AN: Another super long chapter, so buckle up. Thanks to all my followers and reviewers. A special thanks to peddlergirl for transforming a chapter that looked like Frankenstein's monster into something coherent.
A man's distorted voice echoed in your head. "You really are worthless, Y/N. If only I could get rid of you, too…"
You desperately fought the tears that threatened to fall. "Please… I'm sorry. I know I've been more trouble than I'm worth, but I'll get better. I'll be better. I promise. Please… you can't leave me alone." You were on your knees and kept an eye on the bottle of beer dangling in his grip.
"It's no wonder nobody wants you, Y/N. You know that, right?" The voice sneered.
A single, silent tear escaped. You saw the room spin before you felt the pain of the blow.
"Like I said, something to cry about." Your eyes drifted up towards your father. He gave you a look of annoyance and took a swig of beer before letting out a hiss. "That one looks like it's gonna bruise. Anyone asks—"
"Softball practice." You mumbled and looked away.
"Right. I didn't sign you up for nothing." He looked smug. Softball was the perfect cover for his outbursts. "You'd think it'd make you toughen up a little bit though." He cast a sideways glance at you.
"Yes, Dad." You spoke quietly. It was an automatic response at this point. It was easier to agree with him than risk things escalating. "Can I go to my room now?"
He nodded and waved you away.
As you walked towards your room with your head hanging, the walls twisted and morphed until it became the bunker. Sam's voice stopped you as you walked past his door. "He really has a point, you know." Sam casually walked towards you and leaned on the doorframe.
"W—what?"
Dean appeared behind you. "Your Dad, Y/N…"
"Really, Y/N. How do you think this all ends? We don't need you." Sam shook his head at you.
You looked to Dean. "Please, Dean. Tell him… I love you. We're in love…"
"I think this one really likes you, Dean." Sam began laughing. "You really are thick sometimes, Y/N. Dean was just having fun. You just happened to be the flavor of the month, that's all."
You looked at Dean and he merely shrugged. "This ends either with you getting killed on a hunt or the next time I meet a hot chick named after a flower. Whichever one comes first."
Tears started flowing and you choked back a sob. "You don't mean that…"
"Aww, Y/N. You know how I hate to see you cry." Dean lifted his left hand to touch your face gently. You let yourself take comfort in his touch briefly. Then, his eyes turned black as he pulled his right hand into a fist and punched you.
"DEAN!" Your voice echoed through the darkness surrounding you. The darkness of the bunker was the first thing that registered and your brain immediately went into panic mode. You were left with no point of reference and nothing to ground yourself in reality. You automatically reached for the only constant that had been in your life recently. The knife under your pillow—or was it Dean's pillow…? Your memories were a jumbled mess.
Air. You needed air but you couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. Your head began to throb and dizziness assaulted your brain. You let out something between a wheeze and a whimper as you curled in on yourself and clutched the knife tightly.
You could sense that you were alone in the suffocating silence. You were shaking, but your hand remained still. Your fingers worked automatically, the same way that they had even before you met Sam and Dean. It was as simple as muscle memory and adjusting to individual knives… The blade flicked open with ease. It found its way to your left hip and you felt a small slice of pain.
It cut through your panic enough to establish some level of reality. You shakily took your first deep breath. You knew the pain was real, the pain was always what was real. It started to fade before you'd grounded yourself. This time you drew the blade against your skin twice. The shaking stopped and your breathing continued to even out.
Light was next on your list. Your hand reached out to the side as you felt for any sort of bedside table or surface. You were rewarded with a table on your left, but there was no lamp. Instead, your fingers grazed something smooth and rectangular. Cellphone… You grabbed it to use the screen as a light. You saw one of your bags and the blankets that you'd kicked off of the bed in your sleep. As your location registered in your brain, you nearly fell backwards on the bed with relief.
