Disclaimer: not mine.
Summary: post-5.02. Cas returns to try to heal Bobby.
Modern Day Pandora
He's pretty good at sleeping in hospitals, by necessity. Bustle and light outside the door, ambulance howls in the parking lot, no longer wake him.
So Bobby's not exactly sure why he comes-to all of a sudden. Certainly it's not the hands pressed flat on his thighs, because- well. He can't feel his thighs anymore.
"Cas?"
The angel blinks and frowns. "I was attempting not to wake you."
"Standin' over my bed?"
"I was touching only the parts of you which lack feeling."
There's at least half a dozen jokes to be made. Bobby makes none.
"What are you doing?"
There's a murmur, like a small stream rushing.
"Come again?"
"I'm giving it a go," Cas growls. His hands have never left Bobby's legs. "I told Dean I couldn't heal you and he posed very reasonably that I could at least give it a go."
Sweat glints red and blue on the angel's forehead as an ambulance flashes its lights outside the window. Like stained glass. Bobby can barely breathe.
"You take a break from God-hunting, just for me?"
Cas frowns before answering. "There's a possibility..."
"What?"
"Perhaps I'm... back on my father's radar. Even if I haven't found him."
Bobby breathes in sharply and suddenly enough that it might just be a gasp.
"You think if this works it means maybe you're getting close."
Cas grunts.
"Should I... do anything?" His voice is hoarse. "I mean, should I pray or something?"
"Just hope," Cas murmurs, but Bobby doesn't want to give himself over to that, doesn't want to dig down to the bottom of the box because after hope dies he'll have nothing left to give.
Sometimes hope is the worst monster of them all.
Minutes pass. Cas's hands tremble and his eyes glow yellow-white and maybe there's a tingle in Bobby's legs, but it's probably just in his mind. Time is slowing, or maybe has stopped.
He isn't sure when to give up- isn't sure what giving up will look like- oh.
Giving up will look like Cas, breathing hard, stumbling back from the bed with a look on his face like-
Oh.
"Sit down before you fall down, boy," Bobby orders gently. Cas slumps, ass hitting chair.
Bobby wants to thank him for trying, but he's afraid it'll come out wrong- too sarcastic, maybe, or maybe too heartbroken.
"So that's a no on the legs?"
So that's a no on God?
Bobby's not sure what surprises him more: that he's not crying, or that Cas is.
"Thanks for trying," he says softly, and Cas just frowns again. Blinks, wetly.
"It's okay, boy," Bobby soothes- and when in the hell did Cas become one of his boys?- "just get back to it."
"Yes. I just- need to rest a moment first."
"That's fine."
"I thought-"
"What?"
"It isn't important," Cas rasps. Looks away and wipes his eyes. "I have more places to look." He stands.
"Wait."
Bobby braces for the rustle of wings, afraid it will come before he has a chance to say what he needs to.
Cas cocks his head to one side, questioning.
"Don't be a stranger," Bobby says finally. "Check in now 'n' then."
Castiel nods. Vanishes. The room feels quiet.
Bobby pushes his hands to his dead thighs. And hopes.