[M] Not Always Black and White
 

To say that Evan was a bit travel-dazed would be a massive understatement. For some reason, he had trailed Sam and Dean all the way to the Ozarks, back through the Mississippi Delta, down the coast to Florida, and now they were on their way to Oregon in the Impala. That poor car had seen enough shit to turn it white, and yet it was still chugging along. Why was he on this ride again? Oh yeah. Because Dean said so. Well, it was less the whole 'saying so' part, and more the 'demanding with wild gestures and threats of "exorcising your ass" that got the job done. Evan was not a happy camper, and they had been camping a few times. He was a pretty terrible camper, actually. Making s'mores was the extent of his outdoorsy-type knowledge, and even then he'd managed to fry his marshmallow to a crisp the first two times.

Castiel popped in and out. Like he had a tendency to do at any annoying-ass time he damn well felt. Last time, he had been in the shower in a hotel room washing off the road-smell when the stupid angel had poofed himself right into the shower with him. ... Sometimes the things Evan's human body did fascinated him no end - like hitting a high-C with a scream that woke up the neighbors. Castiel generally tended to avoid shower-time now, thanks to that fiasco. Granted, Evan would really prefer he avoided coming around all-together, since he and the angel never really did get to have that 'man-to-man' chat Sam kept on about, and opposites never attract. Never. Seriously.

"So what are we doing on the way to Oregon again? And when are we freaking going to hit a damn Waffle House?! I'm starving!"

Sam was off in his own world, or asleep, Evan couldn't tell from the back seat. Dean was obviously not, as he was driving, and answered his question with his usual bright, cheery, sunny manner.

"Shut the hell up. You're not here to sight-see. You want me to put you in the safe-room? Because that's where you're headed if you keep opening your damn mouth."

That did, in fact, shut him up. He'd been locked into the special safe-room once or twice before, and didn't care to do it again. The fact that he was even here meant that Sam or Dean had suspicions about his loyalties... again. It was the only reason he was ever allowed on these trips. To 'keep an eye' on him. It rankled somewhere deep in his soul that he couldn't quite reach. Well.. both their souls. The other Evan just tended to be a little bit more shy, and quite a bit less vocal. Which would explain why his usually-sea-blue eyes were black to the sclera right now. The petulant, 'irritated teen' look, however - that was a bit on the out of place side.

The other Winchester stirred after Dean's outburst, and stretched, his arms behind the seat. Evan batted at them with a deadpan expression. "Hungry." he complained. "Hungry. And thirsty. And I need to take a piss."

Dean grumbled something along the lines of 'goddamn demons' under his breath, and turned the wheel to the side, hopping off the highway, and up a ramp toward a town that said Salt Lake City. Fantastic. Evan had been here before, but not often. Also not real welcome. It had been a demon-type bender. Lots of alcohol. Lots of drugs. Lots of very scantily-clad underage men. ... Suffice it to say it had been a wilder time in his life.

They pulled into a Waffle House that was alongside the exit, and Sam got out of the car, standing around with his hands in his pockets. Dean put the car into park, turned off the gas, and turned around. "Okay, look. This is gonna be a long drive. So you're going to eat here, take a piss, and shut your mouth for the rest of the ride, or I WILL call Cas to come cart your ass home, you understand?"

The meek, mild part of Evan... was not at home today. "Yeah, whatever." he muttered, blowing his black bangs out of his face. "Let's just get some fucking food already, yeah?"

Dean shot him a 'watching you' gesture, and got out of the car, Evan following. The place was a dump... but for a dump it seemed pretty lively. There were already several patrons inside, chatting with the servers as they broke eggs and grilled hashbrowns. Just the very idea of a hashbrown pile smothered, covered, and country made his stomach start to growl. Not to mention his bill was being footed by Sam and Dean, so he was going to order whatever he fucking wanted. They had the big bucks.

"I'll get us a table." Sam said quietly, starting inside.

Before Evan could follow, Dean put a hand on Evan's shoulder. "No magic tricks. No... mumbo jumbo, whatever you demons do. No damn hypnosis or whatever. You play by the rules, or I call Cas."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Evan said, shrugging off his hand, and headed into the place to sit with Sam, licking his lips. "Three words." he said as he slid into the booth. "Hash. Brown. Bowl."

"That's two words, dipshit." Dean grumbled, sitting beside Sam on the other side. "This place is... cozy." Dean talk for 'a dump'. Honestly, Evan had to kind of agree.

The black of its soul permeated the room before it even stepped into sight.

