Author's notes: The alternate title for this chapter was "All Cas, All The Time."
Chapter Twelve
"…with trepidation, noting the tiny leather jacket, the cocky grin, the way he took a bite of cake and then leaned back a little to enjoy it. But no – Lisa would have told him. There would have been a phone call, they would have had a long and painful discussion, Lisa would have slammed the phone to the ground in anger when Dean explained to her that he couldn't contribute financially. Not that he would have been unwilling, but to write checks, you needed a bank account. A real one. Somehow, he couldn't get the phrases 'credit card fraud' and 'child support' to work harmoniously in the same sentence.
"And yet, even as Dean felt the blood drain from his face, a part of him warmed slightly as he looked at the kid. A hollow inside him seemed to fill, if just for a moment. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world if he was right and Ben was his son. Maybe it could actually be the best thing to ever—"
"What the fuck are you reading to her?" Dean demanded.
Castiel slammed the book closed and tried to shift his body in order to sit on it, but the cast on his leg slowed him down, and Dean grabbed it from Cas's hands.
"The Kids Are Alright, Cas? Really?"
"I assumed that hearing about you and Sam would comfort her," Castiel explained unapologetically. "That if she heard your names consistently, it would make it easier for her to come back."
"Oh, god, please do not tell me you've been reading her the whole Supernatural series."
"All right," replied Castiel, but Dean could clearly deduce that just because Castiel wasn't going to tell him, it didn't mean that wasn't the case. He rolled his eyes.
"I'm gonna kill Chuck. In fact, I'm calling him right now."
"They don't like it when you make calls in the hospital, Dean," Castiel reminded him.
Dean grumbled under his breath and shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Son of a bitch knows by now that we're down a man. Woman. Well, tiny woman. The least he could do is call to throw us a fucking bone about when she's gonna wake up."
Castiel doubted that Chuck could still see the Winchesters' future now that Lucifer was back in the box, but he could see by the look on Dean's face that mentioning this would be a mistake. The hunter sat on the edge of Noelle's bed and gazed down at her ashy face with such sadness that it hurt to see. Castiel had only seen him look more upset when he knelt on the patch of dirt above Lucifer's Cage and mourned what he thought was the permanent loss of his younger brother.
Castiel now had the luxury of caring about his human family as much as his heart told him to. Without the responsibility of trying to keep Heaven from falling, the joy at having Sam back overwhelmed him. The concern and guilt and tenderness he felt for Noelle ate away at him, sent him hobbling to her room on his crutches every day before he was discharged, and now that he had been released from the hospital, he found himself asking Dean to drive him to the hospital to see her several times a day, every time visiting hours started. And that nagging and strange feeling he'd had around Dean on occasion in the past was now a constant. His heart fluttered every time Dean adjusted an article of clothing Castiel hadn't put on right. The first night after his release, Dean had gallantly insisted that he and Sam would take turns sleeping on the motel room floor, since both Cas and Sam actually slept now and Cas was injured, and he had had to physically bite his tongue to keep from suggesting he and Dean just share. Dean had kept feeding him his food until the pain in his muscles abated and he was able to feed himself, but even that chore had become less and less embarrassing and more and more enjoyable as the days passed.
And Sam kept giving him these maddeningly knowing looks.
"Do you think she can even hear us?" Dean asked. "Is it even worth reading to her?"
Castiel looked up at him, glad for a reprieve from his confusing (and undeniably romantic) thoughts. "I hope so. Because otherwise I've been reading myself hoarse for no reason at all."
Dean smiled a little at that. Noelle had been in a coma for over a month. The doctors had little hope, and Gabriel had not returned. Everyone's optimism was wearing thin; to be honest, Castiel was surprised they had waited this long, that they had not… well, left. But then again, Noelle would have done the same for any of them.
"I still don't appreciate you reading her my fucking life story," Dean said abruptly, switching off the softness of the moment and diving back into his usual snarky manner. "You know there's a really, really graphic scene of me having sex with an ex-girlfriend in one of 'em, right?"
"I skipped that scene," said Castiel. It was half-true; he had skipped it while reading aloud to Noelle, but not while reading it on his own. He had chosen to do that partly because he knew it was nothing Noelle would want to hear, partly because the nuances of human behavior were becoming clearer the longer he was immersed in them and it would have been all kinds of awkward for him as well as her, if she could hear him, and partly because he was a little ashamed of how strange it made him feel to know that Dean had slept with a girl named Cassie, called her Cass as they made love.
