Proof Of Purchase

This is a sequel to No Refunds. Set roughly following 7.10, Castiel returns to the Winchesters (very temporarily) in the body of a twenty-something girl. Dean? Not best pleased with the Angel. Angsty, light on the Destiel. I strongly recommend reading that before reading this, but it's a free internet.

The characters aren't mine, yadda yadda yadda. I heartily enjoy reviews, and they will often nudge me into writing if I've been lazy. So, enjoy?

The hunt should have been quick and clean.

Despite Sam's preconceptions about the man, Garth was a very competent hunter. Stealthily silent, even with gangly limbs that were largely disproportionate from his body, he and Sam managed to silently execute three of the eight vampires in the nest without waking the rest. They might have even been able to dispatch of them all with no mess, had Sam's cell phone not began to go off in his pocket, right as he was about to kill number 4.

Things became a little more complicated after that.

Eventually bruised and bloody, and Garth with a minor puncture wound or two, the job was finished. Eight decapitated vampires lay around them, and the room was basically a blood bath. The smaller hunter picked himself from the floor, and grinned up and Sam.

Sam chose then to look at his phone. One missed call: D. There wasn't a message, and when he tried to call his brother back there wasn't an answer.

He put it out of his mind long enough to burn the bodies of the vampires, though Garth insisted on finding a clearing to do it in, claiming his uncle was a Forest Ranger, and that fires like that were dangerous is wooded areas. Afterwards, while Garth looted the cabin, Sam called again. Still no answer. Here is when he started to worry.

Garth had pocketed all the change from the parking-meter scheme, and a few other odds and ends, when Sam told him they were leaving. Not letting the smaller man drive agonisingly slowly this time, Sam took the wheel, getting lost a few too many times for his liking before he eventually found himself in somewhat familiar territory, remembering this particular stretch of almost-road from when they had first arrived here after the hospital. Within three long minutes they were back at the cabin, and Sam barely bothered to turn off the engine before jumping out, racing up the steps to the cabin.

He wasn't sure what to expect when he flung open the door. Maybe the place would be empty, void of life, maybe it would be trashed. Maybe he would open it to a drunken mess of a brother, or perhaps he would see his brother the way he hated him most; dead behind the eyes and coldness in his heart.

The possibility that Sam would open the door to dinnertime never crossed his mind.

He froze in surprise in the doorway, watching the scene in front of him, and Dean and Castiel looked back. Both sat at the small table, eating the leftovers from the meal that Sam had made the night before.

For the last few days, Cas had been in a coma. During this time, Dean had barely left his side, waiting for his friend to wake up. They'd tried every lead they had, every old friend who owed them a favour, every last ditch resort; nothing had worked. Each time it came back the same; it was up to Cas whether or not he would wake up. Die as an angel, or live as a human.

When Cas had first returned, Dean had been angry, had shunned the angel and turned him away, showed no sign that he wanted him there. By the time he'd eventually begun to work through his issues, Cas had been kidnapped, had almost died, and fallen into a coma. Sam had stood by while Dean had the inevitable breakdown that had been building for God knows how long, until Garth had requested his presence on a hunt. He figured, how much could change in a day?

"Cas!" Sam uttered, when he could eventually speak. He suddenly realised how much he had been expecting the man to die. While Dean had been freaking out, Sam had to be the one planning for the worst case scenario, the one to pick up the pieces of Dean if his best friend died. This, apparently, hadn't left much room for optimism.

"Hello, Sam." Was the low response from Cas, who smiled ever so slightly.

Garth, despite being excited to finally meet the infamous Castiel, left quickly, recognising the situation as one that he was not meant to be a part of. Cas had politely endured the attention, but clearly did not welcome it, the excited stares from the small, wide-eyed man someone unsettling.

Sam pulled up a chair at the table, smiling as he clapped Cas on the back. "Cas, I can't believe you're awake!" He greeted him, quickly taking his hand away as he felt him flinch under the force of the slap. Though meant kindly, the man clearly wasn't used to being so fragile.

"Were you not expecting me to?" He replied, and Sam raised his eyebrows, quickly backtracking.

"No, Cas, of course I was!" He raised his hands in front of himself, a peaceful gesture as he tried to explain, glancing to Dean. "You've just been asleep for a while, and-" His eyes flicked between Dean and Cas, before noticing Dean's smirk, chuckling to himself as Dean stuck a fork into the food. "You're messing with me?" He asked, hands dropping back to the table, sighing.

Cas's mouth rose at a corner as he looked at Sam. "I appreciate your concern." He told him, toying with his food in an almost mirror-like fashion to Dean.

