The gang is back at the bunker, and Cas finally learns about what happened to his favorite demon. It's not a pleasant conversation. Spoilers through 8x23. Oneshot.
A/N: I don't own anything; it all belongs to Kripke and co. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated!
She's Not in Heaven, Clarence
Cas strolled into the bunker's main room, following Dean's dinner call. Sam and Kevin sat down with him as they pushed the last of their papers off to the side. As Dean placed burgers down on plastic placemats, don't ruin the finish, please; each man's mouth began to water. Dean settled into his chair at the head of the table, pleased with his efforts. Every meal was custom-made: Sam's burger was on a wheat bun with a side salad, Kevin's had Tabasco mixed into the ground meat, and Cas' was plain with ketchup on the side. His own cheeseburger was perfectly cooked, and judging by the enthusiastic grunts of his dining companions, the same applied to everyone else.
"Still can't believe you cook this damn well," Sam said through a mouthful.
"I agree wholeheartedly. I mean this in the best of ways, but you had never struck me as a domestic type," Cas added. He took a big bite and looked pointedly at Dean, attempting in vain to smile through his chipmunk cheeks.
There was a cough as Kevin choked out, "Just how I like it," and reached frantically for a glass of water. Sam, stifling a chuckle, offered up his water bottle, but Kevin stumbled past him into the kitchen.
Dean took the praise with a quick, close-lipped grin and shrug. I'm damn good, he thought, as a quick bubble of happiness spread from head to toe.
"It's good to have the whole crew around, you know?" Dean said. "I mean, Bobby's right above us," Dean gave a quick upward glance and continued, "Charlie's through that door, and you guys are all here, shoving your cakeholes." Cas furrowed his eyebrows, but Sam relaxed into his chair as he looked around the table. Unlike his brother's half-smile, Sam's tugged the corners of his lips enough to reveal teeth, and a bit of avocado as well.
A loud crash and expletive from the bunker's kitchen interrupted Sam's little reverie. Sam and Dean sprang into action. They ran to the kitchen, Sam a foot or so behind Dean as he reached for the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Cas followed slowly, angel blade drawn. The older hunter kicked open the kitchen door to reveal Kevin, sitting on the floor next to a cracked glass and surrounded by a sea of milk.
"I heard that milk stops the burning," Kevin said sheepishly. The tension in the room evaporated as fists unclenched and Sam's laugh bounced against the tile. Dean rolled his eyes and threw the soggy prophet a dishtowel while Sam looked around for a dustpan. In the playful commotion, nobody noticed a certain fallen angel slink back to the dinner table.
Later that evening, the group sat around to watch some of the more lighthearted hunts in the Men of Letters collection. Sam watched to learn strategy, Cas for insight into the Men of Letters society, Dean for the techniques, and Kevin for a break from translating tablets. The four men pulled their chairs around the wall while the younger Winchester fiddled with the ancient projector. Kevin passed around some beers, but when he offered one to Cas, he was met with a blank stare.
"Brr, awfully cold," Kevin muttered, loud enough for only Castiel to hear. Cas gave an apologetic smile, but it lasted for only a fraction of a second before his face returned to its previous impassivity. Kevin shrugged it off, assuming Cas was just overwhelmed by the stressful Fall and its even more trying aftermath.
With a triumphant interjection from Sam, the projector lit the white wall in front of it. Sam took his place next to his brother, marveling in the peace and security that he knew was all too temporary. Dean chose a reel from the collection, and the next half hour was occupied only by the scratching of Sam's pencil and the occasional sniffle from Kevin's battered sinuses. Dean was pleased with his pick for the evening—a basic demon hunt, with some creative interrogation tactics that required more ingenuity than torture. The Men of Letters involved in this hunt managed to exorcise the demon without harming its human host, much to the appreciation of the bunker's current occupants. Dean raised his empty beer towards the now-blank wall.
