Dr Dean J. Winchester did not like helicopters. Or perhaps any kind of flying contraption Castiel Malcolm presumed, as he watched the younger man fall apart. Dean gripped the leather seat beneath him, intentionally boxed in by his brother and their family friend, as well as Castiel's growing acquaintance, Dr Celeste Grant.

Samuel pointedly ignored his brother and glared at his palms, and Celeste remained buried in a large book, eyebrows furrowed and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Dean, unbeknownst to his friends, was nearing the edge of a rage and fear induced hysteria, ducking his head between his knees, or slamming his skull into the padded headrest behind him, all while cursing under his breath. Castiel, just as livid, pondered over whether or not to offer him a vomit bag or some kind of distraction in a futile attempt to calm him down and shut him up. It was only causing Castiel to recall that his son was similarly bothered on flights, which had him seething on the edge of his seat.

"Dr Winchester." The both of them looked up, and Castiel spared Samuel a semi-apologetic look, before focusing pointedly on Dean. "We have a half-hour left, I suggest you try medication." The man looked at him, face pale. His eyes, however, roared with the kind of anger Castiel had only imagined in his childhood fantasies, the flaming green more at home in the sockets of a monster. "I have some cyclizine that always helps my son." Castiel said through gritted teeth.

The man was quiet for a moment, glaring at him, before slumping tiredly. "Why the hell not?" He mumbled, hands squeezing tightly over his knees.

Castiel quickly rummaged in his bag, pulling out a blue medical pack, which was covered in miscellaneous stickers Samandriel had added over the years.

"Here. Take two." Castiel advised, handing him the box of tablets. Winchester managed a weak smile, looking at the bag with amusement.

"How old is he?" He asked, and Castiel felt his lips lift. He didn't smile much, but his child was the exception.

"Six." Castiel said as he turned towards the window, frowning out at the choppy waves beneath them. "Do you have any?"

"Just a little brother." He growled, taking a swig from the water bottle Celeste had handed him after tossing back the pills.

Samuel pursed his lips nervously as he watched his brother shake with contained rage. "Our little brother, Kevin, he's about a year older. They said he was there." He announced softly.

"My girlfriend's there, too." Charlie huffed, obviously frayed.

"We would have heard something, if something had gone wrong." Castiel reassured them, feeling more as if he was merely reassuring himself.

Dean shook his head furiously as he handed back the drugs. "Still doesn't justify them kidnapping our fucking families. They may have buttered it up, but they resorted to some seriously fucked up shit to get us on this thing." He said ominously, and the four of them looked out the window at the approaching island, a sense of foreboding settling heavily over the chopper.
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