Notes: Just a little over 3,500 words yay! Took longer than expected... I was stuck at the beginning for the longest time. Finals have been draining me, but I'm fiiinished! More time for writing :D
Anyway, hope y'all like it and see ya next chapter!
Sum: There was laughter, smiles, and endless teasing. Or, so it had seemed. Then there was darkness…
"Don't step on the fish," he told the young brother.
The youngest angel's wide eyes stared at the flopping thing. He didn't understand all of it yet, but that was what older brothers were for. They called themselves the Angels. Their only hope was the time device called Heaven. There was still so much to learn from the past.
"It will be a very important fish."
"How?" Castiel asked.
His mother's warm eyes complimented the smile that curved her lips. She set the book down and ran her fingers through her son's hair.
"So much curiosity, Little Angel." She chuckled to herself as she adjusted the pillow behind her. "You'd find out if you let me keep reading."
"I'll fall asleep before I find out." The young boy yawned, curling into his mother's side.
"Maybe you'll find out in your dreams."
He drifted off with his mother's kiss on his forehead.
….
"Some things lie right in front of you, and you won't know it until it's too late. You won't see it's beauty until after the opportunity fades." The man's face was dark and stonelike. His regrets and guilt hardened him. In a flash, the cocky smile was back, lightning-bright."
"I don't get it. He obviously did it."
"These are just notes, Castiel." His father glanced up at him from the rims of his reading glasses. "Besides, how do you know he's not innocent? The man who's done nothing runs faster than the one who commits the crime."
"Why does that sound like it's from some Clint Eastwood spaghetti western?" Jimmy swiveled on his stool at the kitchen island.
His father's laugh was warm as Cas pulled his coat over his shoulders. "It might have been."
Castiel glanced out the window, watching the snow flutter.
"Get moving boys, we're late." His mother strode to the table, picking up her keys.
"He's gotta be innocent." Jimmy challenged.
"You haven't even been paying attention to the notes."
He shrugged at his twin. "Not like it's rocket science. Why would he help someone who could arrest him? Same person who has every chance to pull the trigger and end everything."
"Motive. He's networking, making it seem like so. He has the history to do it. The training for tactics like that."
"Well, Dad seems adamant that he is. I trust his judgment." Jimmy pulled on his own jacket. "And I trust my gut."
"What of the others?" Chuck asked. He set his journal on the table. The exact place he forgot it every time.
"We'll probably pass Gadreel on the way. Nick and Mikey may not come."
"Always at war, those two," Chuck commented.
"Always. Everyone else… They'll meet us there. C'mon you two."
"Anna's not coming?" Jimmy asked, hopping up from his seat.
"Under the weather." Their mother answered before they all piled into the car.
James poked Castiel after clicking his seatbelt in place. "Character's still innocent. Dad wouldn't be calling the book 'Faultless' if he wasn't."
Cas rolled his eyes. He mulled over if he should take the bate or not. Their mom started the engine and pulled the car onto the road.
"Writers also like to trick readers onto a set path of thinking."
Their father chuckled from the front seat, looking over his shoulder at the twins. "You are both right."
That stopped any further bickering. Chuck smiled at the low hum coming from the radio, he turned it up before looking back at his sons. Cas knew it was one of his father's favorite songs. Something about the war he never spoke about. It was starting to make Cas wonder if his father's idea for this strange story came from someone he knew overseas.
"My dreams, they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance,
That's never free."
Chuck's reading glasses had slid to the end of his nose. The older man promptly removed them, setting the frames on top of the console.
"How?" Cas questioned.
"Never judge anyone by what others tell you, son. Let their own soul paint you a picture of the truth." Chuck reached back to pat Cas on the shoulder. "You'll understand someday."
"Dude," Jimmy groaned. "That's what, the second time he's told you that? Anything in here?" He poked Castiel's head.
There was laughter, smiles, and endless teasing. Or, so it had seemed. Then there was darkness…
In the dark there was pain. Everything in his head was swirling around so much he hadn't a clue what way was up. It was cold. So, so cold. He tried to reach for his brother and parents but all that was left was freezing nothingness. When he gasped out their names nothing came out. Even air was being denied to him. The cold flooded his mouth and into his throat. No one was here. No one would help him. He couldn't find his family and he knew he'd never get help for that. He wanted to see them so badly but the cold weighed him down.
