The Typo Queen (dorksidefiker) wrote,
The Typo Queen

Not Exactly Apple Pie Part VII

Part VII
Is there a hero somewhere, someone who appears and saves the day

One of the things about the Colt was that making new bullets was a bitch and a half. Not just the making, but the memories. One more nasty reminder of Ruby and how she'd played them all. Still, you use any weapon that comes to your hand, no matter what the source. It was the same reason they used Ruby's knife, the hex bags she'd taught them to make, all the thousand little things they'd picked up over the years from Ruby and the things like her.

“Why does the whole place smell like ass?” Zoe demanded, standing at the top of the basement stairs.

That is the smell of justice!” Dean yelled back, moving to the base of the stairs.

“Stop yelling across the house,” Bobby growled, holding up one of the new bullets between his thumb and forefinger. “Act like civilized people for once.”

“Are y'all taking a body apart or something?”

“Spoken like someone who's never smelled a dead body.” Bobby noted.

“An experience that I'm sure would be very instructive,” Cas noted, “but one that I think is best put off for another day.”

“Cas, do we gotta have another talk about what is and isn't right to show little girls?”

“I've seen dead bodies before.” Zoe thundered down the stairs like a herd of elephants, her face carefully blank. Cas reached out, hand resting briefly on her head.

“Shouldn't you be tormenting Sam?” Dean wanted to know. “I swear, it's his turn to put up with you.”

“He's trying to talk to me about boys. I decided a house that smells like ass was better.” She leaned into Cas's hand briefly, like a cat going in for petting, before wandering over to peer around Bobby. Horror flashed briefly across Dean's face, and it felt like someone had injected ice water into his veins. This was... not a topic he'd ever thought he'd have to cover, even when he'd been with Lisa. Hell, what was there to really explain to a boy? But a little girl-

Oh yeah, this was so gonna be Sam's job.

“You're leaving again?”

Dean latched on to the new topic like a drowning man. “Soon as we find Meg.” He came around to the work bench and rested a hand on top of the Colt.

“And my mom?”

One of these days, Dean was gonna point out that the blank look Zoe cultivated gave away way more than she thought it did.

“We'll do what we can,” Bobby said gruffly. Demons were rough on the meatsuits; even under the best of circumstances, and exorcism was risky even at the best of times. Dean reached out, fingers brushing the top of her hair. Zoe allowed the contact for a moment before moving away to look at the pile of gear they'd cleared out from the trunk of the Impala after the last trip.

“You need a haircut. You look like a dandelion.”

“I'll get one when Sam does.”


“It's missing,” Sam announced, screen door swinging shut behind him, punctuating the announcement. “I thought maybe it'd been left in the car, but-” Dean didn't bother to look away from the laptop screen. There was no urgency in his brother's tone, just annoyance. “The knife's gone.”

Dean didn't even need to ask which knife; there was only one knife that warranted a 'the' from Sam.

“Told ya not to leave it where the kid might see it.” Dean just smiled in the wake of Sam's bitchface.

“We gotta talk to her about this.” Sam sat down, eying Dean expectantly. He might have said 'we', but Dean knew that he meant 'you'. “We're going through salt twice as fast as usual, half the holy water Bobby's bottled has disappeared, and we can't just let Zoe walk off with things. What if it was the Colt?”

“I don't leave the Colt where she can grab it,” Dean noted, “and she'd about as interested in guns as I am in your rabbit food.”

Not the point, Dean.”

Dean raised his hand, warding his brother off. “I'll get Cas to talk to her.”

There was a moment, before it all started. The hairs on Dean's arms rose, and there was a noise, almost too high for human hearing. In the yard, Sophie let loose a howl that was abruptly cut off in a way that made Dean's stomach twist.

Then the windows shattered, along with the light bulbs, the glass in front of Dean, the screen of the laptop, and if the sound was anything to go by, every dish in the kitchen cabinets. Not that Sam or Dean were paying that much attention, not with the noise. Sam collapsed against the table, palms pressed against his ears in a futile effort to block out the impossibly high, painful sound. Dean was on his hands and knees on the floor, glass cutting into his palms as he fought not to vomit up his breakfast. Dean knew the noise; it was burned into his memory as surely as every torture of Hell.

Cas came tearing through the house, stopping only to help Dean rise to his feet, looking as poleaxed as Dean felt.

