Theme Prompt - Standing Still

"Teamwork?" Dean snorted.

"Of course," Gabriel replied. "What did you think Sam and I were doing, being gone for so long? It doesn't take that long to grab fast food." A slightly uncomfortable silence followed as Dean looked from Sam to Gabriel and back again.

"All right, I'll bite," Bobby said drily. "What were you two doing?"

"Gabriel found the dragon," Sam replied proudly, wrapping an arm around the archangel's shoulders. "And a way to kill it." Gabriel reached around his back and pulled out a long, slim sword. He handed it to Dean with a grin on his face.

"That is the sword of Arvin Odinson," Gabriel explained. "Stab the dragon through the heart with it and he dies." Dean took the sword and was surprised at how light it felt. He gave it a few experimental swishes through the air. It almost sang as it flew, cutting the air delicately. Dean nodded in satisfaction: this was one weapon he wouldn't have to train to use.

"Bobby, you got anything lying around that I can put this in?" Dean asked. "Most people don't like guys walking around with swords in their hands." Bobby thought for a moment, his hand tapping the book on his desk. He nodded and went upstairs. They could hear him rummaging through a closet upstairs and muttering to himself. Finally, a door slammed closed and Bobby stomped back down the stairs. He was carrying an old leather scabbard, big enough to hide the sword.

"Here you go, boy," Bobby said, tossing it at Dean. "And don't ask how I got that." Dean just shook his head and slid the sword into the scabbard. The leather cradled the blade and it felt like this was where it belonged.

"And there is a dragon not too far from here," Gabriel said brightly. "It's in Iowa."

"How do you know?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Why, you just need to know what a dragon wants," Gabriel said facetiously.

"And what's that?" Bobby asked gruffly. Gabriel's grin grew wider as he surveyed his audience. He loved drawing out the suspense.

"Virgins and gold, of course," he finally said, laughing. Dean tossed the scabbard onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, Iowa is a bit of a drive," he said. "I'm gonna go get my stuff."

"Dean, wait," Sam said. "I'm going to come with you. You need help." Dean started to shake his head but Sam continued, "You need someone to watch your back. And I haven't helped you at all. Let me help you. It'll be like an old-fashioned monster hunt." Sam turned his best puppy-dog-eyes face to Dean and just waited. His brother almost never said no when Sam used that face. Gabriel covered a smirk and firmly told his hands to behave. Sam didn't need Gabriel trying to get under his shirt when trying to convince Dean.

"Fine, fine," Dean finally said. He probably would need help on this and Sam was one of the best hunters he knew. "Get your crap together, we leave in 15 minutes." He stalked upstairs and threw a few changes of clothing into his duffel bag. Walking to the bathroom, Dean splashed water on his face and just stood. Fingers straying to the feather at his chest, Dean looked at his reflection. His eyes were still bloodshot and he looked like hell. Shrugging, Dean turned away and headed downstairs.

Sam had packed his duffel quicker than Dean and was saying a heartfelt goodbye to Gabriel. He had his arms wrapped around the archangel's shoulders and was standing with him, feeling his heartbeat.

"If you need help," Gabriel whispered. "Call my name. I'll be there in a flash."

"I know," Sam replied, dropping a gentle kiss on the top of Gabriel's head. "Anything goes wrong and you'll be the second to know." They shared a heartfelt kiss before Dean clearing his throat caused them to break apart.

"Be back soon," Sam said cheerfully, waving at Gabriel. Dean had already stalked out to the Impala and had the radio blasting. Sam threw his duffel in the trunk and got in the passenger seat with a resigned sigh. He turned the music down but not off. Dean had gotten violent in the past over his music. It was going to be a long trip.

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About six hours later, they pulled up to a rundown motel in a medium-sized town. Taking turns, they showered and changed into their FBI suits. A quick scan of the paper on Sam's laptop showed that four young women had gone missing in the last month from their homes. Most of their jewelry was missing as well. The local police were baffled.

