Information had come through that there was a spate of murders in Dallas, all killed with the same distinctive knife. No one had been able to trace the bastards yet, but overall they were confident the killer was still in town. To that end the McManus brothers known as the Saints of South Boston and recently-freed inmates of Hoag Maximum Security prison had been secretly transported in, the better to find the coldblooded killers who were a scourge on good Godfearing folk. Contacts were found and pumped for information by their handler and partner-in-crime, former FBI Special Agent Eunice Bloom, and eventually led to a nondescript hotel/motel in the centre of town.
Two men were inside, they were assured by the panicked motel receptionist who happened to be the owner. They had paid by credit card for two weeks in advance, good credit. Their names were Ryan and Jim Halmer, see the receipt. Then the man devolved into begging for his life, and the trio could get no further information from the gibbering wreck.
"So what, they just rolled over and decided to be killers one day?" Connor asked Murphy, who simply shrugged as he checked his weapons for their assault.
"There's no links with local organised crime," Eunice assured them, calmly holstering her own pistol after checking it herself. "These boys are on their own, just doing it for jollies. Time to fight the good fight, Saints."
"Right," Connor agreed, chambering a round and checking everyone else was ready. "Now here's the plan..."
"Oh not another one of your bloody plans," Murphy snapped. "What movie did you get this one from then? Mr and Mrs Smith?"
"No!" Connor protested. "This one's pretty straightforward right? They're in a hotel room, one door in and out and a mighty long drop out the window. I say we just charge in."
"Hallelujah, finally a plan that makes sense," Murphy teased, moving for the door before being stopped by a feminine hand on his arm.
"Just one moment boys," their handler drawled. "We gotta make sure this is the right killer, else it's a pair of innocent boys in there we're gunning down. Ya hear me?"
"Of course," Connor agreed, Murphy nodding along as well looking slightly affronted. "But if they're bad guys - they're dead bad guys."
"I'm glad we're in agreement," she grinned laconically, opening the door of the office for them. "After you."
The brothers grinned back, pulled their masks over their head again and raced out and up the stairs, Eunice taking the elevator. They kicked in the door and went in guns first, noted the pentagrams and obvious armaments in well-used if well-maintained condition, and fired simultaneously at the two half-risen men they'd surprised at the table.
It was supposed to be quiet, some time to do research and figure out what the hell they were going to do next to stop the Apocalypse - but of course when it came to the Winchester brothers, nothing could go to plan. They had been mobbed by demons, Dean was shot badly and Sam hadn't had time to perform the exorcism. He had had to kill them to save his brother, and then drag Dean to hospital because he couldn't get all the buckshot out himself and be sure not to do permanent damage. He had been studying law, not medicine, and whatever field doctoring skills he'd picked up weren't extensive enough for this.
Still, two days later they were at a hotel, with strict instructions for Dean to take it easy and a prescription for pain meds that would knock out a horse. Sam warded the room since it was going to be an extended stay, lining it with Devil's Traps and salt before bringing up their equipment for a proper stocktake. They were running low on batteries for their flashlights, silver bullets and lighters he discovered, and they were almost out of oil for maintenance. He'd left Dean watching his 'guilty pleasure' and gone out to the shops but was mobbed by demons when he came out and had to kill them with the knife before they managed to transport him to Lucifer. Working solo was a lot harder than working as a team, and however impressive they might be even he couldn't exorcise five demons at once, although he'd tried.
The demon blood had called to him, and he'd run as fast as he could without stopping for the goods he'd just bought. Dean would keep him from going wrong, no matter what.
The next time he'd tried night, but he'd been muffled before he could even try the exorcism and had to resort to the knife yet again. It was becoming a trend when he went out alone, but he had no choice. Dean was in no shape to go anywhere, and they needed the food. He cleaned up in a public toilet, shopped for the rest of their time in the hotel, and returned to hole up with Dean as best they could. He told Bobby where they were and why, and was assured backup was on the way to deal with the demon siege.
He'd finally gotten Dean to settle into reading a rather racy book on the different types of demons when the door burst open and two men in black with ski masks burst in with guns, a woman in a cowboy outfit right behind them. Sam and Dean half-rose in alarm, reaching for the Colt and a shotgun with rock salt cartridges to defend themselves - but it was too late, they heard the distinctive report of the men's pistols firing and resigned themselves to death.
It was the quiet confidence more than the word that stopped the McManus brothers from firing a second time, and then they stared along with Eunice at the man that had appeared from nowhere with the sound of wings.
"What the bloody hell..." Murphy muttered, trailing off as Sam finished standing at the table, Dean sitting again with a wince.
"Thanks Cas," Dean said, his voice gravelly with pain, stress, and a lifetime of alcohol. "Right on time."
"Bobby informed me you required assistance," the short man in the tan trenchcoat said evenly. "I had thought you were being pursued by demons however. These are humans."
"You sure?" Sam said anxiously. "I mean, why would humans want to kill us? Prison sure, but assassination?"
"I am unsure," the man, Cas, said, looking directly into Murphy's eyes.
Murphy McManus met the vibrant blue eyes of the strange man and paled, his pistols lowering from their steady aim at the two men at the table.
"Merciful Mother of God," he whispered, the sound loud in the silence after the violent commotion, and dropped to his knees.
"Murph, what's wrong," Connor hissed, not taking his guns or eyes from their intended victims, but then the man's eyes swung to meet his and he followed his brother's lead in sinking to the ground.
"Cas?" Sam questioned uncertainly.
"It is all right Sam," Cas told the brothers serenely. "These men will not harm you."
"They sure looked like they were going to until you vanished those bullets in mid air - neat trick by the way," Dean questioned cynically, favouring his side as he took a pull from the bottle of beer on the table.
"It was a simple misunderstanding," Cas assured the Winchesters.
"Uhh, boys?" the cowgirl still standing in the doorway ventured uncertainly. Cas ignored her, but the two men in black pulled off their masks and turned to her as they stood, holstering their weapons.
"It's alright," Connor assured her with a beatific smile. "They're good men, doing God's work."
"Sure don't look like it," she said dubiously, eyeing the pentagrams on the walls and floor - and even parts of the ceiling.
"It is true," Cas said definitely. "I am Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. These are my charges, Sam and Dean Winchester. It is their destiny to end the Apocalypse."
"Tough luck mate," Murphy joked to Dean, who grimaced.
"Tell me about it," Dean said bitterly. "And you are?"
"Connor and Murphy McManus," Cas replied before they could. "Their task is to rid the world of evil men."
"Tough luck yourself," Sam told Connor, snorting.
"Bit of a raw deal innit?" Connor agreed. "Still, all in a good cause right mate."
"Beer?" Dean offered, gesturing to the small fridge in the kitchenette area. This idea was met with rousing agreement, and the brothers - both sets - settled in for a night of drinks and tales. Relief - not being killed and not killing innocents - lifted spirits and cemented bonds of friendship and companionship that should have taken years to form. But of it all, one thing stood out the most: they were not alone.