Supernatural Fiction and Imagines

“So lemme get this straight… he’s already here?” Dean asked between bites of eggs and bacon.

“Correct. The brands only appear once Michael’s lieutenant has taken up their vessel.”

Taking a sip of coffee, Sam looked around the café. “But you don’t have any clue who it is?”

Castiel shook his head curtly, “No. Michael had very few confidants, and not many of those survived the fall from Heaven… but there are rumors one may have survived. Other angels have noticed the change and are looking for him as well…”

“Great! Nothing like hunting for a douchebag with nothing to go on…” Wiping his hands, Dean stood. “—let’s get started.”

Finishing the last of his gluten-free toast, Sam joined his brother. “Hey Cas, Dean and I are heading to the police department to see what we can dig up… see what you can find on your end?” 

The angel nodded and disappeared.

______________________________________________________________________

Lazily, you tapped your foot along to the beat from your earbuds as you waited on the light to turn. It was barely quarter to five and you were on your second large cup of coffee for the day. The familiar, paced beep of the crossing light sounded and you stepped from the curb. Maybe it was because you were so exhausted but you never even saw it.

The car horn blasted, your coffee flying from your grip, as you were violently jerked out of the way. Falling back to the curb, your heart was thundering. You looked around bewildered. There was your drink, spilled on the street… but the person you were certain had pulled you from harm’s way? Nowhere.  It was certain. The stress was getting to you. You were beginning to crack. 

Dusting yourself off, you took one last look around for your hero. 

“Get it together…” you reasoned, pulling your scarf tight.

You had too much to do before the night was over to be losing your mind.

 ______________________________________________________________________

“Well that was a complete waste of time…” Dean huffed, taking a long drag of coffee from his styrofoam cup. 

The sun was setting, and they were no better off than when they had started that morning. Security footage from all of the vandalized funeral homes had shown no signs of any break ins. Not a soul or even a ‘staticky’ disturbance on the screen. No one had been there.

Sam slumped against the impala, crossing his arms. “You suppose Cas has found anything…?”

As if on cue, a gravelly voice announced his arrival. “- Dean.”

“Whaddya got Cas?”

“I have as they say, the good and the bad news…” He shrugged.

Rubbing his forehead, Dean could just feel a headache starting in. “Well, it couldn’t just be a milk run, now could it…?  Start with the bad first.”

Dipping his head, Cas began, “I have discovered which lieutenant of Michael’s is the Trumpeter…”

Dean frowned. “But…”

The angel’s expression became somber. “John. However… John perished during the fall from Heaven… ” 

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Cas, how is it possible for this to be happening if John isn’t in his vessel? Is another angel doing this?” 

Dean nodded in agreement.

Cas held up his hands in pause. “I do not have reason to believe that another angel could use John’s vessel… at least not to its true potential as he would have. It seems that somehow, even in his absence the vessel has become active without the need of its host.”

The three exchanged  worried looks.

“So you’re telling me there’s an unmanned nuke walking around town….?” Dean opened the trunk of the impala, his eyes wandering over the tools at his disposal. “How do we even find, let alone stop something like that?” He briefly ran his fingers longingly over the grenade launcher, with a small smile.

“Is this where you tell us some good news Cas?” Sam prompted.

“Yes.” He replied. “I have discovered some information that could help us narrow down the area where this individual may reside… ”

Pulling a map of the town from his trench coat, he smoothed it out across the hood of the car. 

“These circles are the funeral homes where the deceased were branded…” he gestured with a broad stroke of his hand.

Looking over his shoulder, Sam pointed at an empty space on the map. “Cas, what about this empty space in the middle of them all?”

Cas provided a light sigh, “I was getting to that… That I believe is where the vessel resides, as all the affected funeral homes are within equal distance of this area.”

“- It doesn’t look like that big of an area. What’s the catch?” Sam continued, tracing the area with his fingers.

Dean peered over at the legend, and read aloud. “UNIVERSITY OF MASSACHUSETTS  - AMHERST… Great.”

Cas shrugged, folding the map back up. “We will have to discover who the vessel is quickly. As their power increases they will become more easily perceptible to other angels, as you and Sam once were as vessels.”

Dean instinctively winced, grasping his ribs. “Dickbags. What’re we waiting for? Let’s get over there before those vultures can… ”

______________________________________________________________________

Wearily, you looked up at your fifth-floor bedroom window and smiled. Maybe tonight you’d finally get some sleep? You definitely earned it after two long exams, and a lecture from a professor without an off-switch. You dragged each foot up the set of steps to the front door of your apartment complex. Fumbling with your keys, you stopped.

“Excuse us… - Miss. We know it’s very late, but we were wondering if you could answer a few questions for us?”

You turned slightly on your heel. It was late. Two men in suits and ties were approaching you. Why?

You cautiously slid your keys between your knuckles. “Help with what…? It’s very late. I’d like to go to bed.”

Coming to rest just short of you, the two men each reached into their jacket pockets, and in sync flipped open a pair of FBI badges.

“Again we’re very sorry Miss… but this is urgent business. It can’t wait.” The taller one spoke softly, offering an apologetic smile.

“I’m Agent Hall. This is my partner, Agent Oates. As we mentioned, we need to ask you a few questions...” The shorter man interjected, pocketing his credentials. 

What were a pair of FBI agents doing on your doorstep at 11 o’clock on a Tuesday night?

_____________________________________________________________________