MONDAY
The walls in Castiel's house are relatively thick— Cas had been able to sleep whenever Anna brought a boy home, Anna had been able to shut out Cas's music because "nobody listens to that shit, how are you related to me."
So the thuds coming from the bathroom are very impressive.
He pauses the Funny or Die playlist to go knock on her door. "You alright?"
The water turns off. "Yeah," Anna yells. "But that goddamn removable showerhead doesn't want to stay in its doohickey."
"Are you putting it in wrong?"
"I know how to take a goddamn shower!"
The water starts again.
Cas can't help smiling as he returns to YouTube— he doesn't know if she's doing it on purpose, to make him laugh (although he's been brained by the thing more than once) but it's still funny. Should it be funny?
Everything is very surreal. He's still waiting for his expulsion phone call, or for the police to show up at the door— but when someone knocks, and he checks the peephole, it's only Uriel.
"Hey, man." Cas waves him inside.
He's known the other boy since before he could spell either of their names, so he knows when something's up. And sure enough—
"What are you watching?"
"Funny or Die." Cas sits back down. "Wanna see the—"
Uriel elbows him out of the way, leans forward, and starts typing into the YouTube search bar.
Cas shoves him back. "The hell are you doing?"
"Ion posted a video." He points, but he doesn't need to: Cas can read the screen perfectly well. The title is funnier than it should be— who even says apeshit— but it's already hit the three-hundred-one view mark of a new video.
He doesn't click play.
He'd been there.
"The audio sucks, but I got bits and pieces." Uriel still isn't sitting, and so Cas stands as well. He wonders if this is going to turn to a fight, if Uriel is ticked— how much he knows. Because if he needs a fistfight to get it out of his system, Cas gets it.
"Yeah, I—" he almost says he was high, but he wasn't high. "I kinda… lost it."
Uriel isn't smiling or making bad jokes yet and he doesn't like this. Doesn't like this at all.
"I could tell."
"Yeah."
Awkward silence.
"The person you were yelling about was Dean, wasn't it. Balthazar said you saw him on Aurora that night, when you dumped him, remember that? And now you… and now you do this and don't even say anything?"
"Sorry I didn't call any of you," Cas says. "I've been— just trying to chill out. Figure I'll get arrested any minute."
"Everyone saw the cut on his face. That's pretty intense, even for you." And then there's the shadow of a smile. "But— people are— saying things."
Crowley? "What things?"
"Well, not saying so much as, Dean showed up yesterday, during lunch, and then you went apeshit—" oh god, is that going to catch on? "And— it seems like— are you—" Uriel shifts weight, foot to foot. Tugs at his collar for a second. "Are you—"
There are many possible endings to this question. "Am I what?"
"—gay?"
Oh. Wait, so I scream at and attack the principal, and what people are talking about is 'Castiel is gay?'
Well. At least high school students have priorities. "No," Cas says, and the look of relief on Uriel's face makes his stomach coil. Why is he relieved, why would he— "I mean, I don't know, really, maybe I'm bi or— I don't know all the words." He likes some people. He loves Dean.
It's getting easier to think every time he does.
"No," Uriel says. "No, no—"
Cas is so tired. "What's your problem? You voted for gay marriage, you laugh when Gabe reads The Stranger—"
"Other people." Uriel's fists are opening and closing, and Cas takes another step back, because this isn't something they can solve with a fight. He doesn't want to fight. His back hits the wall. "Other people. You're one of my best friends, why can't you just be straight, huh? And over a homeless—hooker? "
"You shut your mouth—"
"We all know what it means when a pretty boy stands on a corner on Aurora, although apparently Mr. Ralston is freaky too—"
"You shut up about Dean—" (Because that one is something Cas can fight him on, this one…"
"And people are going to find out, my parents are never going to let me stay over here again, and—"
"We're going to college in four months, they can't—"
"And— and you like cock, and you didn't tell me— how long have you known?"
Cas doesn't answer.
"How long?"
What is even happening right now, why today? Six hours ago, he… "I don't know," he says. "A few years, probably. Jesus. It's not like I was lying every time I went out with a girl, or whatever, I just—"
"I've slept in the same tent as you!" Uriel's eyes are wild now, as he moves closer. "What if—"
"What if my hormones took over and I jumped you? This isn't Ang Lee movie, you're my friend, I'm not attracted to you, sorry—"
It's a surprise when Uriel's knee lands in his stomach. A surprise enough that he doubles over, and an elbow to the back has him down on his knees.Third time today, he thinks inanely. The next blow hits his face.
"What would you do that?" and it sounds like Uriel is crying, but Cas can't tell if the drops on his face are tears or blood. It hasn't even occurred to him to fight back yet, and when it does, he sort of shrugs the urge off. He's too tired, and he has nothing to fight against, now that he's stopped talking about Dean. It isn't an argument about pizza toppings, it's an argument about facts, about Cas, and kicking Uriel's ass won't make what people are saying less true. Won't make Cas's sexuality less true.
"Tell me it's bullshit," Uriel says. "Tell me it's bullshit." Another hand to his face. His nose is probably bleeding.
He just looks up.
The light bulb is very bright.
And then there's the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
"Get out of my house," Anna says, and Cas hadn't heard the shower stop.
They both turn.
She's naked, soaking wet, pointing the colt at Uriel. Uriel, whose mouth falls open, closed, open again.
"Out."
She's standing between him in the door, and Uriel looks around, and then shoves one of the windows open. Rolls out ass first— it had been their escape, when they'd played cops and robbers or assassin, they all jumped out that window so many times, but that childhood is over now.
Cas touches his nose.
Yep, that's blood.
"Dad doesn't have any ammo for the Colt," he says.
"Well I wasn't planning on actually shooting him. Never liked him, but—" with Castiel's recent actions, any violence should be kept to a minimum, yeah.
"Oh," Cas says.
"Are you okay?"
Blood is dripping onto his shirt. To join Ralston's.
Everything feels very surreal.
"Yeah," he says.
"Okay." She nods. "Um…"
"Could you please put some clothes on?" Cas asks.
She nods a few more times. "Okay."
TUESDAY
Anna leaves in the morning, with many apologies, because her friend needs his car back and she has finals coming up and Cas totally understands, drive safe, and she makes him promise to stay safe and she'll call him and he says okay.
But it's Tuesday, and everyone else is in school. And he hasn't told any of the others about Uriel's visit, and his only texts from Gabe and Balth have been along the lines of "are you crazy/are you okay/do you need anything."
He doesn't need anything.
But he's bored.
He's bored, his nose isn't broken, but the bruises around his face are unsightly anyway. Are going to make people look at him funny, ask questions. But sitting around has never been his style, he's on the 'die' end of Funny or Die, and after half an hour of drifting and reading the newspaper (thankfully absent of stories about violent Catholic school students,) he's putting his shoes on and driving to the Roadhouse.