"Sounds like this is the place," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, let's go see Mayberry PD," Dean said sarcastically. Sam nodded and shut down his laptop. They climbed into the Impala and headed to the sheriff's office. They were greeted by a rather impressed young deputy when they flashed their badges and shown into the sheriff's office.

"Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" the sheriff asked. His nametag read H. Jenkins.

"You could tell us about the missing women, Sheriff Jenkins," Sam replied. The sheriff sighed and sat back in his chair.

"They were all in their early twenties," Sheriff Jenkins began. "They were all taken in the middle of the night on different days of the week. Also, most of their expensive jewelry was missing, according to the families. Things like gold, silver, gemstones, and pearls. Cheaper jewelry was always left behind."

"Any fingerprints or other evidence?" Dean asked curiously. In his experience, most monsters didn't leave helpful little clues like that. And if they did, the police always misunderstood what it was.

"No fingerprints or footprints, inside or out," Sheriff Jenkins answered. "Although a window in the bedroom was always open. At this point, we believe that's how the kidnapper entered and left with the woman. No bodies have been found, so we're hoping the girls are still alive."

"Thanks for your time, Sheriff," Sam said, rising. "Can you give us a list of the families please? We'd like to talk to them ourselves." The sheriff nodded and grabbed a piece of paper out of his files. He copied down four addresses and handed the paper to Sam.

"Good luck," he said drily. "Any information you get I want immediately." Sam nodded reassuringly and the Winchesters left the station. Sam looked over the paper and then said, "Closest family is about three blocks away. We could walk." Dean nodded and they headed south to the first family's house.

They talked their way in and sat through tears and reminiscing. Unfortunately, the family of the first girl taken had no more information they could add to what Sheriff Jenkins had already told them. The next family followed the same pattern and the Winchesters walked out as full dark claimed the world.

"We've still got four days," Sam said to Dean. "We need to get some rest. Let's go back to the motel." Dean didn't bother to reply, just slid into the Impala. Images of a bloody and broken Cas were dominating his mind. He needed the oblivion of sleep. Getting back to the motel, they both tumbled into bed and were asleep in moments.


More screaming, more begging, more pain. This time, Dean stood above a soul, razor in hand.

"Excellent," Alastair hissed from his right. "You have become one of my best students. Congratulations Dean." The ragged remnants of the soul was taken from the rack in front of Dean. He no longer cared. The souls, the pain, the anguish didn't matter. All that mattered was the razor in his hands and the pain that flowed from his fingers.

A new soul was placed on his rack and Dean turned back to study it. Tousled brown hair and blue eyes in a pale face met his green ones. Dean traced the body on the rack with his eyes, stopping on the sigil carved into the pale chest.

"C-Cas?" Dean stuttered, stunned. What was his angel doing down here? Why was he on Dean's rack?

"Dean...," Cas coughed. "Help me please? Save me?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Alastair chuckled. "You know what you have to do. You know you don't want back on my rack. Begin." Dean took a step backward, the razor limp in his hands. Castiel? How could he hurt Cas? Then, the remembered pain of Alastair's razor decided him. Locking himself away, Dean again became the torturer of souls. The man who remembered nothing, who cared for nothing, who did not remember he was the Righteous Man. Cas whimpered and struggled as the razor flashed down....


"No, Cas!" Dean screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed. Sam jerked awake and looked at Dean with horrorstruck eyes.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, all sleep gone from his voice.

"Just a nightmare, Sammy," Dean said shakily. He looked at the clock. 4:45 am.

"Go back to sleep, we've got a few hours," Dean continued. Sam nodded and lay back down. A few minutes later, light snores came from Sam's side of the room. Dean lay back as well but couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept circling and wouldn't settle.

The alarm went off at 7 and Dean shut it off with a sigh. Sam woke grudgingly and went to shower first. Dean stole Sam's laptop and looked through the news but there was nothing new. He took his own turn in the shower and they both dressed again in their FBI suits. Grabbing a quick breakfast of donuts, they were off to question the last two families.

The third family had nothing to add and thanked the Winchesters for their attention to the case. The last family, however, mentioned something new.