Dean went to Sam's side, supporting him as the noise faded away, staggering towards the back door in Cas's wake, glass crunching between their shoes.

Cas stopped at the edge of the back porch, stepping between the Winchesters and the man standing in the back lot.

Uriel looked up from the small, bloody thing clutched in his large hands and smiled. The bloody thing made a soft, whining noise, golden fur sticking up in the few places it wasn't slicked down with blood. Uriel kept smiling even as he dropped the whimpering thing, shaking the blood off his hands. “Castiel,” Uriel said brightly. “How far you've fallen.”

“You're looking surprisingly well,” Cas noted coolly, “for someone I distinctly remember watching die.”

“You'd be amazed how many people who fit that particular description are running around these days,” Uriel purred, looking especially pleased with himself.

“How the hell are you here, Dickless?” Dean growled back, trying to get past Cas, who raised an arm and blocked Dean's way.

Hadn't you heard, you uncouth little mud monkey?” Uriel spread his arms, smile turning mocking. “Our Father is in Heaven, and all is right with the world.” The mocking smile turned into an outright sneer. “Aside from the ongoing abundance of stinking apes.” The fur bundle on the ground continued to whimper pitifully, drawing a choking noise out of Sam. “Still, we must be grateful for second chances. Another opportunity to get it right.” A slim silver angel blade appeared in Uriel's hands. Just as suddenly, there as a blade in Cas's hands, and he had launched himself off the porch at Uriel.

Cas was fast, and Sam and Dean were right behind him-

But Uriel was faster, and still an angel at the height of his powers. He parried Castiel's slash with a blow that left Cas's whole arm numb, tossing the brothers back against the house with a flick of his wrist. Boards splintered from the force of the push, leaving darkness swimming in front of his eyes even as Sam pushed himself to his feet and gathered the blood from the gash on his forehead on his fingers. Cas switched his sword to his good hand, pressing his attack. Uriel brushed aside every blow with ease, laughing at Castiel. Toying with him.

“I had hoped you would provide me with more of a challenge, Castiel.” Uriel lashed out with his Grace, knocking Cas down onto the gravel, pressing an expensively shod foot to Cas's chest to keep him in place as he reached out with his Grace again, shoving Sam away from the nearly finished angel banishing sigil and pinning him to the wall next to where Dean still lay dazed. “Meg was foolish to delay so long, but I suppose all good things are worth the-” Uriel had his sword raised high above his head, poise to bring it down in the middle of Cas's chest when the shot rang out, a dark spot blossoming between the angel's eyes. Light flared briefly as Uriel fell backwards, fire flashing briefly across the ground, charring the shape of Uriel's wings into the gravel and dirt.

Castiel tilted his head back and saw Bobby standing in the doorway, the Colt still in his raised hand. “Idjit,” Bobby spat, crouching beside Dean and feeling the goose egg forming where his head had struck the house.

“Bigger problems,” Dean muttered, getting unsteadily to his feel with Bobby's help. “Understatement of the fucking year.”

“We have to go,” Sam said, heading for the bloody bundle of fur on the ground. Dean was still trying to clear the cobwebs from his head, but he knew why and where they needed to go. They could work out how Uriel had managed to claw his way back from oblivion later.

Dean took the Colt from Bobby even as Bobby's cell phone went off. At some point, someone – Dean suspected Sam – had set up Bobby's phone to play the theme from Dragnet whenever Sheriff Mills called. Bobby fumbled the phone out of his pocket, grunting something that was almost a greeting. His eyes closed briefly in a pained expression. “Yeah, we're already on our way. Got a pretty good idea, Jody. Yeah, they're right here, I'll tell 'em.”

Sam had carefully scooped up the nearly unrecognizable body of his dog. Sophie whimpered softly, tongue darting out to lick Sam's palm as she looked up at him like he could make all the hurt go away. Sam looked like he was torn between rage and tears, and the rage was winning. Castiel put a hand over Sam's, the flesh going briefly with pale light. Sophie stopped whimpering, and no new flesh blood dripped from her wounds. “I can't restore her,” Castiel noted bitterly, “but I can keep her from dying." Carefully, he handed the puppy to Bobby.


The last time Dean had seen so many cops in one place, it'd been when Henriksen had almost caught them. It wasn't just the Sheriff's department-- they'd called in everyone, from the state police to the FBI, drawing the attention of news crews from the local to the national.

