So this chapter was written and ready to go...then my brain got silly and I wanted to rewrite it. So here it is, and I hope you enjoy.
The boys are not mine, the show is not mine, and Google is most certainty not mine...
Castiel dresses slowly, the familiar feel of cotton somehow easing his discomfort. His shirt had been a lost cause, but a kind nurse found another one to replace it in the charity drop box. The blue striped tie was still in the pocket of his trench coat, but soon found its home around his neck once more. The knot was loose, not nearly correct, but the angel was not concerned enough with it to care.
Bobby Singer called the hospital room to verify that he did, in fact, wire money to the angel's pre-pay credit card. Sam and Dean had decided that it was easier and more reliable to have his cell phone minutes paid for by a credit card than the angel obeying the voice's demands for more time. Castiel had discovered that it was also capable of purchasing hamburgers in large quantities when the need arose.
Armed with after care instructions, warnings of the dangers of leaving against medical advise and enough pain medication for a week, Castiel leaves the hospital. His original plan had been to meet the Winchesters at Singer's junk yard, but the brothers would not be there when he arrived. They had a date with the Horseman Pestilence and a plan they could not possibly execute.
Common sense would have the angel on an airplane, waiting for his recovery in the safety of the older hunter's house. Castiel knew what Pestilence was capable of, and that the two humans has no chance of approaching him without feeling the effects of his power. Castiel also knew he had little chance of fairing any better himself in his current condition. Although his interactions while in this vessel had taught him many humanistic behaviors, self preservation had not yet been one of them. Perhaps that was because the examples he most closely observed were not known for their ability to place their own welfare very high on any priority list.
Decision made, he takes a taxi to the airport twenty minutes away, relying on Jimmy's memories to guide him in this new world of air travel. There is a direct flight to Iowa, and according to something called 'Google' he would be able to catch a bus to his new destination upon landing.
The plane boards soon after he purchases his ticket, and a flight attendant with concern in her eyes guides him to his seat, telling him to ask her if he needs anything. The plane is louder than he expects and takes off incredibly slowly. By the time the plane lands, Castiel has decided he will never travel this way again...the cramped space, the turbulence, the lack of control, is not something he cares to experience again. The angel also notes to advise Dean that this type of air travel is nothing like what he considers flying.
Thankfully the bus station is only two blocks from the airport, and he manages the trip without much incident. The setting sun is still bright and he feels it's warmth penetrate the cold ache that has settled into his very being. The ticket he procured from the woman at the window indicates his departure time is in twenty minutes, giving him a moment to sit and rest. It bothers him only slightly that he actually needs to rest at all.
Soon a voice announces that his bus will depart, and he follows several others onto the long, silver vehicle. As an angel, Castiel would not normally need such tools for travel, but this was not the first time he was ever on a bus. He chooses a seat by a window, resting his forehead against the cool glass. He remembers a time he sat with a lonely young woman, her prayers pleading for assistance, as she fled an abusive father. Her thoughts were hopeless and dark, toying with more permanent escape options. He had sat next to her, a guest in the body of a 78 year old grandmother, his grace soothing the young girl's soul as she confided in the woman next to her.
The bus pulls away from the terminal, the movement jarring his injured vessel and immediately creating a strange rolling sensation in his stomach. Jimmy's mind provides a name for this sensation (nausea) and Castiel does not like it. Eyes closed, breathing slowly, he tries to control this newest rebellion of his vessel. Castiel decides that the bus is also not a preferred method of transportation. For obvious reasons, travel by his own wings and wind would have been ideal, followed closely (strangely enough) by passage in Dean's beloved Impala. This method was loud and chaotic, aggravating an already injured body, but it accomplished his goal of reuniting him with the brothers, and his options were limited to those of his vessel.
Adjusting to the rhythm of the bus's movement, he is lulled into a restless sleep. Walking in the dreams of humans is not the same as experiencing them himself. His dreams are of violence and death, his thoughts intertwined with Jimmy's, causing him to wake with a gasp of shock. With his grace diminished, Jimmy is closer to the surface now more than before. Although not completely aware of their situation, Jimmy's presence is palpable, his fear and anxiety strong enough to cause their shared hands to shake and breathing to increase until he realizes that what he just witnessed were only nightmares...for now at least.
The retirement home that Pestilence chose as his playground was unassuming- unless you were privy to the foul darkness that was the horseman of illness and disease. Castiel could sense the wrongness of the place before he could actually see it. Stepping off the bus, he sees the familiar black car at the back of the parking lot, partially obscured behind a large oak. His friends were already here he realizes, and fear for their safety has him running towards the building, praying out of habit that he was not too late to help.
