A/N: Thank you guest Castielle for your review! (Of this story and "In a Minute".) I will add your request to my list of fics to try writing. =)

Chapter 4

Castiel stared at the wall of boulders with a baleful look, trying to determine if there was any way he could dig them out himself. But Sam was right; the risk of triggering another collapse was too great. He turned to Claire, who was still sitting on the ground where Castiel had tackled her. A few thin streams of light trickled through tiny gaps in the rocks, so at least running out of oxygen wouldn't be a problem.

Claire sighed. "Can't you just…fly us out?"

"My wings are broken," he replied gruffly.

Claire looked taken aback. "Oh." She fell silent for a moment before asking, "Is that why you drive that ugly-ass car?"

Castiel frowned. "Is it really that bad?" Sam had called it 'crappy,' and even Crowley had expressed disdain for it. Granted, he was a demon and Castiel didn't care what he thought, but if it was the majority's consensus…

Claire was giving him a funny look. "What do I know about cars anyway?" she finally said dismissively.

"Well, I don't have it anymore. It was stolen."

"Someone actually stole that piece of—um…" Claire coughed into her sleeve. "Auto parts?"

"The perp used it as an escape vehicle," he replied.

"Ah." Claire roved her gaze around the mine shaft, thrumming her fingers on her leg. "So you gonna get the 'I told you so' over with? Because I'd like to point out that the cave collapsing is not my fault. It could have happened to anyone."

Castiel angled a stern look down at her. "Anyone careless. Given the age and decrepit state this mine is in, it would have been prudent to investigate the stability of its structure before what was inside. Do you have any idea how lucky we all were that no one was seriously hurt? You, Sam, or Dean could have been killed!"

He stopped to suck in a harsh breath. He was getting worked up, his heart rate increasing unnecessarily again. Why did it keep doing that? He used to have much better control over his vessel.

Claire's jaw was tight as she stared back at him. "I'm sorry," she said in a low voice. "I was just trying to protect people since no one would believe me about the monster."

Castiel's shoulders sagged. She was trying to do something good; he understood that unbridled drive all too well, and how it could end up making things that much worse.

"Well, if there is a creature in this mine, let's hope it doesn't show itself until we are no longer trapped here." Castiel turned to face the barricade bitterly; there was once a time he wouldn't have feared such an encounter, would have offhandedly scoffed at the idea that a mere monster could pose a threat to him. He wasn't so sure anymore. And as long as other people's lives were on the line, Castiel would prefer flight over fight.

A pebble slipped loose from the top of the rock pile, tumbling down and knocking out a few more chinks.

Castiel's pulse spiked again. "We shouldn't stay so close to the cave-in." He turned and crouched down next to Claire, prepared to give her a hand up, but then he noticed the rip in her jeans and bloodied flesh dimly illuminated in a shaft of outside light.

"You're hurt! Dammit, why didn't you say something?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "It's a skinned knee; I'll live."

Castiel thought he heard another pebble come free, though it was hard to hear over the blood suddenly rushing in his ears. "We need to move." He slipped one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up in one swift motion.

"Hey!" she yelped. "Castiel, I can walk!"

He ignored her protests and carried her several feet away, far enough that if another support beam broke, they shouldn't be caught in the resulting cave-in, but close enough there was still a little halo of hazy light to see by. He gently set Claire on the ground again.

She scowled. "You don't need to treat me with kids gloves, I'm not that breakable."

"Yes, you are." Castiel began pulling the edges of the torn jeans apart to see the wound better. "You're human and fragile and precious, and I should have been looking out for you better." Some of the skin was grated clean off, bloody streaks sticking to the pants material. "This is all my fault."

Claire let out a soft snort. "I thought it was mine for charging in here in the first place?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

Claire's brows rose. "Are you even listening to me?"

Castiel reached out and covered the injury with his hand, calling upon his grace to mend torn flesh and blood vessels. He could still do this, at least. An aura of golden light suffused from his palm, washing through mortal tissue and putting it back together. Castiel drew his hand back, revealing smooth skin.

