So as I was writing this one, in the glorious sunshine I might add, I realised that I'm still writing Cas as a 'he' rather than as a 'she' at the moment from the angel's pov. That's simply because he's still the same character and in his mind, at least, he's still accustomed to thinking of himself as male rather than female. It will change later, but at the moment it fits with the disorientation.
The first thing that Castiel feels when he realises what has been done to him is panic. It bubbles up through him in a way that is uncontrollable and terrifying, something that cannot be halted by the cold burn of heavenly grace. He cannot function like this, in a body that he is as unfamiliar with as he once was with Jimmy Novak's, with his grace tied and denied to him. Every little thing that he tries to do is prevented by a wave of pain and rising nausea. Just to attempt to fly from this place leaves him on the floor after the third attempt, his arms wrapped around his stomach as it tries to reject food he has not eaten. He cannot hear his allied brothers, cannot contact Balthazar no matter how hard he tries.
There is only one thing that he can think of to do, two people he can think of who might help him: Sam and Dean Winchester.
He glances down again from his position on the floor, taking stock of what he is wearing as he pats at the pockets of his trench coat. Almost everything is the same as it was before the body changed gender. He is still wearing black slacks and a white shirt, a black blazer under a tan trench coat and his blue tie is looser than normal. The only real changes are in the cut of the clothing, far more feminine than they should be, and his shoes, which are now patent black heels that pinch at his toes. He is hoping, of course, to find the cell phone that he bought so that he could locate the brothers during the Apocalypse and it is pure chance that it is still there. Given that Castiel has not used the thing in nearly two years it is something of a relief to know that it still sits in it's accustomed place. He pulls the phone out, flips it open and stares at the screen for a long moment. Doubt is something that he is all too familiar with and it rolls through him now in a wave almost powerful enough to drive him to his knees were he not already on the floor. There is that worry that has gradually been growing in the back of his mind, the one that has been triggered by a long litany of Dean's demands for his time. It is a worry that has only grown stronger with every time that Dean has acted like Castiel's problems and concerns are not something that will have any effect on the mortal. It is the worry that Dean will not help him should he ask it.
Nonetheless, Castiel needs help and with no other way to reach his family and no real idea of where he is there is no one else that he can turn to. He needs Dean at this particular moment and he can only hope that Dean will come through for him this time as Castiel has in the past for the hunter.
"You don't really want to be sitting down there, sweetie," a tall woman with red heels and a short skirt tells him. Castiel looks up at her. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," the sound of his new voice jolts through him, still gravelly but higher pitched and feminine. It is almost unrecognisable from the voice that belonged to Jimmy.
"If you say so," her heels click as she struts away and the bathroom is once again flooded with the noise of the bar before Castiel is left alone. There is nothing more to distract him and the stranded angel hits call.
-Cas?- Dean's voice is loud over the background of voices wherever his actual location might be.
"Dean," relief floods the angel, "I need your help."
-Who is this?- The hostility is unexpected and chilling. Castiel has been on the receiving end of it before, but never in this situation, never when he so badly needed help. -Where's Cas?- This has been a mistake, Castiel decides, no matter what he says at this point Dean's natural suspicious mind has been aroused. At this point no spoken word is going to convince the hunter that the angel is telling the truth. This is not the voice that Dean knows and trusts, this is not going to be as easy to solve as Castiel has hoped. Ideally, he thinks, this conversation should have happened face to face.
"It's me," he responds, opening the door to the bathroom and entering a bar. The scent of alcohol and sweat is strong, assaulting his nose in a manner that he is unaccustomed to. It only goes to reiterate the amount of trouble he is in.
SPN
-It's me.- The response of the smokey voiced woman on the other end of the line is less than enlightening to Dean and the hunter scowls. -Dean, you have to listen to me very carefully...-
"Not until I know who you are," Dean replies, watching the way that Sam's face screws up in confusion. There is an impatient sigh on the other end of the line and if this were Cas Dean knows that the angel would be all but rolling his eyes at this moment. Behind the sigh and the words he can hear the noise and din of a crowd of people, looks up to mouth something to Sam and spots the woman walking out of the bathroom with her phone to her ear.
Her hair is a mass of shoulder length black, falling in messy waves and curls, her trench coat is the same colour as Castiel's ever present one and she is slightly unsteady on her heels. Dean's first thought is that she's hot enough to make a move on, his second is that she is already slightly drunk and therefore less likely to be a challenge. His final thought is derailed by the large blue eyes that turn in his direction and fill with something unidentifiable as his name is whispered down the phone she holds and straight to his ear. He watches her snap her cell phone shut, hears the click in his ear as the line goes dead, and then she is marching towards him. He would think that the appearance of this woman and the sudden end of the strange call are a coincidence, except that she is stood beside him and her blue eyes are staring at him in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of Cas.
"Hello, Dean," she greets him, completely ignoring Sam in much the same way that the angel has been known to do. In fact a lot of her mannerisms are eerily similar.
"You know him?" Sam asks and her head tilts, her face taking on an expression of consternation as she makes several attempts to speak.
"Of course I do, Sam, I know both of you very well," she responds finally.
"Who are you?" Dean snaps, a terrible suspicion forming in the back of his mind and it is not one that he really wants to think about. Again she seems to move her mouth without speaking before she makes her answer.
"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." The words are a confirmation of that thought, are twice as hot falling from the lips of this woman as they were from the rumpled angel.
"Cas?"
Artemis