"Yeah… good." Dean was now out of things to say. It was – endearing. He could go so far as to say cute, but he still didn't have a firm grasp on the more oscillary emotions, the ones that went beyond happy, sad, angry, and afraid, and wasn't sure if he was using it right… plus, he had a feeling Dean would deck him if he said it out loud.
Castiel hated this, the lulls in conversation as they both turned once more to Noelle's still form on the bed. Her eyes were underscored by darker shadows than normal, and her short hair had grown out a bit, a little shaggy. She would be annoyed when she woke up, because at least once a month, sometimes more, she had insisted on locking herself in the bathroom with a tiny pair of scissors and snipping away until she had cropped her hair into the desired style. She took an immense amount of pride in her ability to cut her own hair to form what she called a pixie cut, with strands of varying length and feathery bangs falling across her forehead – it all seemed very involved to Castiel, who could hardly shave without slitting his own throat by accident. The idea of her sitting up with her slightly longer hair frizzing about her head from being against a pillow so long and demanding a pair of scissors made him smile. He just hoped it would happen soon.
"God dammit, Noelle," Dean muttered, standing up from her bed in one irritated movement. "All we want is to breathe your fucking noxious cigarette smoke and go to Sioux Falls so we can have a break from all this shit, but we're stuck in Arizona because you'd rather sleep in. Thanks a lot."
A few months ago, Castiel would have looked at him in surprise for being so accusatory, but Dean was kidding. Kind of. It was that grim sort of kidding where everyone present knows it's not really funny, and if it does make you laugh, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. He was trying to goad her awake, trying and knowing he was going to fail. After a few moments, he turned away.
"Come on, you want lunch? I'm starving."
By way of responding, Castiel leaned down to the side of the chair where he'd laid his crutches and pushed himself to a standing position.
The crutches were annoying. The first couple of days, he had accidentally socked many an innocent chair, wall, or shin with the stupid metal things. One memorable morning at a diner, he had picked them up and the foam part that went under his arm had upended his unfinished soup all over the table. Dean and Sam had laughed at him for a solid few minutes, after leaving the waitress a couple of extra dollars for a tip.
Cas tossed them into the back seat of the Impala and arranged himself in the passenger seat. He was sick to death of having broken limbs. Couldn't the damn things just heal already? He wasn't bruised anymore and could move without aching, and his fractured wrist had been out of its cast for a couple of days, but this stupid leg was going to be the death of him.
"So Sam and I are gonna be gone this evening," Dean said as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
"Where?" asked Castiel. "And what is it?"
"Not that far, just a couple hours. A town called Oracle – ironic, right? I don't think it's anything to get your feathers in a knot about—" Castiel had learned the art of concealing his emotions just as suddenly as he had been overcome by them, taught inadvertently by Sam and Dean, who were masters at it, and he didn't let Dean see how careless slips of the tongue like that made him wish that Raphael had just killed him "—but we might not be back until morning."
"Demonic omens?"
Dean blinked in surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"When it's a haunting, you don't seem nervous at all," said Castiel. "If you think it's some kind of monster, you look almost excited, in a strange way. But with demons, you just seem unhappy."
He blinked again. "Oh. Yeah, demons suck. Anyway, you know the drill – Sam and I'll salt the doors and windows before we leave, but just double check every couple hours and make sure the lines are still intact. Also-"
"Dean," Castiel interrupted. "I know."
The boys had resumed hunting while Cas was still in the hospital. After his release, they had taken a break for a few days to get him actual clothes and try to help him adjust to life as a human without the immediate threat of the Apocalypse this time. It didn't last long. Once Cas learned the crucial arts of telling bald-faced lies and ordering takeout, the boys had returned to their profession, without him. Cas was fully aware that he would be of no help at all on a hunt, lurching about on his ridiculous crutches, but that didn't make waiting in the motel room for them to come back any easier. He wanted to help. He wanted to hunt. Despite what Dean thought about their lives, Cas knew that he would take the life of a hunter over this constant, never ending sitting around and being utterly useless in a heartbeat. Besides, he had already sort of done it, when the pooka in New York had carried Dean off and nearly trampled him (Dean had shot the finishing blow, but still). But until his damned leg healed, he was stuck in the motel while Sam and Dean hunted and Noelle wandered about in whatever dreamland her unconsciousness brought her.
"I know you know," admitted Dean. "Sorry. It's just – having Sam back – Noelle being all comatose – and your grace… yeah. Sorry. I'm not babying you on purpose, I'm just… anyway. Sorry."
