Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.
A/N: Okay, so I'm pretty sure that out of all the multi-chapter fics and one-shots I've written over the years, this chapter right here was probably the hardest piece of writing I have ever done in my life. I thought I would never be able to get it to turn out how I wanted, especially not by the deadline! But finally, after almost a month of frustration, here we are.
The action is really going to start picking up after this chapter, and because this one would have been unbearably long if I had crammed in everything I wanted it to have, it ends on a bit of a cliffy (sorry-not-sorry). But because of this, I will be posting one additional chapter this month so that I can get the story on track with where I wanted it to be by today. You're welcome. ;)
So, with all that said, enjoy!
July 9, 2015
Even though he had never really entertained the possibility that Castiel's mystery illness was just food poisoning or some angelic version of a twenty-four-hour bug, Dean had still desperately hoped that whatever was afflicting him might work itself out of his system on its own with a few days of rest and TLC. After all, Cas had dealt with some pretty severe wounds and spells before and usually recovered completely in only a matter of hours. But when six days had passed and he was still suffering from the same level of exhaustion as before, along with daily bouts of sporadic nausea and dizziness, it became apparent that something worse than a bad milkshake was at work.
"Damn it all!" Dean growled, slamming the leather-bound tome in his hands onto the table so hard that it kicked up a small cloud of dust. "This one's useless, too! You'd think for all the Men of Letters claimed to know about anything and everything supernatural, they'd have at least one friggin' book that could tell us how to cure a sick angel!"
Sam sighed, gently closing the cover of his own book and nodding in silent agreement. The two of them had been up researching since five o'clock that morning, and it was now nearly eleven a.m.; almost a week had passed since Castiel's mysterious illness had begun, and despite spending all of their time searching through every piece of literature the Men of Letters had on angels, so far the Winchesters had come up with nothing useful.
For the first day or so, Dean had been convinced that Cas had been poisoned during his ill-fated encounter with the demon. At the time, even Sam agreed that it seemed totally possible, especially since the symptoms seemed to have manifested almost immediately after he had been cut by her blade. But after researching the very few herbal mixtures and potions that could be used to kill, paralyze, or otherwise incapacitate an angel, Dean had come to the conclusion that Castiel was not suffering from any kind of poisoning. Every single toxin that could harm angels would also harm humans, and since Dean had been slashed with the demon's knife too and yet suffered no ill effects, that explanation simply didn't hold water.
Within another day or two it also became clear that Castiel's guess, which was that his symptoms were a result of some of his own grace being rejected as it readapted to his body, was also unfortunately incorrect. Other than the fact that the angel was now constantly fatigued and remained sleepy and lethargic even when he wasn't in bed, none of his symptoms mimicked those that had accompanied the rejection of grace before. He had no fever, no swollen lymph nodes or bloodshot eyes, and not even the slightest trace of a cough, let alone coughing up blood.
While this was definitely something to be glad about, it also meant that the only likely explanation for Castiel's ailment was some kind of curse, and that was a horribly complicated kind of magic that neither Sam nor Dean was particularly gifted in. If they had known exactly which curse had been used, it would have been easy as pie to look up the counter-curse in the Men of Letters' library and get Cas cured. The problem was, they didn't know which one had been used, and had no easy way of finding out since they had killed the demon who had cast it. Several types of curses could cause symptoms like nausea, vomiting, and fatigue, which made narrowing it down almost impossible, and if they chose the wrong one and used an unnecessary counter-curse, it could actually end up hurting Castiel much more than it helped him.
"We can't keep letting this go on," Dean said softly when Sam didn't respond aloud. "I know Cas says he feels okay except for when he's puking, but he told me he was fine when that stolen grace was practically burning his insides out too, so I'm not about to take his word for it." He blew out a harsh breath between his lips, his hands clenching into fists on top of the table. "After all we went through to save him before, he might be dying right in front of us all over again. What the hell are we supposed to do?"
He sighed and pulled his hand down his face, and in a voice so small it could barely be heard said, "I can't lose him again, Sam. Not after all this time."
Sam frowned, looking upwards and running his fingers back through his long hair in a subconscious sign of uncertainty before he gave his brother a sympathetic look. "I don't know yet, Dean. But we'll figure something out, okay? I promise."
Dean had already opened his mouth to answer that when the loud bang of the bedroom door slamming open stopped him short. A moment later he heard the rapid, dull slapping of bare feet sprinting down the hall and the bathroom door opening, followed almost immediately by the sound of harsh, breathless retching.
