Author's Note: First of all, thank you so much for the awesome reviews, guys! They've made my day. Secondly, there are a few things of note in this chapter. One, this idea sort of stemmed from Misha discussing how awesome this certain movie is at the All Hell Breaks Loose II convention in Australia (it's on a souvenir dvd). Two, Misha seriously does have a freaking adorable laugh. If you've never heard it, you need to cart your bottom over to youtube and start hunting.


I is for Invitation


Things are very slowly falling into place, like broken puzzle pieces fitting back together. Castiel and the boys go on hunts together across stateliness and mountains and rivers, but Sioux Falls is always their final destination. The quaint, unassuming house of Sheriff Mills is home now. Though, perhaps more so for one of them than the other two. Dean and Sam are off celebrating a successful vanquishing, an offer they'd extended, but any fool can tell this was sacred brotherly bonding time. Dean had been without his little Sammy for months, if you thought about it, and he's missed him. They don't deserve an intrusion from outside parties.


The sound of fluttering wings beside her is a pleasant surprise. Jody looks up to see their resident angel standing in her laundry room. "Hey, handsome. What's up?"

"Hello, Jody." The way she always greets him with a smile—whether she's having a good day or not, bad mood or dead tired—it does interesting things to his insides. "I was," Castiel trails off, unsure how to convey what his alien emotions are doing. More even… he's never been one to voice dependence before. It makes him uncomfortable in his own skin.

Jody folds up the last of the laundry, facing him with her hands on her hips and a twinkle of mirth in her eye. "Don't leave me in suspense, Cassy."

Cassy. She calls him that sometimes. It had started out as just her trying to needle him in that frivolous way of hers. Now, it's a reminder of established camaraderie. Of an unlikely friendship.

"I was lonely," he admits sheepishly.

Her features instantly soften, eyes regarding him tenderly. Without needing to ask, she understands. Jody sets down her pile of clothes and says, "How about we see what's showing at the theater in town, huh?"

That smile again. His stomach does a peculiar sort of flip. Odd. He feels otherwise fine.

Castiel nods, a sense of relief filling him. "That sounds… acceptable."

She swats his arm upon passing and jingles the keys she's retrieved. "Are we driving or flying?"

There's been something building, an energy between them, that he can't quite place the import of.


As they stand in the theater lobby, waiting their turn, Jody weighs their options. Her eyes pass over The Cabin in the Woods and American Reunion right away. Titanic 3D makes her shudder, though it's interesting to note Castiel's pinched expression when he notices the title. She briefly considers The Hunger Games—the idea of injecting a little culture into the angel's life is tempting—and she thinks he might enjoy Wrath of the Titans. But really, there's so much violence in all their lives right now, especially his, that a break from reality is beyond promising.

It's then she learns that Up is replaying on the last screen in twenty minutes. Jody looks to her companion, hovering beside her; he's stepped back, allowing her full authority. He's taking in his surroundings with quiet curiosity, content to let her handle the situation. Jody turns to the clerk as they step up to the counter, a smile forming on her face. "Two tickets for Up."


The angel is fascinated by the ingenuity of animation, and he regards the screen with a certain measure of wonderment.

"Paradise Falls reminds me of the Grand Canyon," Jody remarks in the virtually empty darkness of the theater.

"I've never been," Castiel admits, accepting the popcorn with a frown of intrigue.

"What?" She looks at him, shocked. She'd have thought he, of all people, would have. The angel could travel anywhere with a mere thought. But she supposes even that's become difficult for him. He has to pick and choose where he pops up nowadays. Jody angles back to the screen, nostalgic for a place that has existed only in her dreams. "I'd love to go there. It's on my list, if life ever gets back to normal."

Castiel nods, finding he enjoys the taste of the greasy popcorn more than he ought to. He'd rather not have a repeat of the burger fiasco. "It seems unlikely though that a house tied to a swarm of balloons would be able to traverse the globe."

Jody chuckles, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Movies are all about suspending your disbelief. It's where we normal ol' boring folk go to escape."

"You're not boring, Jody."

She's amused, keeping up her air of cheerful self-recrimination. "You're sweet, hon. But your standards are seriously low."