Then the hands came. They gripped him tight and pulled. It must have been up because the darkness suddenly wasn't so bad. Cas could breathe when the hands weren't pounding on his back. Water spilled from his mouth and out of his stomach causing him to cough.
"Jim-" Castiel was rolled onto his side, one of the hands clamping over his mouth. Someone shushed him, a deeper voice that definitely was not his brother's.
Long hair brushed against the dock as the face came into view. It was blurry, but after a lot longer than Cas cared to admit, he knew it was Sam. His lips were moving but Cas couldn't hear anything. Dizziness made everything fuzzy. Castiel hardly rolled to his stomach before he promptly threw up any remaining lake water he swallowed.
"There we go. We need to move. I'm sure Gordon is gone but-"
Things were blurred together for a while. A large blank in his memory. It was some point between throwing up again and suddenly in the process of being wrapped in a mound of ratty old towels and blankets. There was some strange rattling.
"S'm…" Castiel's mind was foggy, but he couldn't understand why his lips wouldn't produce simple syllables.
"You're alright. We'll get you warmed up, then go find Dean. Shouldn't be too bad, you're still shivering."
This made Cas realize that it was his own teeth that were chattering. But that didn't fix that there was a dark figure behind Sam. Cas's vision may be playing all kinds of tricks, but he knew when to trust his gut. "S-am!"
Sam lay the agent down. "It's alright, it's ok-"
The door slammed when Sam collapsed. The abrupt action shoved Cas into the other side of the door, smacking his head.
….
Whatever he was laying on vibrated. It had one hell of a strong stench to add to Castiel's headache. Leather, whiskey, and - shit, he thought.
Cas pried his eyes open, staring at the back of the front seat. He was warm, train of thought clear. At least more so than it had been before. There was also a lot of time missing from the memory bank. Another sure thing was that the Impala was moving. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dark, he only noticed one person in the front seat. He looked young, blondish hair closely buzzed to his head.
"Jesus, you finally awake?" Cas tried to squirm away, only to find he was successfully cocooned. "Thought I lost you for a while there."
Cas just stared at the new man. He wasn't at his normal capacity quite yet to deal with the new bullshit constantly raining on his life.
"I'm gonna jump out on a limb here and say that you're Winchester's new pet. I'm Caleb."
Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Sam called you?"
"Yeah, said there was a vamp problem his brother seemed too interested in. Took on more than he can chew all alone."
"But he wasn't."
Caleb glared at him from the rearview. "Not the point."
"Where are they?" Cas growled.
"Jo had Dean-"
"'Had'?"
"Yes. 'Had.' Just like Sam had you." Caleb drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Now instead of a Vamp, I get stuck with a fucking Wendigo."
"Wend-go? What the fuck is going on!" Cas bolted upright, unable to correct his fall and ended up on the floor.
"Where in the fuck did Dean ever find you?" Caleb huffed. "Far as I can tell Gordon's gone. He shot Dean and ran in case the 9-O showed. Jo found him, patched him up. Sam found you before he was taken. Kubrick is the coward's name. Follows Gordon like a fuckin' lost puppy. He's our Wendigo - goes after human flesh - basically."
Slowly, Cas managed to sit up. His eyes just above the top edge of the front bench seat.
"Now Dean's going to rescue Sam and get the shit beaten out of him in the process."
"We need to find them."
"No fuckin' shit Sherlock," Caleb bit.
Finally, the agent managed to pry his way from his warm and soft prison. His fingers itched for his gun now that feeling had returned.
"Now that pleasantries have been exchanged," his hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles on the verge of turning white. "I'm a Hunter. You at least know what that means?"
Hunter is what Dean had called himself. What he called the others, the ones who would help.
"Yes." He tried not to sound crisp. Not for the first time he wondered if Dean considered him as a Hunter too, besides being a Familiar. He knew enough by now that he shouldn't mention that part to Caleb. No doubt it wasn't anything favored in the Hunter world. Cas had read about witch mythology in college for the hell of it. He wouldn't be overly fond of anything associated with them either with the way spells were cast. Witch lore and legends made them downright seem damn gross. Very possibly Dean could have been calling him a rookie hunter the whole time. "Are you part of the Garrison?"
