This is part 2 of Maybe It's Okay. I have been working on it for a while, but it's literally the last like.. 500 words that I rushed. I'm not happy with it, but I hope you are.
enjoy!
It was like a switch, after that one night.
All of a sudden, it was like you were important to someone again, if ever, and it felt good.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were happy with where you were.
It could have done something with that one time you walked pass the library with all three boys talking in harsh, hushed whispers. It had peaked your interests, but you figured that if it was on a need-to-know basis, then they would be the ones to approach you.
So, you did the next best thing and ignored it. You didn't feel as if knowing what they were talking about was something necessary, not to mention it would be rude to eavesdrop on your saviors.
The biggest change welcomed was the more attention given by the boys. Phone calls came in more often, whether it was for research, to check up on you, or just menial tasks to prepare for when the boys were on their way back to the bunker.
Castiel frequented more and more as time passed. More often than not, he would scare the living crap out of you, but you learned to pinpoint the audio cues for whenever your feathered friend would pop in for a visit.
You hadn't realized until then just exactly how lonely you actually were, but in the end, you appreciated the Angel for checking up on you, even if it was for a minute.
At first it was awkward, but you relished in his attempts to make you feel more inclusive. He started off just by flying in more often, just because he could. Then, it progressed into flying in to update you about the boys or whatever his celestial mission of the day was. Then, it progressed even more to coming in to talk about what he had witnessed in his existence, times with the boys, when he became God... you learned a lot more about the Angel and you genuinely enjoyed his company.
It was when Castiel would come randomly bearing souvenirs and trinkets that would leave you confused. He would look flustered, muttering about how the little gifts "reminded me of you," before he would flutter away in the blink of an eye.
You had an authentic dreamcatcher hanging above your bed because, "the Native Americans believed that it would ensnare the negative thoughts lingering into its web" or some sort.
You had a matryoshka doll lined up on your dresser because, "it symbolizes the different layers of a person over time, like an onion."
"Cas, I'm pretty sure that's a line from Shrek..."
"Y-yes. Well," and then he cursed under his breath, "Damn it, Dean." before blushing and flying away before a word could leave your mouth. It was beginning to kind of scare you when your heart would flutter with the sound of his trench coat billowing behind him as he enters the room. You were beginning to look forward to his next visits and for whatever else he was going to bring for you from whatever isolated corner of the world he visited that day.
You found that it was on Thursdays when he would visit and hand you a gift. The time would always be different, but it was almost midnight, marking the end of Wednesday and the beginning of Thursday.
If you really thought about it, it was almost as if Castiel was trying to court you.
The boys were out on a hunt, something about a witch a few towns over, wreaking havoc on ex-lovers and their loved ones with well planted hex bags. Why anyone would be dumb enough to raise red flags when pretty much every supernatural being knew of the Winchester's existence? You will truly never understand.
Sam had called you earlier to research the specifics of their suspect, and if something like that had happened before. Turns out, it did, and Miss Natalie was ground zero for the other 3 times.
Jeez, talk about fatal attraction. It's a wonder why the boys had never caught wind of her in the first place.
You enjoyed it though. Really. You never met Garth nor had you ever met Bobby, but from what you've gathered, you were slowly being their behind the scenes backup. Sam figured that after the whole "lycanthrope" debacle with Garth, bothering the retired hunter/werewolf with hunting stuff was unnecessary. Besides, he was happy with his wife with pups on the way and you were available.
You welcomed the change of pace. Helping with the hunt, even if it is just reading up on lore, or pretending to be a director of the FBI, was a distraction that you would gladly accept. You weren't just (Y/N) anymore. For once, you mattered.
But then, it was as if everything happened to crash all at once. You were already in a mood ever since that night terror the night before. Cas came to you because of your distress, but you managed to convince him to stay with you until you fell back asleep.
You were on edge all day, waking up to find the spot next to you empty without a present or an Angel in sight. Instead, you kept yourself busy before you became stir crazy.
You cleaned the bunker over and over again (even though you hate cleaning,) pacing back and forth in between all day when Sam called, and talked frantically into the phone about preparing some hot water, a first aid kit and some whiskey.
The witch had gone down, but not without a fight. When they expected her to use her magic, she surprised them with the unexpected: pulling a .45 and shooting Dean through his shoulder, missing his heart throughout the chaos, and then shooting at his thigh as she went down.
Now, you were pacing back and forth again for a totally different reason with a med kit at the ready, waiting for the brothers to come back. Your nails were chewed to the bed, bleeding slightly and just on the side of right amount of pain to keep you focused.
When you heard the door burst open, you rushed into the war room to see Sam half-carrying his brother, who was vehemently attempting to get out of his hold.
"Dean! Are you okay!?"
"I'm fine," he growled, barely looking at you. "It's just a scratch." he groaned in discomfort as Sam lowered him to a chair.
"Dean, those wounds are pretty serious. We need to get you stitched up, now."