"Shit…" he muttered, out of his seat and already halfway across the living room without a second thought. "Sam, can you –"
"Go," Sam said hurriedly, waving him toward the hallway. "He needs you. I can handle this for a little while."
Dean gave him a grateful half-smile and jogged off in the direction of the bathroom, and in moments Sam could hear his voice drifting down the hall, the words indistinct but his tone soft and gentle as he did his best to soothe the near-panic Cas seemed to fall into every time his body rebelled against him like this.
That alone was reason enough to get whatever this was fixed quickly. Castiel and Sam hadn't always been on the best terms, but after years of being forced into each other's company they'd actually bonded really closely. If it was this heartbreaking for him to watch Cas go through whatever was happening to him, he couldn't even imagine what it must be doing to Dean.
He was about to get up and put away the book on the table in front of him, inwardly cursing the fact that it had been just as uninformative as all the others, when his phone began to vibrate violently on the tabletop, startling him slightly as the loud buzzing broke through the relative silence in the room. Without a second thought he snatched it up and hit the "Accept Call" button, accustomed to having fellow hunters call him at any time of day to ask for assistance in their research.
"This is Sam," he answered automatically, expecting to hear the voice of a hunter named Greg who had been asking about tips for tracking a rougarou up in Michigan for the last couple of days. "Look, man, this is kind of a bad time. Can you call me back a little later or –"
"Who are you calling 'man,' Sam? It's me!"
The sound of that cheerful female voice stopped Sam cold, all thoughts of telling whoever it was to call back later instantly evaporating as a bright smile stretched across his lips.
"Charlie?"
"Who else do you know that has your number and sounds just like me? You guys haven't been cheating on me with some other computer geek while I've been gone, have you?"
"Of course not! Only the Queen of Moondor is worthy of hanging with the Winchesters," Sam joked lamely, nearly rolling his eyes when he realized how much he sounded like Dean. "I just didn't expect to hear from you. When did you get back from Oz?"
"It's been a few weeks now. For some reason the portal I ended up coming back through was somewhere in Ontario, and it took a while to work my way back down to the States. But I'm actually not far from Lebanon now, and I wanted to see if you guys were free so I could tell you all about it. If it's a bad time, though –"
"No, no," Sam cut her off, worried she might hang up and realizing just how fortunate it was that she had chosen today to call them. "It's actually a really good time. We've uh, got a bit of a situation here with Castiel. He got sick last week and hasn't gotten any better, and Dean and I still haven't been able to figure out what's wrong. But since you're in the area, do you think you might be able to come help us? You know, see what we might have overlooked? You're probably the best researcher I've ever met, so if anyone can help us figure this out it's you."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Sam," Charlie answered, and he could hear her chuckle faintly above the soft rumble of her car's engine. When she spoke again, though, her tone was completely serious. "I'll be there in two hours. Tell me what you know so far."
*DeanCastiel*
Ever since the Leviathans had pulled her into the insanely twisted and dangerous world of the supernatural, Charlie Bradbury had spent almost all of her free time learning everything she could about the monsters and spirits that made their homes all over the world. Most of the things she read about would seem like harmless stories to the uninitiated, just a bunch of urban legends kids told to scare each other – and for most of her life, the ginger-haired computer hacker had believed that same thing.
But the truth, which she sometimes still couldn't completely wrap her head around, was that every single one of those stories was one-hundred percent true. Vampires, werewolves, angels, demons – every last one of them was completely real. And in a weirder twist of fate than she had ever read in any Sci-Fi novel, she had somehow wound up with Sam and Dean Winchester, two of the most famous monster hunters in the world, as her surrogate brothers. She hadn't expected to bond with them nearly as closely as she had, especially since in the beginning she had only been a tool for helping Dean track down Dick Roman. But the Winchesters had quickly adopted her as one of their own, and before long she felt just as much at home inside their little broken family as she would have if she'd been born into it.
So when she finally reached the Men of Letters bunker, tucked so deeply into the base of a heavily-wooded hill that it was visible only to those who knew to look for it, she couldn't help but feel a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest. As she made her way past the glistening black 1967 Impala in the driveway and up to the front steps, a small smile began stretching across her face; by the time she reached up to knock on the door, it was wide enough to show most of her teeth. She knew this wasn't just a pleasure trip; curses could be nasty things, and considering the fact that she had never actually met Castiel before and so had no idea what was or wasn't normal for him, it was going to be even more difficult to suss out the right counter-spell. But even knowing all of that, the moment she rapped her knuckles against the door and heard footsteps approaching on the other side was the first time in over a year that Charlie had truly felt like she was home.