Your bare feet were greeted by the cold floor when you stood up to flip on the lights. As you leaned against the wall, you were pretty sure you felt more exhausted than when you'd fallen asleep. But after the taste of what nightmares awaited you, sleep was the last thing you wanted right now.
Right now, you wanted to be alert. Most of all, you wanted to focus on anything other than the circus in your brain. You avoided your reflection in the mirror as you made your way into the bathroom.
You absently gazed at the cuts you'd made tonight. They were desperate and somewhat deep. The red lines ran perpendicular to each other. They would take a while to heal.
You turned on the shower before peeling off your sweaty t-shirt and underwear. The cold spray sent a jolt through your system and left you gasping for air. You forced yourself to step further into it without adjusting the temperature. The icy water felt like a thousand tiny needles and brought the world into sharp focus. You let it run over you as you started to shiver. Your limbs began to ache, but you didn't care.
You just wanted to focus on anything but the fear and panic that had been chasing you for months. It was all starting to catch up now that you were in the bunker—a place you felt safe in. You couldn't afford to lose yourself, not yet. Sam needed your help to find and fix Dean. Dean was Sam's priority. You doubted that he'd given much thought to Castiel. Cass was in deep and you were possibly the only person that listed fixing him up on your list of priorities. Those three were your family now and they all needed that cold focus you drew out in times of crisis.
You started to feel a little better and dried off. Better enough to go make some coffee at least. With a steaming mug in your hand, you made your way to the library. It was almost five in the morning and part of you regretted the fact that you couldn't have slept longer. Given how tired you were now, it was going to be hard to make it through the day without crashing.
Over the next few hours, you went through all of the books on various types of exorcisms that the Men of Letters had to offer. None of them seemed to fit what Dean needed. A thought suddenly occurred to you in the late afternoon. It was so obvious, it had to be wrong. There was no way that the answer was that simple and staring you in the face. You decided to call Cass first.
"Y/N. Are you alright?" Castiel sounded more alert, but not necessarily better.
Don't think about it. You sidestepped the topic. "Just tired. Cass, I need to ask you something."
"I see. What is it?"
"The blood ritual that Sam used on Crowley during the last trial, is it possible that we could use that to cure Dean?" You began to pace as hope and anxiety fought for control of your brain. A lot hinged on Cass's answer.
There was a long pause. "I suppose it's possible… There's no guarantee that anything will work though, Y/N. I'm sure you know that this… situation with Dean is unique." It was so like Cass to be a skeptic when he truly wanted something to work out. You related to him not wanting to get his hopes up.
You sighed. "Yeah, I know. But we don't exactly want to exorcise him, we want to save him. I'm pretty sure that means curing a demon. Or something adjacent."
"Y/N. You saw what happened to Crowley. Are—are you willing to put Dean through that? We don't know that it'll work. He may not survive."
"Dean will survive." Your response was automatic. There was no other option in your mind. "I'll try anything if it has a chance at helping him come back."
"I think you have your answer."
"I guess I just needed to hear it from you. I need to call Sam. Thanks, Cass." You felt slightly unburdened by his reassurance and faith in you.
"Keep me updated on Dean."
"Don't worry. I'll keep you in the loop if anything happens. Stay home and rest up. Your grace is next on my list."
You heard Cass sigh. His tone shifted and he sounded so resigned. "Y/N… Perhaps it's best if—"
"Hey, you're my Wingman, my Winchester Whisperer. I'm gonna need you ready to go when Dean's back or else the two of them combined are gonna drive me insane." You kept your tone light. You were disappointed at the silence that greeted you. "Hey, you hear me, Cass?"
"Yes. I hear you. You should call Sam with the news." His tone hadn't changed and you frowned a little.
"I'll call you later. Take it easy." You ended the call before things could get more depressing. You were determined to find a way to help Castiel. You would pray on your hands and knees if you had to—something you hadn't done since your Mom died.