"It's all right," said Castiel, looking out the window. "I understand."
Several minutes of slightly too-awkward driving later, Dean pulled up the Impala alongside the curb about half a block away from the diner. Much to Cas's chagrin, he retrieved his crutches from the back seat before Cas could even open his door, and together, they entered the diner. It had a curiously vintage feel to it, more reminiscent of what diners had looked like when Castiel had sent Dean back to 1973 than what they looked like now, with barstools whose shade of red bordered on alarming and lots of chrome. Everywhere Cas looked, there was chrome. The grizzled-looking host took one look at him and said, "Booth, yes?"
"Yeah, that'd be great, Gramps, thanks a lot," said Dean. The host gave them a smile, throwing a sympathetic look at Cas.
"My daughter broke leg, twenty years ago," he said as he led them to the nearest open booth. "Big cast, all the way up her leg. Could not move knee. Very annoying, yeah?"
"Very," agreed Cas, sliding into the booth with no small amount of difficulty, wondering just what kind of accent the man had. It was very interesting.
"So, what you boys eating?"
"Bacon cheeseburger deluxe, two of 'em."
"And a cup of coffee, please," added Cas.
"Make it two."
The guy smiled again and left with their orders, signaling to a man of about twenty-five who had to be his son, who was holding a metal coffee pot. The younger man grabbed a cup and small saucer from the counter, then placed it on the table in front of Castiel, who thanked him and immediately dove for the sugar, tearing open one of the packets and emptying it. He stirred briefly, then reached for another, and it wasn't until he was stirring the second sugar into his coffee that he happened to glance up at Dean and his furrowed eyebrows.
"What is it?" Cas asked, tearing open another small yellow packet.
"Just wondering, Cas… once Noelle's among the living again and you're all healed up, what's the plan?"
He looked up from his fourth packet, taking a moment to appreciate the restraint Dean was showing. Usually after the second sugar, Dean started making faces. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I get the feeling she's gonna want to stay with you," Dean explained. "I mean – okay, five is pushing it, dude – I mean, you two got that Miyagi and Daniel-san thing going on, and… I just have a gut feeling Noelle won't want to leave you."
"I don't understand what you're trying to ask me," said Cas frankly, pouring the fifth and last packet into his coffee anyway and taking a pointed sip, without looking away from Dean.
The hunter rolled his eyes. "I have to spell this out for you? Cas, without your mojo comin' back, you're stuck here, right? So you gotta have some kind of plan for the future, which you now have as a human. Basically, what I'm asking is, do you want to stay with me and Sam and become a hunter – you know, once you can move – or do you want to try and be a normal guy?"
Cas blinked, bemused. "I… didn't even realize this was something we'd need to talk about. Of course I plan on becoming a hunter. I won't be useless on Earth as well as in Heaven. Besides, I wouldn't know the first thing about living as a 'normal' person."
A grin split Dean's face. He reached across the table and clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Good, because the idea of you getting a desk job is freakin' hilarious."
"Your faith in me is touching," Cas grumbled, as the waiter came back and put their plates in front of them. "Thank you."
"Anything else, you let me know," the old man replied jovially, before bustling off to seat a young couple and their two kids.
Dean dug into his cheeseburger with enthusiasm, pausing only to comment, "I hate when it's some old gray guy and not a hot chick," before resuming. Cas ate more slowly, having learned quite early on that without a Horseman affecting his appetite and his grace allowing him to eat as much food as he wanted, he tended to fill up rather quickly. He glanced up, past Dean's head; the family of four had been placed in the booth in front of him, and their little daughter was standing up in her seat, which shared a back with Dean's. She appeared intent on placing a straw wrapper on Dean's head without him noticing. Catching Cas's eye, she smiled with mischeif sparkling out of her eyes and put a finger to her lips. Cas smiled back, unable to help it.
"What are you grinning about over there?" Dean asked through a mouthful of cheese and beef.
"Nothing," replied Cas soberly. Wrapper successfully planted on the crown of Dean's skull, the little girl gave herself a silent round of applause and blew Cas a kiss before sitting down. She was fair-skinned and blonde-haired, and reminded him very much of Claire Novak, if Claire were a few years younger. He had occupied her body for minutes only, but that girl had fire within her, strength that surpassed even Jimmy's by miles and determination to rival John Winchester's. Castiel wished for a moment he could find Claire and Amerlia, just to let them know that Jimmy suffered no longer, that his soul had remained in Heaven when his body was cast from it. But Claire was a smart girl, and if Amelia hadn't thought to do it herself (though she seemed quite capable), Claire had certainly convinced her by now to change their surname and go into hiding. Perhaps they were using a name Jimmy would know, hoping someday he would find them, once the danger had passed. Castiel didn't want to confirm their worst fear, didn't want to tell them that the only time they would see him again would be when they, themselves, arrived in Heaven, but was false hope better than no hope at all? He wasn't sure.
