9. Seeking Answers

Dad's gone, again, for the night. As usual, Dean is in charge, though I'm not sure a teenager is the best person to place in charge. Well, it's either him, me, or Sammy, and Sammy is way too young to handle such a big task.

We're in some state in some stinky motel room, practically abandoned by our dad. Dean and I know why Dad goes out, but Sammy doesn't. We try to keep him in the dark, but his curiosity is making him ask questions. I wonder if it's only a matter of time before he figures it out, he's always been a smart kid.

Tonight, it's a raging storm overhead. The storm doesn't bother me. The thunder can shake the room and I won't flinch. It's the lightning that bothers me.

We've got the TV on, but the storm drowns it out. All we have it on for at this point is light in the room. We've closed all the blinds on the windows to keep the lightning out. Our door is locked, Dad would kill us if we left it unlocked. Thankfully, I'm the one to remind the three of us, and I make sure the windows are locked too. We can't let anyone—or anything—come inside.

There're only two beds, and I've got one to myself while Sam and Dean take the other. I'm curled under the sheets, missing my ones back home. I miss home a lot, we haven't settled down anywhere to make another one permanent.

As much as I love my brothers and my dad, sometimes I want to just walk away and never come back. Maybe find a new family to adopt me. I don't like what this is doing to my family. I don't like how Dad is obsessed with hunting things that go bump in the night, the monsters that parents tell their children about at bedtime to watch out for to scare them into sleeping. I don't like how Dad is practically grooming Dean into being his obedient dog. Dad's been trying with me, but I've been resisting little by little. For now, he has a lot of control over me still.

That'll stop once I grow older. Right now, I don't feel confident enough to stand toe-to-toe with the man who gave me life.

The thunder clap rattles the room, and then the TV's light winks out. Power's out. Great. With no power, the room feels threatening in a way. Nobody really moves, so my brothers must be asleep.

But sure enough, I hear shifting behind me, and I know someone's up. Judging by the fact that I feel more weight in my bed, I know it's Sam. This has happened for a while, ever since we've been on the road. Sam couldn't exactly cuddle up to Dean. At least with me, I'm more understanding. I know he's the youngest and that this is probably a common fear of kids his age.

He doesn't say anything, but I know he's behind me. I can feel his faint body heat. I know if Mom were here, she'd let him stay in the same bed. Can't say the same for Dean and our dad.

I must be the only one other than Sammy who hasn't been altered by Dad's road tripping. And I'm not going to let him dictate the rest of my life. Dean is already a goner, I probably can't change him. Can't save him.

But I can still save Sam. I can still save myself. I can save us.

***

I don't wake to a stormy morning. Sunlight peeks through the window curtains. I lay on my side. It's been a while since my memory and dreams have blended together. I had this happen a lot when I first left the family behind.

I sit up in bed, using the heels of my palms to rub against my eyes. I look over my shoulder and see Castiel out. I ruffle my blonde hair. Might as well shower before he's up. I move around the bed and shut the bathroom door, slowly stripping and turning on the water. I gauge the temperature and try to get it the hottest it can go. I can't go into a morning with a cold shower. It's just not happening.

Frowning slightly, I realize I don't have a change of clothes. If I had known we'd be stopping at a motel, I would've brought some. I grudgingly pull myself back into my FBI attire from the day before.

"I need your guidance," I hear Castiel say from the other side of the door. I look towards it questioningly. When did he get up?

I open the bathroom door to find Castiel kneeling at his side of the bed, hands folded in front of him. I watch him curiously.

"Please hear my prayer," I hear him mutter. There's a pause of silence.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

Castiel flinches at my voice. "I'm putting us on the right path."

"That equals prayer?"

"I need an angel to help me understand what's going on. Hence the praying."

I look around. "Well, I don't see a feathery friend around, so..."

"I don't know how humans do it."

I shrug. I've never prayed much for as long as I've been alive.

Castiel gives up on the praying and goes to the TV. I watch as he tries to get it to turn on. Nothing happens.

"Try plugging it in."

The voice isn't me, but Castiel doesn't think so, as he looks at me first thing.

"I didn't say that," I say, looking towards our room door.

I follow Castiel as he heads for the door. He pulls it open to reveal a female park ranger.

"Surely that wasn't the answer you were seeking," she says.

"You're an angel!" Castiel says.

"Muriel. I didn't pick the outfit." Something comes over her eyes: recognition. "Castiel?" In a sudden panic, Muriel starts to leave.

"No, wait—please, just hear me out!"

"It can't be known that I even spoke to you."

"I just need a moment."

"No."

"Please. I just need information." Castiel looks back at me. "We need information."

I don't correct him on the "we." Technically, whether or not I like it, I'm part of this angel case.

Muriel doesn't disappear, she stays and comes inside. "If you want information, you need to provide some of your own."

"What could he possibly tell you?" I ask.

"For one, how he got to where he is. And, I never got your name."

"My name isn't important." I look to Castiel. "Well, you heard the angel. You give her what she wants, she'll give you what you want."

Castiel nods and begins to tell Muriel what happened to him. I'm in the background, listening. Castiel is Grace-less by the Scribe of God named Metatron, but this is old information. I got that out of him when I found out who he really was. He tells Muriel how Metatron tricked him into closing Heaven's gates.

"Let's say you're telling the truth and Metatron tricked you," Muriel says once Castiel is done. "I should still turn you in."

"But you won't," says Castiel.

"Don't be so sure."

"I...I think you instinctively trust me. We're similar. We both want no part of the fanatics."

"And when you prayed. How did you know you wouldn't get one of them?"

"I'm warded, and my Grace is gone, and I was hoping that I would seem like just another desperate human that the...the militants couldn't care less about."

"Why didn't you use her?" Muriel nods to me.

"I didn't think about it."

"And you think I care?"

"You're here," I say.

"You may know the situation," Castiel adds on. "Bartholomew, he's in a blood feud with another faction."

"It's madness," says Muriel.

"Who leads the opposition?"

"Malachi."

"Malachi? The anarchist."

"He's become equals with Bartholomew. In some ways, worse."

"But there's still those like you who want to stay out of it."

"Fewer and fewer. Each side is rounding up those who try and stay neutral. Angels are being tortured and killed if they don't pledge loyalty."

Castiel sighs. "It's worse than I thought."

"Each side wants to crush the other, overthrow Metatron, and rule Heaven, and...Heaven under either of them would be..."

"Hell."

I stumble back as our door gets kicked in. I back towards Castiel and Muriel as the two men—most likely angels at this point—come into our room. What I wouldn't give to have one of those silver blades on me. Both strangers are armed with long, threatening silver blades.

"What a lovely gift this is," says the taller angel. "Hmm, what do you think? We leave survivors?" He stares right at me as he says this.

"Let the human die, the other two need to live."

Let the human die.

Both angels lunge, and Castiel pushes me out of the way. Muriel battles the two angels with her own silver blade. Castiel tries to help her, but Muriel gets socked in the face. I jump in and help Castiel with the shorter angel, but Castiel is knocked out of the way and onto the floor. I avoid the silver blade that keeps being swung my way.

I hear a crash behind me, no doubt Muriel and her opponent. I kick at the shorter angel. I hiss as I feel the point drag across my cheek. You son of a bitch. I take the angel out by his waist, sending him and me into the nearest wall. I straddle him and punch him.

I scream when I feel the blade pierce my side.

I'm thrown sideways as the shorter angel's fist connects with my face. I hit the ground, feeling pain in my side. I grunt, crawling now. I'm flipped over, and before I can defend myself, a final punch to my face sends me under.