"I'm grabbing another round. Every hunt like that's a victory against those sons of bitches, huh?" Dean got up from his chair, a spring in his step as he sauntered towards the kitchen. Sam and Kevin yelled their agreements after him, but Cas sat stonily in his chair, a bit removed from the others. Returning with the beers, Dean exchanged his favorite highlights with the two talkative parties. Noticing Castiel's apparent discomfort, Sam reached out and tapped the angel on the shoulder.
"Hey, Cas? Are you sure you don't want anything?" Sam tried. There was no response.
"C'mon, man. These guys ganked another one of those god-awful demons. Can't you show a little enthusiasm?" Dean added with a quick chuckle.
Cas' calm blue eyes became a raging tempest, but his body stayed perfectly still. "Yes," he replied with an even voice, "they're just god-awful. Every last one." He stared straight ahead, eyes seemingly fixed on a crack in the concrete.
"Well, not entirely," Sam said, trying to appease Cas. "I mean, they all had their sad backstory, I guess."
"Think a little harder." Castiel's voice was so commanding that the others sometimes forgot that he was no longer an Angel of the Lord.
"What, Ruby? She was damn god-awful, Cas."
"No, Sam." Cas got up and started out of the room. The brothers both stared at the floor, but Kevin watched Castiel walk away.
"Meg," the prophet said, quietly. Cas stopped on the stairs and turned slowly. In place of a storm, sadness shone through Cas' eyes. His hands dropped to his sides as he stared at the three men below him.
"Oh, come on, man. Meg was great. I just forgot, okay?" Dean almost begged. Sam nodded, looking at Castiel beneath heavy eyelids.
"If she is so great, as you say, how can you claim that all of our friends are here?" Cas demanded, "You don't consider her a friend, despite her invaluable assistance, just because she is a demon." Silence descended on the bunker. Kevin eased out of the room, but nobody even glanced in his direction. The brothers were focused on Cas: his downturned mouth, flaring nostrils, knitted brows. Dean looked wide-eyed at Sam. Help me out, here, Sammy, he thought. You're always better at this touchy-feely shit.
"Uh, Cas?" Sam ventured, "We've gotta tell you something." He motioned to a chair, and the fallen angel walked over but did not sit. He raised his eyebrow, signaling Sam to continue. The Winchesters exchanged glances, and Sam took a deep breath.
"Meg was there when you took the tablet from Dean, but she didn't know that you'd done so. She was guarding the perimeter and trying to give us enough time to get away," Sam explained. He paused, trying to sense Castiel's reaction, but it was unreadable. "Crowley had her, just like before. She didn't run because she thought she could hold him off a bit longer; plus, I guess the prospect of a little more torture didn't seem too high a price to pay," Sam continued.
"She'd already been dyed blonde," quipped Dean, because the tension had gotten too high for him to stand. But Sam shot over a glare, so Dean fell silent once again.
"Anyways, um, Dean and I had to drive off without her. Since she saw that you weren't with us, she tried to slow Crowley; she stabbed him in the shoulder, actually," Sam explained to Cas. He couldn't help but feel a bit proud of the demon, knowing she'd managed to inflict a nice stab wound. The pleasant feeling dissipated as Sam inhaled slowly and steeled himself to drop the bomb.
"We watched her out the back of the Impala as Dean started the car. But Crowley—" Sam took a final glance at his older brother and pressed on. "Crowley was a lot more resilient than we thought. He grabbed Meg by the shoulder and… he, um, got her in the stomach. An angel blade," Sam finished. He took a long swig of his beer and stared at the coffee table.
"We saw her fall, man, but we had to keep going," Dean said, "I'm sorry, Cas, buddy."
Castiel did not move from his spot. His shoulder blades twitched right where his wings used to attach, and he looked as if he had never before felt a stronger desire to fly away.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Cas' words landed like weights on the ears of both Winchesters. Sam and Dean stayed silent, both knowing that no explanation would suffice. If they were being perfectly honest, they had no real explanation. Meg's death was avoidable at best and mortifying at worst, only tolerable to think about when alone with all the other mistakes that keep a hunter up at night. The members of Team Free Will stayed rooted to their respective spots until Sam's watch beeped, informing them that midnight had arrived.