"Cas," said Dean firmly, snapping him out of his musings. "You with me over there?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. When you and Sam go on your hunt, try to be back early tomorrow? I'd like to be able to visit Noelle."
"Well, you know how much Sammy and I love palling around with demons," said Dean with a grimace, "but for you, we'll cut the fun short. You're welcome."
Cas grinned at this and returned to his cheeseburger. They ate the remainder of the meal in a comfortable silence, the car ride on the way there all but forgotten. Dean had been doing this a lot lately – alternating between acting compulsively overprotective and smilingly refusing to acknowledge the fact that anything was wrong with anyone. Cas couldn't tell where Dean's mind was, but his own returned to Claire and Amelia Novak, lingering for a few sad and concerned minutes before switching over to Noelle. He wondered why his feeling towards Claire overlapped as much as they did with what he felt towards Noelle, when the two situations could not be more different – when the two girls could not be more different.
Dean's expression was peculiar when Cas posed the question to him. "How exactly do you mean?" he asked. The straw wrapper from the little girl was still on his head, swaying comically with every move.
Cas shifted in his seat, his cast feeling huge and clumsy under the table. "It's difficult to explain. When Noelle showed up after that vampire attacked her, I felt… rage. I felt guilt. I felt that I'd failed her by not protecting her, even though I knew that there was nothing I could have done. She just ran off. And sometimes, when I think of Claire, it feels similar. As if I am failing her simply… existing. Not going to her. But I don't know why."
"God, you're worse than Sam with the fucking chick flick scenes, Cusack. Remind me to buy you a boom box so you can blast Peter Gabriel outside her window."
"What?"
"Look, sometimes you feel whatever Novak left behind, right? Famine affected him, not you, right?"
"Yes," said Cas, "but Jimmy was still alive when we encountered Famine. He was still in this body."
"Yeah, but sharing a head with a guy for, what was it, four years, three? That's gotta have some lasting effect, Cas. So, Claire is Novak's daughter, so what you feel towards her is carryover from him. And the reason you feel the same way about Noelle is cus you're a big ol' softie."
This didn't make sense to him. "So, you're saying that because of Jimmy missing his daughter, I'm using Noelle to fill the space she left?"
"No, moron, I'm saying that you love Noelle on your own. You just recognize Novak's love for Claire for what it is, because you already feel it towards our own personal Eve."
Cas could not compose a response for that any more eloquent than, "Oh."
Dean smiled. "See what I mean, though? You and Noelle, I don't know what it is about you guys, but the two of you have a pretty heavy-duty connection. Or something. S'why I asked if you wanted to stick around or beat it. She doesn't need us protecting her anymore, and I know she'll want to stay with you."
"But what about you? What about Sam?"
"What about us, we'll be fine."
"I have no doubt that you'll be fine," said Castiel impatiently. "But I don't want to leave. Noelle won't either, I know it. Even I can tell that she loves you too, Dean. And besides, we're family, aren't we?"
As soon as he had spoken, Castiel wondered if he had overstepped his boundaries, if he shouldn't have remained quiet. Dean's face was unreadable for about three endless seconds, before relaxing into a contendedness that looked deeper than joy. He just looked… happy. It was nice to see.
"Yeah," he replied. "We are."
Cas nearly sighed in relief, feeling once again as if he were part of something. Angels weren't designed to stand alone, and even now, Castiel was no different, but who he was standing with made all the difference in the world. He did not stay because of blind faith, or because of fear of punishment, but because he wanted to. And they wanted him.
Dean cleared his throat loudly, clearly having had enough. The wrapper fell to the side, unnoticed. "Okay, no more mushy-gooshy bullshit. Let's get out of here, Sam's probably ready to kill me. He wanted to be on the road fifteen minutes ago."
#
Wendigo
Creature, corporeal, human in origin. Born after consumption of too much human flesh – cannibal turned monster.
Dwells in caves, abandoned mine shafts, prefers to be underground, most commonly found in areas settled by pioneers/Native Americans, though not exclusive. Hoards victims, do not presume dead, search&rescue 1st priority. Hibernation cycle 23 yrs (+/-). Super fast, super strong, intelligent, can imitate human voice, nasty sons of bitches.