"I'm fine, Sammy. Don't make it any more big of a deal than it is." with a bitch face, Sam turned quickly and jogged away to what you assumed was his room for more supplies.
Dean was hunched in his seat, leaning to the side to avoid pressure on everything. Hesitantly, you reached out, handy med kit ready at the side.
"Dean?" brushing against his shoulder, he shrugged you off.
"I won't say it again, (Y/N)" he growled.
Unfazed, you rolled your eyes and tugged again at his shoulder.
In lightning speed, he rounded quickly in his chair. A loud crack echoed in the room as he backhanded you across the cheek, pushing you back with ungodly strength. Tripping over your feet, you yelped out in pain as the edge of the wooden dresser dug deep into your ribs.
"I said I was fine, God damn it!" You hunched inwards holding your side, tendrils of hair creating a veil across your face as you felt tears spring in your eyes.
The two of you stared at one another as you hear Sam's heavy footsteps running back into the war room.
"Dean! What the hell!?" the younger Winchester ran over, grabbing a hold of his bleeding brother.
"Fuck." he breathed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." You clamped your eyelids closed, pain radiating throughout your body. Your lips trembled as you somehow found the strength for words.
"No more..." you whispered. Hazel eyes turned to you, green fixated without a moment to blink. "No more," you cry out again. Holding your side, you look between the tangles of your hair at the look of fear and guilt aimed towards you.
"You're just the same as everyone else," you sobbed. You tried to keep your voice steady, but every shuddering breath cause your ribs to ache.
"(Y/N)-" Dean tried.
"No. I can't do this anymore. It's always the same." you held onto your bruising cheek as hot tears trailed down the stinging skin.
"To think I could even love either one of you." your whole body shook to the core. Ignoring the look of guilt, you cut Sam off as he opened his mouth.
"Don't, Samuel." You reveled in him flinching at his name. "You can't even be bothered to care about me, so why should I listen to what you have to say? It's a wonder to me... to think... you had actually gotten your soul back." You were never this cruel to anyone but yourself. But, now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no turning back.
You attempted to stand up straight, only crying out at the sharp jab in your right rib cage. There was no doubt that you at least fractured a rib or two. Both brothers jerked in their seat, only stopping at the look of pure fury in your eyes.
You rushed to your room as quickly as you can, leaving behind the frozen brothers. You locked the door, limping over and pulling out the duffle bag you got for your first hunt.
You kept an arm bent at your side, rummaging the best you could through your dresser drawer and throwing clothes in haphazardly. You rushed into the adjoining bathroom and packed what you could.
You would be damned if you had to spend another moment being subjected to the cruelness of the Winchesters.
Hesitantly, you picked up all the trinkets that Cas got for you over the past several weeks, taking the time in carefully placing them in your bag. Dragged in your thoughts, you failed to hear the sound of feathers within the walls of your room until you ran face first into the Angel's broad chest.
You cried out in pain, the throbbing in your cheek intensifying on contact. Strong hands wrapped around your biceps, settling you in one place.
You look up to see the look of divine wrath on the vessels face.
"(Y/N), what happened? Tell me who did this to you?" you wince at the tightness of Castiel's grip as you try to reach up to scrub away your tears. Worry washes over his face as he releases you, wiping his thumb under your eyes. You flinch back as he touches the swollen flesh, only bringing his anger back ten-fold.
"I don't want to talk about it, Cas," you sniff. "I just need to get out of here."
Cas looks at you with such sadness, he reaches up with a hand hesitantly, looking you straight in the eyes. "Would you like for me to heal you?"
You huff out in a spontaneous bout of amusement. "No, but thank you anyways."
In that moment, you were vaguely aware of the banging on your door. Flinching, you tried to ignore the brothers calling for you.
"(Y/N)! Open the door!"
"(Y/N), I'm so sorry."
"We didn't know, honestly. Please open the door."
Grimacing, you turned and pulled the bag over your shoulder, reaching over the bed and pulling out your favorite gift from underneath your pillow.
It didn't amount to anything in worth compared to all of the other gifts, but it was the most special.
You weren't a materialist. You hadn't cared that the angel found obscure jewelry from ancient Egypt because it was believed that wearing certain accessories would ward off evil spirits.
You couldn't have cared less that he got you rings and bracelets dated back to the dark ages that probably estimate now to be worth tens, or even hundreds of thousands of dollars.
No, it wasn't monetary value. It was the thought, and with the thought, the most important thing that you have in possession is a little Worry Doll.
The difference between all the riches you own now and the tiny little doll the size of your thumb in your palm is that Castiel made it for you with his hands. He told you of the legend behind the tiny wood object, that the doll worries in place of the owner when placed under their pillow.
It looked like him, with dark hair and a tan jacket, and he told you to share your thoughts out loud if he was not there to listen, so that you would never be lonely. Having it within your grip brought a calmness to you that helped clear your head a bit and you swore that just for a second, you could feel a tendril of grace fill you up.
