Chapter 7: Where You Land

Dean didn't like this one bit. Even though they'd made Paul put his phone on speaker to ensure secret messages couldn't be passed—and it did seem like the guy was on the up this time—Dean still didn't trust him. And he sure as hell didn't want him watching their backs.

"We need another pair of hands, Dean," Sam argued.

"We do just fine by ourselves."

His brother huffed out an exasperated breath. "This vamp is a lot tougher than the typical hunt. Don't be stupid."

"Please," Paul put in. "Let me make this right."

Dean scowled and resumed his agitated pacing. "Fine," he ground out, allowing Sam to finally escort the other hunter from the panic room. Maybe Paul genuinely wanted to help, maybe he'd bolt first chance he got, or maybe he'd screw them over and hop back on the pro-Lamont band wagon. In any case, though, they didn't have the powered angel up their sleeve anymore, and Sam was right; they needed the extra guns.

Dean turned to Cas, who was still standing in the middle of the room, watching him. "You up for this?"

Cas narrowed his gaze. "You said before that my…condition, wouldn't change things. I am still a warrior."

"I know you are," Dean hurried to mollify. "But facing the monster that…" he trailed off. "I want you with us, I do. But I also don't want you pushing yourself before you're ready. You have a bad track record with that, you know."

Cas's jaw was tight, and he looked away for a moment. When he met Dean's gaze again, it was with staunch resoluteness. "I learned from you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, smart-ass. But you're loading up on power drinks before we go. Stuff with iron and vitamins."

Cas followed as he headed for the door. "That doesn't sound as appetizing as pancakes."

Dean paused at the foot of the stairs to arch a brow at him. "They come in chocolate flavor."

"Oh. Alright."

Shaking his head, Dean led the way upstairs to join Sam and Paul, who were busy packing an arsenal for the inevitable confrontation. Lamont had been skeptical of Paul at first, but the jackass knew how to sweet talk his way out of it. And in the end, the vampire couldn't resist the temptation of a fully powered angel to feed off of.

They packed up all their gear and climbed into the Impala. Sam automatically slipped into the backseat next to Paul so Cas wouldn't be stuck with him. And though Cas would never say anything, his shoulders loosed just a fraction of tension as he slid into the front next to Dean.

They'd chosen a location in Sioux Falls; familiar turf equalled home field advantage. It also guaranteed they got there first, since Lamont was a few hours north, enjoying his killing spree. An abandoned body shop would serve their purposes. Dean hoped the layers of oil and grease would help cover their scent when Lamont arrived, as the element of surprise was pretty much the only thing they had going for them. They set everything up, took their places, and waited.

Dean and Cas hid in the office, wedged between the door and leftover office furniture. Sam was in the garage section, crouched down behind some tool cabinets, and Paul was lounging on the hood of a rusted out Mustang. It was cramped, dark, and boring as hell. Dean pulled out his phone and sent a text to his brother.

"Keep an eye on him."

His phone's screen lit up a moment later. "Two eyes." Then again a second after that, "But stop being paranoid."

Dean mentally scowled. He had good cause. At least Sam wasn't blindly trusting Paul, even if he wasn't as resistant to him as Dean was. He glanced at Cas, who was using the wall to hold himself up. As an angel, the guy could stand as rigid as a statue for hours probably, but since he'd been cut off from Heaven, Dean had started noticing the tiredness in Cas's posture, the way he shifted his shoulders occasionally to relieve growing aches. It was more pronounced now, more weighted.

Dean knew Cas could kick ass with or without angel powers, but he still worried. Hell, he still worried about Sam, and they'd been hunting together for years. It was a strange balance, trusting the guy watching your back yet also wanting to do everything to protect him. Dean figured it'd just take time to adjust and find a similar balance with Cas.

The outer door swung open with a raucous creak, and Dean tensed. Showtime. He pressed himself against the wall and leaned out just a fraction to see through the crack in the office door.

Lamont stormed in, dreadlocks bouncing upon his shoulders. "Well?" he demanded. "Where is this other angel?"

Paul rotated a lighter back and forth between his fingers. "He'll be here. All I have to do is pray and he'll fly right down. A bleeding heart, this one."

Lamont's lip curled up in a sneer. "Then pray."

Paul smirked, and clicked the lighter to ignite a flame. And then he tossed it on the ground. The ring of holy oil they'd poured lit up with a whoosh, circling around the vampire.

