Chapter Text
“That is bullshit,” Dean said as he put the Impala into park.
“But the energy reading indicated that the spirit’s origin is here,” Castiel replied. They got out of the car.
“It’s a fricking chemical plant, do you gonna tell me the guy died falling into some chemicals, Joker style, except it killed him?” Castiel tilted his head and offered no answer. Mumbling to himself Dean got the gasoline and salt. He handed both to Castiel, before taking the shotgun, checking if it was properly loaded. In the meantime, Castiel had placed gasoline and salt into a bag, he had slung over his shoulder, so his hands were free. Dean handed the angel a flashlight, before taking the second one and throwing the trunk shut.
The duo advanced into the plant. It was no longer operating, but it was still mostly intact, massive tanks and pipes everywhere. The buzzing of the machines still seemed fill the air. It made the hair on Dean’s arms stand up.
“It’s an angry spirit,” Castiel observed. As if to prove his point something rattled.
“Someone or more so something is definitely here,” Dean replied. The barrel of the shotgun and the light of his flashlight roaming through the room.
Again, a sound, steps this time on the catwalk over them. Dean focused the shotgun on the shadow up there. But Castiel pressed the barrel down, before Dean could pull the trigger.
“Human,” Castiel explained. Dean stared up at the figure. How human became clear, when the air suddenly went cold, before the person on the catwalk was sent flying with a shriek.
“Hunters or just a bunch of kids?” Dean asked darkly.
“Dee,” a worried call echoed through the room.
“Hunters, I believe,” Castiel said.
“Oh, really?” Dean replied already running towards the stairs. But he only came so far, before the ghost manifested in front of him, bringing him to a scattering stop. The figure was a man covered in something that hissed upon hitting the ground, despite it not having any effect. Apparently Dean hadn’t been so far off with his Joker comparison.
Dean stared a moment to long at the substance dripping from the ghostly form, because before he had a chance to shoot the ghost, if threw him against the closest wall. As Dean picked himself up from the floor, a shot echoed through the room. The ghost vanished and Dean’s movement became a lot smoother and faster.
“It’s one of the chemical tanks,” Dean yelled at Castiel. Castiel was moving before Dean had finished his sentence. But instead of heading for the tanks, he went for the stairs.
“How exactly do you salt and burn a metal tank?” a voice asked, that made Dean, who had been following Castiel up the stairs, halt.
“Deanna?” he mumbled to himself, before he picked up his pace to reach the top of the stairs at the same time as Castiel.
“We only need to burn the inner layer,” the angel said. “His existence is not linked to the tank itself but the residues of the substance in it.”
“Uncle Cas?” Deanna asked. She turned to Dean. “Uncle Dean?”
“Deanna?” Dean asked. “What are you doing here?”
“You know each other, great, can we talk maybe after the ghost is dealt with,” the girl beside Deanna asked.
“That seems efficient,” Castiel said. He glanced at Dean once, before he moved down the catwalk.
“Efficient, my ass,” Dean grumbled, hurrying after Castiel, in case the ghost decided to try and stop Castiel from killing it. But yet it was him the ghost was going for.
“Dean, watch out,” Deanna cried out, but Dean was already flung over the railing of the catwalk. Thankfully he didn’t landed in the chemical tank. Landing on the blank concrete a story and a half if not more below was not great either. A groan indicated that while hurt, Dean was alive.
Castiel shortly glanced into the direction his partner had been flung in, listening to the pain echoing through his own body. He decided that Dean wasn’t anywhere close to a state that needed his immediate attention, so he continued spreading the gasoline as evenly across the inner part of the tank as possible, before adding the salt.
In the meantime, Deanna and the girl, who was with her, had hurried down the stairs and towards where Dean had landed.
“Are you okay?” Deanna asked, crouching down beside him.
“Give me a moment,” Dean muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Cas?” Instead of an answer there was a small explosion as Castiel dropped the match into the tank. The explosion was accompanied by the ghost, a few feet from where the humans were, bursting into flames too. By the time the humans got their bearings after, Castiel was almost by them. As he reached the group, he crouched down opposite of Deanna on Dean’s other side. He gently ran his fingers along Dean’s temple. Dean sighed as the aches caused by the fall vanished.
“Thanks, angel,” he mumbled, when Castiel pulled back enough to allow Dean to get to his feet.
“Always,” Castiel replied. Dean instantly turned his attention to Deanna.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again. “Do you parents know, what you are doing?”
“Who are you to asked this kind of questions,” Deanna’s companion asked.
“He is my uncle,” Deanna said. “Keep up, Lea.”
“Your uncle?” Lea asked. “He looks our age and more like you than Max ever did.”
“It’s a long and complicated story,” Deanna said. “And somewhat of a family secret.” She glanced at Dean, as if she was asking if he and Castiel still went around pretending that Castiel wasn’t an angel and were purposefully vague on their relationship. “And to answer your questions, Dean, I’m doing the same as you, hunting that spirit and of course my parents don’t know, Max does though.”
“Why?” Dean asked. “Sam wanted to give you and your brother a normal life.”
“Uncle Dean,” Deanna said condescendingly. “I’m neither dumb nor blind. Having an angel around kids? You and Cas not aging? Spending Holidays at Bobby’s? That causes a girl to asked questions.”
“And I thought your parents hated me, because I got you interested into the supernatural,” Lea said.
“No,” Deanna said. “If they really hate you, which I doubt, then for given me a way into the hunt, like I wouldn’t have ended up here anyway. Can you imagine me behind a desk?”
“I want to see them if either of their siblings get killed by a monster,” Lea said. “How many people would stay by in that kind of situation?”
“Killing a Winchester is notoriously difficult and most of the time even the threat of hurting them is met with a swift death of the offender,” Castiel stated.
“Yeah, being a Winchester comes with a certain reputation,” Deanna said. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
“They think you’re in college,” Dean said. “At least that is, what Sammy told me the last time we spoke.”
“Let them believe it,” Deanna pleaded. “Max and I have it under control.”
“Your brother is out there too?” Dean asked.
“No,” Deanna said. “He barely gets up from his computer. Either playing or working on his own college classes. If he texts me is either a rant over a problem I don’t understand or a check this out, could be a hunt.”
“And your parents are oblivious to that?” Dean asked.
“I think so,” Deanna said. Dean sighed.
“I can’t stop you anyway, right?” he asked.
“Nope,” Deanna said. “It’s in my blood.”
“But you have my number, right?” Dean asked. “Don’t play hero. If you in over your head, call me.”
“Sure,” Deanna said. “But in turn you don’t call Mom and Dad.”
“Sure,” Dean said, and Deanna and Lea were on their way.
“She is a Winchester,” Castiel said. “Sam’s intelligence, Jess’s persistence.” He looked at Dean. “Your stubbornness.”
“You’re one to talk,” Dean said. “You showed her the supernatural.” Castiel didn’t say anything to defend himself.
“Will you tell Sam?” he asked instead.
“I don’t think so,” Dean said. “She has to explain it to her parents, that is not on me.” Dean looked around. “Let’s get moving, our job is done here and I could really use something to eat.” He wrapped his arm around Castiel.
“You’re always hungry,” Castiel replied fondly.