And there were the parents, all pressed against the barricades around the middle school like a flock of angry, hissing geese, all demanding to know what was happening to their children. Jody stood in the center of the chaos, fighting to bring about some kind of order.

“I know a way in,” Cas stated, eyes sweeping over the crowd. Helicopters hovered overhead, and the news crews were circling like vultures, hunting for the perfect sound bite, just the right image to convey the unfolding tragedy.

There was a bloody imprint on the front steps, the kind you got from someone having their head bashed repeatedly into the concrete.

“You! You're Zoe's daddy, aren't you?” One of the crowd of parents peeled off, marching up to Cas. “I saw you around the Singer place with her and my boy.” An impressive halo of orange curls stood out around her plump face, and enough crystal pendants rested on her ample, freckled cleavage to keep a New Age store in business for years. Dean pegged her one of those fluffy bunny Earth Mother type Wiccans that tended to drive Dean crazy with their insane belief that the universe was a friendly place. “Sweet mother of mercy, you all look like you went twelve rounds with a prize fighter.”

Cas shook his head, gesturing to Dean. “Mrs. Mahone-”

“Maude,” she corrected, turning her attention to Dean. Her eyes were a watery blue-gray, and it felt like she was looking right through Dean. “Mike's mother.” Bright red lips pressed into a thin line. “You know what's going on in there, don't you, the things-- stop looking at me like I'm some kind of idiot, I remember you now. You were here for Sioux Falls' reenactment of Night of the Living Dead.”

“Yeah, we get it,” Dean said quickly, cutting off the flow of words. “What do you want?”

“My boy, safe and sound. Can you do that?” Maude demanded sharply.

“If we can get inside,” Cas pointed out, eyes sweeping over the crowd once again, looking for a break that would let him get in. The school was surrounded – even Cas could tell there was no way to get in quietly without his ability to fly.” “We need a distraction.”

“Think you can do that, sweetheart?” Dean asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Easy, Dean,” Sam whispered, squeezing his brother's shoulder.

Maude gave a sniff and flounced away, tie-dyed skirt twitching. “You just get where you need to be. You got five minutes, sweetheart.”

Cas tugged on Dean's jacket, leading the way around the side of the school.

Cops everywhere. How the hell-

Five minutes, and there was a shriek like a damned soul escaping hell, followed by more more screams and the sound of a car driving through the police barricades.

The cops went streaming towards the screaming, and Cas went running for the school. There was a side door, set into a recess in the wall and partly hidden behind a shrub. Cas threw the door open with easy; the lock had been broken some time in the past.

Bobby was going to have to find his own way in when he got there.

The door lead down into the basement, one of the cleaner examples of a school basement Dean had run across. Cleaning supplies were ranked neatly against the walls, broken sports equipment pushed into the corner – and somewhere above them, demons, helpless kids, and Zoe.

Not helpless, but a big damn target.

“Cas, I am so glad you're a huge creep,” Dean whispered, pulling the Colt from his holster. Cas took point, and Sam brought up the rear.

“Where would Zoe be this time of day?” Sam asked as they emerged from the basement into a too silent hallway. It wasn't the silence of an empty building-- it wasn't even noon, and most of the classrooms were full. Jody had told them that Meg and her merry band had come storming in during the first lunch period. Most of the kids who'd been in the lunchroom had managed to escape; it'd been one of them who'd gotten off the first of many calls to the police. Jody had spared them the details, but Dean could imagine how things had gone down. He didn't want to think about it, but he could just picture the demons boiling through the broken lunchroom windows, killing anyone within their reach before spreading out to take the school, just because they could.

“This way,” Cas whispered back, keeping low as they passed a bank of windows. Dean couldn't see any snipers out there, but there was no doubt that they were there, waiting for their shot.

It would suck balls if they got shot by the police.

Dean could almost hear the kids in the classrooms, more a sense of tense waiting and mind numbing terror than anything else. Just a bunch of scared kids trying not to do anything that could draw the attention of the murdering monsters swarming their school.

They came to a junction, and that was where they found Ms. Witt. Someone had tossed her against the lockers like a broken doll, head lolling at an odd angle. Meg and her cronies had gone to town on her; nails ripped from her fingers, one knee bent unnaturally backwards, and her face beaten into a nearly unrecognizable pulp.


The doors down one of the halls had been flung opened, some of them ripped off the hinges, and there was--

“Jesus Christ-”

--there was so damn much blood, splashed on the dark green lockers, soaking into the industrial grade carpet--

“That bitch is going to pay.”