Millennial of training overrides his anxiety as he gets to the door, preventing him from bursting through without thought or plan. Reaching out with his faltering grace, he can sense only one demon, and something much more powerful than that, but no other beings, human or otherwise. Sam and Dean were hidden from him of course, but for reasons unknown, he feels instinctively that they are still alive.
Castiel opens the main door slowly, taking in the lobby and nurse's station. There are several bodies, none of them familiar, and although he feels sorrow for the loss of life, he is also grateful that they are not of the brothers. As he walks down the hallway towards the presence he knows to be Pestilence, he can feel the horseman's effects tugging at his vessel. His grace would not protect him for long, but he hoped it would be enough.
He hears a voice coming from a room on the right, and feels a need to take a steadying breath. All he has to do is provide distraction, hopefully presenting an opportunity for the Winchesters to either fight or escape. With that slight resemblance to a plan in place, Castiel kicks open the door.
Sam and Dean are writhing on the floor, clearly in the clutches of Pestilence's grasp. All the occupants of the room seem surprised to see the angel in the doorway, Dean saying his name as a question. As soon as he enters the room, the unsettling sensation of drowning seems to increase, his grace no longer able to protect him from the onslaught.
Pestilence had not sensed the arrival of the man now standing in the doorway, which perplexes him. How did this creature arrive without his knowledge, without the horsemen being immediately aware of his presence? This should not have been possible...
"How did you get here?" Pestilence asks the intruder, truly wanting to know the answer.
"I took a bus." was the simple answer, creating a surge of rage in the horsemen. Not only was this creature in front of him fighting the effects of his power, he had the audacity to mock him.
The effects of Pestilence's power increases dramatically in relation to his anger, finally bringing the intrusion to his knees. Now the horsemen could examine it more closely, realizing suddenly that this thing in front of him was a vessel - an occupied vessel no less- but something was wrong with the angel inside it. The angel was there, but its grace, its annoying brilliance, was diminished. The power that usually radiated from a warrior of heaven's army was blocked in this creature. He had never witnessed such a thing before, but it settled his concerns. It was an abnormality, no more, and he had nothing to fear in this creature.
"Well look at that...an occupied vessel, but powerless..." Pestilence observes quietly, amusement in his voice. "That's fascinating...there's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"
In defiance of the horseman's mocking, Castiel's grace surges in protection, giving him the opportunity he needs. He is on his feet, the demon killing knife retrieved from the floor in one hand, Pestilence's ring hand in the other.
"Maybe just a speck..." Castiel replies darkly, removing the ring and finger in one swift motion.
The demon attendant roars in anger, flying across the room to attack, too late to prevent the assault on her charge, but willing to punish the one who committed the violation. Castiel is tackled to the ground, instinct having him stab upward into the demon on top of him. The demon dies in sparks and light flares, the now unoccupied body a dead weight on top of him.
Castiel gets to his feet quickly, still wary of the now unarmed horseman across the room. The horseman holds the injured hand close to his chest, the loss of his power obvious. "Doesn't matter anyway...your too late"
With those words, he disappears, the three remaining exchanging concerned glances.
"Well that's not ominous at all..." Dean mumbles, pocketing the newly acquired ring "What the hell do you think he meant?"
Sam shakes his head slowly, fingers pushing hair out of his eyes."I don't know...can't be good..." he offers in reply, glancing over at Castiel, who appears to be swaying slightly. "Hey Cas, nice timing...you okay?"
The angel hears the Winchesters voices as if from a great distance. He thinks that perhaps Sam has just asked him a question, but he seems unable to respond. He feels himself sway, then strong hands on both his arms prevent him from falling to his knees.
"Cas? Is it Pestilence?" Dean asks, shaking the arm he holds slightly to get the angel's focus.
Castiel stares at him blankly for a moment, trying to form the thoughts, much less the words, for a response. "No...no...its the...dizzy?"
The brothers glance at each other, trying to interpret the answer, not sure if it was a positive or negative to Dean's question.
"Well okay then..." Dean mumbles, trying unsuccessfully to keep his tone neutral, "Lets get you horizontal then before you fall down..."
"That is unnecessary..." Castiel states without conviction, "I am perfectly capable of..."
Of what the Winchesters are unsure of, as the angel's knees buckle and he sags, unconscious, in their grasp.
Thank you again for reading. Reviews would be awesome and much appreciated.
~km