Time passed. They finished their food, Sam griping at the lack of salad in the house, claiming that they needed to go out and get some better food if they were going to stay here.

The cabin had grown dark, and Dean was slouching in his chair, looking over at the man sitting across from him. Cas was holding a glass of water in his hands, looking at the glass.

"You alright over there?" He asked, and Cas glanced up.

"I'm fine." Was the reply.

Dean raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but shrugged. He didn't fancy getting into a conversation about how Cas was feeling just yet; he doubted the guy knew quite how to feel right now. "Okay." He agreed. He stood, stretching his legs as he walked over to the fridge and opening the door. Looking inside, he had to admit there wasn't much in the way of food in there, and considered reaching for one of the beers inside. Tilting his head, he felt his fingers twitch, instinctively reaching for it for something to do, but shrugged again, closing the door instead. He didn't fancy it just yet.

Turning round, he looked back to the table. Sam was sitting there with his laptop out, seemingly doing some research about the hunt he had been on today, presumably making up for the fact that he hadn't done any before being called in for it. Cas was still sitting there, fingers resting around the glass, silent. Dean wondered if he'd ever grow out of the whole sitting-like-he-had a pool-cue-up-his-ass thing.

It would take Cas a while to get used to all of this, he got that. But he frowned when he realised it would probably have to be him and Sam doing all the teaching. Sure, he loved kids, perhaps in another life he would've made a great dad, but it was a whole other thing teaching a fully grown man the basics of human life, or apparently, personal hygiene. Complete bed rest for the guy had left him a little ripe, and he could see damp patches beneath his arms.

"Cas?" He called, walking over to the table as the dark haired man looked round. "Why don't you take a shower?"

"A shower?" Cas repeated, a frown across his face.

"You're looking a little dewy around the edges, man." He told him. "Can't mojo yourself peachy clean anymore, you're gonna have to take care of yourself."

The man looked down, seemingly noticing the damp patches for the first time. "You're right." He said, standing up. "Thank you."

Dean raised his eyebrows, a little taken aback. Of course the guy would thank him for basically telling him he stank. "Anytime." He said simply, stepping backwards as Castiel walked past, heading straight for the eyebrows. He looked at Sam, who was staring at him in return. "What?"

Sam looked up after a while noticing the near complete silence that they had been sitting in for the best part of quarter of an hour.

"Dean?" Sam asked, and his brother looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Does Cas know how to use a bathroom?"

Dean frowned, but turned his head to look at the door. The complete silence from they had been sitting in had included the silence from behind the closed foor. Not once had they heard the shower run, a faucet, the toilet. Just nothing.

"Maybe you should check on him?" Sam suggested, forehead crasing.

"The one who smelt it dealt it, Sammy." Dean retorted defensively.

"What-" Sam shook his head. "Don't be a child, Dean."

"Why don't you go?" He suggested, settling into his chair.

"Because you're the one who stayed by his bedside for days."

"So, clearly, it's your turn."

They both looked at each other, trying to out-stare the other. After a few seconds, Sam suggested another solution.

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Fine." Dean snapped. They both placed their right fists in their left palms, ready for battle.

Thirty seconds later, Dean was heading for the bathroom, leaving Sam chuckling at the table. He knocked on the door gently, clearing his throat. There was no answer.

"Cas?" He called, and finally he heard something.

"Yes?" A gruff voice replied, and Dean shook his head. Had Cas really never learnt what knocking on a door meant?

"You okay in there?" He asked, and there was a few seconds of silence.

"Yes." Was again the reply.

Dean looked over to Sam, who shrugged. Sighing, he put his palm on the handle. "I'm coming in, okay?"

No answer.

Dean pulled open the door, wincing in anticipation of what he might see.

Cas was standing in front of the sink, hands curled around the curve of the porcelain, staring in the mirror. Dean blinked in surprise, despite being prepared for any manner of bathroom activities. Somehow he hadn't been quite prepared for the sheer expanse of skin, naked from the waistband of his hospital pants up. The unflattering light above cast shadows on his back, trenches under his shoulder blades, each bump of his spine. From the door he could see the curve of his back around to his side, the soft skin under his arm. Dean wondered if he was ticklish.

"Uh," Dean stammered, and caught Cas's eye in the mirror, blue shining bright under the fluorescents. "Hi."

He didn't reply, instead just looked back at him, expression neutral.

"You know how to use a bathroom, right?" Dean asked nervously, and Cas frowned at him.

"Of course." Was the reply. "I witnessed Archimedes discover water displacement in his bathtub."

"Bit of a voyeur then?" Dean joked, and the frown deepened.