Jo is in school, and there's only one person crashed on the sofa, but there is always something to be done. Scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush, sorting the magazines by issue and date.
"You're not on the schedule today," Bobby says when he enters.
Cas shrugs. "Just… didn't have anything to do."
A frown. "I can't give you service hours."
"Don'eed 'em."
Bobby sighs. "Why aren't you in school?"
"Suspended."
"You what?" and there's Ellen, who has appeared from apparently nowhere. "Jesus, Cas. What happened to your face?"
Never any bruises where people could see. Uriel broke the first rule…
"That part of where you got that shiner?"
"No… no, that was later." Cas touches the bruise again. It hurts just a bit when he presses on it— he isn't sure why he still does. "This is from my friend Uriel." Not friend anymore, it's weird to be reminded of that. Uriel's been a constant, all his life, they're brothers, they'd made a pact when Lucifer got into a rage and Gabe said that Lucifer and Michael weren't his brothers, Uriel, Cas and Balthazar were, and they'd promised…
Bobby and Ellen are both staring at him, similar expressions of concern that's so parental Castiel wants to laugh. These two aren't even married, but here they are.
"You… want to elaborate?" Bobby waves a hand at his face.
"I got suspended for— yelling at the principal." They'll know the full story if the school calls to warn them, since the Roadhouse number is on his service learning forms. And there's nothing more to say there, without getting Dean in trouble— and maybe he should try and get Alastair in trouble, except he doesn't know what the prostitution laws are these days, and Dean was over eighteen, and anyway Dean would have to testify and shit and he doesn't need that in his life. "Then my friend Uriel came over, and I don't think we're friends anymore."
Bobby pats his shoulder. "Well, we always need someone to sort the magazines."
"Cas—" Ellen shakes her head before she can finish the sentence. "We're here if you need something, okay?"
They wouldn't be here if they knew about the x-acto knife, but it's nice to hear all the same. He nods, and heads towards the shelves.
The kid on the couch sits up as he approaches. "Who are you?"
"Cas."
"I'm Richie," he says, and promptly falls back asleep.
"Nice to meet you, Ritchie," Cas mutters, before pulling magazines out in handfuls. Life, Time, People, Us Weekly, Rolling Stone going back to the nineteen eighties. He pauses on a Time from oh-five, frowning at the cover— The battle over Gay Teens.
He considers laughing, but doesn't.
Just tosses it into the pile with the rest of its kind.
"Well, howdy." And that's a drawl he can now identify without looking.
"Hey, Benny."
Benny sits down on the sofa, taking no apparent notice of Ritchie, who grunts a little before storming off to find another place to sleep.
"What are you doing here?"
Bobby's typing away at the desk, Ellen seems to have disappeared upstairs again. They probably have another hour before whoever is doing lunch today comes in, so Cas talks. "I attacked the principal," he says. "I'm insanely suspended."
"Well. Look who's finally…" Benny waves a hand, and Cas is left not knowing what he finally is. "What'd he do?"
Dean, and the bile rises in his throat again, but he shrugs.
"'Cause Dean was plannin' on visitin' your school yesterday, that—" Does everyone know? Does fucking everyone know? Cas turns around, and Benny must see something on his face, because he raises his hands. "Sorry, brother. Didn't mean to get pers'nal."
"The principal deserved it."
"Good enough for me." Benny hesitates a second, then sits down next to him. "So, name, and then date, right?"
Cas nods, and Benny joins the sorting.
"Jo says to tell you she's got your iPod and your friend's shirt," he says.
"How…"
"Well she had to give you your iPod anyway, so Dean gave her the shirt."
Because Dean— Cas hopes his voice comes out casual, when he asks, "you seen him?"
"Not since Sunday." Sunday. The— Cas rubs his bruise again. "Thought you talked to him yest'rday?"
"I saw him, but he got caught. Had to run." Why are his hands shaking? Why is everything always shaking now?
Benny shrugs, unconcerned. Holds up an issue with a particularly unflattering picture of Charlie Sheen. "I don't think I'd want to be on the loose with that guy. He looks like a creep."
Cas just nods. "Is there anyone around to— you know—"
"Fight?"
"Yeah."
"Everything's real quiet. Haven't heard anything from the Levis in days."
It's wrong that he's so disappointed.
They finish sorting in silence.
WEDNESDAY
He never thought he'd be this bored again.
There have been long summers, but he's always had the others to knock around with. And then Jo and Dean came along, and life was exciting.
And now he's bored.
He isn't sure if his parents are aware of his suspension yet, and it seems stupid that schools punish kids who get in trouble by letting them out to get inmore trouble. And he should probably have checked before now to see if this will affect any of his college acceptances. And thinking about all that stuff makes him want to scream.
A few months ago this seemed incredibly important. When all anyone could talk about was where they were applying.
Cas sighs.
Gabriel would probably ditch school to get up to shenanigans with him, but Cas doesn't have any shenanigan ideas. And he hasn't seen Gabe. Because Gabe always runs away from conflict, and… Cas's current plan is to avoid them until his face heals, because that way if Uriel wants to pretend this never happened, he can.
It's a lonely thought.
His phone vibrates, and the way he dives for it is probably a sign of just how desperate he is.
Jo Harvelle
- Have u cn dean since mon am?
Benny hadn't been worried yesterday, but if he still hasn't turned up— and Cas pretends that he hasn't been wondering, with every sound outside, if Dean is there, if he's going to try and talk to him, because it's not like Dean doesn't know where he lives, because he knows that if he's not at the Roadhouse Cas has no way to find him— because Cas is not obsessive. Cas isn't wondering what would have happened if he had finished his test earlier, and they'd had a moment.
They would have agreed to sweep the entire thing under the rug and go back to busting gangs. Or maybe they would have agreed that they should avoid each other forever. Although Cas wouldn't have agreed to the second one, but if it's what Dean wanted— well, Cas is pretty good at being a martyr. Or whatever.
Jo Harvelle
- Im skipping, meet me at RH?
Cas half runs for the car.
He's stopped bothering to pretend that his time there is community service. Stopped filling out those forms, because he finished the required number of hours months ago and he didn't want to have to deal with Naomi's raised eyebrows.
So when he shows up, and Bobby makes a face like what's it take to get rid of this kid, Cas just shrugs and says he doesn't need to sign in.
Jo and Victor are at the corner table, playing Jenga and having what looks like a very involved conversation.
"He's probably just taking a day off after all the drama," Victor says, nodding a hello to Cas. "How do you plan on findin' him, anyway? There's gotta be like a hundred thousand people in the city."
"Six hundred and twenty thousand," Cas says, and then realizes that that doesn't help at all. "When'd you last see him?"
Jo starts wiggling a block out. "Monday, early afternoon. There's a video—"
"I've seen it."
