Welcome one and all! the only thing I really have to say is this. I have yet to finish season 7 or 8, please don't shoot me, but I tried couldn't pass up the idea of Cas dealing with his new humanity. I am trying to keep details as accurate to my knowledge but vague enough to not ruin the believability. feel free to message me if a fact is off and I will do my best to work with it. T for now, but we will see where this goes. All characters and situations come from Supernatural and the Winchester Mansion is a real place, so go visit ;D and as always enjoy, review and favorite. See ya lovelies.
The sky was ablaze. Explosions behind the clouds cleared the sky in heat. Searing white flames streaking across the heavens giving way to its blackening abyss. I could hear the wails and tears of family, my sisters and brothers. Beloved individuals weeping in pain, begging like children. The night wind slapped across my face, punishment indebted upon myself. Was the air always this cruel? A truly formidable creature father has made. As the skies grew hotter, the cries louder, moisture began to collect on my skin. The nerves on my cheeks flared as drops rolled across them. Bones, muscles, organs, my very being began to ache, groaning at the meer energy it took to hold up my existence. The rocks collided hard with my knees, enraging my body and having it leak in protest.
The skies grew darker, the cries louder, the emptiness greater. Something was missing, more than the weight on my shoulders, my very essence felt torn. My siblings screams echoed the gap in my soul, yet no noise could come out. My eyes and legs continued to empty their contents across my immediate environments. The rustling of trees, limbs, and cries forced themselves together, creating a hybrid of chaos, overloading my brain. Awashed in so much sensories it could barely process. Overheating like Sam's beloved Laptop does. It just kept getting louder and louder, the world closing in, over heating my skin. Hell on earth. Is this what it is like? I should ask Dean when I can. Dean, I can't feel him anymore, his presence is gone?
Cells started to shake, my world becoming unstable. My skin twitched under the pressure as my hands rubbed against the offended organ. Warmth was loosely rubbed into my rapidly aching body, trying to soothe itself. Branches broke behind, my brain now seemed to find this information relevant. Confusing shouts began to overpower the wallowing cries, the sound was deep and seemed to vibrate in my skull.
"Cas!?" Dean.
"Cas, Where are you!?" Sam. I wanted to yell out, but the information overload decreased my capacity to vocalize. The world was on fire and I could barely breath. The lungs in my chest stretched and collapsed, aching from over work. A bonfire to match the hellfire outside my being. The yells grew louder as my ears minutely shifted to pick up on Dean's voice. It sounded hoarse, as if he swallowed sand, maybe he fell in the dirt.
"Cas!" The crunching of leaves paired with the thud of earth
"Cas, wake up." A large hand wrapped itself around my shoulder, the skin buckling under the rough grip. Heat leaked through branding my shoulder with sweat.
"You got to wake up. Damn it Cas!" The hand began to pulse pushing my body with it. Pressure begin to form at the back of my skull, not unpleasant, but not right. My limbs begin to feel restricted, knotted together by an unseen force. The more I struggled. The more I shook. The more I knotted. My heart jolted and my muscles constricted. I felt my body begin to worm even though my eyes level stayed the same. The hand on my shoulder tightened, now joined by a partner.
"For God sake's Cas! Wake. The. Hell. Up!" Seering pain graced my face as my eyes wrenched open and my cheek forced down. Dean. Hand held up, forming a fleshy paddle. Eyes wide, green, darkened in odd terror. Body positioned, hanging above my own. Than recognition flashed through his eyes, a twisted worn smirk. Pushing off my bruising shoulder, Dean stood to his full height, keeping a wary eye on me. Groaning I rolled my head to the other side, pressing my wet cheek to the mildew pillow. The sun was up, heating the sky, the air was thick with the smell of smoke and bleach, the faintest hint of Winchester began to permeate the walls. Sun streamed in from moth eaten curtains with a tacky print, 'Freddie Mercury's acid trip' as Dean put it, highlighting the once "decent" rooms shortcomings. Stains, tears, and breaks of varying size and origins, bleach and duct tape could only cover so many issues.
"It is about time. You were really out of it, almost if you haven't slept your whole life." A light jest made at my expense, but those green eyes held all the weight of the comment within.
