Splatter

20. The Angel 1819

This couldn't be the swamps, Dean told himself, as he marvelled at street after street of commotion. There was just as many people here as the city centre Dean lived in. A lack of town planning led to cramped alleyways and ingenuity built the hundreds of LED signs that advertised a plethora of goods and services. Though everything looked built from scrap timber, the buildings were multi-storey. There were Mer everywhere, adults and the elderly, male and female and in-between. The canals were choked with tails and tentacles and the people walked or swam with their head fins on display, glimmering incandescent in the gloom of shadowy side tracks. In the chaos Dean thought maybe there was a chance they might not be noticed but then he saw Castiel nodding and smiling at Mer like they were family. Dean supposed they were of a sort. The crowds parted where ever they went, as if sentient of Castiel's intentions. Dean quickly realised it was not anonymity that kept them safe, there was respect and acceptance of their role.

"Exactly what is going on?" Dean reeled as an entire aquarium went past on the back of what looked like a modified bicycle, bulbous shapes floating in muddy water.

"Shark egg season," Castiel replied. "They are delicious and affordable at the moment."

"I mean us, what are we here for?"

"Our duty, Dean," Castiel said, somewhat sing-song. "Keep the arrivals contained, maintain boarder sovereignty. Maybe solve a couple of murders too."

"Is this what you've been up to, all those months you've been away? I thought you were overseas, thousands of miles off, but really you were half an hour drive towards the marsh lands?"

"I was that far away at times," Castiel clarified. "But yes sometimes I was closer than you thought. Can't afford the international roaming bills otherwise, the amount we communicated."

"We could have 'communicated' in person," Dean said gruffly, refusing to budge from the middle of an intersection.

Castiel looked down at the hand Dean had clasped to his elbow, Dean couldn't work out how or when his own hand did that. The crowds stopped suddenly, Dean noticed a circle of distance was forming around them, one or two Mer couldn't help but stare.

"I coulda've been useful to you, to your cause," Dean swallowed, then in a whisper he added. "I was lonely."

Castiel turned and faced Dean, his face tilted up, their noses could have bumped.

"And what is my cause Dean?"

Dean searched for something specific but could find only confusion. There had been so many incarnations of Castiel, so many games and so little certainty. Dean thought hard.

"To help the Mer," he finally committed to an answer.

Castiel glared at him for a minute then his face broke into a grin. "Is that who I'm helping?"

Then they were walking again through yet another alleyway cramped with stalls and streaming with bodies. Castiel kept walking for about an hour and Dean spent the whole time trying not to let the crowds get to him. He wasn't exactly afraid of masses but the sheer number of people per square foot was overwhelming. They went from one end of the swamps to another, seemingly in loops, until Dean realised that was exactly what they had been doing. Like a fish put into a new tank, they were going in circles.

"Are you trying to get as many Mer to see us as you can?" Dean was incredulous, how was this at all incognito?

"That's our job, we're police officers now, or least in here we are," Castiel said reasonably. "It's more about being seen than anything else. Like chasing or arresting. Don't worry though, I'm sure we'll get to do those things too eventually."