"Balthazar sent it to me, wanting to know if I knew anything about it, so I asked Dean." The block is removed successfully, and balanced on top. "Then he left— I think he was gonna try and find you."
All his friends are traitors. Cas pokes a block out of the middle, because he's all about safety.
"Well, he didn't find me." Although that could mean any number of things. "You seen Sam?"
"Yeah, Benny got him from school yesterday," Jo says, watching with raised eyebrows as Victor leaves the upper part of their tower balancing on one block. "He says that he's probably okay— actually what he said was 'Dean's always missing, and he's always fine.' Said it'd be just like him to chicken out and then hide."
"Dean wouldn't leave—" Victor stops and reconsiders. "Dean wouldn't leave for this long without even telling Sam he was going to be gone. Go, Jo."
"I'm thinking."
"Sam could be lying for him," Cas says. Because Cas hangs around the Roadhouse, maybe too much for it to be Dean's safe space. And the idea that he's pushed him out of it— maybe he should stop coming around, and then he'd hardly ever see Jo but they could still go running, and seeing her wouldn't hurt because even though he'd think of Dean, this wouldn't be her fault. "Dean knows we'd worry." Because Dean is fine, Dean is always fine, Dean's proven that he's capable all on his own, "and so maybe Sam's… covering?"
Jo finally selects a block, and pokes it gently. Glaring at anyone who moved, as though the briefest movement will knock it down.
Although that's probably true. There's only one block left on the bottom row as well.
"People come and go," Jo says. Although Cas isn't sure how she's talking clearly,, because she's focusing so hard that her tongue is sticking out a bit. "Maybe—"
Maybe—
"Nah." Victor shakes his head a few times. "I know Dean. He wouldn't just ditch everything."
"So he's coming back, then," Cas says. "I mean… Sam still has school."
He doesn't know who last touched it, but the tower collapses.
Jo starts building it up again, and Cas can't breathe.
He bows out of a turn to go to the bathroom, poop and flush the toilet and wash his hands and try and rationalize that tiny, nagging voice that sayssomething's wrong, Dean isn't okay, into projection. Cas is the one that's not okay. It's not as though Dean is sending him telepathic messages.
Wash hands. Soap. Twenty seconds. Dry hands.
When he gets back to the Jenga table, he sees that his spot has been stolen by a ginger wearing garishly bright colors.
Like a mature adult, he steals a chair from another table, instead of demanding it back.
"Oh, there he is," Jo says. "Cas, Charlie. Charlie, Cas."
"Your fake girlfriend?"
"I'm your what?"
Jo waves a hand. "I was trying to convince Cas's parents that we weren't dating."
Charlie goes very still. "Are you dating?"
"No," Cas says, frowning at her expression.
She smiles. "Cool."
Jo smacks her on the arm, and gets a glare for her disruption of the table. "So where've you been?"
"Squatting, mostly." Charlie pulls a laptop out from under the table, and Cas tries really, really hard not to wonder where she got it. "Dean stopped by a couple months ago, asked me to keep an eye on some stuff online. Crowley leaving you alone, Cas?"
On his knees with Crowley jerking his head forward— It takes a second to remember when Dean visited her. The Angel thing. Because for some reason, Crowley knows that…
"Crowley," he mutters.
"What?"
He nods to Charlie's computer. "You got internet?"
She looks positively offended. "Of course."
"Can I—"
Charlie curls over it, muscles tensing. "Can't you just tell me what you want me to look up?"
"Yeah, go to YouTube?" The Jenga tower falls again, but this time nobody bothers to set it back up.
"What am I searching?
He doesn't remember the actual title. "Castiel Novak apeshit, it should show up. And— can you mute?"
She hits another key, and turns the screen slightly towards him. Cas has her zoom in on the side, towards the door, because the walls around that area are all windows—
"Pause."
He squints at the face. Any student could have stopped in the hall to watch the shit go down, but the way he's standing— and Cas doesn't think he can hear—
"Wait," Charlie says. "Mr. Ralston— that's Alast—" she stops, but seems to pick up on what Cas is implying. And turns the volume back on. There's the buzz of a loud noise, and then Cas's voice, and he flinches. She mutes it again. "Did you use Dean's name?"
"I don't remember." He doesn't remember half of it, just the feel of flesh and the door biting his foot— "I know I did, at the beginning, when we were still in the office, but I don't know how loud it was… I thought Crowley left."
"He could have come back in to grab something," Jo says. "Or pretend he's not listening at the— wait, why were you and Crowley in the office together?"
"Because someone flushed all of my stuff," he snaps, and Jo looks vaguely guilty.
"Wait so you think this Crowley guy ratted?" Victor asks. "I'm losing track of the characters. Who's Alastair?"
But Cas's mind is racing. "Doesn't matter," he says. "Crowley would be able to place Dean, because I met him on Plunge and I don't remember exactly but we had a big share-fest and I probably mentioned him. And that's the type of shit Crowley remembers— he knew that I had Dick Roman's knife and about the fighting ages ago, that's why Dean went to Charlie, to get her to change my address so he couldn't tell people where I lived— so if Crowley wanted something from any gang in the area all he'd have to do was trade them for this information—"
"And Dean's always here," Jo says. "It wouldn't be hard to say 'Dean from the Roadhouse,' all they'd have to do would be send someone in to identify him. Then they'd just have to wait to get him somewhere out of the way—"
But this doesn't make sense, because "Why wouldn't they go after me? Why would Crowley tell Roman about Dean, and not me?"
"Dude." Victor frowns at him. "You're a private school student, son of a famous author. If you were murdered, or taken, it'd be a huge thing. Dean—"
Dean can just disappear. Because at the end of the day, once you dig past the sarcasm and the musical taste and the jokes and the smiles and the determination and the care and the everything that makes Dean Dean, he's just another homeless teenager, and those disappear all the time.
And if they learned Castiel's location from Dean, then it couldn't trace back to Crowley, the way it would if Crowley told them straight out.
Cas wants to vomit. But he can't, he can't do that, because that's not how this goes. He's going to figure this out.
"If he's not just taking a tour of northern Portland," Victor says.
Right.
"It should be easy enough to figure out if someone has him," Charlie says, turning the computer away from Cas and doing some magical skullduggery. "There'd be chatter on the web, the safest place they could take him is Roman's, and it's not like Dick Roman's house doesn't take up an entire zip code."
It's not all that surprising that someone with such an awesome knife is also filthy rich, but Cas had always sort of assumed that it was the mob who had lots of money and the gangs that… went after other gangs.
Months of fighting who Dean pointed him to, and he still doesn't know much about how they work.
That's a little embarrassing.
Or maybe Roman is just very unconventional. Either way, when Cas had pictured him, it was as some sort of movie villain. Holed up in an abandoned warehouse, twirling his mustache.