Without so much as looking up from his half eaten plate, he knew the moment that the demon set foot in the building. It was a change in the air. A change that, to no surprise, no one but him could feel. Humans were always oblivious to the heavy, twisted energy that he felt so keenly. He didn't need to look, but he did. Lifting a glass of juice to his lips, his bright, unmatching eyes slid to the door where the demon stood.

Dark haired and unintimidating, its vessel looked more boy than man, a look that was in no small part because of the way it carried itself. The fact that it was in the company of the Winchesters was interesting, but not as much of a surprise as it might have been in years past.

No. It was no real surprise at all. As the reputation of the brothers had grown, so had the variety of 'allies' they would tolerate. If anything, it seemed that demons the hunters encountered had a better chance of survival than other beasts.

He had come to the area for an upsurge in witches, but this? A demon walking straight into his lap?

Winchesters be damned. He was ready for his hunt.

Whatever the meal was called, two words or three, Evan went about ordering it - adding a slice of pie and a glass of milk. Sam had a straight melt with water, and Dean had eggs and bacon with toast and an orange juice. Of course, as soon as he ordered, Evan removed himself from the seat to go use the restroom. On the way back, he paused and stopped to look at the old-timey Jukebox they had set up in here, as well as browse the Patrons seated at various places around the establishment. His senses caught the angel immediately, and the smallish part of him that still had a cringe-reaction to the presence of them did a bit of a shimmy back toward the jukebox. Scared? Naw. Intrigued? Possibly. Only, Evan wasn't actually good enough as a demon to pinpoint which one was the angel. It could have been literally anyone - from the old lady sitting at the window sipping coffee, to the young man reading the paper by the door, to the 'sk8ter boi' at the counter, to one of the servers. He had no idea.

Part of that explained why he turned back to the table without arguing when Dean called him. The other part was simply the fact that he was damned hungry. Food arrived in short order. It usually did, in places like this, and he scarfed down his meal without a second thought for manners or polite conversation. It almost took him off-guard when he realized he'd been spacing out on food, and Sam had actually been speaking to him.

"... Evan? I asked if you wanted to chill here for a couple of hours while Dean and I look into these witch sightings." He gestured toward the paper on the table that had gotten there sometime when Evan was stuffing his face. "There's a Hunter down the road about twenty miles or so that would k-... be glad to have you, while we take care of this. It's going to be pretty boring. A lot of legwork."

Using his tongue and a napkin in equal portions to clean his lips, Evan looked up, and quirked a brow at both brothers. "What, you're trusting me alone, with another Hunter? This is a change. Wait, am I dying or something? Is that why?"

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "Well, no." Sam said. "At least, we don't think so. But your... stuff, your energy, what makes you up? It's leaking. We noticed it back when you were in the safe-room."

"Cas noticed it." Dean corrected, holding up a finger to the server. When she arrived, he ordered a melt. "When you were all rage-mode after we cornered you. Something about your... stuff. Going haywire."

Evan deadpanned at the both of them. "So you didn't just take me on this trip to stop me from following, you have an ulterior motive. Why am I not the least bit fucking surprised."

The younger Winchester held up a hand. "Now wait a moment, before you start getting defensive. This was Cas' idea. The Hunter we're talking about is a sort of... doctor... for your kind."

"My kind?" Evan narrowed black-on-black eyes at Sam. "You mean, demons? Monsters? Things that go bump in the motherfucking night? Because that's what you actually mean. You don't say it, but you mean it. Look, I have no damn choice." He 'set' down his fork as gingerly as a five-ton elephant on a couch, making a large clatter, then a hollow 'crack' as the plate split in two. Anger had never really been Evan's friend. Indignant, righteous, well-deserved, or other.

Dean's voice grew very quiet. "Don't give me that shit. You're a demon, and that's that. We shouldn't have taken you in, we shouldn't have helped you, and I'm going to be damned if you sit here and throw that in our faces. Cas has been nothing but helpful. Ditch the attitude, got it 'Fido'?"

Evan's voice was dark when he answered. "Don't. Ever. Call me that." he snarled, eyes glowing for a split-second. "I have no choice. I'll go along with you, but if you call me that fucking nickname again, I will rip that goddamn car apart, and torch this whole joint. You hear me?"

Sam sighed, and put one hand toward his brother, and other toward Evan. "Alright, that's enough you two. Look, Cas wanted to see if this doctor-person could find out what was wrong with you so we could fix it. There is no ulterior motive here other than making sure you don't die. And yes, by 'you' I obviously mean both of you. Now cool it. Dean, you promised you wouldn't go ape over this."

The elder Winchester stabbed his fork Evan-ward. "I wouldn't have to if the whiny emo brat didn't decide to open up his mouth every five damn minutes." At which point, he went back to angrily eating the rest of his eggs.