Lamont's eyes flashed dangerously before he turned a bemused look on the simmering fire. "And what exactly do you think you are doing?" he asked, tone low and menacing.

Paul crossed his arms, and Dean had to give the guy points for not losing his shit. They didn't actually know if the holy fire would work on the vampire just because he'd drunk angel blood.

"You broke our agreement," Paul said. "No hurting innocent people."

Lamont snorted, and began to stalk forward. "And this is why you called me? Over a contract dispute? Tell me, how did those hunters find me at the crypt?"

"Ah-ah," Paul said, wagging a finger and then pointing at the holy fire. "You absorbed an angel's powers, right? So how sure are you that blood won't light up if you cross this?"

Lamont's nostrils flared, and he came right up to the edge, but then hesitated. Dean waited. Part of him hoped the vampire would just light himself on fire and save them the trouble. But just in case… Dean flicked his gaze to the tool cabinet where Sam was slowly straightening, angel blade in hand.

Lamont reached a hand out to cross the line of holy fire. The flames at his feet flared in response, crackling and spitting orange slivers across the floor. Lamont gritted his teeth, a vein in his forehead throbbing, but he stretched further. Okay, no need to test this more. Dean watched Sam slink out from hiding and creep up behind Lamont. He'd be able to cross the holy fire, no problem, but just as Sam stepped over the flames and raised his blade, Lamont pushed all the way through the fire barrier with a piercing scream.

Sam's thrust with the angel blade missed. And Lamont did not burst into flames. The vampire threw his head back and roared. Tongues of fire licked at his legs, but dispelled under the force of power that burst out from the creature. Paul staggered back and tripped over a pile of wrenches.

Dean and Cas charged out of the office as Sam struck out for a second hit. Lamont whirled to face him, taking a slice across his bicep. He howled in pain and shoved both hands out toward Sam, propelling him across the room.

Dean whipped out his gun and emptied his clip into the vampire. Lamont's body jerked as each bullet ripped through him, and though it wouldn't do much, it had worked as a distraction before. Cas moved in with his own angel blade.

Lamont twisted away at the last second, spinning around with a speed that now outmatched the former angel. He grabbed Cas's arm and wrenched it up, holding the sword at bay. The vampire's eyes widened.

"Well, well…you smell mortal now," Lamont sneered.

Cas struggled, but couldn't break free. Dean fumbled to reload his gun.

"I wonder if I could snap your spine." Lamont started reaching his other hand up to grip Cas's neck.

Paul charged forward with a battle cry, wielding a machete he'd had tucked in the corner. Lamont snarled, and threw Cas aside, right into Dean. As they hit the floor, Dean's gun went skittering out of his hand. He scrambled to get to his feet again, but froze when Paul's machete sliced clean through Lamont's neck. The vampire wavered for a moment, expression completely stunned. Dean waited for him to topple, but the thin line around his neck where muscle and tissue had been cleaved slowly melded back together. Shit.

Lamont's face morphed into a wicked grin. Paul glanced between his useless machete and the miraculously healed vampire. Lamont flexed his fingers, and Dean watched in horror as fingernails grew into werewolf claws. With a growl, Lamont lashed out, slicing Paul's throat. The hunter's weapon dropped to the floor as he shot a hand up to clutch his neck. Blood dribbled out between his fingers.

Sam lunged for the vampire again. Lamont pivoted, catching him before he could stab his angel blade into the vamp. Twisting around, Lamont sank his teeth into Sam's neck.

"Sam!" Dean scrabbled for the angel blade his brother had dropped. But before he could get his fingers around the hilt, Lamont tossed Sam aside and shot a hand out to wrap around Dean's throat, cutting off his air. Dean kicked and thrashed, but the vampire's hold was relentless. Lamont opened his mouth wide as he dragged Dean closer, razor teeth already stained crimson.

Cas darted in and drove his angel blade into Lamont's back. The vampire jerked, a gasp escaping his throat. His fingers loosened, and Dean dropped to his knees. Gasping for breath, he looked up to see Cas give the blade a sharp twist. Light burst from Lamont's gaping mouth, a weird conflagration of blue, red, and rufous orange tinged with black shadows. The vampire began to convulse until Cas pulled out his blade, and then Lamont crumpled to the floor.

