?" Dean asked, "What makes this our kind of thing?"
"When they opened up the first body for an autopsy... his insides were jelly." Sam smirked at Dean's shocked expression, and continued, "They just found another body, and this is the fourth one in three days."
Dean raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and replied, "Alright, let's go."

   An hour and a half later, the boys were in suits, standing in a monochrome silver room, staring at a bloated corpse with a small incision on it's stomach- obviously a stab wound. "Uh, Officer Jefferson," Sam turned to their escort, "May we check out the body in privacy? This is a matter for the FBI." Their guide, a rotund police officer, nodded politely, "Of course, Agent Tyler," he gave the same courtesy nod to Dean and Cas as he waddled out, "Agent Jackson, Agent Pratt." When the cop had gone, Dean turned to Cas, questioning, "Pratt? Like Chris Pratt?" Cas explained, "You and Sam often use the names of popular singers, I chose to use the name of an actor." He said matter-of-factly. "Guys, names are no big deal. Look at this." The couple ceased bickering and strode to stand at Sam's side. Once the two were there, Sam put a glove on his hand and stuck two fingers through the gash in the body's gut. When the Winchester withdrew his hand, it was covered in a red, dripping, gel-like substance. Cas moved Dean out of the way to get a closer look. Staring at it, the Angel announced, "I've seen this before," Standing straight, he continued, "this man was killed by an Angel."

"I thought Angels were good." Sam protested.
"We are," Cas defended, "Well- most of us are." The Angel added quickly.
"This must have been planned," Dean deduced, "otherwise, bystanders would have been killed."
"What do we know about the victim?" Castiel questioned.
"A lot, actually. Real scumbag," Sam answered, "Twenty-four years old. Just got out of prison after serving six years."
"What did he do?"
"Statutory rape. Guy was eighteen when he got caught sleeping with with a thirteen year-old girl."
"So, what, we got an honor killing?" Dean theorized, "Some Angel got pissed and killed him?"
"Why is there even another Angel on earth?" Sam wondered aloud.
"There are a few rogues like myself," Cas admitted, "though they are not as hunted as I."
   The door creaked open, causing the boys to space themselves from each other. Officer Jefferson poked his round head into the room and spoke, "Excuse me, Agents? There's been another murder- just like the last one, 'cept this time there's two."

   Almost two hours later, the boys were back at the motel. Sam and Dean had thrown themselves on their beds, Cas joining Dean. Dean, eyes closed, mumbled, "Well, Sam," "Hmm?" "Shouldn't you go get your nerd on? Google vengeful Angels or something?" Sam groaned, "I don't wanna move." "Neither do I." Dean whined. "Neither do I..." Cas agreed, voice full of suspicion. Sitting up, the Winchesters' Holy friend asked, "You both had about six hours of sleep last night, right? That's like twelve for a Hunter!" "Yeah," Dean grunted as he sat up, "and since when can you even be tired, Cas? You're an Angel." Dean's boyfriend, filled with adrenaline due to the alarming situation, stood up, announcing, "This isn't real."
   Sam, catching on, opened his eyes wide and began unraveling the situation, "Wait- killing people who deserve it,"
"Like the rapist and those teens who beat their sister." Dean recounted.
"Exactly. Plus the candy wrappers at every crime scene, and now fake sensations?"
Dean's eyes widened with understanding, "The Trickster."

   "The Trickster?" Cas repeated. Sam explained, "A demigod- immortal unless you use a stake soaked in his victim's blood. The one we met was killing people, awful people, but people. They need a diet high in sugar to stay at full strength."
"But when he is at full strength," Dean added, "You better watch out. The one we met had enough juice the throw us into an alternate reality."
"No, that can't be," Cas denied.
"Well, it be." Dean returned.
"No, Dean," Castiel pressed on urgently, "Tricksters are only demigods. Creating illusions, emotions, that's normal. But fake sensations? Alternate realities?"
   Sam and Dean exchanged alarmed glances as their Angelic partner continued, "Sam, I've met Mercury, the original Trickster, and even he could not do this." The Winchesters' alarm was replaced with confusion as Dean asked, "Then what's doing this to us?"
   As if it was a trigger phrase, Dean's inquiry was punctuated by the sudden appearance of a man in the middle of the room. Sam, recognizing the brown hair, hazel eyes, and smug grin, stepped forward and accused, "You." A satisfied smile on his face, the figure met Sam's eyes and greeted pleasantly, "Hiya, Sunshine. You have something I want." Sam couldn't believe it...

   The Trickster had found them.