The angels were mostly dicks and God… You doubted his existence until Castiel told you otherwise. Now you were certain that God was nothing more than a powerful little boy that enjoyed making butterflies so that he could feel the joy of slowly pulling their wings off and watching them die. Killing God was a big item on your list. It would have to wait for later though. For now, you had to call Sam with the news.
His phone rang a couple times before he answered.
"Hey. What's up?" Sam sounded mildly concerned.
"I have a plan to help Dean." You let yourself feel a little bit excited as you said the words.
"What? That's great!" Sam sounded genuinely thrilled. For the first time in a long time, you didn't feel like a failure. "What's the plan?"
You sucked in a breath through your teeth. Sam really wasn't going to like this part. "The blood purification ritual that you used on Crowley. I'm thinking that we can't exorcise Dean, but we can try to cure him."
There was a long silence. "That might be a long shot. How sure are you that it will work?" Sam's voice was low and quiet. You could practically hear him thinking though.
Not at all. And there's no way Sam can do the ritual again. "I talked to Cass. I think it's our only shot, Sam." You paused and took a deep breath. Nothing about the ritual was appealing to you. But you could spare Sam from it and you would be willing to do anything for Dean. You wouldn't agree to this if it were anyone else other than the Winchesters and Castiel. Ok, maybe Charlie too. "I'll do the ritual this time. I think—"
"No." Sam's voice was still quiet, but it had a dark edge to it.
"Sam, listen. We learned a lot since—"
"I said no, Y/N. You're not doing the ritual." Sam's voice was firm and left little room for debate. But you were done picking battles with Sam and Dean. You knew Sam's judgement was impaired, not that yours was any better …
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Sammy… We need to get Dean back." You kept your voice soft. "I know the last time we tried… it was bad. It really messed with you for a long time. We both know that you won't make it through another one."
"No. Either I do it or we find another way. Dean wouldn't want—"
"Dean wouldn't want to be a demon, but here we are Sam." Words began spilling out of your mouth as your voice rose. "So please, help me think of another way or let me do the ritual because I can't lose both of you."
"Y/N—"
"Fuck it. Sam, you know Cass isn't doing so great. I'm going to lose Dean if we don't do something soon. And this ritual… it could kill you and Dean. You and Cass are my best friends, my family. And Dean… you know how much he means to me. If I lose all three of you, that's it. You're all I've got. So please, keep yourself out of danger. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me, Sam."
Sam cleared his throat and you could hear him quietly struggling to find the right thing to say. After a few moments he spoke. "We need a work around." His voice was quiet. You didn't really expect him to have a reply for your outburst. Not over the phone anyway. "The ritual requires blood—we know that. What else?"
You bit your lip and thought for a moment. "We probably need the blood from one person. The blood also needs to be purified through prayer."
"Right." You could almost hear Sam thinking and forming a plan. "We get the blood from a hospital. They should have some from organ donors. We might have a chance at getting a good amount from the same donor. After we find that, I'm thinking we could maybe find a priest to bless the blood."
"Sure." You scoffed. "How are we going to convince a priest to bless a bunch of stolen bags of blood?" You had trouble picturing this scheme working.
"I'll figure it out. We've convinced people to do more under shadier circumstances. This should be a walk in the park." Sam was sounding more confident by the second.
"Well… I guess. In theory, it should work." You reasoned with yourself. The blood ritual had provided results, but this method lessened the risks to everyone involved. It was a tough choice, but Sam was probably right this time. "Are you sure Sam? Changing spells and rituals can get dicey."
You heard Sam let out a breath. "The whole plan is a long shot. We can't do anything until we find him. What I really need are some leads. Is there anything you remember that might lead me to him?"
"I told you everything, Sam. Crowley's group is keeping a low profile. There were never any freak storms or signs when we moved. Occasionally someone went missing or ended up dead because of the demons, but none of it was extraordinary enough to hit hunters' radar. Dean's still driving the Impala. So I'd keep an eye out for police reports on cars matching that description." You closed your eyes and tried to think of anything that would help. "Crowley liked to bitch about the motels only being fit for roaches. Dean insists on the cheapest and most anonymous places he can find. He'd occasionally book a Super 8 or Motel 6, but nothing above that."