"This is going to be a long-ass trip." Evan grumbled under his breath, stabbing the remainder of his hash-browns. "Sam, can I get a melt?"

The dismissive gesture of the younger Winchester was good enough for him, and he ordered one to be delivered with his pie.

Something put the demon on edge.

Considering how close it had gotten as it passed — close enough for him to catch the scent of grease and leather, of soap and weaponry, of the human it had taken and those it traveled with — there was little doubt that his own presence was what had made the thing wary.

There was, he supposed, a chance that it was the sort that was more... tolerable than others. Though, it was more likely that the demon was with the Winchesters because it had something important to them, not because of any merit in its behavior. It wouldn't hurt to get more information.

That decided, he made quick work of paying for his meal.

The plan worked itself out in his mind as he ran his fingers back through his hair. Red and platinum locks mingled as he swept his hair off to one side, then back, giving himself a more disheveled look when everything fell back into place just above his shoulders. A couple practiced motions had bangs falling into his face, tucked towards the prominent splash of white surrounding his right eye.

Nervous. Excited. Concerned. They were nothing he hadn't played before, and he started the instant he rose from his seat.

The man stepped away from his table and pat his hands against the pockets of his jeans. When his keys jingled, he pushed his chair in under the table, hesitated, then fixed it so the back of the chair was even with the edge of the table.

He glanced unsubtly over to where the brothers and their pet sat. He raised a hand, tucked hair behind his ear, only to seemingly rethink it and smooth his fingers over it again.

When he walked, he made it halfway across the room, then paused once more. A hand smoothed over his shirt. He looked away from the group, shifted his weight, then glanced over just once more. His hand clenched into a fist and he turned to the door instead, leaving the Waffle House entirely.

Another pause. A glance back towards the door, then to the windows, in the direction he knew their table to be.

He shook his head and started crossing the parking lot, quick eyes seeking out their vehicle almost instantly. His body showed it a few seconds later when he stopped, turned towards it, looked around, and finally approached it. He eyed the trunk, a hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt as he walked around to the driver's side.

Another look towards the building. Then, he stooped and peered inside the car.

Sam noticed the young man striding toward their car in a rather furtive fashion. He knew enough about inner-city kids to know exactly where this was headed. "Dean." He pointed out the window to the Impala. He made as if to get out of the booth to go handle it, but Evan barred his way.

"Hang on. Have the lady put those peanut-butter morsel things on my pie slice. I'll handle this whackjob." he snipped, pushing out of the booth before either brother could stop him, and shoving the door open with considerable force. Enough to slam the weighted door against the side wall. "Hey! You!" he called, marching over to the car. The feel of 'angel' overwhelmed him when he got within eight feet of the car, resulting in his bravado becoming a little pathetic as he started weaving on his feet. Suddenly dizzy, he reached out for the closest thing to keep his balance - someone else's car... whiiiich started going off.

"Fuck!" Evan bit off a long string of curses, and looked around in a panicked way, seeking somewhere to hide. Then, the owner of the car - a nice, white BMW with flame detailing - exited the Waffle House. The guy was huge, obviously a biker, and had spiked everything on, as well as a long and grizzled beard. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He did it!" He called toward the guy, pointing his finger at what he knew at this point to be the angel he'd sensed. "He'll deny it to fucking hell, but he did it!"

Great.

The demon was an idiot.

"W-what?" he stammered, his eyes wide as he both backed away from the Impala and let his gaze dart around the lot. "I didn't- I wasn't-"

Just as he thought would be the case, his act only made the biker redirect his anger from the demon. A few steps away from the cars was all he took before the biker caught him by the arm. He 'tried' to yank it away, pleading his innocence as that bearded face loomed over him. A quick touch to the biker's head, hidden from those still inside the building, had him quickly calming down as the man explained the situation.

He'd just been looking for his car when his 'friend' had bumped into the white vehicle.

Anything would have taken, but the believable lie was far better for listening ears. The biker, still visibly irritated but no longer about to pound anyone's face in, grumbled as he walked away, but not without a warning glare in both his own and the demon's directions.

That left the angel standing there in the middle of the lot, his heart pounding and breath racing with a fear he didn't feel, as his gaze found the demon once more.

Evan was attempting to check in the windows of the Impala to see if the angel had broken anything - inadvertently or not. Sam and Dean were watching from the window, so he had better prove he had his shit together. He crossed his arms and stood, watching the biker drive off, and giving the angel the glare of death.

"What are you doing here, Wingz?" he asked, using a nickname. After all, he didn't exactly know the guy's actual name. Plus, it was fun to see angels squirm sometimes. He wasn't going to hurt him.. her... it. Just screw around a bit.