"Please tell me that killed the bastard," Dean said around coughs.

"I believe so," Cas replied, casting Dean a concerned look.

But Dean was more worried about his brother. He staggered to his feet and over to Sam, who was sitting on the floor holding a hand against his bleeding neck. "Sam, shit. How bad is it?"

"I'm okay, Dean," he said, slightly breathless, but sounding otherwise steady.

Dean pried his brother's hand away to get a look, and then let him resume applying pressure. "Doctor Robert is gonna start charging mileage."

Sam gave him a rueful smirk as Dean dug out a handkerchief and quickly pressed it to the wound. "Paul?"

They both looked over to where the third hunter's body lay on the ground. Cas was standing over him, expression unreadable.

Dean cursed under his breath, and helped pull Sam to his feet. They made their way over, getting a full view of Paul's sightless eyes staring into nothing, a large puddle of blood oozing out around his head. For several moments, none of them said anything.

Dean finally cleared his throat. "Cas, help Sam, would you? I'll take care of the bodies." He hesitated, glancing at Paul again. They should give him a hunter's funeral. Despite everything the guy had done, he deserved at least that.

Castiel trailed behind Sam as they exited the auto repair shop, watching carefully for any sign that the young Winchester was about to collapse from blood loss. Yet Sam remained steady on his feet, albeit hobbling slightly on his way over to the Impala where he opened the trunk and started digging through its contents. Castiel wasn't sure what he was even supposed to be doing to help.

Sam withdrew a first aid kit and fumbled to flip the lid open with only one hand, the other still firmly applying pressure to his neck wound.

"Here." Castiel quickly stepped closer to take over; he could do that much at least. He opened the kit, and then blinked dubiously at the various supplies contained within. "Um…"

He was woefully ill-equipped for this. As an angel, he could simply heal wounds with a touch of grace, and though that power had been lost months ago, he'd never realized how little he could actually do if the Winchesters were in need. They had cared for him in his weakness many times before, and here he could not do the same for them.

"See the antiseptic swabs there?" Sam said, no trace of impatience or exasperation in his tone. "We need to clean the wound first, and then there's a large patch of gauze you can tape over it until we get back to Bobby's."

Castiel almost muttered that Dean should be doing this; the older Winchester would certainly do a better job. But Castiel needed to learn. Especially if he was…human now. His skills as a warrior still made him dependable in battle, but he wanted Sam and Dean to be able to rely on him for other things, too. They looked out for each other, and that included more than just sword wielding.

Castiel tore open one of the swabs, and Sam removed the bandana from his neck. With blood smeared everywhere, it was a little difficult to determine how serious the injury was, so Castiel began wiping up the blood. Sam sucked in a sharp breath as soon as the antiseptic touched raw flesh, and Castiel jerked his hand away.

He gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry. I can get Dean…"

Sam shook his head. "I'm fine, Cas. It comes with the territory. Just clean it as quickly as you can, but still be thorough."

Castiel did not want to cause Sam more pain, but this needed to be done. He cautiously raised the wipe again. Sam's jaw clenched, but he didn't make a sound as Castiel resumed cleaning the area. When the swab turned red, Sam instructed him to use another one.

"Is it still bleeding?" Sam asked.

Castiel paused in his work to study the jagged wound. It wasn't as deep as it could have been, or as shredded as Castiel's own previous bite marks. "Only a little."

"Okay, good." Sam shifted in discomfort. "Tape a patch on."

Castiel grabbed one from the kit and ripped open the packaging. He struggled to peel off the paper from the sticky sides, though, and it ended up bunching together. He tried prying the sides apart, but the adhesive was rather binding.

"Just open another one," Sam said.

Castiel let out a frustrated breath through his nose. He was taking too long, and Sam's neck was starting to ooze blood again. And Castiel had wasted some of their supplies.

"I'm sorry," he muttered as he opened another patch, this time being careful to peel the paper back a certain direction so it would come off smooth.

Sam gave him a small smile. "It's your first time doing field triage; it's okay."

Castiel shook his head as he laid the bandage over Sam's neck and gently ran his fingers along the edge to seal it down. "If you or Dean had been seriously hurt…"

"Dean and I can take a lot," Sam responded. "And we'll teach you how to stitch wounds and stuff."