"Amanda said she felt like she was being followed," Mrs. Adams said. "Said that there was a strange guy she saw a few times. Tall with black hair and eyes. She said he got close to her once and he smelled musty and wet, kind of like a sewer." Sam and Dean nodded sympathetically, Sam's eyes alight with sudden understanding. They thanked the couple and showed themselves out.

"A sewer would be the perfect place for a dragon," Sam said excitedly. "In the lore, they hole up in caves and a sewer would be the best alternative here." Dean grunted and they headed back to the hotel. Sam pulled up the local sewer system on his computer and pointed to a terminal in the center of the tangled tunnels.

"I bet that's where he's keeping them," Sam said. "It's large enough to keep several people."

"Well, let's go spelunking," Dean said drily. They had both changed back into comfortable jeans and t-shirts. Dean grabbed the sheathed sword and used the strap to secure it across his back. It felt strangely comfortable laying across his back. This time, Sam drove since the map of the city was firmly embedded in his mind.

They pulled up outside an abandoned factory. Preparing themselves, the brothers climbed into a grate near the street. It was the closest entrance they could find to the terminal where they thought the girls were. They kept their eyes and ears peeled for any sounds or signs of the women or the dragon. Soon, whimpering sounded from ahead. Dean turned down a left-hand passage and they found the room.

The room was filled with cages, four of which were filled. The women cried at the sight of the brothers and started begging to be freed. Sam pulled his lockpicks out of his pocket and jiggled the lock on the first cage.

"Don't worry, I'll have you out of there soon," Sam said reassuringly. He picked the lock quickly and the young brunette tumbled out into his arms.

"Thank you, thank you," she gushed, placing kisses on Sam's cheeks. The younger Winchester blushed and handed the woman off to Dean. Holding her securely, Dean kept watch while Sam started on the second cage. Neither heard the slight wingbeats coming from up above. It wasn't until the lock had popped open that Sam looked up. A giant, batlike creature met his eyes, eyes gleaming malevolently. A furiously whipped tail tumbled Sam sideways and he fetched up against one of the empty cages.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, trying to get the sword out of the scabbard on his back. The woman had dropped to the ground and covered her head with her hands. Dean fumbled the unfamiliar move and the sword lodged halfway out of the scabbard. The dragon turned to him and stalked forward slowly, changing and shrinking. When he met Dean, the dragon was a tall, muscular man with black hair and eyes.

Lashing out with a large fist, the dragon tried to knock Dean to the ground. The older hunter turned just enough that he caught the fist on his shoulder instead of his face. A hollow popping sound heralded the fact that his left shoulder was dislocated. The dragon grinned and tripped Dean, the older Winchester hitting the ground heavily. The dragon stepped forward and landed several kicks on Dean's legs and torso. Dean curled up into a ball in an effort to protect his vital organs.

The kicks stopped when Sam charged the dragon and the two flew sideways into one of the metal cages. Sam took the precious few moments the dragon was stunned to get back to Dean and help his brother to his feet. Dean tilted a shoulder towards Sam, wordlessly asking him to grab the sword. The younger hunter did and handed it back to Dean.

"Ok, Sammy, I need you to distract that thing," Dean whispered urgently. "Stand on one side of this room and stand still. Keep him there so I can stab him." Sam nodded and ran over to the other side of the room. He started calling any insult he could think of to the stunned dragon. The man recovered slowly and growled at the younger Winchester. He charged him and Sam stood his ground, grappling with the dragon. Sam standing still was not the best plan, but it was the only one Dean could think of right now. Dean moved as quickly and quietly as he could across the room, the sword held ready.

With a strangled yell, Dean ran the last few steps and plunged the sword into the dragon's back as far as he could. The dragon groaned and looked at the steel that protruded from his chest. He sank slowly to the floor, the sword sliding out with an obscene sucking sound.

"You did it," Sam said breathlessly, cradling his left arm. A long, shallow scratch bled freely. Dean nodded and ripped a piece of the dragon's shirt to clean the sword. He handed it to Sam who slid it back into the scabbard. The bloody rag went into Dean's pocket.