The man in the front seat snorted. "Kinda-sorta-maybe. My end kinda branched from Ellen's golden group." Caleb pulled the Impala onto a side road. The sleek black car was hidden by the long tree limbs and darkness.
"Why are we stopping?" Cas demanded.
"We can't go much further or Kubrick will know we found them. More incentive to kill Dean faster." He turned around to face Castiel, freehand searching for something along the front seat. "Just don't fucking shoot me, got it?" He handed the agent a gun.
A month ago and Castiel couldn't have promised anything. He tells himself that this Kubrick man cannot hurt the Winchesters, even if Dean isn't needed alive. Though, he knows for a fact the Bureau isn't that desperate yet. They had nothing to pin Dean yet.
Caleb steps on the gas and drives to where they needed to go. Through the trees, Castiel could see the lights in the small cabin flicker ominously.
"Fuck this." The driver grunted before getting much closer than originally planned. When Caleb applied the brakes, Cas nearly flipped into the front seat. The door was thrown open even as the engine still ran. Before the agent could blink, the Hunter was kicking the door in. Somehow he'd ended up right behind Caleb somewhere in that timeframe.
He was already trying to steady his breathing. There was the stranger in the middle of the small shack. Dean's collar in one fist and colt python in his other hand underneath the shitty fluorescent lights. He followed through with a hard hit to Dean's jaw before letting the outlaw drop to the floor. The python was soon pointed at the two newcomers. Castiel didn't have to assume this was Kubrick. His knuckles torn and covered in crimson.
"Just in time boys, the party's about to wind down."
Castiel couldn't take his eyes off the bloodied man on the floor.
"Get Sam."
Cas didn't flinch when a gun fired, Kubrick, going limp.
But God he couldn't look away from Dean. His skin a sickly pale green. He looked dead.
Sam was still tied to a chair to the left of the door. Screaming at both Caleb, Cas, and his brother through the gag in his mouth. Castiel's deft fingers unbound the youngest Winchester.
Caleb kneeled next to Dean. He shook his shoulder, slapped his face, took his pulse. Shoulder, pulse, face, face, pulse shoulder.
"Dean, Dean! Damnit! Dean!"
They were too late. God, they were too fucking late.
Once Sam had his legs untied for the chair, he rushed to the other two. Caleb tossed him a phone. "You know who to call."
It must have been fear and adrenaline. Sam was speaking hurriedly into the phone while helping Caleb lift his brother. Between the two of them, they drug Dean outside. The unconscious man's head rolling loosely. If only fear and panic had a smell because Castiel could swear he could fucking taste it. The phone was snapped shut, and Sam was shoving Cas to the still-opened back door of the Impala. The moment his ass hit the seat he ended up with a lapful of Dean. Blankets were shoved everywhere and tossed over them both.
"Make sure he's breathing." Cas was pretty sure that had been Sam. Both front doors slammed shut, and they were off.
Things blurred together. So much so that it was starting to become a familiar thing. The clearest thing in Castiel's mind was the terror. He was trembling with the fear that Dean was going to die in his arms. The outlaw's head rested on his shoulder as Cas held the man against him. He wondered how and when it had come to this. How he'd been suckered into caring for someone who'd kill him without a second thought. Or, at least that was how his superiors would have put it. How they trained him to think. It was the reason why he had lived this long with his job. Why he hadn't gone fucking delirious after the accident in Michigan. Training was good. It was the difference since life and death. But why in the ever living fuck was there some kind of difference when it came to the case of Dean Winchester?
Training was the right word for it. He kept a one-track mindset. Let someone else paint the picture for him when Dean was something different altogether.
Dean's breath was warm against his throat. It came out in a wheeze, every now and then accompanied by a low whimper. Cas tried not to mull over all the wounds and bruises. Tried not to think about the blood soaking through the shirt he held to Dean's shoulder. Nor the broken ribs he felt shift every time the battered man took a breath.
He had been safe with Jo but ran off the moment he knew Sam was in danger. Pushed Cas into the lake to dodge a bullet. Sam and Caleb held a heated discussion in the front seat. The younger Winchester constantly looking back at his brother. Though Castiel couldn't hear much over the rush of blood in his ears or the eccentric beat of his own pulse.
It felt as if the lump in his throat was his heart. It was getting hard to breathe. It all seemed to be crashing down around him in waves.