"Perhaps," he shrugs, the movement foreign to him but strangely natural-feeling. Jody's not sure if he's responding to the idea of standards, or the suspension of disbelief factor. It doesn't really matter, though, because, for the next two hours, the world in peril and other such issues are nonexistent. "I enjoy the character of Mr. Fredricksen," the angel says, smiling a little when the old man on the screen grumbles at the plump scout about tigers and snipes. "He… reminds me of Bobby."

Jody's smile is a little watery, voice softening as she watches the screen. "Yeah, he does."


"My name is Dug. I have just met you, and I love you."

Into the movie, when Castiel starts to relax and get into the plot, Jody hears him laugh for the first time. It's soft and brief at first, usually in conjunction with Kevin the bird or Dug the dog engaging in silly banter and hijinks. But by the time the movie is halfway through, it's evolved into full on snickers and the occasional belly laugh. Jody can't get enough of it, and laughs along with him. It might be the most amazing sound she's heard. Fun fact, world. Angels of the Lord love Pixar movies.

"This is crazy. I finally meet my childhood hero and he's trying to kill us. What a joke."

"Hey, I know a joke! A squirrel walks up to a tree and says, 'I forgot to store acorns for the winter and now I am dead.' Ha! It is funny because the squirrel gets dead."

On the screen, Russell smacks against the glass window of the blimp, dragging slowly across with a terribly funny sound. Another round of laughter bubbles up between them, and Jody grabs at the angel's sleeve in her delight.

"You have the most amazing laugh," she chortles, nudging against him happily while she gets her own outburst under control. His sense of humor is the best kind of absurd. He'd been taking the movie so seriously, and it's a real treat to watch him loosen up.

But at her comment, his laughter fades into a bemused and hesitant smile.

He wonders how that could have happened. It's Jimmy Novak's laugh, isn't it? He doesn't quite know anymore. This body has somehow, along the road, become his. When he looks at his reflection, he no longer sees Jimmy's eyes staring back at him, but his own. Castiel isn't sure if he should feel badly about that. He does miss Jimmy's company in his thoughts and feels responsible for his fate, along with the guilt because of it, but then… he knows too that Jimmy is happy and at peace now.

It takes Castiel a moment to realize that Jody hasn't let go of his hand. It's a bizarre thing, and stranger still, it makes him feel as if he'd stuck his arm along an electrical current. Nothing that could cause any real harm of course, and yet…

"You're still holding my hand," he blurts out in a magnificent display of eloquence. Smooth, a voice sounding suspiciously like Dean's berates in his head.

"Oh, sorry," Jody replies, having clearly not realized she was. It's gone from his a second later and her attention is back to the screen. She knows he's not accustomed to being touched and takes his remark to be one of discomfort.

Castiel is disappointed the second she lets go, like he's suddenly lost contact with the world, and he wants to tell her that it wasn't a complaint. He just doesn't know what it means. But she's being swept back into the heartwarming story playing out in front of them and he's left with more doubts than answers. It would be rude to interrupt her enjoyment, wouldn't it? Social protocol dictates that the film viewing experience should carry on with relatively no disturbances, from what he's learned. This custom is viewed as sacred and he would be remiss to ignore societal niceties. (something about his motor mouth – jody is patient, explaining everything to him, whereas, in the past, his questions were met mostly by annoyance and irritation)

But then… this is Jody Mills.

It takes him another twenty minutes (almost to the credits) before he musters the courage to curl his fingers back over hers, and it feels like he's just swallowed a bowling ball covered in restless mayflies. He's besieged the fires of Hell, lead armies in wars of literally biblical proportions, yet this might be the most daunting thing he's ever done. It feels awkward and a little inelegant, and what if he's made a mistake?

But she's smiling at him, perhaps a little surprised, if unspokenly aware, and Castiel knows he's following the right script. They've each taken turns saving the world. Yet somehow, in the comforting darkness of the theater, that doesn't seem so important.

"That might sound boring, but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most."


Author's Note: Fun fact? Up is even funnier in Enochian. Also? Every time you don't review, Dug must wear the cone of shame.