The Impala stood passively by while there was a staredown between Sam, Dean, and the demon who wasn't paying attention to the brothers. Evan was in his own little world - a world mostly inhabited by this angel right now, and.... dayum was he hot. Being the demonic part of this boy, his mouth had a tendency to run off with him. The other Evan tended to be a bit more... tactful.

"That is a FINE ass, Wingz. What you doin' later?"

"Later...?" he asked, putting on his best disbelieving tone. A little unsure, a little offended, and a lot of curiosity. The way the demon looked at his vessel was neither subtle nor unwarranted by any means. While the discoloration it bore in some places was questionable to some human tastes, he kept his borrowed body in appropriate shape. Clothes could hide most signs of his body's strength well enough, but the rear it had been blessed with even before he'd done his work... well, it rarely went unnoticed.

Just a beat or two after the demon's question had been asked, he let blood rush to his face, turning his cheeks a bright red. "Are- are you kidding!? You just tried to get me killed!"

Evan snorted, and uncrossed his arms, shifting his weight to his left foot. "Yeah, right. Killed? You could have erased his eyes with one of those holy blast things." he said, making a rude gesture. "Fuck off with that whole 'almost got me killed' shit. Nobody's buying it. Well... they might." He jerked his thumb back to the restaurant, where Dean and Sam were paying for the meal, and bagging up what else Evan had ordered. The server even put an extra scoop of morsels on the pie as she packed it. Nice lady.

Grinning, the demon leaned closer to the angel, and his expression turned gleefully mischievous. "Yeah. Later. Like, as in a date. Date-date. None of this coffee-and-a-smooch shit, either. I can't check out your ass if it ain't shakin'." His eyebrows wiggled suggestively. Internally, he heard the other Evan starting up a dialogue. With another roll of his eyes - he seemed to be doing that quite a lot today, he let the boy take over without even telling him. Just to fuck with him.

Suddenly, his eyes shot to dark gray-blue, very human, and his voice had a wholly different tone to it. ... He was also mid-sentence that he had been yapping at the demon.

"-and I don't see how going out on a date with an Angel is being safe, secure, or keeping out of trouble? Like Sam and Dean TOLD us to do after... oh..." The new Evan licked his lips nervously.

This new one carried himself far differently. Demure in both posture and voice, he exuded two main emotions just at present. Annoyance... and terror. "H-hi... Um.... don't.... eat me, okay?"

Not about to be pulled out of his persona that easily, he only furrowed his brows at the demon's remarks. The small frown on his lips only deepened as it went on about a date that wasn't going to happen.

Then, it changed.

It changed, and the true soul returned.

For a brief second or two, the surprise in the man's eyes was all too real, but it didn't last.

He took a step back from the trapped soul. "What the hell is this? I wasn't doing anything to you. Stop fucking with me, man."

"Ummm... ummm..." Evan's hands came up, and he started twining his fingers with each other, and essentially fiddling with them. "I'm.. um... sorry for the other me. Um, he's... kinda rude sometimes. He's tired, so... so he doesn't... um... have a good mouth right now."

"You mean ever." That was Dean, coming up behind the two, and crossing his arms in a 'completely and totally not amused' way. "Start talking. Which one are you. Cas didn't mention us being followed, but there's a first time for everything." His eyes narrowed. "Whether or not you mean harm, step away from the boy." The Winchester's tone brokered no argument... but that didn't tend to stop most of what they went up against, to be brutally honest. Words rarely did.

The Evan-formerly-known-as-demon lifted a hand to his mouth, and then sprang forward, putting himself in-between the angel and the sneaky little gun that Sam had been drawing. "D-don't! Violence is never the answer, you know that! Don't shoot him, or you'll have to shoot me first!"

Inside his head, the demon snorted. ~Umm, he's a Winchester, sport. He'll shoot you whether or not you beg him not to. It's not like we're important or anything.~

Tears started to form, and he spoke back to the demon, without anyone else having been privy to the conversation. "Th-that's not fair! We are too important! We're Sam and Dean's friends!"

He mouthed a silent 'what' as he looked between the trapped soul and the two brothers. "I... I was just- Oh man," he paused to run a hand back through his hair, "is your, uh, friend here okay?" His gaze, though still shifting between all three of the men, lingered on the brothers. "I wasn't trying to, to make a scene or anything, I just... I mean, you're the Winchester's, right? I didn't know, uh, how to—" He waved his hand vaguely, only to notice a hair stuck to it. His eyes fell immediately as he picked it off of his skin. "I heard there are witches around here causing trouble... I thought you might be here for that?"