"Proof," Dean said shortly in response to Sam's questioning look. "My shoulder's dislocated. I need you to pop it back in." Sam nodded and Dean stood with his back against the wall. Sam took a grip on his arm and, with a sharp wrench, popped it back in. Dean clenched his teeth tightly to bite off the yelp that threatened to escape. He nodded tiredly to Sam, who went to free the last two crying women from the cages. Slowly, the group made their way back out of the sewer and into the Impala.

Sam drove while explaining to the women that they couldn't tell the truth. What they would tell the police was a human had taken them captive and had fled after Sam and Dean fought him off. The women nodded, too exhausted to argue. When they stumbled into the ER, one of the nurses called Sheriff Jenkins when Sam flashed his ID. The sheriff took their statements efficiently and allowed the Winchesters to leave.

Heading back to the motel, they decided to catch a few hours before leaving. Dean knew he still had four days and he needed the rest. More dreams chased him into sleep and he thrashed restlessly. Waking at the next dawn, they changed into clean clothes and headed back to Bobby's house.

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Another six hours later, they pulled into Bobby's driveway. Gabriel met them at the door with a hug for Sam. Dean threw the sword onto the couch and headed upstairs for a shower. He always felt the need for that after a long drive.

"And then Dean stabbed it through the heart," Sam finished explaining to Gabriel. They had claimed the couch, stretching out along its length, after moving the sword to Bobby's desk. Sam was currenly cushioning the archangel and had his arms wrapped around his back. Gabriel placed two gentle kisses at the corners of Sam's mouth and said, "You should have called me. You guys could have been killed."

"No, we couldn't," Sam said quietly. "Only one person is allowed to help. And the possibility of losing Cas was too high for us to call you. We were able to handle it." He kissed Gabriel back and sighed. The scratch on his arm was healing very well and he saw no need for the archangel to heal it.

"Anyways, Dean should be summoning Zachariah soon," Sam continued. "Until then, I plan to enjoy some time with you." Pulling Gabriel closer, Sam settled the archangel's head on his shoulder. He was hugely comforted by Gabriel and soon fell into a refreshing nap.

Dean walked down the stairs about half an hour later, sparing his brother and the archangel a fond glance. He really was happy Sam had found someone to make him happy. He looked at the sword on the desk and decided Zachariah really didn't need to know how they killed the dragon. The bloodstained cloth should be enough.

Gathering all the ingredients for the spell and the cloth, Dean headed back out to the barn. He re-chalked the sigil on the floor and said the spell quickly. The candles flickered as a cool breeze whipped through the barn. Zachariah appeared, still in the same damn chair, bloodstains flecking his clothing. Dean's jaw tightened; he knew the blood was probably Castiel's. Without a word, Dean tossed the ragged cloth at Zachariah.

The angel sniffed delicately at the cloth and grimaced. He waved it gently and it disappeared.

"They stink, don't they?" Zachariah asked conversationally. "So, you got lucky on another challenge. And it only took 4 days. I am rather shocked and amazed." Dean clenched his fists, reminding himself for what felt like the hundredth time that it hurt to punch angels. A lot.

"I'm guessing from the look on your face that you want your next challenge," Zachariah continued, smugness painting his tone. "Very well. I want you to get me an amulet. One that detects witches. They are very rare. I'm fairly certain only about 20 exist in the entire world. And to show you my undending mercy, I'll grant you another week to find it. But hurry. Little Castiel really can't handle much more." With a final, grating laugh, Zachariah disappeared.

Dean groaned and his hand strayed to the feather around his neck. It still pulsed and reassured him slightly. Dean's fingers stroked it gently, his thoughts on Zachariah's parting comment. He prayed that Cas could hold on longer, could stay strong enough for Dean to get him back. The emotions finally overwhelming him, Dean dropped to his knees. Releasing the feather, the distraught hunter roared his pain, anguish, and fear to an uncaring world.