"All angels are voyeurs, Dean." He reminded him, and the frown dropped, sadness replacing it. The eye contact was dropped.

"Kinky bastards." Dean muttered, chuckling slightly. He glanced out of the door to Sam, who was still watching. Dean gave a barely perceptible shrug, and Sam flapped his hands at him. Apparently he should do more.

"So, uh." He began, before feeling self conscious of Sam's eyes still trained on him. He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "What you doing?"

Cas stayed silent for a few seconds, and Dean considered back peddling, leaving the room. Who the hell asks a topless guy what they're doing in the bathroom? But when he looked at Cas again, he wasn't being shot the look he was expecting, not the frown, the confusion, the thinly veiled disgust at the personal nature of the question. And he certainly didn't give an obvious answer.

Instead Cas had turned back to himself, blue eye meeting blue in the mirror, shining perhaps a little too bright.

"My wings." He finally spoke, and Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"W-" Dean started, taking a step back and looking around, as if he expected them to just manifest themselves in front of him. "Your wings?"

"They're not there." He explained, and Dean exhaled, relaxing.

"Okay..." He tried to understand.

"My wings were the most physical manifestation of my grace." He slowly explained, still not looking away from his reflection. "And even they are gone."

Dean softened, understanding. He took a step forward, hesitantly placing a hand on Cas's shoulder. "Sorry. Wish I could've seen them." He smiled, and Cas finally looked up at Dean again.

"They would have burnt your eyes from your skull in less than a second." He replied simply.

Dean blinked. "Probably for the best then." He muttered. Cas didn't speak for a minute, leaving Dean at a loss for words. Cas had looked away from him by now, but was also not looking at himself again. Instead, he was looking down, but not at anything in particular. Dean didn't know what to do. He wasn't great at these moments, talking about feelings, the emotional crap. He was far better at the practical approach; a bottle of whiskey and a pat on the back. Sam would've known what to say.

But, despite the urge to bolt, Dean stayed. Down in his gut, he knew that Cas had come back because Dean had asked him to, and while he knew if he were to think too hard on that he'd probably freak out, it meant that right now he had to be the one who was there for him. He was the one who had to deal with the fallout, even if that meant chick flick moments. So, instead of going back to Sam, he walked past Cas and sat on the edge of the bathtub, away from Cas's reflection and now able to see his face properly. If he was told to leave, so be it.

"The faucets on this suck worse than Sammy's taste in music. I don't care that you saw Archimedes sitting in the tub playing with himself, they didn't have running water back then." He reached over, grabbing the handles. "Hot, cold. Supposed to be, anyway. You kinda have to wait for it to stop having a panic attack over being turned on, then fiddle with it. Sam says he's gonna fix the pressure soon." He looked up at Cas, who was watching him, eyes following every move. "We'll fix you up with some clothes. The old suit got left behind at the hospital, hope you don't mind."

Cas frowned slightly. "They're only clothing."

"Yeah, but, you know." Dean shrugged, before he realised Cas probably didn't. He didn't keep the same outfit every day out of preference, it just had never occurred to him to change. "You'll be fine." He smiled reassuringly.

Cas still hadn't said anything to merit Dean staying in an enclosed space with a half naked man, and once again he was on the verge of leaving before deciding to push it just a little bit further.

"Did you think they were still going to be there?" He asked, nodding over Cas's shoulder when he received nothing but a confused look. "Your wings?"

"Oh." Cas glanced back to the mirror. "I hadn't considered it."

"But..."

"But, I had assumed I would have more time." He finished.

"And all of a sudden you're part of the human brigade."

"It's a coveted position, Dean." Cas told him. "We were told to love humans above God. Many angels would see this as a reward."

"Would they?" Dean asked, incredulous, and Cas closed his eyes in resignation.

"No." He admitted.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Dean muttered, and he saw his friend lean forward slightly, resting his weight on the sink. "What do you think?"

Cas opened his eyes, surveying his reflection again. "I don't know."

"Right." Dean exhaled. "Well, here's what I know." Cas looked back at him expectantly. "You had a choice, and you chose human. That means you get to stick around. So in my book? That's a good thing."

"You want me around." Cas surmised. "Even though I can't heal you when you're injured, I can't teleport-" He bit out. "I'm all but useless with no grace; I'm not the same 'Cas' you've always known."

"Since when are you ever the same Cas?" Dean joked. "When I first met you, you were a complete dick. Now, with the exception of maybe Sarah Michelle Gellar, you're the person I most want around." He stood up, looking Cas dead in the eye, and the angel moved from the sink to face him. Dean, despite himself, found his gaze dropping to Cas's chest, seeing the faint white lines of an old scar, a sigil that he had carved into himself to save them all.