Cas's fingers brushed Dean's arm, and jerked his chin in the direction of another hall. Sam remained a reassuring presence at his back, ensuring nothing could creep up on them.

“Here,” Cas murmured, resting a hand on a classroom door. “History. Mr. Sullivan.”

The door, of course, was locked. Sam peered through the window set into the door. He could see the kids huddled together in the furthest corner of the classroom, the teacher on the floor with them. Mike spotted him, scrambling to his feet, a bottle of water clutched in his hands. “I don't see Zoe.”

Cas popped up beside Sam, blood draining from his face as he scanned the room. Sam was right; Zoe wasn't amongst the terrified children. Mike scurried over to the door, ignoring the hissed commands to get back. The boy fumbled awkwardly with the door, like he was trying not to cross a boundary while getting the lock open. The door swung open, and Mike threw the water right in Sam's face, stepping back quickly. Someday, Dean was going to look back on that moment and laugh.

“You're not evil?” Mike asked.

“Not today,” Sam told the boy dryly, wiping his face with his hand.

“Who are you people?” Mr. Sullivan demanded as he got shakily to his feet, leaning heavily against the back wall, keeping one hand pressed against his nose; his upper lip and chin was caked with blood, and his eye was starting to take on a purplish hue.

“We're with Sheriff Mills,” Dean told him, flashing the fake badge he kept in his wallet quickly. Not even a lie, really. “Where's Zoe? Zoe Fairchild?” He stepped past Sam and Cas.

“Watch the salt!” Mike said quickly, drawing Dean's attention to the floor, and the thick line of salt on the carpet.

“That little b-” Mr. Sullivan caught himself, clearly remembering that he was a teacher, and that he was surrounded by his students. “She broke my nose and ran off after dumping salt everywhere. How are you going to get us out of here? And you still haven't told me what's going on.”

“You're staying here.” Dean was thinking quickly, trying to put together something plausible. “Right now, this is the safest place you can be.” He stepped carefully over the salt line and drew Mr. Sullivan close. “These guys are a cult,” he explained. “They believe they're demons. I mean really believe.”

A light of understanding dawned in Mr. Sullivan's eyes. “The commune,” he breathed.

“The commune,” Dean agreed. He looked at Mike, who was wearing an expression of pure What is this bullshit? “You got any more of that water?”

“Zoe left her backpack.”

“Right.” Dean rubbed his hands together and hoped that the dumb son of a bitch in front of him would listen. “These guys, they're gonna think that's holy water. Anyone else comes, you douse 'em. And don't break the salt line.” He turned to Mike. “Zoe say where she was going?”

The boy shook his head, looking stricken. “She said she was gonna give 'em a shower.”

Dean caught Cas's eye, and the angel nodded. The sprinklers.

“I'll get them set up here,” Sam volunteered. Salt lines and bottled holy water wasn't going to be enough once Meg figured out where Zoe was supposed to be.

“I'll hit the office. Meg'll probably be there. Cas-”

“I know where she'll go,” Cas confirmed. He squeezed Dean's forearm briefly, something that was almost a reassuring smile before slipping away. Jerk had probably memorized the whole floor plan.


Castiel didn't care for leaving Dean alone, but in the end, it boiled down to priorities. Dean was a grown man with years of experience hunting demons, wielding a weapon capable of killing almost anything. Zoe wasn't, and in a fit of stupidity worthy of the Winchester line, had run off to try and douse the demons with holy water from the sprinklers.

Forget teaching how to do an exorcism; the next lesson was going to be about the difference between self sacrifice and suicide by stupidity.

A lesson Dean could afford to learn as well.

Castiel stopped, his blade resting comfortably in his hand, and he listened.

“A fucking angel, man. Why couldn't he do this shit?”

“You wanna go play with the Winchesters, fine. Me, I'll take this. I like kids.”

“Like 'em a bit less until we find the bitch. I mean it, focus or Meg'll be wrapping your intestines around the flag pole.”

After Uriel, the demons were easy, and Castiel continued on to the basement. He was almost ready to curse the necessity of the hex bags; Zoe still had hers, and with his senses already dulled, he couldn't find her.


Dean noticed pretty quickly that something had the attention of the demons stalking through the school. At first, he'd thought they were trying to find Zoe, but then he realized that they weren't even bothering to check the classrooms they passed; they were herding someone.

