I was cold. But I wasn't supposed to be cool. I was supposed to be warm under my electric blanket and 15 pound cat that always curls up right next to my ear. But no, I was cold. I opened my eyes, expecting to find comforting familiar darkness of my room. But I was in a bathroom. Sleeping in the tub. A. Bath. Tub.
Now, I don't normally sleep in a bathtub. Okay, I never sleep in a tub. What freak me out the most, though, was that I had absolutely no idea why I was here. Or how I got here. And then I realized that I was curled up under the faucet. Now, I'm not particularly tall at 5 foot three, but even I know I would have to stretch out in the tub this small. So it looked down at myself, and almost screamed.
Okay, so now what was freaking me out most was that I was a child. I was fairly certain that I'd been 20 when I went to bed last night. Forgetting where I was, I scrambled to my feet, and promptly slammed my head into the faucet. "Shit," I muttered reflexively, the word sounding strange in my higher pitched voice. Wincing, I put my hand against my head, and willed the pounding and pain to stop soon enough. After a long while, they did, and I carefully (slowly) climbed from the tub.
Naturally, the door was locked. I shivered, more from fear then from the cold tile under my bare feet (not to mention the fact that I was only wearing a large gray t-shirt). I didn't know what to do. They didn't make self-help books on how to cope when you've been transformed into your child-self, and locked in a bathroom, no less. I was too short to do anything but barely turn the knob, so I couldn't really try to force it open. And there was nothing for me to drag over to make me taller. And I was starting to cry, and my hand was red from where my head was bleeding.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I squished my tiny body between the toilet and the wall, and wondered why they didn't make bathroom windows bigger. Could come in handy some day.
Something gently crawled across my scalp, and I jerked backwards, automatically thinking Spiders! Lord knows how many of those haunt bathrooms. I groaned when my head hit the wall behind me. I've really got to stop hitting my head with things.
"Do not be frightened." A familiar voice said, no infliction coloring his deep voice. "I am merely checking you for further injuries."
I didn't say anything; I didn't trust myself to open my eyes. I didn't want him there, because he wasn't real. He couldn't be real. And if he wasn't real, then he couldn't help.
"I apologize for not being able to warn you of my intentions," he said, not sounding sorry in the least, "I was given no time." When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, almost concerned. "Are you alright?"
I snapped my eyes open at that. Glaring at the damn angel, I bit out, "Am I alright?! You locked me in a bathroom! I'm four frickin' years old! I'm tired, hungry, my head hurts, I'm cold…oh, and did I mention? I'm four!" having spent what little energy I had left on my tirade, I leaned against the cold wall (is everything cold in a bathroom?).
Castiel just stared at me, dark blue bright and wondering eyes while his expression remained unnervingly blank. Exasperated, I did my best to stare back, but I was tired and couldn't hold his gaze for long. I rubbed my eyes with a tiny fist. He was silent for a long while, and I studied. He looked exactly like he did on the show, only bigger, but that was because I was smaller. The tan trench coat I love pooled around his feet as he sat back on his haunches, waiting patiently. His hair was messy, and dark, and his shoes were shiny. They were strangely distracting in my exhausted state.
The angel reached a hand behind where he was crouched, and when he brought it back around, I actually smiled. Kind of. In his large tan hand he held a little smaller, cleaner version of my favorite stuffed animal. My white dog, Hoagie. I still sleep with it at twenty, something about holding him (yes, him) to me at night gives me comfort. I reached a hand toward Hoagie Jr tentatively, and Castiel easily gave him up.
He stood, and I found myself shrinking. He looked like a man, yes, a cute one at that; but there was a power beneath his calm composure that couldn't be ignored. He looked down at me fearfully clutching Jr to my chest as a futile shield, and relaxed his stance somewhat. As much as an angel could, I suppose.
"We must go quickly," Castiel declared, still using his 'soft' voice, "There is not much time. I need for them to find you."
Not asking who Them were (mostly because I really didn't want to know), I got to my feet. Castiel turned on his heel and strode out the now open door. I want angel magic. I followed as quickly as I could; four of my steps matched one of his.
We passed through a crappy motel room and into the parking lot before I asked where we were going.
"I told you, they must find you," the angel replied, not slowing down for a second.
"But where are they?"I persisted, struggling not to cry out as my bare feet scraped against the warm blacktop. It was a bright sunny day, and the moment we hit the sidewalk I could tell we were in a teeny tiny town.
I paused, mentally, not physically, as Castiel was going too fast for that, hesitant to ask the next question. The road we were on was lined with pecan trees, rosebuds and Japanese maples scattered here and there. So far, no car has passed us, and there'd only been two in the motel parking lot.
"So, you learned how to drive?"
"No."
"Are we taking the bus?" I asked hopefully, almost running into Castiel as he spun on his heel.
"Listen!" he didn't raise his voice, not a bit, but the sternness deepened, if that was possible, and I flinched back. "There is no time for questions. They must find you." Turning back to still-empty road, he began walking again, apparently trusting that I would follow obediently. Grumbling, and wondering why the hell they needed to find me, when couldn't he just take me to them?, I followed, but I didn't say anything for the rest of the walk. Did I mention I hate walking?
The road didn't change, but the scenery did. It went from teeny tiny town stores and houses, to farms separated by acres of tall grass. I had the strange urge to run through it. It looked taller than me. Clouds rolled lazily by, white and empty of rain. Wait, can clouds be empty, I wondered before the world went black.