"it's late." Cas suddenly dashed up the staircase and out into the night, nearly breaking the bunker's door on his way out, as the brothers watched, flabbergasted. Upon hearing the slam, Kevin cautiously stuck his head into the room. Sam and Dean weren't speaking, so Kevin shook his head slightly before retreating, wisely, to his own bedroom.
"I'd better clean up," Dean announced abruptly, grabbing the beer bottles and dishes from the table.
"Thanks for dinner, man. I think I'm gonna stay here and read awhile," Sam shifted his eyes to the door and paused. "You know, he always comes back, Dean. He can take care of himself."
"Get to bed soon, Sammy," came Dean's reply as he crossed the room to enter the kitchen.
Goddamn him, Dean thought. He finished tidying before even finishing his solo rendition of "Some Kind of Monster." He cast his eyes around, hands twitching for something to occupy them as he cursed himself for being so anal about the damn kitchen. An old coffee cup in the corner caught his eye, and he lurched to the counter with a loud exhale of relief. He washed the cup over and over, turning the warm ceramic over in his hands under the water. His eyelids grew heavy and his grip on the cup slowly loosened until the glass fell with a crash into the metal sink, startling Dean out of his daydream. Blinking rapidly, the older Winchester dried and put away the coffee cup and stumbled to his room. Dean lay in bed and waited for the more welcome crash of Cas' return, but his eyelids soon won out.
Sam listened to the thumps, clanks, and occasional hums from Dean's cleanup for two chapters or so, and then the bunker was quiet. He continued to read, but just like his brother, sleep came all too quickly for him.
Sometime between three and four A.M., Sam cracked one eye open at the quiet squeak of the bunker door. Castiel stood in the doorway, wet and shivering. As Cas walked down the stairs, Sam tossed him the wool blanket he'd been using to cover his legs. Sam marked his spot in his book and, nodding at Castiel with a small smile, walked back towards his own bedroom. He clambered into bed and got comfortable just as he heard footsteps padding along the hallways. Sighing, Sam threw off the covers and poked his head out the door. Cas' ruffled figure stood at the end of the corridor.
"Do you…" Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the inside of his bedroom.
Cas nodded without making eye contact and shuffled past Sam through the doorway.
Sam fiddled with the shelf again and then sat on the bed while Castiel leaned awkwardly on the desk. After a few uneasy moments, Sam motioned towards his desk chair, and Cas gratefully took a seat.
"Can't sleep?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at Cas' unruly tufts of hair.
"Don't ask stupid questions," Cas retorted, managing a slight chuckle.
"At least you're not drunk this time," Sam grinned. Cas smiled slightly but gave no reply, so Sam decided to cut to the chase. "Well, you're not here for nothing. Spill," he prompted.
"Um, well, you were the last person besides Crowley to converse with Meg, were you not?" Cas said, "Since you two were guarding the outside together."
"As far as I know, yeah," Sam answered.
"What did she say to you, Sam?" Cas received a perplexed look from Sam. "Her last words," he clarified, "as I don't think insulting Crowley entirely counts."
"The last thing Meg said to me was, uh… she said, 'Go save your brother and my unicorn.'"
"Oh," Castiel said simply. The angel sat with unfocused eyes for what seemed like an eternity to Sam. The younger man tried to hold back a yawn, but couldn't quite manage.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I've been keeping you up," Cas apologized.
"Don't worry about it, man. I can sleep in tomorrow morning," Sam assured him with a comforting smile. Castiel relaxed and walked to the door.
"Thank you, Sam."
Cas left Sam's bedroom and ambled to his own, suddenly blanketed in drowsiness. As Sam got up to shut the door, he heard Cas whispering to himself, "Unicorn. I'm her unicorn."