He's never actually asked— "How does he get away with it? It's not like he tries to hide who he is…"
"He's got fingers in almost every gang," Charlie says. "So none of them fuck with him, and he's powerful enough that the city just doesn't bother. Long as the poor kids keep killing each other…"
Talk of killing is not making Cas more comfortable. But he's not going to panic. He's going to bring Dean home and he's going to— he's going to empty his college fund and sell all his mom's jewelry and get the Winchesters an apartment if he can't convince them to move into his parents' bedroom since Chuck and Amelia don't use it that much and anyway they can sleep on the sofa and—
Deep breath. Single-minded mission. Right.
"So how do we find out if Dean's there?"
"Well, if they took him, it's more likely he's there than in some shack somewhere. Easier to keep him, harder for him to escape, easier to hide and easier to claim they were just giving him a place to sleep if the police come. But I'd need to patch into the security to confirm, and that'll take a while. And be more illegal than usual." She hesitates. "Are we sure that he's in trouble? I don't really want to risk my freedom if— I mean, he could just…"
Please be just…
They all look at each other.
"He was wearing a white shirt with— I think it was a Microsoft one," Jo says. "If that— you know, for the cameras."
Cameras. "No chance he has Masters security, right?"
Charlie shrugs. "Probably does, all those bigshots do."
"Az Masters's daughter goes to my school."
Everyone stops and stares at him. "What?" Victor says, with the air of someone who has just learned that his best friend's brother was Steven Spielberg.
There are benefits to going to the most expensive private school in the greater Seattle area. He doesn't mention it much, tries to ignore it, but there it is: that divide, between him and everyone else in this room.
"Are you two friends?" Jo asks.
"Well, we made out at a party once." Cas frowns. "She has some personal vendetta against Crowley, though, so if we tell her it'll be bad news for him, I bet she'd be down." He tosses his phone to Charlie. "Call her. Meg Masters. I'll— go check around Sam's school. If he's just hiding— he wouldn't leave Sam." Has to go out and feel like he's doing something. Cas gestures to his face. "Jo, you got anything that can… make me look less… suspicious?"
Jo wrinkles here nose. "Who do you think I am?" pause. "Charlie probably can though, she does dress-up, like, professionally."
Charlie's snort sounds very offended. "Cosplay, Joanna Beth. And yeah." She's in her backpack again, and nope, Cas isn't going to wonder where she gotany of that stuff. "Let's fix your face."
It's not until he's gone home, changed into a clean polo, looked up the eighth-grade English teachers (because that's the only class he knows Sam has) on the school website, and then waited for school to let out that he realizes he doesn't really know what he's going to say.
Nothing comes to him on the drive over.
The doors are unlocked, and it's easy enough to just walk in: normally he'd wonder about the wisdom of leaving the doors open and what that means for Sam's safety, but between worrying about Dean, worrying about getting arrested, worrying about Uriel and Crowley and his parents coming home early, he doesn't have the energy.
It's a big school, but the doors are clearly marked— sixth grade English A, sixth grade English B, and he checks the list again—
There's a stray sixth grader in the hall, and Cas tries to look less intimidating before approaching him. "Excuse me, do you know what room is Mrs. Mills's?"
The kid stares at him for a second, clutching his backpack and looking up and down the otherwise empty hallway. "She's on the second floor, and a bit that way." He points over his shoulder. "I think."
Cas thanks him and moves on. Wonders how scary he looks. How desperate.
There are student essays on the wall outside Mills's room, and he's relieved when he finds Sam Winchester's name. That wasn't as hard as he expected.
A dark haired woman at a computer is visible through the open door. Cas isn't quite sure what the protocol is here, so he just knocks on the frame a little. "Excuse me?"
She looks up. Eyebrows coming together. "Can I help you?"
"Are you Mrs. Mills?"
A nod.
"Sam Winchester is in your class, right?"
A frown, and a wave to come in. "Who are you?"
"My name's Cas." But her eyes are lingering on his shirt.
"You go to Garrison?" Score. He'll feel bad about abusing his Garrison status so much later. Maybe.
"I have an ID, if you want it." It takes a moment to get said student ID out of his picket and into her outstretched hand. "I…"
"Are you a friend of Sam's?" Mrs. Mills looks at the card for a second before gesturing for him to sit.
"I— mostly his brother. But— was Sam in school today?"
She hesitates a second before answering. "He was."
"Did you see— did he say anything about what he was doing after school, or do you know who picked him up, or—"
"No." She still looks sort of suspicious, studying his face with a weird sort of intensity. Cas wonders if this is what other people object to about him. "What's going on?"
"I—" Don't want to get them in trouble, but what if they're already in trouble, what if Dean is already in trouble, and maybe she knows something. Kids talk in school, right? Even in a school as big as this one she might know something, one of the other teachers might, and he… "I don't know if… I don't want to get anyone in…" but her examination of his face must have yielded positive results, because—
"I have one hundred and forty students," Mrs. Mills says. And she's looking a little more relaxed now, gaze more concerned than suspicious. "I— you come in as a teacher thinking you can be Miss Honey to all of them, but the truth is… the truth is, in a district like this, with funding like this, the best you can do is get them to pass your class. Despite all the different backgrounds. Some of my kids are driven to school by private chauffeurs, some search the sidewalk for bus money. As long as they're fed, clothed and loved, the school doesn't have the resources to watch them like we should— we don't generally get involved, not unless there's abuse." She frowns. "Do you think his brother—"
"No." Cas tries not to be angry at the question. She doesn't know Dean. She doesn't know Dean, doesn't know what he's given up. "No, I just…" she'd probably be more comfortable if he stopped looking directly at her, but if he did that, he might miss something important. Anyway, she stared at him first. "Sam and Dean's father disappeared— I think about eighteen months ago, but I don't know exactly. They've been homeless since then, maybe even before that. I met them volunteering at the Roadhouse, which is this youth place a few miles—"
"I know where it is," she says, nodding for him to go on.
"And Dean disappeared a few days ago. And I just… Sam says he isn't worried, but Sam's also mad at him, and Dean wouldn't vanish without Sam. Ever. So we figure Sam's either covering for him, or something's—" his throat closes up.
"Have you tried going to the police? How old is he?" And her fingers are curling, like she wants to pick up the phone. Cas finally looks away.
"Eighteen," he says. "And— the police wouldn't… he's a homeless teenager—" prostitute "—and he's only been gone since Monday, and…" and if we don't find him I don't know what I'm going to do, he doesn't say, although it might show on his face. "Just— do you know anything? Do you know who might?"
She shakes her head. "No. I—" and Cas isn't going to panic, he isn't going to panic. He reaches up to touch his bruise again, and then he remembers, but he thinks he must have smudged some of the concealer because her eyes just narrowed, and she's leaning forward a bit.