He hadn't realised it had stayed; a constant reminder of all he had done for Dean. No, not for Dean; for humans. For free will, and family, and for life that he fought for that he now got to experience for himself. Dean wasn't so arrogant to believe it was for him.

He brought his eyes back up to Cas's face. "I don't know jack about grace. All I know, as far as I'm concerned, it's you in there. Always has been. Sometimes that wasn't always a good thing to hang on to, but I did." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached out, gripping Cas's shoulder. "And I am now. Whatever it is you've got crammed in that scrawny little body, it's the same Cas it's always been."

Dean watched his friend digest the words, saw his solemn face crack, just a little. Not a smile, but something close; warmth in the eyes, a slight twinge of the lips.

"Now, man;" Dean finished. "Side effect of being human, you need to shower. You've been in bed for days, you're a little ripe."

Dean left the half naked Cas to his shower, exiting the bathroom and closing the door with a solid click. Sam looked up expectantly.

"He knows how to use a bathroom."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is he alright?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Dean told him as he sat down. He heard the shower start chugging into action beyond the wall. "As good as can be, I guess."

"What's that mean?" Sam asked, and Dean shrugged.

"Dude just gave up immortality and crap. He's kind of entitled to an existential crisis."

Sam raised his eyebrows at the long word, always pleasantly surprised when Dean said something longer that two syllables, but didn't comment. "So you think he's gonna be okay?"

"We'll look after him."

Sam nodded, accepting the responsibility in Dean's words. He had wanted Cas back just as much as Dean had. They heard the water tank change pitch as it adjusted itself, swiftly followed by a sloppy stumble from the other room, presumably Cas stepping backwards in surprise from the sudden temperature change. They both listened for a few seconds, making sure he was alright, before being satisfied he hadn't fallen in the tub.

"You need to fix that." Dean pointed out.

"I'll do it after he's out." Sam agreed. "So what even happened."

"When?"

"Earlier, when you called."

Dean's eyes flicked up a little too quickly. "He woke up."

"Clearly. I mean how? What got him up?"

"Nothing." Dean shrugged, but Sam wasn't buying it.

"He's dead to the world for days, and all of a sudden he just wakes up?" Sam asked incredulously. He didn't miss the slight flinch at the word 'dead'.

"Yeah."

"Dean." Sam barked, and Dean scowled.

"Fine!" He cried, exasperated. "He- I talked to him."

"Saying what?"

"Don't be such a girl, Sammy." He snapped. "I asked him to wake up, he woke up. Can't we leave it at that?"

"If that's all there was to it."

"What-" Dean frowned. "Are you asking if I made a deal?"

"No!" Sam blinked, shocked at the idea, then frowned back. "You didn't, did you?"

"Of course not." Dean retorted.

"Good!" Sam leant back. "So that's it? He just woke up 'cos you asked him to?"

Dean didn't reply, and Sam watched him for a minute as his elder brother gave in. "He died."

"What?!" Sam barked, a little too loudly, before leaning forward self consciously."What?" He repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

"Just for a minute or two," He sighed. Sam didn't say anything, prompting Dean with his silence. "He stopped breathing, then his heart too. I tried CPR, but it didn't work."

"But, he's alive?"

"Gold star, Sammy," He quipped. "I'd given up by then. He was gone. Lights out."

"So how come he's walking around?"

"Beats me." Dean replied. "First his pulse started up again, then he just sat up." He looked at his brother. "That's it. All that happened."

Sam looked to the bathroom, hearing the shower still going. "I ain't questioning it." Dean said stubbornly.

"Everyone said it was his choice, Dean." Sam reminded him. "He chose to wake up."

"That's what I'm going for." Dean sighed, scratching his arm, plucking at the material of his shirt. He looked down, and Sam didn't miss the expression on Dean's face. Sadness in there, always tattooed across, but also a touch of hope.

The conversation turned to the day's hunt, both wanting to mull on something else for a while.

Castiel eventually turned off the shower.

It had taken a while to become accustomed to the feeling, never having had a shower before, the fact that the water seemed intent on changing temperature every few minutes not helping the matter. He found cold too cold, how too hot, everything too much to him, skin more sensitive than it used to be. Eventually, he settled on just above body temperature, as best he could.

When he eventually shut off the water, he looked around, realising just how steamy he had allowed the room to become. A thick fog hung around, and he found that, once he pulled back the curtain, he could barely see the door.

He shook his head, trying not to think about how just a few days ago he would've been able to see through this with ease.

