always

Hunt

A/N: I've been getting a lot of support on this story, and it's really keeping me motivated and inspired, so here's another chapter. Maybe it will provide a form of escape during Thanksgiving tomorrow for those who celebrate if you need it.

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Castiel's heart flips inside his chest and panic immediately settles in. He yanks his phone from his pocket and dials Dean's number. He grabs the keys to his truck off the motel table and rushes out the door.

Dean doesn't answer. He tries again. Nothing.

Castiel opens the door to his truck and calls Sam. He starts his truck. Sam doesn't answer. He leaves a voicemail.

"Sam, you're burning the wrong bones. It's not the dead twin. It's the teacher. I just found a newspaper explaining how she died at the library during a flood. I'm going after her. She's buried in the cemetery across town. I'll let you know once it's over." Castiel ends the message and drives as quickly as he can towards the graveyard.

Teens have been brutally murdered at the local library over the past two months. They'd all drowned; their lungs had been filled with water, despite the library being bone dry. Their deaths were obviously of supernatural origin.

Sam had found the case, and Castiel wanted to come. Dean was reluctant, but Castiel learned how to give him that pleading look Sam gives him when he really wants something. And it worked. But, understandably, Castiel's only job on this Hunt is research. His wound still isn't healed up enough for any physical activity.

But now Sam and Dean are salting and burning the wrong bones. More teens are in danger the longer this ghost is around, so it's up to Castiel to get rid of it. It's nothing he can't handle; he just has to dig up the bones and burn them.

He severely underestimated how difficult it is to dig up a grave. Especially with his injuries.

Every scoop of dirt sends a jolt of pain inside his abdomen, and he begins to sweat far too early. His grave digging is sloppy, and he's barely two feet in and already a sweaty, panting mess; he doesn't care how good the hole he's digging looks.

Castiel grimaces as he continues to dig. He can tell he's ripping a few of his stitches and refuses to look down at his injury, just in case he sees something he doesn't like. But he can't dwell on that right now. There are more important things at hand. Those teenagers' lives are at stake. Castiel is just grateful his adrenaline and anxiety to get this done quickly are masking the pain enough to make it bearable. He takes a deep breath and wipes his damp forehead with one of his hands and continues to dig.

After what feels like years, his shovel finally hits something solid. The coffin.

Shaking from adrenaline, and weak from the first real physical activity he's performed as a human, Castiel pries open the casket after his third try. He swallows dryly. The teacher's corpse is sunken but juicy. Her form still fills her clothing, but her skin is rotten. It's one of the worst smells Castiel has ever smelled, and he's hit with the strong urge to vomit the second he opens the coffin. He quickly turns away and climbs out of the newly-dug hole, craving fresh air. Castiel grunts as another flash of pain strikes through him as he climbs. When he stands up, black dots fill his vision, and he stumbles unsteadily forward. He forces himself to take a moment to catch his breath and wipes his forehead again.

The last thing anyone needs is for him to pass out right now.

Now that his adrenaline is beginning to wear off, Castiel's wound throbs painfully. It's not as sharp as before, but Castiel quickly grabs the accelerant and salt. He doesn't want to stay here longer than he needs to. He pours a generous amount of accelerant and salt over the corpse, taking out a lighter Dean had given him. But just as he flicks it open, the air becomes colder, and Castiel can see his breath.