Didn't Run Far Enough

Chapter 37

Most of the house is empty -- or, at least, the parts that Castiel can see as they're walking by. In the hallway, Dean elbows Castiel in the ribs, and when Castiel shoots him an annoyed look, Dean nods at a door that's slightly ajar. Castiel takes a few subtle steps back and looks inside, where a young girl is tied to a chair, her hair soaked in sweat and her face covered in blood. She makes eye contact with him, and though the gag over her mouth prevents her from trying to say something, the look in her eyes is enough to convey her thoughts: she's fucking scared.

Castiel glances at Gordon. If he stays here any longer, Gordon is going to realize it. He's not going to let Castiel -- a homicide detective who has handled a plethora of missing persons cases in his time -- walk out of here knowing there's a girl being held against her will. He wants to tell her that they'll be back for her, but he knows he can't.

I'm sorry, he mouths before hurrying back to Dean's side. He wishes he could do more right now. He wishes she knew they weren't in this alone, that there's a dozen police officers not too far away just waiting for the cue to come in. They'll help her. It's just going to take time.

Apparently the reason the outskirts of Vamp territory was empty was that most of the Vamps are inside. They're gathered at the end of the hall, all standing on the outskirts of a very messy room. There are sleeping bags and dirty pillows all over the floor, wrinkled clothes lying in heaps between them.

The leader -- "the old man," they call him -- stands in the middle of the room, a pleasant smile on his face. He always has seemed like a fairly sweet person; Castiel knows him and his people well enough to know it's a facade.

"Dean, Castiel." The old man nods in greeting. "It's nice to see you again."

Dean doesn't acknowledge that; instead, he just asks a judgemental, "Damn, you really live like this?"

The old man chuckles. "Yes, you've caught us at a bad time, I'm afraid. If I'd known you were visiting today, I would have cleaned up."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Dean says. "I would've made fun of it anyway."

Castiel cracks a smile. Well, at least he's honest.

"And to what do I owe the please?" the old man asks.

"You know what," Castiel says darkly.

"Oh, right," the old man says, like he's just now remembering it. "Yes, I do believe that's something we should discuss."

"No shit," Dean deadpans.

"So who was it?" Castiel asks. "I know it wasn't you -- you don't like to get your hands dirty."

"That's true," the old man drawls. "I do like to stay out of trouble when I can."

"He asked you a question." Dean says. "Who hurt my kid?"

"Your kid?" The old man raises an eyebrow. "Now this I did not know."

"All the young Hunters are my kids, dumbass," Dean snaps. "I would have thought you could relate, what with the lengths you went through to try to bring Alex back."

"Yes, that was... unfortunate," the old man says. "Alex was a wonderful young woman. She --"

"Girl," Dean interrupts. "She wasn't a young woman; she was a young girl. Your men murdered a young girl."

"And then your boy murdered them," the old man says, and Castiel grits his teeth. He was really hoping that wouldn't come up with the cops listening in, but he supposes it was bound to happen eventually. It really was the root of the problem, though in no way Jack's fault. "You lost one of yours; I lost two of mine. I suppose that makes us even."