~ Chapter Eleven ~
It had been along and confusing few days.
Dean, Sam and Bobby had spent Tuesday night huddled over Bobby's desk or pacing around the room. Dean had requested Castiel keep Jo out of the room when she was there – no one had even begun to explain to her the concept of her Daddy hunting the monsters in her closet or under her bed run amuck.
Castiel and Dean had been having a conversation, arguing about telling Jo about the darkness that presently seemed to incessantly stalk them wherever they went.
PAST
Jo was already in bed, sleeping, and Dean was the only one downstairs, locking up the house while Castiel was upstairs in the bathroom.
The shattering window startled just about everyone who heard it, meaning Jo didn't hear it – or if she did, she didn't say anything regarding it. The overwhelmingly destructive crash asserted a new fear when it was followed by the baby's cry. Castiel had instinctively called out to Dean as he tore across the hallway to the nursery, quickly finding the culprit – a demon woman had been standing in the room, reaching into the crib when he burst forth. Her eyes glowered bloody crimson into him as she hissed; his stomach dropped.
"Back." She barked, raising a still hand.
The floor was suddenly gone from beneath Castiel's feet and he was being thrown against the wall; his head collided with it first, corkscrewing his vision into a kaleidoscope of obscure, dark colors. He grunted, his vision spinning away from any kind of focus as the sensation of blood trickling down from his nose was materializing.
Through his spiraling vision, Castiel could see the woman lay a hand on struggling, wailing Alfie; he was on his hands and knees for a brief moment before being smacked back into the wall by another invisible blow. It had come soaring in at an angle this time around, propelling his battered body into the dresser. Drawers clattered down all around him, striking the back of his head again harder than previously, as the sensation of a muffle being placed over all his senses ensued.
Castiel could vaguely feel the thumps of feet across the floor nearest him, taste blood on his lips, and hear through the rushing in his ears, the too familiar din of a shotgun going off over and over and the unidentified, immortal shriek of pain pierce the muffled air that surrounded him. The dying sound in the room was suffocating somehow, it collapsed around his lungs, crushed his organs, pounded his brain…
And then it stopped.
/
"Cas!" He was being shook, Dean's voice accompanying the able hands gripping his shoulders.
Castiel managed a grunt as he opened his eyes, placing his hands out in front of him, grasping the fabric of his husband's shirt as soon as it was in his reach.
"What happened?"
"Demon." He choked out, still clutching Dean's shirt.
"That's not what–" Dean stopped himself and the look of sheer agony that passed over his hunter's face in that instant was heartbreaking, so long as his heart and other vital organs were still intact and able to be broken. "I know."
Castiel forced himself to look up, to center his attention on Dean's eyes, to drag himself out of this mental haze. "Is Alfie safe? And Jo?"
Dean nodded, his green eyes flickering with an array of emotions that he couldn't even begin to decipher. "Yeah, Cas, they're fine. Not a scratch."
Castiel managed to nod his understanding, and whether he smiled at the confirmation or not, he could barely even tell. The room was starting to slow its whirl though, which had to be a good sign.
"Yeah," Dean started, giving his husband a gentle shake again. "are you okay?"
"I don't–" He began but shook his head, shakily trying to communicate that he wasn't sure. But Dean's expression went from concerned to panicked, his green eyes blazing with alarm. "Look at me."
One hand clasped Castiel's chin tightly, forcing him to gaze up, to concentrate on the irresolutely troubled face in front of him.
"Tell me your name."
"Castiel."
"Full name."
"Castiel James Novak."
"Jo's birthday."
"May 18th."
Dean seemed to relax his current pensive features, as he prodded one last time. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three. I think I'm alright, Dean."
PRESENT
"Cas, please, it's for her own good. She'd be safer if she knew." Dean tried, rubbing his temples, a habit imitated from his husband without much thought. It didn't actually do any good for his throbbing headache in the moment though.
"She would be afraid, Dean. Not safer." Cas so willingly added, with a glowering, pale blue look.
"She would get over it. She's tough."
"Not that tough." Cas countered, in that infuriatingly stubborn and bold way of his when he was pissed.
"How do you know?" Dean snapped.
Castiel shook his head for the umpteenth time in the one discussion. "She's only a child, Dean!"
The hunter stood up from how his sitting position on the creaking old chair, unintentionally knocking it over in the process.
"Where are you going?" Cas asked, his voice filled to the brim with something that sounded like annoyance.
"For a walk, damn it." Adding the edge to the last words was all Dean could do to stop himself from screaming at Cas, but it seemed like the guy wanted to be yelled at for crying out loud!
Dean had picked up the empty beer bottle on his way to the door, and as he went through, it got caught between the frame and the slamming door, crushing the glass into his hand, opening a painful, thick and bloody gash in his palm.
"Fuck!"
He dropped the bloodied remains of the glass bottle on the ground behind him as he stepped outside, letting the door hammer its frame on his way out, cradling his bleeding hand.
~ End Chapter ~
Author's Note: I'd like to formally apologize for not being so great at posting last week and this week so far. It's been busy and homework has been extremely gross.
On a more interesting note, I'm going to be working to get these chapters up more efficiently and I hope you enjoy what follows!
Reviews would be epic, by the way. I don't really know how you guys all feel about these last few chapters…