To think it had only been a week ago that Castiel had decided he needed to learn trivial human practices such as using doors. Now he had no choice with that, and the things he needed to learn were more complicated and had far more reaching consequences if he couldn't do them right.

But, he knew Sam and Dean would help him adjust. And, Castiel could not imagine two better teachers for the challenges that lay ahead of him.

He crumpled up the used wrappers. "Is it okay?"

Sam reached up to feel the bandage, and nodded. "Thanks. Were you hurt?"

"No." Castiel half turned away to focus on organizing the first aid kit. He could feel Sam's probing gaze, and while his shoulder ached from getting thrown and his wrist from the vampire's bruising grip, those were minor and did not need doctoring. It would have been worse, though, if Paul had not jumped in when Lamont was about to snap Castiel's neck. That very well could have killed him, or at least permanently damaged his physical body. But Paul had distracted the vampire…and died instead.

Castiel didn't know how he felt about the man's death. Loss of life was common in Castiel's experience fighting epic, celestial battles. A few human casualties were nothing to spare a thought on, and certainly nothing to grieve. Even more, Paul had captured Castiel and handed him over to a monster to be ravaged and nearly killed. So it was not as though Castiel felt the hunter's death as a poignant loss, and yet, he did feel conflicted about it.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked, eyeing him carefully.

"Yes," Castiel replied. "I'll go see if Dean needs assistance."

Sam didn't push, but he did end up accompanying Castiel back inside the auto shop, insisting that he was perfectly capable of helping with clean-up. Dean already had Lamont's body tossed in a metal garbage can and lit on fire. Paul was wrapped in a roll of grease-stained tarp Dean had taken off a car frame.

"Figured we'd give him a hunter's funeral back at Bobby's," Dean said gruffly.

Sam merely nodded, and went to get some shovels so they could bury Lamont's bones out back. That was hard, laborious work in a way Castiel had never experienced before. They hadn't even needed to dig a very deep hole for Lamont's burned remains, but Castiel's back and shoulders were aching from the repetitive bend and scoop motion.

Once that was done, he helped Dean carry Paul's wrapped body out to the Impala and place it in the trunk. Castiel once again slipped into the backseat, now that it was his own space again. The drive back to Bobby's was quiet, a somber cloud hanging over the three of them. Back at the salvage yard, they wordlessly started gathering wood to construct a funeral pyre, and when it was ready, they laid Paul on top of it. Bobby came out to join them as they lit the pyre.

The flames crackled and snapped as they consumed the kindling and rose up to engulf the tarp concealing Paul's body. No one said anything, though Castiel thought it was customary for someone to say a few words over the deceased.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Paul…started out with good intentions."

Dean snorted under his breath, and Sam shot his brother a sharp glare. Castiel ducked his gaze to the fire.

"He made mistakes," Sam picked up. "We've all been there. But he came through in the end."

Castiel's jaw tightened.

"His death wasn't your fault," Sam leaned in to whisper.

"It feels like it was."

Sam shook his head. "That's the job. It comes with hunting, with choosing to fight the Apocalypse."

Castiel stared at the writhing flames as they devoured the mortal shell that had once housed Paul's soul. Had it gone to Heaven? Or…not? And now that Castiel was mostly human, where would he go in death?

"Paul just wanted to stop the Devil," Dean finally spoke up. "And there are probably others out there trying to do the same. But we're the only ones who really know what we're up against." He hesitated, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "So it's time we button down and figure out a way."

Sam and Bobby nodded in silent agreement.

Castiel felt a brief flash of panic. How could he be of any help now that he'd completely lost his powers? How could he expect Sam and Dean to take the time to guide him in his newfound humanity when such a monumental challenge lay before them? It was too much. They were all only mortal, after all.

"Because if anyone's got a real, fighting chance," Dean continued. "It's us. Team Free Will."

Sam's lips twitched, while Bobby rolled his eyes.

Castiel looked between the three humans, and was surprised when each of them returned his gaze with looks of solidarity, strength of resolve, and staunch support. They believed in each other. In family. And as long as they kept such faith, perhaps they could move mountains.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's followed this story and its verse! Final shout-out to 29Pieces for beta reading too. ^_^
Monday I plan to start posting my post-season 11 AU exploring Cas's recovery after Lucifer's possession. It is going to be full of angst and pain, but that also means lots of comfort to go with it. Hope to see you all there!