Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything.
Author's Note: Alright, here's where Castiel as a bit of a... failure to communicate. This is the last chapter that I have already finished, so there might be a bit of a delay from now on, but hopefully not.
The gates seemed to waver in my sight. I stumbled up to them and they opened, but I only took one step past them.
I woke up with Gresso leaning over me. Squinting, I looked up at him.
"I take it that things didn't go well?" he asked in a dry tone.
"As well as could be expected," I answered, my voice feeling even rougher than usual.
"Portien?"
I shook my head.
"That's a shame. Good soldier, that one."
"I know." Silence dragged on for a long moment, while I lost myself to my thoughts. Suddenly I remembered the difference in time lapse between Heaven and Earth, and I pushed myself to a sitting potion on bed I'd been put on. "How long has it been? Down stairs, I mean?"
"Just a few hours." He studied me for a moment, before understanding dawned on him. "So you actually managed to get him out?"
I just nodded.
"Darn you're good!"
"Do you mind passing on the word on up? I need to get back down there and watch that boy. By all reports, he's got a rare talent at finding trouble."
"No problem. Are you heading down already?"
"Yeah. See you around."
"Right back at you."
With that I stood up and walked out the door. I was tired and sore, but there was no pain now, Heaven having worked it's magic on me. Honestly, I'd probably been here too long. Gresso was a good soldier, don't get me wrong, but he's more soft-hearted even than most of the others. If I hadn't woken up when I did, he would have let me sleep the next year away. As it was, chances were that I was going to have to have to drag Winchester out of some sort of mischief or another.
Eyes closing, I opened them and found myself back at the headstone. Based on the signs around it, Dean had already taken off. Fortunately, he wasn't that difficult to track, especially in his state.
I have to admit, I was impressed to some degree by the distance he'd walked in this bright sunlight. Then again, it was nothing compared to where he'd been for the past four months. It probably seemed like a snow-day.
After an hour or two of gaining on him, I came across a mini-mart showing signs of forcible entry. I shook my head. Some people were so predictable. I didn't even know the man personally, but from everything I'd seen and heard, this seemed to fit the bill. I walked up and looked in the window. Sure enough, there was Winchester, loading money from the cash register into his bag of stolen goods. I sighed and took a few steps toward him. Honestly, I should have known better, because just then, the TV and radio started acting up. Typical. Well, true to form, he took it as a sign some ghost or demon was around, at least, that's what I thought when he reached for the salt and started pouring it on the ceil of the window I was looking through.
"There's no need for that, Dean. We're on the same side of this thing," I said.
He covered his ears and scurried around for a moment, before dropping to the floor. It was as if my voice was painful to him. Granted, that's what I expected to happen with most humans when I spoke, but not this one. "Dean? Dean Winchester?" I called out to him, but it made no difference. I have to say, I was oddly disappointed by the whole mess. Did he even see me looking at him? I thought this was supposed to be one of those 'special' people, and here he was, acting just like everyone else. Well, it was a good thing that I'd hidden myself from general view. If he couldn't see me like this, chances were he'd suffer the same side effects as everyone else if I was visible.
So instead of having our much-needed little discussion, I stood back and watched him as he walked into the telephone booth and started calling his relations. It was hard to keep from saying anything, as he got one number, no doubt Sam's, as being disconnected, and as Bobby hung up on him. Did he really think he could call them and they'd all take him at his word? What he'd been given only comes around once in a blue moon. We generally like to do our saving on this side of the grave.
As he moved to hot-wire the car, I decided it was time to leave. I needed to have some questions answered, and they weren't going to be answered by anyone down here. Still, I hated leaving him. Things might have been peaceful just then, but it wouldn't take any time at all for the enemy to get on his trail again. If only the poor fool would learn to ask for help. Then I'd have some idea of what was going on with him. In the meantime, I had to rely on information from others and word from higher up every time I left.
I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, I was in the military headquarters. There was a lot of hustling and bustling right now. Angels aren't all that far from humans when it comes to getting geared up for war. There's just a lot less in the way of logistics. Walking down a marble corridor, I didn't have to look at each door to know where the right one was. My feet found it automatically.
I gave a knock dutifully, but didn't wait any time to walk on through. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I'd have permission.
"Yes, Castiel?" Michael asked, looking up from his desk. "How are things going? I heard about Portien. Sorry. But still, word says that Dean's back with the living."
"He's living alright, but by the looks of it, he's not having all that much fun."
"Does he remember you?"
"He can't even see me."
"What?"
"Like I said, the man looked right through me while dumping salt under a window a moment ago. When I told him not to worry, he collapsed. He's just like every other man."
Michael frowned at that. "Just like everyone else, huh? Well, that's a bit unexpected."
"Tell me about it. Does that mean he's not the one He wanted?"
"No, he's the one He wanted, alright." Michael frowned and propped his head on his hand as he thought about it. "Just one more problem, huh?"
"Yes, Sir," I replied, it didn't have any of the starch it had when younger soldiers used it though.
"Well, you looked at everything we have on him, right?"
"Every page."
"Well... has he had any training? How much has he dealt with us?"
"No training whatsoever, and Sam's the one who asks for our help. Dean isn't exactly what you'd call a believer, if I have his story down right."
"That would explain it then."
"I guess so. That still doesn't help me though."
"Try talking to him again. If that doesn't work, we'll figure something out."
"Yes, Sir."
With that, I turned and left the room. Even as I walked down the hallway, the building around me faded and I found myself back on the battle ground. Predictably, Dean wasn't where I'd left him. He was a hard one to keep tabs on, that was for sure, and oh, lucky day, I'd gotten stuck with him. It was probably a good thing Michael didn't know how much I enjoyed the assignment, he'd disapprove to say the least.