Well, enough was enough. Evan's features went slack for a moment, and his eyes shot to black again. "Honestly? Are you buying this shit? Sam, Dean, this one's an angel." He jerked a thumb at the other as he meandered around, and slipped in beside Sam. "I promise. Straight up. Demon's honor. Fuckin' angel. Hot one, too."

Dean's stance didn't relax, and Sam's hand gripped the gun at his side a bit more tightly. The brothers didn't necessarily have the best track-record with those of the holy light. The older Winchester fixed an un-moving gaze in front of him, solely focused on the blonde. "Alright, spill. Don't bullshit your way out of this." Those eyes narrowed even further. "This demon's telling the truth. Trust me, I've known him long enough to sniff out a lie, and this ain't it. What are you doing here, and how did you find us."

The demon gave Dean a sideways glance and sighed. "Doubt that's gonna work. These guys are pathological liars, yanno. At least us demons are honest. We'll TELL you we're gonna peel your fucking skin off. This thing will maintain that he's a poor, suffering, weak little human until the day that vessel dies. Then just jump into a new one. That's how it works with them. You can't trust an angel. Which makes it stupid that you're taking orders from one."

"You can't be serious," he said, half to himself as he rubbed a hand over half of his face. "I run into the Winchesters on a hunt, and they're not even hunting it, too? Did you guys even notice what's going on in the area, or were you just- just gonna have breakfast and ditch?"

"Actually, we were planning on dropping Evan off with a Hunter here, then headed off to investigate a slew of murders that seem to be done by witches." Sam explained, relaxing a bit, and letting the gun slide back into the holster. Evan inched behind him and hid there as he stepped forward toward the angel. "You apparently know who we are, but that's not a surprise. What do you know about these killings?"

Dean clicked his tongue, and moved behind his brother to drag the demon out by the arm, making him stand next to them rather than behind them. "And I don't suppose you know where to find this Hunter that claims to be a doctor for demons and shit. Goes by the name McKinney. Aston McKinney."

"Oh, alright. So... you want to talk to me now?" the man asked, sweeping an arm out towards the rest of the lot. It was about as public as public could get, without heading straight into the nearest city and taking a stroll down main street. "Get real. Is this how you always treat people?"

Evan smirked a bit, and looked back at Dean. "See? I fuckin' told you. Angels. Jerks and liars, the lot of them. Well.. maybe not all of them, but most of them." Sam reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, which quickly shut him up without having to resort to shouting at him. Apparently he listened to Sam quite a bit more than Dean.

"Fine. We'll get to McKinney's house, then we'll have a nice long chat." Dean said, walking past the angel to open the Impala. "Get in. Back seat. You too, Fido."

The demon not-quite-snarled at the older Winchester. "Stop. Calling. Me. That!" He snapped, sliding into the back seat with some help from Sam not to whack his head on the door-frame. "Wait... what? You want me to sit with an angel? Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

Dean snap-pointed at Evan. "Shut your mouth. We're taking you to McKinney. Then we'll talk. Not before. Then. Shut up."

"Well, this should be... fun," he muttered as he watched the interactions between the three. There was something distinctly disturbing about the way they treated the demon, and how it treated them in return. Nevertheless, he pulled out his cellphone as he made his way back to the car and slid into the spot beside the demon.

Evan crossed his arms and leaned back as they started off, sighing and looking out the window opposite to the angel. Since Sam told him not to talk, he wasn't going to actually talk. Dean? Pssh. Who fucking cares. But Sam? Sam, he actually fucking respected. So quite he was going to remain. Didn't mean it had to be polite quiet, though.

Dean wasn't going to be quiet, starting to converse with Sam about these killings. "So from what we know... what? Grannies are cackling and wearing capes, or what's going on?"

"Not quite that overt. People are going missing, and turning up dead with pentagrams etched into their chests, and some strange pendants around their necks. If it's not work of witches, it's one of Crowley's."

Riding in the notorious Impala was... about how he'd expected it to be. It was a well taken care of vehicle, all things considered. The angel paid little mind to the other passengers as he flipped his phone on. "There's a rogue demon in the area," he said, no hint of the waver he'd had before then lingering in his voice. "It's been making witches, then taking their souls for itself. I'm sure red-eyes isn't a fan."

Sam snickered despite himself, and lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle an outright laugh. "Right, so... I don't think we can be entirely sure whether or not to pin this on him - or some rogue that's gone all Warlock Rambo." he said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice and failing.