"I guess I'll keep looking then. Let me know if you find anything else." You could tell Sam was trying to hide his frustration. It was hard not to take it personally.
"I will."
Sam promised to check in again and ended the call. You were left alone in the library again feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. Self-pity and loathing could wait. With a possible solution to getting Dean back to normal, you needed to focus on actually finding him and fixing Castiel.
You grabbed your laptop and opened the program you and Charlie had created a few months ago. It was designed so that you could easily access and cross-reference any government database including law enforcement. Charlie made it ridiculously easy to use. All you had to do was enter basic descriptive terms in the search engine. From there, you could check boxes to refine your search to various government agencies. There was even an option to further narrow the results to a geographic area.
You completed three separate searches. The first search was for the Impala, the second was for any person matching Dean's description, and the third was for any of Dean's known aliases popping up.
You sincerely doubted that anything would turn up this early in the game and you were right. You didn't let that deter you though, something was bound to happen sooner or later. The program would refresh the searches every fifteen minutes as long as you left it open. If any new results came in, the computer would light up like a Christmas tree and send a notification to your cell phone. Charlie was amazing enough to create a corresponding app for your phone so you wouldn't have to constantly monitor the laptop.
You didn't enjoy researching angels. First of all, most of the lore failed to mention what self-absorbed assholes most of them were. It was difficult to find information that wasn't completely tainted with one religious view or another. Secondly, there was very little information available. Most of it was based on bible stories and speculation. Over the last couple years, you'd managed to nearly double the amount of information on angels in the Men of Letters database.
The lore on the nature of angel grace was even more limited. You put your hands over your eyes as you realized that the research would barely provide a jumping off point. Everything would be based in theory and speculation. You didn't like the idea of experimenting on your friends.
You grabbed a notebook and began jotting down any ideas you had. You only stopped to brew more coffee and eat whatever you could easily grab. Hours passed as you worked and you noticed that it was well past one in the morning. You could feel the urge to sleep taking over, but you refused to let you mind stop working. Unfortunately, will power and coffee could only take you so far.
It was dark and you were on your back. You could feel soft blades of grass and damp earth beneath you. For a brief moment, you felt at peace and let out a sigh.
That's when you heard something rustling in the plants. Your blood ran cold as you felt something move against your body. The paranoia and fear never left you. Ever. Your brain instantly recognized the flicking of its tongue and the feeling of its scales against your skin. No no no no no… The fear was so overwhelming that you froze in terror.
You felt the snake begin to slowly slither up your arm. It would reach your chest in moments and then… Terror morphed into blind panic. You were on your feet and running. You had no idea where you were or where you were going, you just needed to get the fuck away.
You finally stopped running when you found yourself at your Aunt Sarah's farmhouse. As the sun rose, you could get a better look at your surroundings. The house looked to be in bad shape and the lawn was overgrown. The trees—Oh God, the trees…
All of the trees—and there were a lot of them—had extremely large snakes decorating their branches. They made the limbs look as if they were writhing. You reached for your gun and began shooting at them. This was so wrong, they didn't belong here of all places.
Every one of your shots hit the mark and provided momentary relief. Dead snakes fell from the trees around you before you eventually ran out of bullets. There were still snakes in the treesbranches hissing angrily at you. You wanted to run, to scream… But where would you go? You held your voice in fear as you forced your legs to work and back away.
As soon as you took a step backwards, a new horror took shape. Slightly smaller snakes began to spill endlessly from the dead ones. They slithered towards you as you ran. The scent of water and wet earth hit you and you felt yourself sinking. It wasn't like quicksand, it was like the earth itself was trying to suck you in. It held in the same spot and you hoped the mud would swallow you before the wave of snakes caught up.
