My name is Castiel Novak. Growing up I knew that I wanted to help people. I didn't care how but I knew I wanted to be a hero. Now, at 23 years old, that hasn't changed in the least. I work in a nursing home. I'm not a hero in most people's eyes but I am to the ones that matter. I help with the minor jobs since I am still in school but I still have had the chance to get to know everyone. Some might think it is depressing, and at times it is, but it is also fun. My coworkers are kind and the people I take care of are too. Each one brings interesting stories that a young adult like me could learn from.
There is one lady, Mabel, who sometimes thinks I am her son. Often it is hard to see her so confused when I explain that I am not Kevin, but soon after she starts telling me stories about him. He is a model soldier, father, and son. All of this I learned from her stories. They used to do everything together. He even used to visit weekly until about two months ago. He got deployed to Afghanistan again.
Another person that I love to talk to is Michael. We first started talking when he asked me where my name came from. I told him I was named after an angel. He then proceeded to tell me that he was too. After that we talked about anything and everything. Some of the people that visited him refused to acknowledge me. One even yelled at me for interrupting their conversation when I came in to give Michael his lunch. Michael didn't stand up for me, simply let them harass me. Though I would still go talk to him. He was good company.
The one visitor that I always seem to have troubles with is Bobby Singer. He is a nice man, but very stubborn and intimidating. He comes in daily to visit a friend of his. He says he was his mentor. I am not sure what he taught him, and I doubt Bobby would tell me even if I had the courage to ask. Bobby comes without fail, each morning on weekdays and in the afternoon on weekends. I feel bad when I see him walk in the front doors because I know he will have to remind his friend who he is. Again.
Today started as any day before. I woke up, got dressed, and rode my bike the short distance to work. When I arrived there was a car in the parking lot that I had never seen before. The black Impala was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. From the style I would guess it was from the sixties or early seventies.
I couldn't stop staring as I chained up my bike. I finally got it all finished and went inside to clock in. The man at the counter caught my eye. He must be the owner of the Impala. My thoughts continued to drift as I sat at the computer. From this position I had a good view of his face. Chiseled jaw, green eyes, light brown hair and I could swear his face was perfectly symmetrical! He was beautiful…Though if I told him I would never word it like that! I offered a soft "hello" and he simply grunted in reply.
After a moment of silence he turned to me and asked, "How long does Bobby usually take?"
"Hm? Oh, usually about an hour or so. Why?" I hadn't expected him to talk, let alone to me.
"Damn. I was gonna wait but if he is taking that long I'll just pick him up later." The man seemed annoyed but not angry.
"We have a waiting room with a TV and couch. I think they just added a soda machine too. You're welcome to wait in there sir." My answer was tentative.
"No need to be so formal. My name is Dean." He stared intently at my name badge. "Castiel? Thanks. I'll wait in there." He smiled crookedly at me before winking and walking to the waiting room before I could respond.
I watched him walk away, my voice caught in my throat. That smile….those eyes…God he is gorgeous. I snapped back to reality and set about my duties. This mostly included checking in on the people in my section, getting drinks, changing a few diapers. Just the usual. Forty minutes passed before I went to check on Dean.
I quietly stepped up to the doorway and was just about to walk in when I heard someone singing. I paused before peeking in. What I saw would forever be locked away into a private spot in my brain. Dean was standing on the couch, playing an air guitar and singing loudly. I noticed he had ear buds in, one nearly falling out as he swung his head to the beat of the song. The guitar solo ended and he continued singing.
"YEAAAAAAAH! He's gotta keep rockin'! He just can't stop! Gotta keep on ROCKING! The boy has got to stay on top!" He proceeded to jump off the couch to his knees, leaning his head back. "And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes! He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes!" He jumped to his feet, surprisingly nimble. "Just one guitar," with closed eyes he pointed to a make believe crowd, "put stars in his eyes! He's a juke box hero, AAAH AAAAH AAAAAH!" By this time he had seen me, but instead of stopping he walked towards my hiding spot by the door, serenading me with his angelic voice, intense green eyes focused on mine. "Juke box HEROOOO! Juke box hero! He's got stars in his eyes! Staaars in his eyeees!"