Then came the hands that tried to gently lift Dean in their urgency. Cas didn't know he was holding his breath until Dean was out of sight. Several figures carried the injured man into a house he didn't recognize.
A cold chill forced him out of his detachment to the world around him. Cas couldn't tell if he was trembling from shock or that the back door had been left open. He knew he needed to go inside, but the bite of chill reminded him this was real. It was happening. He wasn't in fucking Michigan.
It took a while before he was able to peel himself from the leather seat. His limbs were numb but his heart wasn't about to come up his throat. He immediately regretted the decision once he stepped inside. Cas had no clue how long he'd sat outside, but everyone was still bustling about.
"Get more hot water boiling!"
"I got the towels-"
"Then fucking get them in here!"
"Get the jaws! Boy's still alive in there!"
This wasn't Michigan. Dean would live. Cas knew he had to, that this was nothing compared to all the glimpses of horror he'd caught in Dean's eyes. This couldn't hold a flame against any of it. The dry blood was frozen and cracked around his hands. It was distracting enough for Castiel to seek out the nearest bathroom. He was careful not to stain the faucet, but his fingers were clumsy and numb. The water was cold at first, seeping into his veins and chilling him again. He forced himself to stop when his hands started to shake. He couldn't stand it. After managing to shut the faucet off, Castiel dropped onto the toilet lid. He was neither helping or in the way. It was best for everyone right now. His thoughts so muddled he didn't trust himself.
The only way Cas knew time was still moving was by how quiet the house became. No pounding feet or shouting voices. Everything stilled. His hands were no longer shaking, or at the very least what he could tell since they were clamped together.
He knew the man was standing in the doorway long before he cleared his throat.
"You got him here just in time," he said. "No infection or permanent damage. In fact, all of Dean's wounds look worse than they actually are. Half of that may have to do with him having been dehydrated. The only one that will need to be constantly checked is the gunshot wound."
Castiel finally looked over. The man leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom smiled warmly at him. He had warm brown eyes. His hair and beard equally a peppered grey.
"You must be Castiel, Angel of Thursday." Cas looked away again after spotting a collar around the man's throat. "I'm Pastor Jim Murphy."
"I am no angel," Castiel confessed.
"No," Jim admitted, "no one ever really is."
Cas curled his hands into fists. "No offense Paster, but I don't have any faith." The blood was no longer sticky, but cracking and dry over his skin. He felt like a child about to be scolded during confession. In all reality, he hadn't been to church in years. Not since the accident.
Jim glanced down both ways of the hallway. He stepped into the room an dropped to his knee in front of Cas. He covered Castiel's hands with his own. "This life doesn't always require faith in someone above. Sometimes the best faith is what you hold for people." Jim's eyes darted to the hall again, listening for someone who wasn't coming. "You are a Familiar, yes?"
Cas ran his trembly hands over his hair. "That's what Dean calls me. I don't even know what the hell that means."
Murphy was silent for a few moments. He grabbed a washcloth that sat on the counter before wetting it in the sink. The Pastor took hold of Castiel's hand, working the cloth over the blood. "Probably for the best."
"It's not good, is it?" Cas realized he could be asking about anything.
Jim seemed to understand. "No. Not really. But," his tone made Castiel meet his eye. "You, you are good."
Castiel unconsciously wrung his hands against the washcloth.
"The fact that Dean still has you around speaks volumes. He trusts that you fight for the right side. He trusts you."
"He shouldn't." Cas runs the cloth between his fingers. "The things I could do. Could have already done…" If he had his head on straight he would have called his superiors by now. Tell them what, he didn't exactly know.
Jim purses his lips. "I won't preach you to death, but I believe that things happen when they are supposed to. People come together, relationships fall apart. It drives us to where we need to go."
Cas sighed, finding that his hands were nearly cleaned.
The Pastor leveraged himself back to his feet. "Finish up, I'll show you to where Dean is."
When he finally steps out of the bathroom he's assaulted with the dawn light flooding through the windows.
"You boys need some rest," Jim stated. They both looked into the room that Dean was in. Sam and Caleb already sprawled in their seats, dead to the world. Dean, he did look a hell of a lot better.
Pastor Jim's hand was gentle on his shoulder as Cas was lead to a couch in the next room. He was asleep before Murphy could offer him a pillow. It was the best damn sleep he'd gotten in years.