"Thanks," Claire mumbled.

He barely heard her. His gaze had caught on the bright red smear staining his palm. Blood. Claire's blood. Screams filled his head, and Castiel jerked away, stumbling over himself as he retreated to the far wall, chest heaving and vision coating in crimson.

Claire scrambled to her feet. "What the hell?"

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't real, it wasn't real. "Where's the Grigori sword?" he ground out.

"Right here. Wh—"

"Hold onto it."

"It's not going anywhere," she said petulantly.

Castiel blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. He couldn't dispel the odor of copper. "I mean keep it in your hand."

"Why?" Claire asked slowly, suspiciously. She was right not to trust him.

"Just…" Castiel clenched his fists, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper of shame. "Just in case."

There was a prolonged beat of silence, and then he heard shuffling as Claire moved to the opposite wall and slid down to the ground. He also heard the faint clink of steel hit dirt as she probably set the sword next to her.

"Are you having a panic attack?" she asked.

"No," Castiel automatically responded. He refused to have…whatever these episodes were, while Claire was still in danger. He had to keep it together for her.

Drawing in several deep breaths, he managed to straighten and open his eyes. The red haze of Rowena's spell was gone, and with a semblance of control back, Castiel was able to blink the blood away from his hand. Only the thudding of his heart gave away that he was barely hanging on in this maelstrom of memories.

Except, seeing himself hurting Claire wasn't a memory. At least not in the literal sense of what he was seeing. He had hurt her, though, in other ways. Perhaps this was just his subconscious finding an outlet for the conviction of his sins.

Claire pulled one knee up, dangling her arm casually across it, as though unfazed by this whole thing. "Since when do angels get panic attacks?"

"They don't. I…" Castiel fumbled for an explanation, and, failing to come up with one, slumped in defeat. "I don't know what I am anymore."

"So you're having either a panic attack or an existential crisis."

"I'm not…well, right now," he forced out through gritted teeth. "And I don't want to hurt you."

Claire was quiet for a moment. "I don't think you'll hurt me," she said softly.

Castiel lifted a conscience-stricken gaze to her. "I ruin everything I touch."

Claire shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "Guess we have that in common, huh?"

He frowned. "Claire…"

"You heard Jody," she interrupted. "I'm a menace. And before that…well, you know. You and Sam and Dean want me to give 'normal' life a try. But the truth is I'll just mess that up, too, so why bother?"

Castiel instinctively took a step toward her, stirred to offer some kind of comfort, though he wasn't sure it was wanted or appreciated. "You're being too hard on yourself."

She smirked. "Mr. Pot, meet Mr. Kettle."

Castiel furrowed his brows and looked around. "What? There's no—"

"Oh god, you're hopeless." Claire rolled her eyes. Then her expression softened in contemplation. "Maybe we're both too hard on ourselves. I mean, Jody, Sam, and Dean seem to think there's something worthwhile in us, right?"

Castiel thought back to how hard the Winchesters had fought to find Rowena and have her reverse that spell before it killed him. And then how they'd let him stay in the bunker to recover, giving him time and space rather than insisting he get back out and on the trail of the Darkness. And last night, when Dean found out Castiel was still…struggling, the older Winchester had promised to help. As though maybe Castiel wasn't as permanently broken as he thought.

"Adjusting is…hard," he said, and swallowed against the lump in his throat. "But not impossible."

Claire didn't say anything else, yet her mien was thoughtful as they lapsed into silence.

The sound of shuffling dirt reached Castiel's hearing. He stiffened and whipped his head up. It was coming from the opposite direction of the unstable entrance.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked, following his gaze.

Down the pitch-black mine shaft, a pair of yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness.

The minute they were back in cell range, Sam dialed Jody's number. It rang five times before going to voicemail.

"She's not answering."

"Well try again!" Dean snapped.