"I—"
"Cas?" she says slowly. "See, that's one of the things we have to—"
He shakes his head. "It's fine," he says. "My fr— my—" stop, reconsider everything. "It was an isolated incident with a friend."
"Am I going to have to use my mom voice on you?" she asks. "Young man—"
"The last few days have been complicated." He's had more parenting thrown at him in the last twenty-four hours than the last twenty-four days. And he's going to need to think of a better answer, but she's staring at him, arms crossed, and suddenly Cas realizes that if she Googles him or something the top hit is probably going to be that video, and he makes a mental note to get Charlie to take that down because that could have a negative impact on his future employability. When he has the time to care about getting a job, when he has time to care about the future. "I just need to find Dean," he mutters.
Mrs. Mills's eyes are far too knowing when she nods. "If I hear anything—"
Cas scribbles his e-mail address on a scrap of paper. "Thanks."
"At the beginning of the year, I asked students to write about their summer. Sam wrote about hunting a werewolf with his brother." It occurs to Castiel then that for all the time he's spent with Dean, and he knows Dean, he hardly knows Sam. A few conversations, a splurge of secrets, but overall… "He also had some very interesting things to say about Mayella Ewell."
It's hard not to smile at that.
"Sam's a great kid," Cas says. "And— and Dean, he's not perfect, but he— they're all they have, really, and he—"
"I know. I— he's talked about his brother, sometimes." She's the one who smiles. "Sam is very loved."
So is Dean.
Cas bites down on the inside of his mouth. "Thank you, Mrs. Mills," he says. "For—"
"Jody," she says, offering a hand for him to shake. "And I'm glad Sam has people like you watching out for him."
People like me. He tries not to snort. "I'll— we'll find Dean. You won't have to call anyone, right?"
She closes her eyes for a moment, massaging her forehead. "If he doesn't turn up— if he doesn't turn up, does Sam have anyone else?"
"He's got the Roadhouse. He— they're good there, Ellen and Bobby. And there's even sessions for like school and getting a GED and learning basic job skills and—" helps them with addiction if they need it. And he considers asking Jody if she knows a girl named Ruby, telling her to search Ruby's locker and backpack, but he doesn't.
Dean is trying to trust Sam not to be stupid, and Cas can do the same.
He just hopes he can trust him about Dean.
THURSDAY
Jo shows up around noon.
"Do you ever go to class?" Castiel asks, perplexed. She snorts.
"I'm the freak with the knife collection, people are probably relieved when I don't show. Anyway, someone's gotta keep you from…" her eyes stray to the table. "Doing calculus. Seriously, Cas?"
"I'm suspended, I still have to do the work. Anyway." He grimaces. "It keeps me from thinking."
"You do calc to not think? There's a rare breed."
"Shut up."
Jo shuts up, but that doesn't stop her from helping herself to Cas's Doritos.
He manages to hold out for almost sixty seconds before asking, "You figure out anything new?"
"Charlie's gonna call," she says. "She went over to Meg's house last night and basically downloaded Masters's entire computer. Lucky for us, Roman is part of his clientele."
"He keeps all that information on his home computer?" Cas snorts. "That's… not smart."
"Well, according to Charlie it was actually his heavily guarded laptop that links to his work computer that has links to the computers of all the little guys. So there were a few hoops, but Dick's probably an important dude, so his stuff gets handled at the higher levels. And Charlie's amazing."
He's never thought of Meg as the most considerate of daughters, but it seems weird that she'd let a girl she just met do that. Also seems weird that Meg could just get some time alone with her dad's computer—
The phone rings.
"That's probably Charlie," Jo says. Which is likely, but nobody calls the home number (except for that once—) and so he can't help but hope, just for a moment—
Jo is correct.
"Hello Charlie," he says. Puts her on speaker and shoves the phone into the middle of the table.
"Are all the girls at your school that hot?" she asks, voice barely distorted by the connection. "Because if so, I'm enrolling, stat."
"Uh…."
"Did you sleep with her?" Jo interrupts. "Did my fake girlfriend sleep with my best friend's drunken hook-up?"
"Well that wasn't my original plan but—" Charlie says, at the same time as Cas's "We didn't 'hook up'—" but then he stops, because they should be focusing on Dean already. Even though he can't help but mentally replay Jo's last sentence, wonder if she's his best friend too. Because he hasn't heard anything else from any of the others, and…
"I can't believe you," Jo grumbles. "Anyway. What'd you find?"
"Okay. Cas, turn your computer on."
He does, and then— "How did you get this number?"
"You gave me your cellphone, dumbass, but I had it earlier— who do you think gave it to Dean?"
Dean. "My computer's on."
"Okay, I'm screen-sharing with you on Skype. Answer me."
"How did you get my— never mind." The call comes through, and he accepts. Charlie hangs up the phone, her voice now over the speakers.
"So this is from Monday," she says. "They brought someone in, but it just looks like the person was super drunk— he's the one you can see there." And it's a light colored head, a man looking extremely inebriated, or drugged, or unconscious, and his t-shirt is white with something on it that could be the Windows logo, oh god, oh god. "It's a little grainy, and…"
"Zoom in," he says.
His voice is steady.
She flicks between frames. "There's a lot of pandemonium on the web, too. About something being picked up and looking for angels. Guys—" her voice cracks. And they're on the last still she pulled, and he knows that face. He's kissed that mouth. He—
"Why didn't you start off with this?" Cas can't help but ask, because he wants to go through the pictures himself, because they could have saved five minutes, Dean, Dean, Dean—
Her sign makes the speakers crackle. Then, an inhale. "Because I was hoping I could talk myself into being less terrified," she admits. "Can I—" another deep breath. "So, here's from the inside— you can see him going through a couple rooms, I got an approximate layout, because they had to mark where the cameras were. Dick is paying Az the big bucks, and by the way, I think Masters is pretty shady. There's no camera in wherever Dean is, but I've been through the last few days and watched the live feed too and nobody's brought him out."
"What if—"
"I don't think they'd kill him," Jo says. "Not if he's inside. I mean, they can't exactly bring a body—"
"They have ways to make those disappear, Jo, I saw it on TV—"
But Jo's hyperventilating now, too, eyes wide, and Cas needs— he needs— he's halfway towards the bathroom before he remembers that his stash is gone, and Charlie's on the other end saying "Guys, guys, don't freak out, I'm already sort of freaking out, please don't freak out too, I don't know if I can handle this."
"Meet us at the Roadhouse," Jo says. When she leans towards the microphone, her hair swings forward to cover her face. And Cas can't seem to move from the doorway, because what are they doing to him, what are they— why is Dean so much less, why couldn't they have just taken him in the first place, why— and he knows logically why but he— and Crowley—
And he's going to kill Crowley, he's going to burn him alive for this—
Just as soon as they get Dean back.