“Shit,” Dean whispered. “Zoe, down!” Dean turned the corner and fired twice, leaving tow dead demons on the floor and Zoe peering around the corner at him, crouched low, her hair standing out every which way; it'd come loose from her pony tail at some point, and there was a thin line of blood on her chin. She came to Dean at his beckoning gesture, Ruby's knife clutched in her hands. Dean ran a hand over her head, smoothing back her hair. “You alright?”

Zoe nodded, reaching up to wipe the blood away. “I bit my lip.”

“Cas thought you were heading for the sprinklers.”

Zoe held up her hand, showing Dean the rosary wrapped around her wrist. “They got between me and the basement. I was trying to lose them.”

“Right.” Dean listened to the eerie quiet of the school. “I'm taking you back to your class and you're gonna stay there.” He started back towards Mr. Sullivan's classroom.

“Where's Cas?”

“Looking for you,” Dean told her, “which is why you shoulda stayed there with your class in the first place.”

“Cas says a moving target is better.” Zoe stuck close to Dean, glancing back over her shoulder.

“You think you're real cute, don't you.”

“I'm adorable,” Zoe confirmed brightly.

Dean took Zoe's hand, the one not clutching the knife. “C'mon.”

“You're both adorable.”

Meg didn't hesitated, didn't give Dean time to raise the Colt as she stepped around the corner. The little tines of the Taser latched on, and the electricity arched through Dean's body. He could hear Zoe screaming as he hit his head for the second time that day on the lockers, and the world went dark.


Castiel ran a hand along one of the water pipes, fingers coming back dusty. Seven demons before he'd gotten to the basement... no sign of Zoe. She hadn't made it down there, and Castiel felt like he was caught in a vice, scenarios flashing through his mind, each one worse than the last.

She probably saw a demon in the way and hid instead, Castiel told himself. She'll have found somewhere to hide.

A part of Castiel marveled at his abilities of self-deception.

Castiel was back up the steps when he heard the scream, shrill like a rabbit caught in a trap, overlaid by a more masculine yell of surprise and pain.



If Dean ever had to make a list of things he really hated, Tasers were gonna be right at the top of that list.

“Rise and shine, pretty boy,” Meg crooned, laying a stinging slap across Dean's cheek, hard enough to jerk his head to the side. He could taste blood in his mouth. “I see Uriel's just like every other angel – all talk, no action.”

Being duct taped to chairs was on that list right after Tasers. The chair had spun a bit with Meg's blow, but his arms were still secured.

They were in the office, him and Meg and Meg's lackeys and Zoe. A woman in a powder blue suit was holding Zoe by the shoulders, and one eye was starting to swell shut, and there was blood streaming down her face from her nose. The woman in the suit smiled, eyes black.

The Colt and the knife were laid out on the receptionist's desk, tantalizingly close.

“We've got the other one cornered in one of the classrooms,” one of the other demons noted.

“And Castiel?” Meg asked tersely. “Where's he?”

“We think he's still in the basement. That was where he was seen going last.”

“You think?” Meg whirled around, getting in the face of the demon, lips pulled back in an animal snarl. “Find him. The last thing I want in an angel running around messing everything up!” She gave the demon a hard push out the office door. “Demons,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she approached Zoe. “Worst minions ever.”

“You get the hell away from her!” Dean struggled against the duct tape, trying to push his chair over to Meg and Zoe with his feet. One of the demons grabbed the back of the chair and pulled him away.

Meg threw a smirk at Dean over her shoulder as she cupped Zoe's face. “Aren't you just the spitting image of your daddy,” she cooed.

“Fuck you,” Zoe spat.

“Adorable.” Meg ruffled Zoe's hair in a parody of an affectionate gesture. The demon gripping Zoe's shoulders gave her a hard shake when Zoe tried to jerk away.

“I'm gonna kill you.” Dean continued to try to loosen the tape holding him to the chair.

“Don't you ever get tired of making promises you can't keep, Dean?” Meg leaned against the receptionist's desk and smiled like a damn shark as she picked up the Colt, checking to see how many bullets were left. “I know I get tired of hearing it.” She raised the Colt to the level of Dean's eyes, miming firing. “You know, normally I like to play with my food, but I think I'd rather just get a move on before any of Clarence's old buddies show up.”

All the lights above them shattered, and Meg didn't even flinch. “Speak of the devil.”