Dean quickly pulled out his head phones after ending with a flourish and looked to me for approval. His green eyes wide and hopeful. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Not too bad." It was the only response I could muster without sounding like a dweeb.
We both watched the other without speaking. I was trying to think of an excuse to get away from this man before I could make a fool of myself. Luckily before either of us could continue the conversation I was pulled into a room by one of my coworkers. She was blubbering uncontrollably, her eyes red and voice raw as she tried to explain why she was so traumatized.
"BobbywalkedintotheroomandGeraldwasasleep. H_hetriedtowakehimebut-butnothingwasworkingso-"
"Wait, Charlie, slow down." I interrupted her frantic rambling with a soft touch on her shoulder.
After taking a deep breath she softly said, "Bobby walked into Gerald's room to see him today and saw he was asleep. He sat by his bed and waited for him to wake up. After about an hour he tried to wake Gerald up. That's when he realized, Gerald wasn't breathing. Oh God Castiel, he's been dead for nearly two hours and nobody noticed!" I could see why she was so frantic.
"Where the hell is Jo or Ellen?! They're supposed to be his nurses!" I followed her to Gerald's room while I tried to calm her, simultaneously trying to contact Jo and Ellen.
On the way there we ran into Jo and she took Charlie to the room. I was put in charge of Bobby, which wasn't that hard. We both stood in the hallway outside Gerald's door. He had his arms crossed tight in front of his chest, mine were clasped behind my back. Neither of us would make eye contact so we settled into silence.
I spoke after a few minutes of silence, "Uh..You can go. His family should be here soon." I glanced at Bobby, hoping he would leave without saying anything.
"He has no family." This statement came as a punch in the gut for both of us. A hard realization that only one person would miss this man. Only one person to mourn his death. One look at Bobby told me that he knew this too. He was sad but also sympathetic for his old friend, his eyes said it all.
That's the interesting thing about humans. We don't always need to speak in order to voice our emotions. The face is like a painting. There is sometimes a jumble of nonsenseical nothingness similar to an unfinished puzzle, other times there is a clear portrait of emotion that displays everything words can't. No matter what it is always beautiful though. Today it was a bitter-sweet beauty.
...
I am not a hero. Never have been, and never will be. My life was normal up until my mother died. My dad traveled for work so I took care of my younger brother. He was a great kid and I take no credit in that. I am a screwed up guy but I make the most of life.
After a break in my father decided we should move. I doubt that is the real reason. He always wanted to get away from us. That is why he took so many jobs. When he went missing my brother and I moved in with his friend Bobby. I had graduated by then but poor Sammy had to finish his senior year at a strange school, leaving behind his friends and girlfriend of three years. It was hard on him, which made it hard on me. The only thing our old man left us was his old 1967 Chevy Impala. That car soon became my baby. No one was allowed to touch it but me unless they got special permission.
Most days I would take Sammy to school then find a way to waste my time. This usually included running errands while Bobby was out of the house in the mornings. Weekends I spent helping Sam studying. This was painful but I loved the look of appreciation Sam gave me.
I had gotten a job at the local auto parts store but it was rarely busy. I would work on baby outside or listen to classic rock inside. I learned who the regulars were, they were the ones who ran the car shows. Baby was often featured in these. A fact that gave me great pride and helped me meet girls.
It was a Tuesday, a horrible day if you ask me. Monday was bad but bearable. Tuesday was like a slap in the face. It was a relief when you realized that Monday was over but it also made you realize you were less than halfway through the week. I usually started the morning with a jog and breakfast but today Bobby needed me to take him to see his friend Gerald. He told me he wouldn't be long but I prepared by grabbing my MP3 and headphones.
When we arrived there weren't many other cars. I parked in a spot where I hoped no old people would accidentally scratch it. I didn't trust them here. Some of them were crazy. Most were cool though. They loved talking to younger people. They especially loved Sam here. He came fairly often because one of his classmates worked here. Probably some hot chick he was trying to hook up with.