Dean.
He looks at the couch once, then away, and then Jo closes the computer and shoves it into her bag.
"C'mon, Cas," she says. Grabs his arm. "We're gonna get him back, we just have to… plan. And stuff."
"I—"
Her fingers tangle with his, and then she hesitates a second before wrapping the other arm around his back. Pulling him closer, and Cas doesn't know who she's trying to comfort, but it works. He remembers a second later that he's supposed to hug her back, and so he does.
Then he's pulled towards the front door. "We'll get him back," she says. "Charlie's a magician, Benny's tough as nails, you're the Angel. We'll get him back."
"If we know where he is— you don't think the police could—"
"You think the police would barge into Roman's house and rescue them? He's practically funding the new basketball arena. And—the only evidence they have we got so so illegally, and—so even if they got a warrant—they could just say Dean's a homeless kid they're trying to— help—" her voice cracks on the last word, and it takes her a couple tries to open the car door.
"Can you drive?" Cas asks. "Are you okay to—"
"I'm fine." Her smile is very not fine, but Cas figures he's not in better shape, because he can't think can't breathe— "We're going to get him back," Jo says again. "We're going to get him back, we're going to—"
Cas presses his head against the window.
We're getting you out of there, Dean, he thinks, and wishes Dean could hear him.
Charlie has apparently gotten word to Sam and Benny, who apparently got word to Victor and Gordon, and they're all up in the conference room when Jo and Cas arrive.
"You know you're really not supposed to be in here," Jo says, a good deal calmer than she had been in the car.
"Bobby said if we were going to keep having loud, spoiler-y discussions about Iron Man we could damn well do it where he can't hear." Benny sounds rather proud of himself for this tactic. "Anyway, it's all hectic downstairs with lunch clean-up."
"Right." Jo sits down.
Calm. He's calm, too, but he's probably not doing a good job of looking calm because Sam's eyes are wide when he looks at him. "Cas, are you okay?"
"I attacked the principal, got suspended, now Dean's gone missing, but not before he stole all my aspirin," Cas snaps, and then apologizes because Dean is Sam's brother and nobody's happy.
"Oh." Sam goes quiet.
"I told them—" Charlie waves a hand. "I told them what I know."
"So what's the deal?" Victor asks. "We go in, bust him out?"
"Something like that." Cas leans over the house's floor plan, because maybe if he stares at it, an answer will come. There's the walls and the gate and the windows and the really how much house does one Dick need?
Sam raises a hand. "We could—"
"You're not anything," Cas says. And okay. He can calm. Detached. He can do this, he needs to be rational, that's all this is. He's going to be goddamn Spock for the rest of the day. He can do this. "Dean would kill us. He's not here to keep you safe, so that's our job."
"But—"
"I know he'd rather sit in there then let you die getting him out." Cas looks at Sam, then, and Sam isn't crying, but maybe it would be easier if he was.
"Yeah," Sam says. "You think Dean would rather something happened to you??"
Cas knows he would. And maybe that's what this is. Maybe, in fucking impossible circumstances, he's finally figured out how to love Dean selflessly. How to be glad that Dean doesn't care as much about him, just in case something happens. That way he can save Dean, and give him back to Sam, and that's what will be important.
It's a bittersweet revelation.
"Dean loves you," Sam says, as though it's a challenge, and Cas has to resist the urge to cringe away from the words.
"You don't have to say stuff like that." Wefucked. "It's fine. I'm going in anyway, Sam, don't worry."
He looks a fraction more upset. "But—"
Charlie shushes him.
Die getting him out. Cas's earlier words come back to him, and he considers.
The concept of death isn't frightening right now. He can sleep, he doesn't mind being asleep. He figures he won't know he's dead, so it'll be okay. And maybe there's even a heaven. He'll be fine, because that's what he is, and so it's good that Uriel cut ties, that he's been distancing himself from Balth and Gabe, because that way they won't be as sad— it'll be okay.
It'll be okay.
"So I can disable the security cameras," Charlie says, "and the alarms, so they won't know you're coming. Until they see you, anyway. The only room not on the cams is the spare bedroom, so that's probably where they're keeping him—" Cas doesn't get the urge to vomit this time, just the urge to kill someone— "and that's over here." She points at the spot on the map.
Gordon shakes his head slowly. "This is suicide. There's no way we can climb the fence without them noticing—"
"You don't have to climb the fence," Jo says.
"What?"
There's a weird sort of light in her eyes. "We go tomorrow, it'll be Friday night, right? I'll put on a dress, ask them if I can borrow a phone, my car broke down and I'm just a dumb blonde whose plans for the night are shot to hell. They'll let me in."
A pause. Gordon considers this for a minute, eyes traveling down Jo's body in a way that makes Cas want to jump up with a sheet to defend her honor. Or something. "That'd work."
"What?" Benny splutters. "No. No way—"
"C'mon. Gordon taught me to knife-fight, remember? I can handle them."
No way, not putting Jo in danger—
She's not some little girl to be protected—
What if—
But Dean—
Cas settles for not commenting, just tracing the walls of the house. For all its grandeur, there's only one level: but maybe it's more dangerous to have an upper floor. Easier for a sniper to get to you, easier for people to spy…
"What are you going to do when you get inside?" Sam asks. "It's a Friday night, maybe that's when they have the gangster throwdown or something."
"I'm going to unlock the kitchen window." Jo's voice reaching a steely tone that reminds Cas suddenly of Ellen.
"I can get you a bug," Charlie says. "Make it look like a necklace or earring or something. So you can say when the window is unlocked— code, whatever,mischief managed, I don't know— and then the others can come in."
"Wait." Victor frowns. "How are you going to do that without them noticing?"
"I'm going to stand with my back to it and unlock it with one hand."
"And they won't—"
Jo's glare is rather fierce. "They'll be distracted."
Maybe their life has suddenly become a TV show. Sitting around a conference table, planning a rescue mission from one of the city's most powerful people— "Convenient that he's just in the city," Cas mutters. "Not on the east side like all the others." So that their license plates wouldn't be tagged, going over the bridge…
"Well, Bill probably didn't want to be brushing elbows with gangsters," Charlie says. "Dick is powerful, but he's not the biggest dick. I mean, ask him on the street, hardly anyone knows his name—"
"Except for Levis, Digos, Vamps, Demons—"
Charlie waves a hand. "So not the point. The Mayor's office certainly knows about him, and all that, but he stays out of the news. Even when he funded the stadium, he did it through Enterprise. The naming of which was his first sin, one shouldn't desecrate the—"
Benny leans over to pat her hand. "There, there."
She scowls at him.
Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean.
"That still doesn't give us a way to get to the kitchen window," Gordon says. "Unlocked or no."