With a grimace, you nodded to the Angel before turning heel and stopping at the edge of the door. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your expression and swung open the door to see the two brothers looking worse for wear. Two sets of eyes landed on your duffle bag hiked over your shoulder and their faces twisted in anxiety. Good, you thought.
Taking advantage of their silence, you shoved yourself passed the brothers heading towards the war room for the stairs to the exit. Time and time again you tried to prove yourself worthy and trusting, but if they didn't want you there, you would gladly take your leave.
You heard the brothers catching up from behind but you didn't bother looking back until a hand gripped you tight and spun you around. You scowled at the Green eyes boring itself into your own, shrugging, but failing to remove his hand from your shoulder. Looking over him, you saw Sam standing a few feet behind.
"(Y/N), don't do this, please." Dean pleaded, but you scoffed in response as tears prickled your eyes yet again.
"I trusted both of you. But you're just like everyone else." You took a step back, your heel bumping into the first step of the iron staircase.
"It was a mistake, I'm sorry." Dean reached for you again, but you side stepped until you tipped back onto the stairs. You shook your head as you fought your tears.
"It was a mistake for me to come here. I should've just died with my family." Dean and Sam both sucked in a harsh breath, looks of pity on their faces.
"You don't mean that, (Y/N)" Dean whispered.
"Don't say things like that, (Y/N)" Sam scolded.
You let out a wet laugh, laced with bitterness and skepticism.
"But it's true. Aren't I? All I do is just add problems to your list of problems, and I try to do everything I can, the best I can, in helping you with your hunt. But I can't even do that right, can I? I can't seem to do anything right, so why bother staying with you if I'm only going to hold you two back?"
Digging into your pocket, you pulled out the cell phone that Dean gave you and you threw it at his feet, the glass screen of the device shattering into a thousand pieces.
"There, now you don't have to worry about wasting your money on me."
The three of you were in a staring contest when you heard and felt the change of air with the sound of a flap of wings next to you. You saw Dean and Sam's eyes shift towards the Angel by your side before you turned your gaze, surprised at the look of pure anger on his face.
"After everything I told you, you still chose to push her away. Typical of you Dean," Castiel growled.
Dean's gaze shot towards the Angel who seemed to appear larger with rage. Tension filled every crevice in the air as the two stared at one another. Sam stood by the door frame, fidgeting and shuffling from side to side.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Dean huffed. Castiel glared at the eldest Winchester, threatening.
"Then how was it supposed to happen? She's young, Dean but that doesn't mean that she's useless." Castiel eyed the younger Winchester trying to hide in the background.
"That includes you, Sam. All (Y/N) has tried to do was to help you, and what does she get? Emotional abuse and neglect. What's the point of saying you're going to help an innocent, taking them into the safety of your home, only to leave her on her own? What was the point of saying you were going to try?"
"Cas, we didn't know. Everything was just happening at once, and—"
"It doesn't excuse anything. I expected better from the two of you."
Tears were making their way down your face as you readjusted your bag and took advantage by making your way to the top of the stairs while the brother's attention was diverted. Once you reached the top of the stairs, Sam looked up with a look of hurt across his face. Except, he wasn't allowed to do that.
"Sam, Dean. Thank you for letting me stay with you, but I'm sorry that I seemed to have wasted your time, as well as my own. I'm sorry that I wasn't the one innocent worth saving, and for that I wish you a fare well. Not that you will, but please don't try and look for me." With a wry smile you turned on your heel and walked out into the chilled night.
Before the door shut, you could swear you heard your name.
You breathed in deeply, letting the cold air fill your lungs and let out a sigh, watching the heat of your breath condense into the air. You wiped your face one more time before picking a direction and walking down the gravel road.
For a moment, you wished that you wore something thicker. The chill in the air was slowly seeping into your bones, but with a shake of your head, you pulled your arms across your body and kept walking.
It felt like hours before you heard the welcoming sound of feathers in the wind. Gravel crunched from behind and you turned to see a forlorn look across the Angel's face.
He took hesitant steps towards you before pulling you into his embrace. Sighing deeply, he pressed his cheek against your head as you snuggled into his warmth.
"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I tried to talk some sense into them, but…" You shifted to look up at Castiel's ethereal blue eyes and you could see the war he was fighting between loyalties in his face.
"It's okay, Feathers. It's better this way." You hugged your Angel tighter, sighing deeply as his warmth brought you comfort. "I just can't be here anymore."
Nodding, Castiel pulled away just enough to transfer your duffle from your shoulder to his own before he brought you back into the confines of his jacket.
"Where do you want to go, (Y/N)?" You closed your eyes as you shook your head as best as you could against his firm chest.
"I don't know… just somewhere that's not here."
With the rapid beat of your heart, and the wide spread of his wings, Castiel gripped you tight, and flapped away, flying without leaving a trace behind for the brothers to find.
My writer's block is coming back with another vengeance, and I'm starting school again on Monday... Senior year of college, so wish me luck!
I promise to try and work harder, though!
Your kudos and comments mean the world to me and motivate me to do more in my life. :P
Thank you for being my muses, sweeties 3