Gingerly, he stepped out from the tub, careful following his near fall earlier. Though he knew the mechanics and the physics of everything he was going, how to place his weight without slipping, without the strength of his grace his found each practise difficult. He felt like a child learning to walk, after crawling having been sufficient for so long.

His feet landed safely on the floor below, the slip of moisture on his feet nowhere near as hazardous on the linoleum and it had been on the porcelain. He looked around, catching sight of the mirror, noticing it too was fogged.

"Water vapour in the air." Cas muttered. "Introduce cold air to balance." He walked to the window on the far wall, fogged also, and tugged the wooden frame up. He shivered as a cool breeze instantly drifted in, and looked down at himself, seeing goosebumps forming on his skin. He frowned, the sensation uncomfortable, and he looked around. Seeing a towel handing beside the door, he grabbed it, wrapping it around himself. Looking down again he shifted it lower, leaving his chest bare, but hanging from his waist, covering all that he recognised would make Sam and Dean uncomfortable to see. Satisfied, he left the room, seeing the boys around the table, who both looked up at him.

Dean couldn't help his eyebrows rising in surprise as Cas walked out of the bathroom. Towel hanging low on his hips and dropping just above his knees, he cursed his idiocy. He was going to give Cas some clothes to wear, but he didn't think of giving him a people-sized towel. Water dripped from his hair and onto his shoulders, and Dean tried not to follow it with his eyes as it travelled down his chest. Cas was clearly cold, judging from the goosebumps on his arms and the way his nipples had sharpened...

"Dean!" Sam barked, and Dean flashed back to the present, shifting his legs under the table and turning to him.

"Hmmm?" He responded, a little too quickly, a little too high. His brother was looking at his as if he couldn't believe his eyes, a laugh half on his lips as he shook his head slightly. "What?" Dean asked defensively.

"Clothes." Sam told him. "You're closer his size than I am."

"Right. Clothes." Dean agreed, not looking back to Cas. He didn't need to see any more of the practically naked man, wet and dripping... "I'll go get some."

"Yeah." Sam scoffed. Cas looked on as Dean slid from the chair and walked away. He frowned, not understanding the reaction.

Dean stomped upstairs, having left his bag in the bedroom. He sighed , and slapped himself on the forehead. "Freak." He muttered, rearranging his jeans.

Cas stood for a few seconds after Dean had left, starting to feel self conscious. Something about his appearance had clearly unnerved the man, and he frowned, looking down at himself. Perhaps it was because he was so far removed from his usual attire. Assuming Sam would feel the same, he decided to sit down, assuming that at least the table would shelter some of him.

Sam smiled as he sat, pushing the laptop to the side. "I gotta tell you, Cas; it is so good to see you up and about again."

"Thank you."

"I heard you gave Dean a bit of a scare." He joked, pausing at the perplexed look on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"You stopped, for a minute." He explained carefully. "Dean said you stopped breathing, your heart stopped." He trailed off. Dean clearly hadn't told him. "Doesn't matter. You're breathing now, that's all that matters."

"Of course." Cas replied slowly. Dean hadn't mentioned it. "Uh, so what else happened?" He queried, and Sam leant back in his seat.

"Um," The hunter frowned, wondering how to recap. "You were in the hospital for a few days. We tried everything we could think of, every source we had, but you weren't waking up." He scratched at the side of his face, glancing up, knowing that Cas needed to know. "And Crowley stopped by. Plus half a hospital full of demons."

"Crowley." Cas repeated dully.

"Yeah. Balthazar helped with that, blasted the lot. I think Crowley got away, though."

"Balthazar is alright?" He asked, and Sam could see his face light up slightly. Of course he would be happy that his friend was safe; he had died bringing him back to life.

"Yeah, good as he ever was. Not sure how Livvie is, though."

Cas nodded.

"Then we came here. S'bout it." Sam shrugged. "Dean barely left your side." Sam shook his head. "This whole thing... it was tough on him."

Cas blinked, digesting the information, frowning as he felt a glimpse of something , a haze of what he saw whilst he hadn't been there. He looked at his hand, dimly remembering the ghost of Dean's words. Begging, pleading. Begging for Cas. He flexed his fingers subconsciously, trying to chase the memory.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Dean coming back down the stairs, a bundle of clothes clutched in his hand, which he extended out to Cas.

"Haven't got much, we'll have to take you out for some of your own soon." He shrugged. "We'll get you fixed up, don't worry."

Cas reached out, taking the bundle, looking up at his friend with wide eyes, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you, Dean." He said sincerely, not noticing the slight colouring in the man's cheeks, the flustered look, the confusion.

"S'only clothes, Cas." He muttered.