AN: Welcome to my first fanfic! If you're reading this, thank you for giving me a chance despite the bland summary... How does one balance the need of drawing people in with the need of preserving the plot of the story? The M rating is primarily for coarse language, although there may be some romantic entanglements later on (I've been slipping in some sneaky Destiel if you look closely). It is my hope that actually publishing my work online will motivate me to finish it (I'm looking at weekly updates for now).
That's all folks, please enjoy!
Dean sat down heavily on the creaky motel bed, his eyes finding Sam's back as he twisted open his beer. His towering brother stood at the large window across the room, staring out at the town lit by streetlight. Dean paused, momentarily letting his tumultuous emotions come to the forefront of his mind. Truly he was beyond happy and relieved to see his brother again, especially since the last time they saw each other, Sam (well, Lucifer really) had beaten his face to pulp and then jumped into the Cage. Diving into Lucifer's playpen had a morbid sense of finality about it, and Sam himself had said that he wasn't going to get back out. Dean had resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to see his little brother again.
On the other hand, Dean thought as he took a swig of his beer, he has been back for a year. He refused to acknowledge the gift he received in the form of Lisa and Ben, instead letting his fury at being kept in the dark about Sam's return wash away that temporary happiness. There was also the niggling sensation in the back of his mind that something wasn't quite right with Sam, and paired with the refusal to believe that Sam just "got out", the feeling amounted to a lingering uneasiness that refused to be quashed down.
"Nice place you got here Sammy," Dean quipped, not bothering to look up at his brother as he swung his legs onto his bed to lounge effortlessly.
Sam stiffened, pulling himself up to his full height before turning to face his brother. Dean was staring down at the beer bottle in his hand, absently playing with the label. Sam was one of few that could hear Dean's comment for what it really was: an excuse to start a fight. "Dean, don't do this," he replied with a sigh.
"Don't do what?" Dean's eyes finally met Sam's.
"I know you. Don't try to pick a fight because you're angry with-"
"Yeah and why shouldn't I be?" Dean interrupted sharply, swinging his legs off the bed to stand up again. "I watched you dive headfirst into the pit. I've watched you jump into that bottomless hole a thousand times over, every time I closed my damn eyes. I couldn't stop seeing it. I never stopped wishing it was me."
Sam swallowed. "Dean-"
"I never stopped Sammy." Dean continued, slowly walking towards his sibling. He sounded angry, but Sam knew he was really stricken with grief. Knew that his furrowed brows and tense jaw just hid the unshed tears in his eyes and the painful lump in his throat. "I stayed with Lisa and stopped hunting because you asked me to. Because I promised you. Because if I couldn't save you, the least I could do was what you wanted me to." Dean stopped a few feet away from Sam, fists clenching, beer bottle forgotten behind him on the nightstand.
Sam dropped his eyes to the carpet, unable to look at Dean. "Dean I- I thought that's what you wanted, to-"
"I wanted my brother!" Dean's voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper. "After all these years Sammy, after everything I've done for you, I thought you would've known…" The lump in Dean's throat suddenly grew to stop him from speaking further.
Sam looked up briefly to meet Dean's wet eyes, but found himself unable to maintain eye contact. "Dean, I-" he started, then sighed again. He raised his gaze to Dean once more. "I'm sorry that I didn't… that I don't know you as well as I thought I did. I guess I thought that you could forget about me…"
Dean's face crumpled at that.
"I thought I was helping you, Dean."
Dean turned his eyes skywards in an effort to drain his tears away before they leaked down his face. He looked down to his hands, white-knuckled from clenching so hard and made a conscious effort to relax them. He looked up at Sam and opened his mouth to reply.
Whoof. The familiar sound shocked both brothers, as it was a sound neither of them had heard for a year. They both turned incredulously to face Castiel, who had just materialised beside them. Both started to speak at the same time.
"Cas? Where-"
"What the hell-"
Castiel raised a hand to silence them. "Please, I need you to clear a bed. There's someone important coming and they are not well."
Before either Winchester could question him further, Castiel had taken flight again and left behind two brothers staring at the space he had just vacated, twin looks of confusion adorning their faces.
Sam snapped out of it first, brushing past Dean to reach the double bed on the right side of the room. Sam had picked up the first duffel to move from bed to floor before he noticed Dean still frozen to the spot. "Dean," he called.
Dean immediately met his brother's gaze at the sound of his name; apparently shaken out of whatever freeze frame he was stuck in. He quickly marched over to the bed now freshly cleared of all their bags and starting tugging the sheet and duvet down to the foot of the bed. Sam moved to prop the pillows up against the headboard in order to support whoever was coming in an elevated position. Their movements were practiced, routine and nearly unconscious. Dean couldn't help but take a small amount of comfort in how easy it was to slip back into the simple cohesiveness that he and his brother created together.
Castiel strode carefully through the unkempt graves of Stull Cemetery. It almost made sense to have such a drab and unassuming location named as the 'chosen field'; the final showdown between Michael and Lucifer was prophesied to play out with no intruders, allies or interruptions. At least, that's how it was supposed to happen. The memory of Dean crawling up to the warring archangels in the Impala still tugged the corners of Castiel's mouth into a smirk.
But that was a year ago. Castiel dragged his mind back to the present. He absently noticed the long grass he walked on had been uniformly flattened in a radial pattern. It was not a surprising observation, nor a necessary one. He could feel the power pulsing from the being lying at the epicenter. Initially he thought that perhaps one of his brethren had fallen to Earth, as the power bore a strong resemblance to angelic Grace. But now as he got closer, and a vulnerable body came into view, he could detect different nuances that were enough to make him doubt a heavenly heritage.