You were neck deep now and you realized that you would not be spared. The slithering, hissing swarm gathered around you. One coiled back in preparation to strike. You saw fangs and felt a jolt.
You felt yourself falling and your head smacked against the cold floor. The nightmare sent you scrambling briefly as your lungs attempted to suck all of the air from the room. This time it was easier. The library lights were on. Your laptop and phone were going off. Fucking snakes… The noise is what probably had woken you up.
The tracking program… Your brain registered what this meant and you instantly went into action. You cut the alarms and looked to see what triggered it. There was a police report that included a witness statement and surveillance footage. As you waited for the video to download, you checked the witness's statement. It roughly matched the search terms you'd entered for Dean and the Impala.
You anxiously waited for the download to complete. You wanted to be absolutely sure. If you had any doubts, they were erased once you pressed play. You almost forgot to breathe as your eyes widened. It was definitely him, you'd recognize Dean anywhere. You pretended not to see the porn magazine he was openly flipping through in the convenience store and focused on the situation. He was standing, seemingly innocently enough. Suddenly, you noticed the man behind Dean start to step towards him. His eyes flashed black and he tried to attack Dean. A demon attacked Dean. Why…? Dean began to fight him off and you caught a glimpse of the blade. Your brain tried to take you back to the motel room, back to Alicia. You fought off the memories and forced yourself to focus as you reached for the phone.
Sam sounded groggy as he answered. "Y/N, is everything all right?"
"I've got him." Your eyes were fixed on the last frame of the tape.
You heard Sam draw in a sharp breath. "What?" He was instantly more alert.
"The program Charlie and I put together. I put in Dean's description and the Impala. It just triggered a hit in the police database." You were breathless. This was a solid lead. It couldn't have happened more than a few hours ago. "The hit is from Wisconsin. There's a police report and some surveillance tape from a convenience store. It's definitely him, Sam."
"You're sure?" You could tell you were on speaker now. By the sounds in the background, Sam was already packing his bags.
"Absolutely. The report is from Portage County. Where are you now?" Determination filled your voice as you walked to your room and grabbed a pre-packed bag you kept.
"Uh… Iowa. I think. I'm not sure if I crossed the state line last night."
"It's a fresh lead. Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but you need to hit the road." You made it back to the library and tossed the notes you'd made on angel grace in your bag.
"I'm already leaving. I'll be on the road in less than five minutes." You could hear Sam moving quickly in the background.
You reached the garage and were greeted with the sweet sight of your car. You loved Dean's car, but it wasn't yours. Your car was the only thing that you could really say was yours other than the weapons and books you hoarded. You blindly reached for the keys and came up empty. "Hey, Sam… Where are my keys?"
"Why?" Sam tried to come off as innocent. You knew better. You knew he took them and now he was going to play this game.
"Because if I leave right now, I'll only be a day behind you." You tried to keep calm and hide your anger. Accusing Sam of taking your keys and starting a fight wasn't going to help.
"Y/N, there's no way you're back to 100% after less than forty-eight hours in the bunker. How much sleep did you get after I left?" Sam's voice was full of concern. You wanted to ignore it. Acknowledging everything would only take away that cold edge of focus that you needed.
"I'm fine. Where are my keys, Sam?" You closed your eyes and bit back at your irritation.
"You're not fine. I knew you'd end up being a flight risk. I took your keys with me before I left."
There it was, confirmation of your suspicions. "You had no right to do that…" You worked to keep yourself from shouting at him.
"Had no right to do what, Y/N?" Sam's tone was gentle but you could hear an edge of frustration. "Had no right to make sure you don't go out and self-destruct while I'm gone? You made a deal with me. You told me to bring Dean home. You said you didn't need me to stay and babysit you. But just because I'm out looking for Dean, doesn't mean that I stop looking out for you." Sam let out an audible breath.
