Chapter Nine

"Cas!"

"What is it, Jack?" said Castiel flatly, not bothering to cock his head to one side as he usually did. "I am busy unzipping my zipper. I cannot seem to manage it… And you should perhaps consider not calling me that. Only Dean Winchester can…nickname me."

"…okay. Fair enough. Do you want help with your zipper?"

"That would depend on uncle's… I mean the Doctor's feelings concerning extramarital coitus, Jack. I –am- an angel of the Lord, as you recall, and would not take kindly to being coerced into an unholy act."

"…a gentleman, I see. The offer still stands. Do you want help with them?" Jack said, smiling as he imagined what the angel looked like behind the door. It was still surprising that he'd managed to convince the holy being to change clothes at all… not that Castiel ever seemed to smell of anything but camphor and roses, all sorts of scents that one would find attractive. Angels couldn't help it, he'd said. Well not in so many words, but… heh.

"..them? I am only wearing one pair of… oh. Yes, yes I believe I have negotiated the zipper."

"How long do you think Gwen and Rhys and the children have to stay where they're at?"

Finally, the angel slipped into the room wearing a dark grey, half-zipped hoodie and dark jeans.

"I am unsure. But the Old One cannot find them, for the moment."

"Thank god. But, why didn't we just take them there to begin with? And, Castiel…" Jack drew in a hard, cold breath from the open window, then let it out painfully. "How is the Doctor? Is he still safe? Do you know anything? You were in pretty bad shape when you came back."

Castiel reached out, placing a hand on Jack's blue-shirted shoulder. "Jack… he is still with Rose and Half-Ten. And he is still pregnant with twins, minus the third child, Hosannah, whose birth I aided. She was the most mature of the three, the most viable, and the most likely target for possession. As it is, I believe the Doctor is abreast of the situation."

Jack paled, looking from Castiel to the small blanket of Hosannah's held in those long elegant hands. Then Castiel handed the blanket to him, and he clung to it for a moment before rising from where he had perched himself on the edge of the hotel bed.

"This blanket is to lure it away from them, yeah? Please tell me the other two fetuses aren't…"

The angel nodded grimly, eyes glimmering like Chinese paper lanterns in the dark of the morning. "He is still pregnant. Perhaps you should get dressed, Jack Harkness…" he said, gesturing to the fact that Jack's shirt hung unbuttoned over red heart boxers. Then his cheeks took on a certain redness, and he averted his eyes.

"You're blushing, Castiel. That's kinda cute, on you. But yeah, about that- can you toss me my pants… I'm thinking about that dream I had, the one you had to wake me up from."

The angel rubs his chin, nudging the tip of his thumb and the line of his forefinger into place along his sensuous lips. "And what did you conclude, Jack?"

"I don't think I should go with you."

Castiel started, despite himself. The man must have been remembering how he had tried to kill the angel, and applied that possibility to the child, or, perhaps the Doctor. Or Gwen and Rhys, and their own small boy, Anwen. Humans were… confusing to him, no matter Dean's unique explanations. And for that matter, he rather suspected that Dean and Sam's life had not been... what was the term? The norm.

"Do you want to stop me leaving?"

"Is there a reason for me to, you mean? Yes, Jack- there is. You are unique among the beings which inhabit Creation. Shub Niggurath will be drawn to you. Moths and flames."

Jack pretended to think about this, before he spoke. "So it's really not safe anywhere for them, is it? Why did you separate us then?"

"I zapped Gwen, Rhys and Anwen to a friend of mine's… place. Being with so many humans who have been around me will mask Hosannah's scent with mine. But you, now… you and I will have to… stick together. I will bring them, you and the Doctor back together again when his condition has progressed sufficiently enough to draw the Old One out from his hiding place. My brothers the Archangels are also preparing… a little something. But that plan involves the TARDIS, and is not at present our concern. At best, Shub Niggurath will go after the tastiest targets, namely, the Doctor or you. But Jack… if all else fails, we will have to use the Doctor as bait anyway. Which is another reason you aren't with him right now."

"He wouldn't be able to say no, if it meant saving lives." Jack reasoned as he regarded the permanently pained look the angel always seemed to wear, "I get it. Heaven is giving the Doctor a chance to come up with a plan. Yeah, I get it. I just don't like it."

The angel's sad sack expression screamed honesty so badly, it almost seemed laughable that any plan he was involved in would actually work. He seemed oblivious. "And that is why you must remain with me, Jack Harkness. I am to be your… what is the word? Babysitter."

But Jack just shook his head, heaved another sigh, and glanced toward the hotel room window again. He had never been good at helplessness. Or being babysat.

Then something moved in the closet, and a single box slid off the top shelf, crashing to the floor at Jack's feet.

They both started for a weapon, the Time Agent grabbing for his Webley, the angel suddenly holding a decrepit looking Colt marked with Enochian sigils…

Slowly, so achingly slowly as though ending a scene at a burlesque show, a tan-skinned woman with long, thick golden curls to her shoulders stepped like a queen from the familiar recession of two lovely blue doors, spilling light everywhere into the cool cream hotel room.

"River Song! Sweetheart, it's great to see you, but how long has the TARDIS been in our courtesy closet?"