I saw that blinding flash, and in an instant I went from being at Sam's side to being… Not there. Somewhere else. Somewhere far away.
When I landed, I could only think three words. I failed. Again.
I had just failed Sam, failed being the support he needed. I failed Dean, failed the last promise I had ever made to him. I failed Kylie, failed the woman I wanted to marry, and now…
Two out of three of those failures had concluded in death.
This most recent looked like it may end up the same as well.
I was an angel, not one with a predisposition to foul language, but at the moment I couldn't help but feel the urge to swear like Dean and Sam did, or like Kylie… Like Kylie used to.
Castiel, relax. You got this. Kylie's voice, clear as a bell inside my head. I didn't even remember what we were doing, just that she had been so confident and sure that she could handle it.
Where was she now? What had that confidence, that belief in me, gotten her?
I got this. I'd agreed, nodding. I remembered now. We were… We were in a bar together, homeless, just me and her. She was trying to teach me how to pick pockets.
I'd failed miserably, earning a punch to the face instead of the cash we'd so desperately needed.
I don't got this. I'd told her afterwards, cradling a bruised cheek. She'd checked it out, keeping one eye on the guy I'd just failed to pickpocket.
She'd had a plan, of course. At the time, when I was still learning, it seemed as though she always had a plan for everything, always had a fallback option in place. Follow my lead, and go wait outside after I do this.
After you do what? I'd asked her. She just smirked for a moment before putting on her best angry face. She shouted at me, called me a jerk, slapped me, and told me to get out of her face. Ten minutes later she met me outside with over 100 dollars.
Bad good Samaritans. She'd explained. Guys that are always eager to jump and play the hero, just so they can jump in your pants. They also just so happen to love flashing cash when they buy you drinks, and tend to carry a lot of it.
A bad good Samaritan. That was what she called it.
A truck pulled up, asking if I needed assistance. The man seemed nice, kind. Not flashing any cash.
And when I can't get a bad good Samaritan, Kylie had continued, sitting on the curb next to me. She pulled my hand along, and we walked over to a nearby busy street. Kylie shoved the cash back in her pocket, and rooted around in her pack until she found what she was looking for. An old piece of beat-up cardboard, with a few words written on it. Homeless and starving. Anything helps. God bless. I'll get a God-fearing one.
We had cheap takeout, apples, a few granola bars, and a couple extra bucks in cash within an hour or two.
I told the man with the truck where I needed to go, Lebanon, Kansas. He nodded, and I got in his truck.
You got this. Kylie's voice again, so reassuring, in the back of my mind.
I got this, I agreed. I won't fail this time. I can fix this.