"I do appear to be sleeping more frequently." I reply sluggishly dragging my body up, was moving always so horrible in the morning.
"I'll say, it's already noon. Sam's out getting lunch."
"I will never understand your desire for sleep." I comment watch as the aging hunter planted himself in front of his disassembled gun. "It has only been a time for me to re see things I never wished to view in the first place." I bit out, cripping the crusty blanket.
"You had a nightmare. Welcome to Humanity, Cas, with all the perks of emotional baggage. There is always ways to deal with it though, may I suggest my tried and true method." Dean grinned holding up a half empty bottle of scotch, the amber liquid sloshing around the plastic confines.
"Dean, I am not sure how drink a liquid that decreases my inhibitions effects my "night visions".
"Nightmares, and that is not the point. Cas, this baby not only makes 'Girls Gone Wild' happen this is the adults Pediacare." I wasn't sure what wild women had to do with the current situation but the childrens supplement made a vague connection. I remember staring at it's box once while in the store. Though, I highly doubt that a bottle of gas station whiskey had the nutritional value of the drug. With a sigh dean dropped the smirk and bottle onto the table and went back to his polishing. The clicking of keys echoed from behind the door, followed by the awful squealing of the door's laziness. A mammoth plaid covered body stumbled in weighted down in paper bags.
"I'm back." Sam's main peaking out from under the pile of bags.
"Get the pie?" Dean asked as he shifted the contents of the table over so there was room for the bags. Sam deposited them with a thud of paper, plastic and cans and pullin out a glossy cover from the top.
"Yup. Take a look at this." Sam commented as he placed his large body on the edge of the twin bed I occupied, facing Dean, who was elbow deep looking for the dessert. "They have a whole article on a mansion supposedly built by ghosts." Dean let out a snort vocalizing his obvious distaste. "owned by Sarah Winchester, the heiress to the Winchester rifle fortune. It says here that Ms. Winchester moved to california after the civil war and with her inheritance, a total of $20,000,000, began building a mansion. Construction took place everyday until her death and was designed, not by the greatest architects of the time, but by ghosts. Victims of the Winchester rifle that Ms. Winchester felt like she had to atone to..."
"Sam, are you serious? you can't believe this rag's bullshit." Dean grumbled. I push aside the stained comforter to look over sam's shoulder at the 'rag' as Dean called it.
"That's what I thought too, until I saw this," Sam threw back as he pulled out a folded piece of newsprint. "front page, in the corner, a small article on a series of deaths in the 'Winchester Mystery Mansion'. There have been a series of strange accidents and deaths; a man fell through hole in the floor, another ran out a door on the third floor. A worker crushed to death in the pump room. A child went missing, they have yet to find any sign of him." Dean scanned the article with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't know Sammy, sounds more like a case of dumb tourists going where they shouldn't, and even if it is foul play there is nothing here to suggest it's ghosts."
"Come on Dean, this is supposed to be one of the most haunted places in America, I think we run the high risk of seeing ghosts."
"The same thing was said about the mystery spot and that was a tourist trap."
"We found Gabriel and fixed the problem."
"Exactly, no ghost just a sugar high dick with a sadist empulse. No offense Cas."
"None to be had, Gabriel was always... 'precocious'." I waved off, I missed brother dearly but our relationship had been strained, in the least, towards the end. Even with the stressful ends and the sudden death, it could not overshadow the memories of early life. The fondest ones being that of Gabriel dragging me from the Garrison for "training", which for Gabriel was laying around in the heaven of an autistic man's perfect day. We would spend time eating candy, talking and, when the moment hit, playing pranks on some of the unsuspecting angels. The need to be close to my brother is what drove me to take sanctuary in the same haven, after Gabriel disappeared. It was never quite the same.
"Well that was the only thing that was notable in the paper and we are done with our job here, we can't stay, people will recognize this one." Sam grunted pointing his finger in my direction, referring to my collision with a hospital window, after being thrown by a disgruntled vampire. Even I know the victims in the burn ward would be 'spooked' by a blooded man flying through the ward. "Besides it's a good old fashion ghost hunt, and the woman's name is Winchester."