"Well, they'll be occupied with letting Jo in, right?" Victor drums his fingers on the table, a repeating rhythm. "So we either turn the cameras off, or put them on a loop from earlier, that'd prob'ly be safer, come to think, and then the brick wall is, what— six feet?"
Charlie nods.
"I'm five-eleven," Cas says, "and Benny's taller than me. We just hook a rope on, if we need one, and then hop over."
"And when they catch and shoot us—"
"Not many people will be there," Charlie says. "I'll post something about Enterprise being a sham and a cover-up for gang activity. Make it come from the North end. He'll send his best down to deal with the poster. Also, the Demons and Rugarus are going to have a fight in Rainier Valley, due to some insults thrown around and a long-running rivalry. They're hashing it out West Side Story style, and since Dick's basically a patron of both sides, it'll be in his best interest to maintain the animosity but not have any casualties. So he'll send people to keep it just as violent as necessary."
Victor is staring at her, open-mouthed. "Why are you not a cop?"
"Wouldn't pass a background check. But it's really just what King Arch did in Looking Glass—"
"Are they actually having a fight?" Benny asks. "Because I haven't—"
"They will be. That's the frailty of the internet. Anyway, neither side is going to object. They've been looking for an excuse to take each other down."
Gordon's lip curls. "Let 'em knock each other out." Then— "I don't know, though. I mean most likely option here is that we all end up dead. An' I've been fighting alongside Dean for years, but… I don't wanna die if he's just gonna die too."
"We risk dying ever' time we go out," Benny says.
"They won't kill us. If they kill us," and Cas is a little alarmed at how calm he is about that whole possibility, "then they'll have five bodies to deal with, all teenagers, and that'll be a stink. They'd have a strong case for self-defense, but there'd still be an investigation, and then it'd be impossible to cover up his gang ties. Because you don't even have to dig too deep to find them. And if Roman's stayed okay so far, stays under the radar, it means he's not stupid. So he won't kill us."
Sometime between blinks, Charlie had gotten her laptop out, and begun typing. "Yeah, it's kind of an open secret— nobody likes him, but they can't get rid of him, even with the illegal shit. He's like Wall Street. But if there were five bodies in his house then they'd have no way to get around— not to encouraging you to wear suicide vests, you understand."
"Six bodies," Sam says.
They all turn to glare at him. "No," Jo says, "I bet they'd let Dean go because—"
"I'm coming."
This gets a resounding negative reaction.
"I can fight," Sam says. "And my dad taught me how to shoot a gun when I was, like, two. I have awesome aim, and if you don't let me come with you then I'll follow you and probably get hurt and then Dean would kill you." He tilts his head up, sticks out his chin, and "Dean's my brother."
Silence.
Sam looks at Cas, almost daring expression.
And, okay, if that's how they're playing this.
"My dad also taught me how to get out of handcuffs," Sam says helpfully. "And pick locks. And I'm only going to eat packaged food from now until tomorrow so you can't drug me."
"You're a little shit," Gordon says, although there's not as much malice as usual.
"Okay, then.." Jo takes a deep breath. "You guys… do the pep talk. Charlie…" she flutters her eyelashes. "Take a girl to buy something slutty?"
Charlie raises her eyebrows. "You bet."
They leave.
The others look at each other. Cas feels like he should say something along the lines of 'you don't have to go with us, really,' but he can't bring himself to— because they're going to need all the help they can get. Tamara and Isaac are lucky he's not down there drafting them. They're lucky he's not emptying his college fund paying all the regulars to storm everyone—
College fund—
"There's no chance we can just bribe him?" Cas asks. Shoving down every instinct that's telling him to attack and tear and kill. He pulls the knife out of his pocket. "I mean, I still got this—"
Benny considers for a second. "Mayb—"
"No way," Gordon says. "There's no way. He wants the guys that have been limiting his expansion, yeah? He can probably shit out swords like that, and all the money your dad makes sellin' those books is prob'ly pocket change."
"I don't know," Victor says. "If we promise not to fuck with them again—"
"No." Gordon keeps shaking his head. "No way."
"So that's that, then." Benny pushes away from the table and stands. "Not a word of this to anyone, or each other."
They all nod.
"Cas, you good for rope?"
"Yes."
"Meet here at four?"
Nods all around.
"Stay safe."
Everyone laughs.
He might die tomorrow.
He mightdietomorrow.
He.
Might
Die
Tomorrow.
The idea that he was so ready to accept in the meeting room seems so different now, so— oh, God, he might die tomorrow. This might be his last night alive.
What the hell are you doing, Novak?
He reaches automatically for his phone, because it's a Thursday night but that doesn't mean Gabe and Balthazar aren't up for hanging out— he should talk to them— but if he does he might lose his nerve.
He should just sit here quietly. Reflecting, sum his life into one meaning, one pithy line. And that's what he might have done, if Jo hadn't texted him.
Jo Harvelle
- Come over?
-I don't actually know where you live.
- Lincoln apt, 1E.
Cas looks up a map.
-There in 15.
And maybe that's how it's always going to be. He checks that all the windows are locked, that there's nothing incriminating left in his room, because he knows he's coming back here in the morning, if not tonight, but it still feels… final. He tests the doorknob twice before he's confident enough in its locked status that he can get into the car.
When he reaches the door to the Lincoln complex, he texts Jo instead of ringing the buzzer, because it's ten thirty and Ellen is probably asleep. Sure enough, Jo comes out into the hall, letting him in herself. Leads him back to the apartment.
"Is your mom—"
She nods to the bedroom by the door. "She's a really heavy sleeper, though. Drink?"
There's an empty beer bottle on the floor by the fridge, a half-full one next to it. "We probably don't want hangovers tomorrow," Cas says, uncertain.
"Not getting drunk. Here."
He takes the offered beer, and sits next to her on the floor.
They're silent for a couple minutes.
"Feel like I should be out partying or something," Jo says. "You know. Last night alive. I'm pretty sure we're supposed to have sex, narratively speaking, except I'm not attracted to you at all, you're in love with Dean, and depending on how things go I might get my pre-death sex tomorrow. Even if they do decide to kill us all."
Not even a little drunk, Castiel's ass. But he nods anyway. "Are you— what are you going to do if—"
"If I have to fuck them to keep up the illusion? Or if things get out of control and they rape me?"
"Yes."
Her laugh is a little broken. "Well if it's inevitable, I suppose I should sit back and enjoy it, isn't that what they say?"
Cas takes a gulp before answering. "You're more up on that than I am."
"God, I can't believe I'm…" she shakes her head. "Makes me feel— eugh. I've had no trouble… you know, when I want to hook up with someone, I'll say just about anything, and if things go according to plan I'm just going to have to do some flirting, but this is… makes me feel slimy."
"You know what's funny?"
"What."