Sam huffed in frustration; he was just as worried as his brother was. At least neither Claire nor Cas had been seriously hurt in that cave-in, or worse, half buried under rocks. They just needed to wait for a rescue. As long as there wasn't, in fact, a monster living in that mine…

He hit redial. The line rang several times, and each second that ticked by made Sam grip the phone harder. He was transferred to voicemail again.

"Jody, call me back as soon as you get this," Sam said hurriedly. "Claire and Cas are trapped in an old mine and we're gonna need rescue to dig them out. They're not hurt," he added quickly. "Just, call me back." He disconnected. "Should we go by the station?"

Dean nodded, and started to make the turn, but then slammed on the brakes, throwing Sam against the dash.

"What the hell, man?"

Dean was leaning over the steering wheel and gazing down the opposite street. "Jody said something about working a convention today." He pointed down the road to where streamers of red, white, and blue balloons were positioned on the sidewalk in front of what looked like a community center.

Cranking the wheel, Dean made a sharp turn, earning a honk from a nearby motorist he'd cut off. He revved down the street and pulled up right in front of the red zone. A police officer detached himself from the entrance and started storming over.

"Hey, you can't park here."

Dean exited the car and whipped out his fake ID badge. "FBI. We need to talk to Sheriff Mills." He flipped the ID closed so quickly, the beat cop hadn't had much chance to really inspect it.

Sam scrambled out of the car, patting down his pockets in search of his own federal credentials. Crap, they were in his suit. Which made him wonder whether Dean actually had his on hand, or if he'd flashed some other fake ID and was hoping the police officer wouldn't notice.

The guy was staring at them dubiously, and Sam realized they were covered in dirt and looking about as far from professional FBI as possible.

"Listen," Dean continued. "Just keep acting normal here, okay? There's no need to raise alarm on an unconfirmed tip, but if you don't want to be the reason this whole shebang gets blown up, then stop trying to delay us."

The cop sputtered soundlessly, eyes rounding as he cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder.

"You know Sheriff Mills, right?" Sam tried. "She's expecting us."

He nodded nervously.

"Where can we find her in all this?" Dean asked impatiently.

"Uh…I think by the stands…"

"Great, your country thanks you." Dean pushed past the officer and marched onto the track field where white tents were being set up over a stage and podium. Lawn chairs were erected in rows across the center of the field, and streamers flailed from the stands. The crowd was a mixture of uniformed personnel either with law enforcement, maintenance, or a catering company.

Sam jogged up beside his brother. "You practically told that guy there's been a bomb threat. At a presidential Democratic convention. They're gonna have the Secret Service swarming this place."

"Don't really care right now, Sammy." Dean veered left, and Sam had no choice but to follow.

They spotted Jody talking to some deputies near the spectator stands. She blinked in surprise when she saw them, but dismissed her men before coming to meet them.

"What are you boys doing here?" She raised her brows at their filthy appearance. "Please tell me you didn't take Claire mud wrestling."

"We've been calling," Dean said, the tension evident in his voice.

Jody frowned and checked her pocket. "Oh, must've forgotten to take it off silent after the first briefing." She whipped her head back up. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

Sam's stomach clenched with a feeling similar to that of having thrown a baseball through the neighbor's window and having to fess up about it. "We were looking around the woods with Claire and found an old mine. It collapsed."

Jody's eyes widened. "What? Where's Claire?"

"She's trapped inside," Dean said. "But don't worry, she's not hurt, and Cas is with her. But we need help digging them out."

Jody started shaking her head as if in denial. "You've got to be kidding me. And you're sure she's not hurt?"

"Cas said they were both fine," Sam assured her.

She made an aggravated noise in the back of her throat, and unclipped her handheld radio. "This is Sheriff Mills. Someone get me the fire chief." She then skewered Dean with a glare. "Is this what you meant when you said you'd help her settle down?"

Dean ducked his gaze guiltily.