"What, you think we are related?"
"We could be, Dean. We don't know really anything about Dad's family. Hell, we haven't even met them, and we have met Mom's... frequently." Sam countered. They were not the most sound of arguments in my mind but I could admit that my interest was peaked. Even as the boys "guardian angel" I never took time to learn about the elder Winchester. Dean seemed to chew on this information for a moment, staring down the growing puppy eyes Sam was flashing. With a sigh he started to reassemble the gun on the table.
"Get packed up, we will move out in an hour." With that Dean packed up his small artillery, chucking it into his worn duffle bag. Stretching, I took my cue to get up and get ready. I dug into the old duffel, donated by Dean, that now carried my life. We had yet to go shopping properly so the contents were hand me downs. Shirts, Dean's. Jacket, Sam's. Jeans, Dean. Shoes, Dean. Socks, Sam. The only thing truly min was a wad of underwear, toothbrush and the old trench coat I couldn't part with. It took the brothers almost a week to get me to take it off. When it's weight was gone it almost solidified the fact that my shoulders were bare. I still kept the jacket in the back of my bag, wore it on the days that I felt particularly lost. Dean hated it, especially when I put it on over one of his beloved band shirts, but I could really careless when I needed the comfort. Digging into the bag I pulled out the single plaid shirt I now owned and the old jeans covered in the impala's oil. Topping off with a change of underwear and toothbrush, I clutched my bundle as I entered molded bathroom.
Of all the habits I had to form over the last few weeks, showering was the most tedious yet relaxing. Shutting the broken door, I turned on the broken shower, and tried to use the broken toilet. The water gave its best try at warming up yet I still felt icicles pelt my skin as I stood under the head. Learning new habits made life as a human rather rough, sometimes more for Dean than myself. I could help but smile, remembering the floundering look Dean took on when I first needed a shower.
It came two days after my fall, returning from dinner, Sam made a comment about the state of my scent. With a shrug I made my way to the motel's bathroom, disrobing along the way. I had seen plenty of humans shower from the heavens, the concept was easy enough; get wet, slather goo into ones hair, rinse and avoid the eyes. Yet when I pulled back the curtain the series of knobs and plugs overridden my comprehension. I may have seen a shower or two but the last was in the 1800's, in the Ganges. Turning on my toes I opened up door, entering the main room. 'I am unable to work the shower' I announced to the other occupants. Looking up, green eyes flashed and cheeks tinted, as Deans mouth fell open. He seemed to be stunned by my appearance, which seemed odd since a person preparing to get wet would shed their outer layers. 'Jesus Christ, Cas, put some clothes on!' Dean screamed as Sam shoved his own red face into his book. 'Why? I can not take a shower in full dress. Now could you help me fix the shower.' The gaping only seemed to continue until Sam made a loud clearing noise in his windpipe. 'Here, I'll help' He announce unceremoniously chucking his book onto the bed, Sam squeezed past as I looked over at Dean again. A frustrated, almost constipated, look graced the elder Winchester face as he glared at the grain of the table. The sound of rushing water began and with a quick thanks I traded places with Sam and entered the shower.
The last of the soap rolled down my legs as I turned off the water and exited the cubical. Warping the eaten towel around my waist I began to catch all the stray drops clinging to my skin. I chucked on the previously owned clothing and combed my hair, not that it ever really fixed a lot. Once in order I picked up the crushed toothpaste bottle, depositing the tubes inners onto my miniature brush. I counted out the ABC's twice, like Sam taught me, as I brushed the tool in circles across my teeth. Spitting out the froth, I gargled stale water and spat that out too. I picked up my rumpled overnight clothing and exited the bathroom. The room was empty. I zipped up the bag and threw it over my shoulder. Within 5 minutes all three of us had packed, chucked our bags and entered the impala. Ready to begin our journey to the next supernatural sight. It was going to be a long journey.
One chapter down. I can't wait to assimilate Cas into humanity, wont lie though he will be angst. I can't help myself, I love an emotional wreck. Have a lovely day lovelies, see you next chapter.