It took only a couple of seconds for the door to swing open, and before she knew what was happening Sam had wrapped her up in a tight hug, his monstrous strength making it a little hard to breathe. Inwardly, she thanked whatever higher powers might be listening that he viewed her as part of the family, because she would sure hate to make an enemy of someone who could most likely snap her like a twig if he wanted to.
"Hey, Charlie. How are you?" the hunter asked warmly as soon as released her.
"Pretty good," she said with a teasing smirk, "except I think my spine might've just cracked a little."
Sam just chuckled and ushered her inside, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze while he shut the door behind her. "I'm really glad you're here," he said soberly, his gaze flicking quickly toward the downstairs foyer as if making sure his brother wasn't in earshot. "Like I told you on the phone, we've been researching for days and haven't found out anything except what isn't causing this. And I'm pretty sure all the hovering is starting to get on Cas's nerves. I swear he looked about two seconds away from strangling Dean the last time he asked if he felt okay."
Charlie gave a dramatic sigh. "What am I gonna do with you boys? I take a little vacation and you all completely fall apart." She turned on her heel and started making her way down the spiral staircase to the main floor, already familiar with the layout of the bunker and eager to get started on the research. "Don't worry. I'll figure this out, I promise. Just try to keep the lovebirds from getting too fed up with each other while I do."
She never did hear what Sam said in return, because at that moment her eyes landed on Dean and another darker-haired man sitting side by side at the table on the lower level, deep in conversation and completely oblivious to what was going on above them. After a moment the second man turned his head slightly so he could gesture something with his hands, and when Charlie caught sight of his incredibly bright blue eyes and the dark five o'clock shadow covering his jaw she nearly jumped up and down with excitement, instantly recognizing that he must be Castiel. Just before she reached the bottom Dean leaned over and kissed the angel, and her inner fangirl squealed in delight. She had already known Dean and Cas were a couple for quite a while – Dean himself had told her about them a long time ago – but seeing it in action made it completely obvious why so many people enjoyed writing fanfiction about the two of them.
Despite the fact that he was an incredibly old and amazingly powerful servant of Heaven – and admittedly very handsome, even if he wasn't her type – Castiel looked downright adorable when he smiled against Dean's lips, practically melting into the hunter's chest as he wrapped his arms around him. And except for the slightest traces of dark bags beneath his eyes, he actually looked really healthy, which was weird considering he was supposed to be afflicted with some kind of deadly curse. She guessed things like illness might not be as easy to see in an angel as they were in humans, but still, something about it didn't seem to add up, and she made a mental note to look into that later. Dean, despite the worried lines creasing his lips as as he locked eyes with his lover, still looked more content than Charlie had ever seen him, and the sight gave her the same kind of warm fuzzies she always got whenever she saw a cute kitten video online.
Destiel for the win.
"Huh?" Dean grunted, pulling away from Cas so he could look over his shoulder toward the staircase.
Woops. Apparently she'd said that out loud.
"Oh! Uh, Charlie. When did you get here?" he asked, blushing slightly when it became clear he had just been too busy flirting with Castiel to notice Sam opening the door. She didn't even have a chance to answer before he was out of his chair and striding over to her, pulling her into a hug only slightly less painful than Sam's before he laughed and clapped her on the back. "Ah, hell, it doesn't even matter. I'm just glad you're here. We need all the help we can get."
He turned toward Castiel, who had risen from his chair and come to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, and gestured between them as he did the introductions.
"Charlie, this is Cas. Cas, Charlie."
"Holy crap," Charlie breathed, unable to come up with anything more eloquent for several seconds. "I, uh… The books always made you sound shorter," she stammered, blushing slightly when she realized how dumb that sounded and relieved when it actually got a small laugh out of the stone-faced angel.
"It's nice to meet you too, Charlie," he said warmly, a soft, almost shy smile pulling up the corners of his lips as he extended his hand for her to shake. A moment later he tensed in surprise as she practically pounced on him, giving him a quick hug before stepping back and laughing at the deer-in-headlights look on his face.
"You didn't think you could escape a Charlie Bradbury hug, did you?" she asked teasingly, smiling when she caught sight of his signature confused head-tilt. "After all, you're practically the third Winchester now, and it's the law in Moondor that all Winchesters shall be subjected to hugs from the Queen any time she likes."