Castiel stopped a few feet away from the body. The vessel lay sprawled on the ground, naked and still. The angel within, or almost-angel, still pulsed brightly with life. Cas cocked his head to the side and squinted a little bit. The Grace within the vessel was not the usual blinding white of a hallmark angel. Instead, it was a tainted, smoky, gunmetal grey. Castiel decided to stow away his concerns and doubts for the time being, and crouched down to scoop the smaller body in his arms. Surely he would be able to discover more in due time, but right now he needed to be somewhere safe. With the Winchesters.
Dean and Sam had just straightened up after preparing the bed when Castiel reappeared, accompanied by the standard rush of air. A limp and decidedly female body was enclosed in his arms.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Wow Cas. I mean, I prefer my ladies alive, but to each their own I guess."
Cas ignored Dean's witticism as he walked tentatively towards the prepared bed, while Sam shook his head in mild frustration at Dean's poor humour. As Cas delicately laid the young woman down on the mattress, he spoke. "Dean, I believe the phrase humans use is, 'There's a time and a place.' I am quite anxious about whoever or whatever this person is and I would appreciate it if you could treat this matter seriously."
Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry man, no harm meant. Tell us about your lady friend, then."
Cas narrowed his eyes slightly at Dean, but turned to look at the unconscious woman before him instead. "I'm very unsure about whatever he is."
Sam spoke up. "Well, she's gotta be an Angel, right? I mean, that's why you could sense her when she… arrived?"
"I can tell that much," replied Castiel, leaning over the vessel to peer deeply into her face. "However the Grace in this body is different from most other Angels."
"Okay, what does that mean?" asked Dean, his brow furrowed.
"You know, of course, that my brethren and I see each others' true faces, our Graces, even when possessing a vessel." Castiel began, straightening up and turning to face the brothers. "Almost all Grace is what you would perceive as pure white light."
"Almost all?" prompted Sam, subtly rolling his shoulders and crossing his arms with a hint of defensiveness.
Castiel's eyes landed on Sam, who gazed back at him with a tense jaw. He paused a moment, hoping to avoid upsetting Sam with his next words. "Heaven and Hell are extreme opposites. While my brothers and I thrive in the fields of Heaven, we languish in the realms of Hell. As a result we tend to avoid venturing there for anything less than the direst of situations." Cas flicked his gaze to Dean. His brow was still creased, but at Cas' last words he opened his mouth as if to say something. When no words left his throat, Cas looked back to Sam and continued. "Should an Angel spend an inordinate amount of time in Hell, the darkness can seep into their very being and taint their Grace."
Sam paled visibly. "Cas," he started. "Ple- Tell me that is not Lucifer lying on my bed," he ground out shakily, the fingers of one hand digging into the opposing bicep of his still-crossed arms.
Dean started like he'd been shocked. "Woah, Cas, what-"
Cas raised a placating hand. "It is not Lucifer," he stated, choosing to swallow the pain he felt at Sam's distrust in him. "The Adversary's Grace is pitch black and barely emits any light." He turned back to the figure lying idle on the bed. "Our guest's Grace is only a medium grey."
A silence fell then. Sam let out a slow breath and finally uncrossed his arms while Dean frowned at the floor as he processed the information he just been given.
"Hold on Cas," Dean started, a tiny detail all of a sudden sticking out in his mind. "Did you call her a 'he' before?"
Cas swiveled back to face Dean. "Yes, I did."
Dean's lips pursed in puzzlement. "So, what? There a dude angel inside that chick's body?"
Castiel tilted his head slightly to the side. "Angels do not have a sex, Dean. Many of us choose the sex of our vessels based on what is more 'traditionally' suited to our dominant personality traits. You recall that Anna was much more docile and empathetic than my brothers. The little knowledge I currently have about our guest points to them leaning towards a stereotypical masculine character." When Dean's befuddled expression did not waver, Cas sighed. "I'm sure they'll do a much better job of explaining it when they wake."
"Speaking of waking, and sleeping for that matter," Sam broke in, apparently having had ample time to sort himself out. "We're a bed down," he finished, looking at Dean.
Dean's eyes narrowed slightly in focus as he brought up his fisted right hand to rest against the open palm of his left. Sam mirrored his movements, maintaining an intense eye contact with his brother. At a previously undecided moment they both tapped their fists against their open palm once, twice, three times. The third tap saw Dean extend two fingers, while Sam kept his hand in a fist. Immediately Dean scoffed, dropping his hands and looking upwards in frustrated disbelief.
Sam, meanwhile, smiled a genuine smile for perhaps the first time that night. "Oh Dean," he said teasingly, clapping his hand firmly on Dean's shoulder. "Always with the scissors." He then moved past him to lay claim to the bed, while Dean moved towards the couch.
Castiel was still unclear on the details of the unusual method the Winchesters used to settle scores. Dean had tried to explain it to him once, but he still didn't quite understand how a flimsy piece of paper was meant to subdue a rock simply by wrapping itself around it's designated enemy.
As the brothers roamed between the bathroom and their respective bed and couch in preparation for sleep, Cas elected to pull up a chair to sit and keep watch at the feet of the enigmatic girl. Sam had quietly dressed her in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of dark sweats, and then tugged the duvet up to her waist before tucking it in while Dean brushed his teeth in the bathroom. Cas dimly realised he perhaps should've thought to do something about the vessel's nudity before he came back to the motel, but it was of no consequence anymore. He instead resigned himself to a few quiet hours of listening to the quiet breathing of his charges and carefully watching the new arrival.
AN: Please review! I would love to hear anything you have to say whether it be positive, constructive or just "This bit made me laugh!"
(You may recognise some lines from the show. One of them I felt was inevitable and needed to be included, the other is just cute so SUE ME)(Please don't I have 0 money)
