Not Just Another Hunt

Four

OPENING THE DOOR, Dean moved to the side as Castiel marched in. "What was so urgent?" he asked as Dean shut the door behind him.

Sam stepped up to Castiel and sighed as he looked down. "It's Jack."

Castiel gave an alarming look.

"He claims he's been killing people," Dean continued, "but has no memory of it." He crossed his arms. "He said it came to him in a dream."

Castiel turned to look at Dean with a questioned look. "A dream?" He paused. "But... angels don't sleep."

"We know," said Sam. "That's why we called you." He looked over at Jack who sat on the edge of the bed staring at them. "Can you see into him? Know if he's really been doing what he says?"

"I'll try," Castiel said as he walked to Jack.

Jack followed Castiel's movements with his head, looking into Castiel's concerned eyes. "Can you help me, Castiel?"

Castiel knelt in front of Jack, squinting his eyes as he stared. "I'm not sure. Nephilim's are powerful beings. My powers might not be strong enough."

Jack, instinctively, reached out grasping Castiel's forearm. "Please," he pleaded. "I have to know if I did what I saw."

Letting out a soft sigh, Castiel nodded his head. Using his index and middle fingers of both hands, he placed them on Jack's temples and closed his eyes.

Jack stared at Castiel feeling nothing happen. Was anything happening? He glanced up at Sam and Dean, who had moved behind Castiel, waiting for something. "Is anything happening?" he asked, impatiently.

Staring back at Castiel's clenched eyes, it looked as if he could've found something, but what? Castiel opened his eyes, releasing a puff of air, almost like he had been holding his breath, and panted as he stood to his feet.

"What happened?" Sam asked, gripping Castiel's bicep. The angel looked drain and like he could collapse at any moment. "Did you see anything?"

Collecting himself, Castiel stood up straight. He held an expression of concern and confusion mixed together. "Yes. I did. I opened a memory that had been closed off and..." He turned his gaze towards Dean. "In the memory, he killed a girl. The memory was from last night."

Jack's heart began to race as he glanced down and gripped the edge of the bed. He had killed Callie? He really did it? It wasn't a dream? It was a memory? "So, I am the murderer."

"And you weren't asleep earlier," Castiel explained. "Something happened inside your body that rendered you unconscious, and it awoke the memory."

"Like what?" Jack asked. "What happened to me?"

Castiel adverted his gaze. "I'm not sure."

"How can that be possible?" Dean asked. He thrust a hand Jack's way. "She was killed last night. When would Jack have had the time to kill her? She was alive during the game. We saw her!"

"Shapeshifter?" Sam questioned.

Jack shook his head. "No, it was after the game," he corrected. "She was walking away from the stadium."

"I'll restate my sentence. How?" Dean shouted.

Castiel glanced between the Winchesters'. "Was there ever a minute after the game that he was out of sight?"

Dean looked like he was thinking. "Well, he was gone during the time they took him out on a stretcher."

"But he was unconscious, Dean," Sam said. "He couldn't have gotten away then." The room was silent for several more seconds before Sam snapped his fingers, and turned to face Jack. "You were gone for about a half hour changing clothes while we collected the money. When you got back, you said it was because you were cleaning up your head, but it was still bleeding pretty badly."