"Regardless, whatever twisted bastard is doing this, they've got to be stopped. We're not having another incident in this town so soon after the last one." Dean grumbled, not seeing amusement at all. "There's nothing more annoying than a fully-fledged coven, and we're going to cut them down before it comes to that."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Really? You're going to kill all the witches and the demon, and you're supposed to be the good guys. Seriously, I can't understand how anyone tolerates you - ever."

As he tapped away at the screen of his device with one hand, he brushed the fingers of his other against the door at his side. A small pulse of his energy was enough to satisfy him of the lack of other spells on the vehicle.

"Hunters don't consider the long-term ramifications of their actions as long as they survive and can convince themselves that they've saved a life in the process," the angel remarked, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he cast a glance towards the demon. "Not that you're any better. Only idiots and inexperienced fools," and at that, he looked towards the pair in the front of the car, "discuss matters so freely where anyone, or anything, might overhear. There are far more ways to spy on others than there are to stop it from happening. I would have thought basic precautions wouldn't have flown right over your heads. More lives would be saved if you captured the demon and renegotiated all involved contracts with red-eyes."

Dean snorted. "With Crowley, 'renegotiating' rarely works." he said sharply, turning onto a small street, and glancing at the house numbers. "McKinney's in this neighborhood. We'll have any and all other discussions inside." After that little snappish statement, he pulled into a small, white-painted house on the unassuming street, with a nice little white-paved driveway and a tiny garden on a pretty porch. Not the place you'd think to check for Hunters.

Sam emerged from the vehicle, and led the demon out by the hand, Dean moving around to the other side to grab the angel. "Right." Dean continued from where he left off. "You two are going to behave, or I swear I will pop a cap in both your asses, you understand?"

"... yessir." Evan said in a small voice.

Sam was already marching up the steps to a door that had a holly wreath fixed onto it, complete with a little bird sculpted out of wood, and some holiday lights. He knocked on the door, and stepped back for a moment when someone answered.

It wasn't an old man, but it was a middle-aged gentleman. He wore an ugly holiday sweater - this one with a reindeer and a tinsel-covered tree - and jeans with boots. It wasn't super-cold outside yet, but it was getting there. Enough for there to be sweaters at least.

"Ah yes, you must be the Winchesters." he said in a jovial way, motioning them all toward the door. "Come to see me about a sick demon. This way, this way. Come inside."

"You're awfully cute," the angel informed Dean as he pulled himself out of the car. He wasn't about to be rushed, no matter how snippy the guy was.

The house they'd been brought to was... nice. It didn't much suit his tastes, but it wasn't surprising that such a place belonged to the hunter they were, apparently, looking for. Then again, it was unlikely that the brothers, or perhaps even the demon, could feel the wardings the way that he could.

As for the hunter himself... well, he certainly had a good taste in sweaters.

Oh, the house was heavily warded. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to discourage anything from coming in that the Hunter didn't touch first - all of which explained why the man clasped the hand of each and every person coming into the room. He led them into a sitting room that might have been out of Better Homes and Gardens, sitting them all down, and retreating for a moment. He returned with a tray full of drinks. Coffee for the two brothers, a tall glass of chocolate milk for the demon, and large glass with ice and strawberry-lime soda. He set the drinks down, seated himself in the large chair beside the couch, kicked back with his feet on an ottoman, and smiled.

"So. A sick demon, witches all over, and now you bring me an angel? It truly is nearing Christmas after all." He leaned forward after a moment, and crossed his fingers. "Now then. Have a nice drink and we'll discuss what's been going on. I know the demon in question. He was one of my patients... before things turned sour."

"Sour how?" Sam asked, sipping the coffee... which had just the right amount of milk and cream in it that he liked... Strange.

The man - obviously Aston - shrugged, and crossed his arms, leaning back again. "He went berserk. Started killing off small animals, turning them into skeletons overnight, studying up on the ladies and young girls in town, stalking them. I didn't realize he was... changing them. Not until it was too late."

The angel was all too happy to sit back and enjoy the drink that the especially gifted hunter had brought. Judging from the look on Sam's face, he was a bit surprised by the perfectly coordinated refreshments.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, making his gaze fall from that random spot on the wall as he pulled it out and flipped it on. It was just a text, and one that he had no issues returning, even with his current company.

"If I had to put a name to it, I'd say the boy was lonely." Aston said, rubbing just under his bottom lip in a thoughtful manner. "There are precious-few of his kind in this town as it is, and before he came to me... well, he wasn't here for physical issues, let's just put it that way. I'm afraid that he's probably had a psychotic break. Brought on by something which I cannot begin to fathom. He was showing remarkable progress."