She expected that to get another chuckle out of Castiel, or at least an amused smirk, since he seemed to be much happier than the stoic, serious, almost gloomy servant of God Chuck's books had always portrayed him to be.
What she didn't expect was the way he suddenly tensed from head to toe like she had hit him, his eyes growing shiny as they welled up with tears and his bottom lip beginning to tremble. It caught her completely off guard, and evidently the Winchesters too, because no one said anything for several moments, not sure exactly what was happening or how to react. Then Cas brought a hand up to cover his eyes, ducking his head and sniffling softly, and that was all it took for Dean to snap out of his shock. In an instant he had reached out and wrapped an arm around the angel's shoulders, pulling him close to his side and rubbing his chest in a way that was obviously meant to be comforting.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked softly. "You're kinda scarin' me a little here, Cas."
"I'm sorry," Castiel croaked, attempting to smile at Charlie and only succeeding in breaking her heart a little when she saw the shining tear-tracks running down his cheeks. "I-I'm very happy to meet you, Charlie, and… I'm honored that you consider me a part of your family. I know it doesn't look that way just now, but I assure you I am…"
By the time he finished speaking he was having to work hard to keep from openly sobbing, and it only got harder once he realized that fact and began to panic slightly. "Dean, what is happening to me? Why can't I stop?"
"Easy, take it easy," Dean soothed, already starting to guide Cas back toward their bedroom and shooting Charlie a half-apologetic, half-confused look over his shoulder. "It'll stop, okay? It will. Come on, let's go watch that 'Too Cute!' show you like. I don't even like cats and it still cheers me up…"
For almost a minute after Dean and Castiel disappeared around the corner, neither Charlie nor Sam said a single word. After a minute, though, Charlie swallowed hard and managed to ask, "So… I take it that's not his normal reaction to meeting new people?"
"No," Sam answered slowly, looking just as shell-shocked as she felt. "No, that's, uh, that's definitely new."
"Okay…" Charlie muttered. "Well, I guess we can add crazy mood swings to the list of sympt– Hold on a minute…" She gasped as it suddenly hit her: exhaustion, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, irritability, and now unexpected bouts of crying? It was crazy, totally crazy, and she knew she should probably be committed for even thinking it, but what if all those things weren't indicative of a curse at all? What if…
Without another word she strode over to the library table, looking through the stack of thick tomes until she found one that looked like it might provide some insight on the inner workings of angels and their vessels. The book was mostly hand-written, and appeared to be the journal of a 17th-century Man of Letters who had devoted his life to studying angels, specifically a small colony of earthbound seraphim who had lived together in a hidden settlement off the coast of Scotland. A lot of his handwriting was illegible, written either in Enochian or some kind of hieroglyphic-like symbols that she would love to try to decode at a later date. But whoever this person was had evidently wanted any future Men of Letters to be able to access the most important of his findings easily, because the parts which described everything the angels did in their daily lives in great detail were fairly easy to make out.
In only minutes she had found what she sought, two sloppily-written paragraphs that would have gone completely unnoticed amongst all the sketches and runes by anyone who wasn't specifically looking for them:
"It should not be possible, and yet I am unable to deny the veracity of the miracles I have been privileged to witness since being accepted into the company of the Fallen. Of these seven angels who chose to forsake the will of Heaven so that they might dwell among humanity, all, including the two male seraphim who each chose as their mate a human of identical sex, have conceived and birthed children of their own within the last two years.
"The younger of the males, Zeruel, may possibly be expecting a second fledgling as well, for he is beginning to exhibit the same fatigue and aversion to many foods that plagued him in the early months of his first gestation. More observation is needed, but if fortune smiles upon us, there may be another young angel born into this clan before year's end." – Nathaniel Sherbourne, 1657
For a long time Charlie could do nothing but stare at the text in front of her, until the rows of looping letters began to blur into one enormous Rorschach test of crazy. She couldn't believe it. Not only was her theory possible, it was actually probable! Without even knowing it, the Winchesters and Castiel had gotten themselves into yet another situation that should only have been able to exist inside the wonderfully strange world of science fiction. And she had just been the one to figure it out.
Ho. Ly. Crap.
"Charlie? What is it?"
"I think I figured it out, Sam," she said with a calm that surprised her, sliding a small piece of paper between the book's weathered pages before allowing it to fall shut. "I know what's wrong with Castiel."
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