Someday, Dean would have to compliment Cas on his ability to make an entrance, even if Meg wasn't impressed. All the demons but Meg and the woman holding Zoe swarmed Cas, giving Dean exactly the distraction he needed. He kicked hard against the floor, careening into Meg. The Colt went skittering across the room, followed by Dean when Meg shoved him away, the rolling chair tipping over. The demon in blue let out a shocked yelp, clutching her hand where Zoe had bitten it while Zoe darted away, snatching up the knife as she went.

“You little cunt!”

The demon in blue caught Zoe again by the hair and Zoe brought Ruby's demon killing knife around, shoving up from beneath her rib cage. Dean would have cheered if Meg hadn't kicked him in the face while scooping up the Colt again. “I am so tired of this,” she noted, turning and aiming at Cas. Dean jerked one of the arms of the chair free and grabbed Meg's ankle, yanking her feet out from under her. Meg still had the Colt in her hands, and she brought it around to Dean as he pulled his other arm free.

Castiel brought his foot down hard on Meg's wrist, the bones cracking beneath the force of it and the weight of his body, making her release her hold on the Colt. His other foot, already coated in demon blood, came to rest on her neck, heavy enough to make Meg choke. Dean scrabbled for the Colt, aiming it right between Meg's eyes. “You got no idea how long I wanted to do this.”

“You kill me,” Meg gasped out, “you won't know why I wanted the kid or what else is after her.”

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other. “I think we can manage without the information,” Cas pointed out as Dean pulled the trigger.

Cas stepped back, and Dean holstered the Colt. His whole body felt rubbery, and there were spots dancing in front of his eyes. “Zoe-”

Zoe was sitting on the floor, pressed against the receptionist's desk with her knees drawn up against her chest. Her face was blotchy and tears rolled down her cheeks; she had eyes only for the dead demon in the powder blue suit, the knife sticking out below her sternum.


Dean put his arms around Zoe, pulling her to her feet gently. She didn't protest or pull away while Dean held her. “We gotta go get Sam.”

Cas pulled Ruby's knife from the body of Zoe's mother, wiping the blood off on the suit. He squeezed Dean's shoulder, tucking the knife into his belt before wiping some of the blood from Zoe's face with his thumb. “We need to go,” he agreed.

Zoe sniffed loudly, a profoundly disgusting mucusy noise, and nodded. She didn't look at the body again, clinging to Dean's hand as he lead her away, Cas walking on Dean's other side with his fingers brushing Dean's hand.


It was over a month before the middle school reopened. Jody kept them apprised of the situation, from the reckless endangerment charges against Maude Mahone being dropped out of consideration for her mental state at the time to the appearance of Joanne McGrudder amongst the corpses. Zoe McGrudder was still missing, presumed murdered by her mother when it became clear that Joanne had been one of the people who'd rampaged through the school. Authorities were more than happy to link her to the massacre at Zoe's old school, glad to have a name and a face they could pin some blame on.

Sioux Falls was inundated with reporters, psychologists, analysts, and conspiracy theorists of all types, all of them trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy. Memorial services were held, and families grieved for their lost loved ones. But time moved steadily onward, the blood was cleaned up, and just after Winter Break the students returned to Sioux Falls Middle School.

Dean was waiting, idling in the parking lot when the last bell of the day rang. Zoe didn't linger with the clumps of other students, making a bee-line to the Impala and climbing into the back seat. “My teachers all think I'm in Witness Protection thanks to you.”

“They giving you any trouble?” Dean asked, looking at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

Zoe looked out the window, shaking her head. “They all wanna know if I'm okay,” she sneered. Dean didn't ask her if she was; however Zoe felt about what had happened that day, whatever she felt about having to kill the demon wearing her mother like a suit, she kept it to herself, and Dean wasn't going to try and pry it out of her. That was Sam's job, not that he'd had much success. Zoe willing to help Sam take care of Sophie, who was recovering nicely in spite of losing one of her front legs, but whenever Sam tried to bring up her mom, Zoe shut right down.

Dean figured she'd talk about it when she was damn well ready.

The passenger door opened, and Cas slid into the seat. “Nothing worrying,” he reported, leaning over to brush his lips against the corner of Dean's mouth. “The security has greatly improved.”

“Just try not to get caught. I don't think they'll buy the crazy war vet thing again.”

Tags: bobby singer, castiel, dean winchester, dean/cas big bang, sam winchester, supernatural

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