When we walked in the front desk was empty, Bobby continued to the back while I waited in the Lobby. The nursing home reeked of old people and cleaner. It was almost as bad as a hospital. Though they used air freshener here to dilute some of the smell.
About ten minutes after arriving I had settled with standing at the front desk, my arms resting on the counter, looking around. The doors behind me opened. I figured it was a family member so I avoided awkward contact and just kept looking forward. When I heard shuffling at the desk I forced my eyes from the activities calendar to the man now at the desk. He had disheveled hair and bright blue eyes. I must have caught him staring because he looked back to his computer and muttered a "hello" under his breath. I assumed he didn't want to talk so I grunted back as a response.
A few moments passed by lazily before I checked the time. It had only been fifteen minutes since I arrived. I assumed with how often Bobby came everyone here would know his schedule so I didn't worry when I posed my question to the man at the desk.
"How long does Bobby usually take?" I looked at the man as I asked, using the opportunity to scrutinize him further.
"Hm? Oh, usually about an hour or so. Why?" Why did he seem surprised?
"Damn. I was gonna wait but if he is taking that long I'll just pick him up later." I wasn't angry but annoyed that Bobby didn't warn me so I could just go get food or something while he was visiting his friend.
"We have a waiting room with a TV and couch. I think they just added a soda machine too. You're welcome to wait in there sir." He looked up at me as he said this, seeming to study me as I did the same.
"No need to be so formal. My name is Dean." I glanced at his name tag to see his name. "Castiel? Thanks. I'll wait in there." I smiled when I recognized the name, this was Sam's friend. Too bad it wasn't a chick.
I walked to the waiting room to find that there was in fact a TV and couch. Not only did they have a soda machine but they also had snacks! Who could pass up free food? I settled onto the couch with a soda and turned on the TV. It was already tuned to Dr. Sexy MD. These people sure have good taste! I watched for about a half hour before getting bored. It was a rerun.
I pulled out my MP3 and headphones, leaning back as ACDC began playing their sweet sweet music for me. I set it to shuffle and listened to a few good songs. The next song after Crazy Train was Juke Box Hero by Foreigner. I couldn't resist getting up and dancing along. I got to the last few lines before realizing I had an audience. The man from the desk, Castiel, had been watching for who knows how long. I decided that instead of being embarrassed I would go with it. I sang the last bit to him.
When the song ended I threw my arms up and bowed, pulling out my earbuds as I did so. I wiggled my eyebrows, waiting for his comments.
"Not bad." That's it? That's all that he had to say?! Even if it was in that deep tone that made me speechless, that's it?!
I stared at him, waiting for more. Unwilling to let him off that easily I was about to ask him to elaborate but he was pulled away by one of the chicks that worked with him. She seemed pretty distressed so I didn't care too much. I simply went back to my music.
A good thirty minutes passed before Bobby came back. He looked shaken but I knew it was best not to ask. He would tell me in his own time if he chose to. We drove home in silence. I dropped him off before heading to work.
By the time Dean got home that night Sammy was back from school and Bobby was locked in his room.
"Has he come out at all?" Dean asked Sam as the two of them prepared a simple meal.
"Not that I know of. He's never been like this before…I'm worried about him." Sam glanced at Dean, hoping the older man might have some insight into why Bobby was being so strange.
"Your friend that works there would probably know. Ask him."
"Castiel? He might." Sam was shocked that Dean remembered him talking about the youngest Novak boy.
"He was there." Dean left with a plate for him and one for Bobby.
Bobby finally came out of his room the next morning. Back to his usual self but both boys knew he was anything but fine. Bobby didn't leave for his usual visit. That alone answered their questions. Bobby never missed a day. Something must have happened to Gerald.
Dean spent the day at work, a few regulars coming in and the occasional teen running an errand for their parents. The girls would try to flirt but Deans mind was too preoccupied to be bothered by their annoying and fake laughter. He received a call around three. When he checked the caller ID he knew it must be important. Sam usually text him.
"Hey Sammy, what's up?"
"You need to get home now." Was all Sam said before hanging up the phone. Just before the line went dead he hear sirens in the background.