Jody swept her eyes over the field and sighed. "Dammit, everyone's rolled out to this convention. It's gonna take at least an hour to mobilize fire and rescue."

"Jody, they're fine, they'll still be there," Sam said, trying to sound confident despite the worry niggling in the back of his mind.

Jody took a deep breath. "Alright. You boys wait here while I round up the troops."

"Actually, uh…" Sam hesitated. "I want to stop by your place real quick and check something. We can meet you at the campgrounds and show you the way in?"

Jody gave him a questioning look, but then her radio crackled with the fire chief responding. "Okay, sure. Alex should be home by now. Tell her what's going on and that I don't know when I'll be back." She lifted the radio to her cheek and hit the talk button, turning away to mobilize search and rescue.

Sam pivoted and started heading off the field.

"What do you need at Jody's house?" Dean asked.

"Claire said she did her homework," he replied. "And I want to know what she found on that legend."

"Thought you didn't believe she had a case."

"Yeah, well, I really hope I'm right about that."

Dean didn't respond, but his mouth thinned into a grim line of agreement.

"Agents," the uniformed officer at the gate greeted nervously when they reached the street. "Is everything—"

"False alarm," Dean cut him off, winding around the Impala's front to the driver's side. "You all can carry on."

Sam flashed the guy a hurried smile as he scrambled in after his brother. Dean started up the Impala and pulled away from the curb sharply. They arrived at Jody's house fifteen minutes later.

It took three rounds of knocking before Alex finally answered, one earbud dangling over her shoulder, the other still stuck in her ear. She arched an unimpressed brow at them. "Don't tell me Claire lost her key." Peering between them, she frowned. "Or you lost Claire."

"There's, uh, been an accident," Sam said.

Alex's expression turned guarded. "Like one of the random people Claire's been attacking fought back, kind of accident?"

Dean pushed his way inside. "A cave-in. Jody's trying to round up search and rescue, but it's gonna take a while with that stupid convention in town."

"Oh." Alex stepped back. "Um, is Claire okay?"

"She and Cas are unhurt, but trapped," Sam explained. "Uh, I need to take a look in Claire's bedroom."

Alex furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Just checking on something," he replied. "Just in case."

Though she still looked doubtful, Alex gestured for Sam and Dean to head upstairs. She followed.

"Door on the left," Alex said.

Sam felt weird intruding on Claire's room without her permission, but it was necessary. He briefly noted the lack of personalization on the walls and furniture. Looked like he and Claire shared the same tastes in decoration. Which, when he'd have more time to think about, might not have been a positive thing.

He went to her desk, which was covered in loose papers and books. Only the lore books were the ones cracked open; the textbooks for college were stacked neatly and untouched on the corner.

Dean kept checking the time on his phone. "Come on, man, I want to get back there in case Jody was able to get them moving faster."

"Just give me a sec." Sam sorted through the printouts from websites on vampires and werewolves until he spotted something he'd never heard of before. A mishipeshu, or underwater panther. According to Native American mythology, this creature was often malevolent and killed humans. Sam rifled through a few more pages until he found a historical piece on Sioux Falls…and a legend about a Native American myth dwelling in a cave near the area.

Sam's stomach tightened. They'd hunted on less…

He scooped the papers together and into his arms. "Okay, let's go."

"What'd you find?" Dean demanded.

"A legend attached to that mine," he replied, meeting his brother's gaze grimly.

Alex was still standing in the hall, arms crossed over her chest. "Are you saying there is actually a monster out there?"

Sam shook his head. "We're not sure yet." He and Dean started down the stairs.

"Maybe I should go with you," Alex called out behind them.

Dean paused at the front door. "No, you just stay here. We'll be back as soon as we can dig them out." He swept outside, Sam on his heels.

"But…" Alex surged forward and gripped the doorjamb.

Sam met her worried gaze, and tried to give a reassuring nod. It didn't really come across. As he climbed into the Impala and looked at Claire's research in his lap, Sam was suddenly not half as confident as he'd been that morning.