Dean leaned forward, and put his fingers together in a diamond-shape, leveling his gaze at Aston. "You're telling me you were acting as a shrink? For a demon?" he asked, brow quirking. "I've heard of some dumb ideas, but that takes the cake."

"It's not too far off some of the studies out there. I grew intrigued with those studies a couple of years ago, and went to ask... certain parties for willing participants. It didn't turn out well for me."

The younger Winchester made a dismissive motion. "Whatever the case, this demon is turning out record numbers of witches, and he's doing it with a method we don't understand. Not to mention all of those witches are now - apparently - loyal to him. Have you seen anything like that while living here?"

Aston shook his head. "Not so much, no. When my parents were still alive - before they were killed by Banshees - Dad used to mention that a lot of older ladies in the town seemed to be close to the dark arts. But no mention of demons, or slaves, or masters, or any of that. Mostly, this is just a peaceful, quiet town. Until recently. I would bet my sweater that this demon has no knowledge of the demonic hierarchy, though. He didn't seem to be interested when I mentioned the King of Hell... or any other authority figure to be honest."

"So if there haven't been too many incidents around here," the angel spoke up, only sparing the briefest of glances up from his phone, "where were you when you got that curse?"

Aston paused mid-reach, and looked at the angel. "Ah yes. I knew you'd pick that up." he said quietly. "This curse was cast on me by Crawley. Trying to negotiate for willing patients. He... didn't take too kindly to such ideas." Rubbing the back of his neck, he smirked. "I don't imagine that has much to do with the situation at hand."

Evan sipped his milk, and looked pensive. "The situation has nothing to do with me, so why am I even here?" he asked, looking up across his mug.

"I don't care." Dean said, grumbling. "You're staying here. Castiel noticed something off, and that spells 'dangerous' for us. So you're staying here. You and that angel."

It was then that the angel looked at the demon and its trapped soul properly for the first time since he'd been 'invited' on their little trip. Castiel wasn't one of his brothers that he ever knew well. Castiel had been young, and he himself had been... occupied with things more important than the children. Still, like the Winchesters, Castiel had become more well known than his creation would have ever suggested.

"There's nothing wrong, other than the obvious," the angel concluded as his attention turned right back to his phone.

There was a soft scratch next to them, and Aston rose from his chair. "How rude of me. I've left Bruiser outside in the cold." He chuckled, and crossed to the sliding glass door, letting in this huge Doberman-Alsatian mix, who padded over to the couch, and lay down on the rug beside it. Afterward, he flopped back into the chair again, after closing the door. "What remains right now, is to find out if my patient can be saved... and to do something about this young one." he gestured to Evan.

For his part, Evan had gone very pale, and seemed to be having a hard time breathing all of a sudden. He put his hand up to his chest, then reached out to grip the nearest thing - the angel's shoulder - to keep his balance as a wave of sheer dizziness hit the hell out of him. "S-Sam..."

Sam looked up from his coffee, and instantly set it down, moving over to Evan, and looked a bit... lost for action. "It's happening again. See, this is what we're talking about!"

For the most part, he'd been unbothered by the change in the vessel's pallor and the tremble beneath all of that heaving and huffing. But when there was weight against his shoulder, and the taller of the brothers came over as well, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. The screen glowed faintly through the denim.

Of course. Neither of them could see the heaviness, the blackness, trying to rip itself out of the vessel's body. Or how it was focused solely on the handsome canine that had been let back inside. "Get him away from the dog and all—" He waved a hand at Evan. "—that will stop."

"Away from the..." Sam turned to look at the dog, who wore - as most dogs do - a guileless expression, and seemed more than confused. Instead of taking the dog by the collar, and possibly getting bit, Sam scooped Evan up into his arms, and bore him away from the couch, more toward the door. After he did so, Evan's breathing evened out, and his color returned.

The dark energy that made Evan up had flowed back into the two-legged body, and was now functioning properly again - even if he was a bit shaken in the process. He slid down the wall, and rested there with his arms crossed over his knees, head on them, just focusing on breathing.

While Sam stayed with Evan, Dean rose, and marched over to the angel. The sheer presence of the angry brother caused Bruiser to cross over to Aston - a much less hostile party. "What is wrong with him then, huh? Why does he do that?!" He jabbed his finger at the recovering demon. "Answer me!"

Aston very quietly got up, and... bodily manhandled Dean back into a seat, standing in-between everyone, and putting his hands on his hips. "Alright. No fighting in my house, no raising voices, and certainly no violence. If you can't behave in a civil fashion, I'll have to kick you out."

Dean was... a bit shocked that someone pushing sixty could literally throw him into a chair, and he was still rubbing his arm, staring up at Aston in amazement.