"First conversation I had with Dean, we were talking about Avengers. Specifically Black Widow. And now you're…"
"I'm strapping a knife to my leg. Just in case." Drink, swallow. "If it's not a situation I can— fight my way out of, I'll just giggle and say something about the knife being in case big strong men tried to get in my pants. Stall, you know?" she snorts, and there's a layer of self-disgust in her voice. "I've been told I can be a magnificent cocktease. But if I have to— if we need time, or if, and if—and— if Dean can… with Alastair, then I can… and then I can just get Plan B, or something, and… oh my god, it's been months, since I've, what if, it's—" she wraps her mouth around the bottleneck again, chugging maybe a third of it.
"I was sucking Crowley off," Cas says, because everyone is having non-consensual sex for far more noble reasons than him. Because he wants to tell her to stab any penises that get into her personal space, but Jo's an adult and can handle herself, set her own boundaries, knows what she's doing and the risks. "That's why we were in the office. Not for drugs. I was giving him fellatio with the promise of drugs, but—"
"Oh." Jo's face crumples a little. "I'm sorry, Cas, I was just really worried—"
"It's fine," he says, because it's true. "I'm— I should have stayed, Jo, this would never have happened if I'd just stayed that night, or let him mind his own business on the street, or—"
"Hey. No. You would have found out about Alastair eventually, and Crowley would have figured… we can't do that. It's my fault for introducing you, if you want to go that route. My fault for—" she rubs her nose on her sleeve, then takes another drink. "Let's not do that."
"Okay."
But she doesn't stop talking, and this is good, because it means she isn't drinking as much and Cas can get away with drinking more. "You know, I used to think that kind of love is what everyone gets."
"What?"
"You and Dean. The drama and the opposing forces trying to keep you apart and the willingness to die for him and the… it's TV shit, movie shit, I thought that's what I was waiting for, yanno? Some big story like that. And now that it's happening to you, I can just think, thank God it's not me."
He has to laugh a little. "I don't blame you."
"He does love you, you know. Sam wasn't just trying to get you to go save him."
Can't hear this, don't want to hear this.
"Jo." Another pull. "I can't— he—" Cas slooshes his remaining beer into a whirlpool. "I…"
"I just thought you should know, since he'd probably never tell you."
"It doesn't matter," Cas says. "I— we have to save him, that's all I know. I can't think about after. We're never going to be going on dates, or holding hands in the street, or getting naked and painting ourselves rainbow for pride—"
"—That's a shame, because I'd have no objection to that—"
"That's just not us, even if there was an us to be. So I guess it doesn't matter."
"It matters," she says. "Of course it matters. You love each other, the date shit is irrelevant. I mean, my parents weren't that conventional either— my mom's always been sort of distant, and sometimes I'd worry about them, but then when he died— God."
"How did he die?" Are these things friends should already know about each other?
"He was a cop." She smiles a little bit at the irony. "'Bout ten years ago, he— got shot dead, on the job, so it's just me and Mom, and you know what the worst part of all of this is?" she doesn't wait for Cas to ask. "The worst part is that… that Gordon and Victor and Benny? They don't have parents, not anymore, and people would miss them but you can get over losing a friend, we all lost Ronnie, a couple others, we survived, but losing a kid— and so part of me feels like it's more okay if they die because they don't have families, whereas me, I have my mom, and she's already lost Dad, and maybe she'll lose me, and how fucked up is that? I'm not worth more than them, I'm not better than them, it's goddamn awful that they'd basically be forgotten, but I can't help—" she's crying for real now, and somewhere in there Cas realizes that she's finished the second beer. "How pathetic is that? Because if— if I don't, make it out, it'll kill my mom, and I don't see how she'll be able to run the Roadhouse anymore, when it's the reason I'm— I'm not much but— it's—" she hides her face in her hands. "I'm the one that's probably in the least danger in this whole plan, and I still feel like— How horrible is that?"
Not as horrible as Cas, because he realizes that in all his pondering of the impending danger, he hasn't once thought of his parents. Thought of what they'll think if they get a call, or if he just disappears, what they'll— but at least they'll have Anna. They won't be alone. And they'll have each other. And though he knows in his mind that that's not true, he can't help but feel that they won't miss him all that much. That their lives will go on as normal.
Jo sniffs again, and points to the notebook on the table. "I… I tried to write her a letter, you know, open just in case— but I didn't know how—"
"That's a good idea," Cas says. And then, because he's not so good with this but he's pretty sure physical contact, even when not fighting, is comforting, he puts the hand not holding his bottle around her shoulders. She leans into him.
"I wrote an email. Saying where we were going and what we were doing and stuff. I have this compsci teacher, Mr. Deverereaux, he's this big conspiracy theorist and he mentioned at some point that he has these emails that go out unless he tells them not to every month. And I asked him how to do it, so— so. That's a— a thing. It'll go to Mom, Bobby, Rufus, then they can call the police…"
Cas nods.
"Letters are a good idea," he says. "I— I should—"
She works her way out from under his arm and opens the fridge again. The twenty-four pack seems to be dangerously low. "I should try again. I'll get some paper." Because his parents will deserve an explanation, too. And— and Gabe, and Balthazar, and fuck, even Uriel, because he might have broken off their friendship but he's still Cas's brother. And Dean, too, in case he doesn't make it out but Dean does.
Jo returns with another pad of paper and a chewed ballpoint.
One for his parents, one for Anna, one for his brothers, one for Dean, hell, one for Ellen and Bobby, and Mrs. Mills because if Cas and Jo are gone, then, what the hell, she should know, so she can tell who she has to tell, and— and he can make a note that Balthazar should get his favorite CDs, and— other junk— there's a stash of candy under his bed, and if anyone should get that, that's Gabriel, and— and he has so many people, how can he just—
They all have people, and everyone's risking it, for Dean, because that's the loyalty Dean brings out in people, and because they'd do it for any of the others, they're a team, as stupid and weird as that is, they're a hipster gang and they don't abandon their people.
"Jo?"
"Hmm?"
"I— we've been through much together, and I… it's been fucked up, but I wouldn't trade that for anything, so don't—"
She cuts him off. "Have you ever seen Buffy?"
"No."
"There's this scene at the end, and the big battle is about to go down, and her sister is gonna be fighting in some other area and Buffy tries to go after her and Dawn says 'anything you say now is going to sound like goodbye.' And—"
"We're writing goodbye letters," Cas points out.
"That's different, that's a precaution, I—" another sniff. "People write wills. It's in case. Maybe it's— like carrying a raincoat on a cloudy day. If you do, it won't rain, but if you don't, it will—"
"That doesn't make any sense." He gets an elbow in the ribs for this comment. "Do— do both Buffy and the sister survive?"
"Spoilers," she says, very quietly. "I guess you'll have to watch. Next weekend, marathon?"
Cas doesn't promise that, he can't and she knows he can't. He pops the top off another bottle instead.