No Refunds

Chapter 33

They arrived at the storage unit quickly, within half an hour of making the decision to go there. Dean almost turned the car around twice, agonising over the choice to drive further away from Cas, rather than towards him, but Sam made him keep going.

They stopped in the lot and Dean had barely put the car into park before he was out of the rusty vehicle, heading straight for the storage unit. It wasn't far, and Dean practically ran it, while Sam lagged behind, trying to find the right key on a ring.

By the time they got to the door he had found it, and quickly pressed it into the lock. It opened, though a little stiffly from disuse. Sam slid up the door, and it rattled with an echo back into the room beyond, dark and covered in cobwebs and dust. They could see the dust in the air, lit up by sunbeams making their way in.

Despite being in such a hurry earlier, they stepped in slowly, almost reverently, switching on flashlights that they had grabbed to light their way.

"What are we looking for?" Sam asked.

"It was your ghost." Dean grumbled. "Why would Dad have anything that worked on an angel? He didn't even know they existed."

"Might've found something and stuck it in here, anyway." He suggested.

"Seems like a lot of 'ifs' and 'mights' to me, Sammy." Dean pointed out.

"Just..." Sam craned his neck, checking out the devils trap on the ceiling. "Keep looking."

So they looked. And they kept looking. Papa Winchester had accumulated a lot of Supernatural memorabilia over the years, without keeping any form of thorough record of it. There was no neat cataloguing system, only eyes and guesswork.

Dean eyed up some of the curse boxes on a shelf. He remembered a few years back, when a 'lucky' rabbit's foot had been stolen from here. It had caused no end of havoc, with both Sammy and himself getting hit by the curse before they managed to destroy it. The things in the boxes were powerful, but were they worth the risk of opening?

"We could use your Casper, again." Dean called, and Sam glanced over. He knew Dean was right. It was all very well and good pointing them to here, but their Dad had practically hoarded this stuff.

Behind him he heard something crash, echoing loudly through the room. Looking to Dean, he saw his brother shrug in confusion, then took his gun. Following suit, they both walked slowly over to the source of the noise.

There wasn't anything there. Nothing moving now, at least; nothing except the dust cloud that was trying to settle. But they could see what had been moved. A large sheet of metal was now lying flat on the floor, where it had previously been placed against the wall, covering a built in set of shelves.

"Huh." Sam said.

Dean squatted down on his knees, looking into the shelves. They were almost empty, aside from the dust, except for one thing. Curved wood met pristine gold, fluid and melding into each other, and locked into it, a solid gold and perfectly formed arrow.

"A crossbow?" Dean asked, picking it up gingerly off the shelf to get a better look at it.

"A fancy one." Sam said. "Gold."

Dean held it closer to his face, trying to get a better look at it. "Sammy, shine your light over here, would you?"

Sam obliged, shining the flashlight onto it. They both winced as the light glared off of the shiny gold, but then peered closer at it, properly seeing what they couldn't before.

"Does that look like..." Dean wondered, looking at the carved and engrained symbols.

"Enochian. Yeah." Sam agreed. "It does."

"Huh." Dean huffed, then held it properly, like the way he'd seen in the movies. "Uh, any idea how to use it?"

"Dad never really gave us crossbow training, did he?"

"Not really." Dean concurred. "The arrows are reusable, right?"

Sam frowned at him. "You planning on shooting some cans on a fence?"

"Something like that." Dean swung it round and took aim at a small figurine at the top of a shelving unit. He pulled and released the trigger and, amazingly, it hit precisely where Dean had been aiming. The old angel statuette that had been placed above his crib as a baby was now reduced to shards of china, and Dean smiled at the success.

"Dean!" Sam yelped.

"Oh, what?" He shot back.

"What?" Sam retorted. "One, what if you missed and hit some random object?"

"I didn't."

"Well, you could've. And that was Mum's statue!"

"Well, Sammy; I don't want angels watching over me anymore. It felt appropriate."

Sam looked at the shards and sighed as Dean reached up and pulled out the arrow from the wall.

"See? All good." He smiled, giving the weapon an affectionate pat. "Looks like we got us a weapon."

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