Though he had been watching Sam take Evan away from the source of the problem, his attention was forcefully drawn by one upset older brother. He only moved, however, to set his soda down on the floor near his feet. "You shouldn't underestimate him," he said calmly, nodding towards Aston. "He's better at this than you are, Dean."

Once Dean was silent, and not likely to start up again, Aston crouched to retrieve the angel's glass, walked to the kitchen, refilled it with ice and soda, and brought it back - setting it on the table he righted with one hand. "Now. If we're all finished with these adult tantrums, we can continue." he said very calmly. "I have seen Evan's symptoms before, and I'm fairly sure I can do something about them - even, perhaps, diagnose him. But for that, I'm afraid you and your brother must leave the boys with me. Although..." He shifted his gaze to the angel. "Some in here are simply very good at pretending to be boys."

Sam rubbed Evan's shoulder for a moment, and walked over to Dean. "Come on. Let's go ask around, see if we can find this guy. What does he look like, Aston?"

"Red hair, blue eyes, dark skin. His hair is - obviously - dyed. You're looking for someone who looks around the age of sixteen." Aston answered, cleaning up Dean's spilled mug without a complaint, before doing the same to Sam's.

"Jesus, we're dealing with a kid?" Dean asked, rising, and giving Evan and the angel a hard glare. "Bad enough we have two here."

Aston rubbed the bridge of his nose, and gave a quiet sigh. "Both of you get gone. Please. Bruiser is not an attack dog, but he's very good at 'convincing' people to leave."

That was enough for the brothers. Fairly soon, they were out the door, and off to wherever, as the Impala pulled out of the driveway. Once that was done, Aston sat back down, offering another glass of chocolate milk to Evan, while he took Bruiser by the collar, and locked him into the study. The dog didn't seem perturbed by this in the least, a very easy-going animal.

"Now that Tall and Terrible are gone. Do you mind if I ask your names? Ah, and exactly what you are?" He settled down in the chair again. "It's important in my line of work to have all the facts."

"I go by K. Like K-a-y, but without the 'a' and 'y'. There's nothing wrong with—" Once again, the angel gestured vaguely towards Evan. "The demon is just doing what comes naturally." He settled back in his seat, his new glass held between both of his hands. "But that curse of yours, I could help with. If you were interested."

"I rather suspected as much." Aston said, once again seating himself. "About Evan, I mean. When Dean told me what was going on, I figured I might have a hellhound on my hands." He picked up his tea, which had been sitting to the side of him. "I'd appreciate that, but first - I should make sure the two of you are settled. I doubt the boys are coming back any time soon. K, was it?" He motioned to the rest of the house. "Feel free to stay or go as you like. I don't keep prisoners."

He rose once more, and escorted Evan over to the couch, sitting him down, and crouching in front of him. "What do you remember? Back from when you first contacted this human?"

Evan shrugged. "Not much. Just that he was being raped by his great-uncle. Oh, and that he was terminally ill. I promised I could save him. Don't know why, really. Then... instead of me taking him over, we started sharing. Like... uh... a condo or something."

Aston chuckled. "That in itself is remarkable, but I'd say that has less to do with who and what you are, and more to do with who the actual Evan is. Something special, I'd wager. At any rate... I should at least make an attempt to offer the both of you hospitality and my services, should they be required."

His offer having been blatantly pushed aside, the angel let out a breath and slumped sideways, his elbow on the arm of the chair and his cheek getting squished against his hand. "I don't suppose one of you can give me one of those boys' numbers?" he asked as he stuck his drink between his legs and retrieved his phone.

"I don't know their numbers, unfortunately." Aston said. "They've only ever called me from payphones up until this point, so unless they somehow reach out to contact me on the road - which isn't likely - I can't help you there." He sipped his tea, and studied Evan. The demon was still shaken, that much was clear. Didn't look like he had much to say.

Sipping his milk quietly, he shook his head toward K. "Dunno 'em." he murmured, looking down into his chocolate milk as though the bottom of the glass held the secrets of the universe. Uncharacteristically quiet, for him. His eyes were still black, though - they hadn't become that dark gray-blue again, so he was still the demon.

"Thanks anyway." He could still send a warning to his contact. Nothing drastic. Just, to keep an eye out. To lay low, at least for now.

He would be royally pissed if the Winchesters just happened to run into and kill his witch. Just because they didn't see renegotiation as an option, what with their history of trading directly life for life, that didn't mean the angel didn't have other things to offer. Not, of course, that he would ever dream of summoning in a hunter's house.

It was an intriguing prospect, bartering for so many souls. It was the sort of hunt that made his wings, unseen but not entirely unheard, shift against his back.