"I let you down before, Y/N. I stopped looking out for you. That's not going to happen again." Your heart broke a little when you heard the guilt in his voice. "All I cared about was finding Dean. I know you can take care of yourself and I assumed that Dean would protect you. I never—I never really stopped to think about the danger you might be in. I even let myself feel angry when I realized you were alone." Sam's voice got quieter as he spoke. Your heart shattered at his admission. "When I saw you passed out in the corner, when I really saw what kind of shape you were in… I was wrong, Y/N. It should have been enough to find you and get you back. Nothing can change or fix the last few months, but I can do better. I can try to keep you safe and be the friend—the brother that you deserve."
You sank to the floor and tears threatened to fall. "Sam—"
"You're the closest thing I have to a sister, Y/N. You've saved my life—our lives countless times. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. You deserve better than being constantly put behind someone else. What makes it all worse is how selfless you are. You never put yourself first and I took you for granted. Not anymore. So yeah, I took your keys so you would stay in the bunker and maybe, just maybe take care of yourself." Sam paused for a moment. "Look, we can talk about this later. I need to get on the road and…" Sam trailed off.
You sniffed and decided that you'd let this one go. "Call me when you get there. Ok?"
"For sure."
"Take care of yourself, Sammy." You ended the call and walked back into the bunker. Sam wasn't your brother by blood and you'd never called him that out loud. You'd called him your family before, but never a brother.
You thought about it for a moment and wondered why you'd never said it before. It's not that you didn't feel it or that Sam hadn't earned the title. And Andy... Andy was gone. You quickly turned your thoughts away from him. You took a moment and briefly allowed yourself to feel normal, to feel like you finally had a family that cared about you.
The moment passed and you focused on the only two things you could do. You could monitor the laptop and you could work on fixing Cass. Your notebook already looked like the work of an obsessive maniac after one afternoon. You sighed and realized your thoughts had been too scattered. There were random words, phrases, diagrams, things crossed out, and the odd drawing of Dean's eyes that you'd started to make as your mind wandered off.
You started again with what you knew. Metatron used Castiel's grace to put heaven on lockdown. When Cass lost his grace, he became human. Did he survive losing his grace because of the spell or because of something Metatron did? Or was it something else entirely? Next, Castiel stole grace from another angel. It made him an angel again, but now the stolen grace was killing him.
You jotted down your thoughts. Grace didn't equal a soul, but it was something close to it for angels. You started a list of things to try in order of optimal outcomes. First on the list was to find a miracle that would restore Castiel to angel status completely—given that miracles were few and Castiel's status in heaven was questionable, you doubted that this was a plan and not a wish. Second, you could try to find a spell to turn an angel into a human. If Lame-atron could do it, surely you could find a way. And third… If stolen angel grace restored him to angel status before, maybe it would work again—like changing batteries. You didn't like the thought, but you also didn't like most angels. It wasn't even a question in your mind. You would be willing to start killing angels to give Cass more time.
Deep down, you knew that Castiel would refuse the last solution. He always wanted to protect you and keep you off of the angels' radar. A human killing angels would only draw attention, probably quickly. He'd put the angel warding on your ribs, but he was never too worried about angels finding you. Castiel once admitted that one of the reasons that he'd been so initially puzzled by you was that neither he nor any other angel had any knowledge of your existence.
THEN
"I don't understand how a human could go unnoticed for so long… You are truly an anomaly, Y/N."
You leaned against the Impala. You had a few minutes before Sam and Dean finished questioning the witness. "Cass, I stopped praying around the time my mom died. I'm not an anomaly, I'm just not broadcasting on angel radio. And before that, you guys didn't notice the pleas of a little girl or you didn't care. Either way, it doesn't matter."
Castiel furrowed his brows. "You stopped praying. Why?"
You cast a pointed glance at Castiel. "I think you can put together a few reasons. Why would I keep asking someone to help me when I know no one's listening?" You shook your head. "Religion, believing that there was a God to catch you when you fall… That's not really worked out for me."
Castiel nodded, but you weren't completely sure he understood.
"Did you see the time I came home with a concussion?" You were willing to talk about this one memory to help illustrate your point.
"No, I don't believe so." Castiel squinted as he tried to remember.
You sighed as you realized what you had to do. Insecurity began to claw at your chest and you worked to tame it. "That memory only. Nothing else."
Castiel shifted his stance and glanced around. "Y/N, are you sure?"
"Yes." You focused you energy on not curling in on yourself and tried to look confident instead. "Take a look, Cass."
He gently pressed two fingers to your forehead as you concentrated on what you remembered from that night. Castiel stepped back after a moment and you watched him run a hand through his hair. He turned away from you and you knew it was because he couldn't hide his emotions, not this time.
You jutted out your chin. You summoned all of your strength because the last thing you wanted was his pity. "What did you see?"
"Y/N…"
"Tell me what you saw. I know you know what happened. You felt it. You wouldn't act this way otherwise."
Castiel finally turned around to face you. He tried to put on a mask of compassion, but it wasn't working. He was too upset. "You were still very young and you were injured in some sort of game—I think. Something struck you in the head. You were in a great amount of pain. A woman brought you back to your home." Castiel squinted as he attempted to figure out the next sequence of events.
"Don't worry, that night's a little spotty for me too. Keep going. What's the next thing you saw?" You dug your toe into the ground as you spoke. You pushed harder into the dirt until a little cramp started in the bottom of your foot and grounded you.
"The woman brought you inside and she spoke with your father before she left. Your memories are fragmented, I'm sorry." Castiel was holding back. He was avoiding the part that upset him the most.
"What did my dad do, Cass? Did he take me to a hospital?" You prompted him even though you both knew the answer.
"Your father did nothing. He did not take you to see a doctor. Your father drank that night and took pleasure from your pain as he watched you laying on the couch. He eventually became… agitated and ordered you to go to your room. You fell on the stairs and received further injury." Castiel stood next to you and leaned on the car as well. He looked extremely uncomfortable as he momentarily tried to avoid making eye contact.
"Keep going." Your voice came out as a whisper.
Cass let out a deep sigh, his forehead wrinkling in a combination of pain, guilt, and pity. There it is… "Your father laughed and he spoke to you. He told you that your guardian angel was punishing you. He told you that this is what happens to daughters that disobey and talk back to their fathers."
You nearly mouthed the words as Castiel said them. "Are you starting to get the picture now? I'm not an anomaly. I'm nothing special, I just stopped believing in something that wasn't there."
Castiel gave you a pained look. He placed a hand on the top of your head before you could stop him and his eyes flashed with a brilliant blue light.
"Cass!" You pulled away quickly. "What did you do?"
Castiel looked down and began to study the ground. "You were left with some lasting damage. I believe it is the source of the tremor in your hands that you experience when you are ill or sleep deprived. The tremor would've only gotten worse in time. The injury could have had other effects as well." He looked up at you. "I thought it best to heal you."
You blinked at his words, unsure of whether to thank him or ask how he knew about the hand tremors. Cass tried to understand you, he'd even healed you. I suppose it's his way of saying he's sorry about my crappy life without actually saying it. You settled on a simple thank you. "Same rules as before. You can't tell them."
Castiel nodded and you moved back to where you had been standing. The both of you stood next to each other in silence as you waited for Sam and Dean. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, it was more like an understanding.
NOW
You eyed the angel blade that you had in your duffle bag. Now that the pearly gates were open and heaven was back in business, angels wouldn't be as easy to find. After a year of life on Earth among humans—many of them had never even left heaven before—they were probably desperate to get back to the mothership. But this was a last resort.
You turned on some music as you began pulling spell books from the shelves. It would help you stay awake and keep working. Luckily for you, you had a head start on lore before you'd even started hunting…
AN: Thanks for reading. Reviews are love. As stated before, I'm taking suggestions so let me know what you want to see. It just might appear.