Fire ONLY weakness – burn it alive
Castiel rubbed his eyes wearily, wondering whether or not John Winchester had learned penmanship from a gorilla. The man's handwriting was worse than Noelle's, for crying out loud, and her hands trembled like tree branches in a strong wind. He turned the page to read about chupacabras, but his phone rang, sparing his eyesight for as long as the conversation lasted. Cas stood up from the table and hobbled over to his bed, praying absently that it was the hospital calling to tell him that Noelle was all right. But it was Bobby's name on the caller ID.
"Hello, Bobby."
"Hello yourself, are the other two idjits there?"
"No," Cas replied, maneuvering himself back over to the table. "Why?"
"Because they're not answering their phones, that's why," said the old man gruffly. "You heard from them recently?"
"No, not since they left." Cas glanced at the clock. It was a little past midnight – later than he'd thought. "Maybe they decided to spend the night in Oracle. They could be asleep."
Bobby's tone informed him that he did not agree. "Yeah, maybe. Anyway, when they get back, call me. I got something to tell you three for when the kid wakes up."
"What is it?"
"I'll tell you when the boys get back. So how's the leg?"
"It's fine. Thank you for asking." Castiel had not physically seen Bobby since just after Sam jumped into Hell, but with the use of his own legs and the ownership of his own soul, Bobby seemed a bit more sumpathetic to the former angel's plight than he had been previously (although Castiel's resurrecting him from the dead probably had something to do with it as well). He knew that Noelle had met Bobby a few times, but events had always played out so that every time the boys took Noelle to Bobby's, Castiel was in Heaven. Their visits had been brief and hurried each time, but Dean kept talking about how the four of them were going to spend some time at Bobby's and defragment after all that had happened. Cas was actually looking forward to seeing Bobby again.
"Good. Don't forget to call me, it's important."
"I won't," said Cas, knowing that it would do no good to try and prod Bobby into telling him what "it" was. But he was very curious about it. "Goodnight, Bobby."
"'Night, kid."
He snapped his phone shut, marveling at Bobby's insistence on calling him "kid," and returned to John's journal and his lukewarm beer, not too much troubled about the fact that the boys hadn't answered their phones. Maybe they really were asleep. Maybe they were in the middle of an exorcism. There were plenty of logical explanations, and none of them involved anyone getting seriously injured, except the demon in question. Cas was worried, sure, but not very much. Sam and Dean would be fine. He was more interested in whatever it was Bobby had to tell them. But really, he should be paying more attention to what he was reading, and with great effort, turned his head back to John's journal.
He made it through chupacabras, wraiths, and homonculi before giving up; John's writing was beginning to give him a headache, not to mention the constant flipping from where the man had made new discoveries on this version of monster or that, and stuck some manner of Post-It note scrawled with instructions to turn to a later page. Marking his place with a scrap of motel stationary, which would certainly be lost among the numerous other scraps of stationary from other motels, Cas placed the book to the side and leaned his head back, wishing for something to do other than bitch. Sure, it was mental bitching, but it was bitching nonetheless. He was beginning to annoy even himself with the constant stream of insecurity and self-loathing and feeling of worthlessness, and Jesus Christ, did Dean really feel like this all the time?
Castiel used to think that he empathized with Dean because he could see into the man's heart, could see every inch of the worthless, pathetic being Dean thought he was. Seeing and feeling were not one and the same, though as an angel, he had had no way of knowing that. But he had come to realize over the past month that whatever he'd thought Dean put himself through was nothing – truly nothing – compared to how this actually felt. He wondered how Dean had withstood it for more than thirty years, but the answer came swiftly enough: Sam. Dean had dealt with the hatred he felt towards himself because he had Sam to look after and protect and love, no matter how turbulent their relationship became. Castiel wasn't sure whether he had the equivalent of a Sam in his life. Of course, he considered Sam himself a friend. He knew beyond a doubt that he would sacrifice his life for Noelle's sake without a second's hesitation, if circumstances ever arose where that became necessary. And he was becoming more and more certain with every passing day that what he felt towards Dean bypassed friendship and moved into the sort of love Jimmy had for Amelia. It was fitting; Dean was the one who had taught him friendship in the first place. But did any of them make the agony he felt within his own mind worthwhile?
He was a little ashamed of himself for even wondering. Of course they did. With his soul back in place, Sam was once again the man whose considerable amount of darkness couldn't drown out his light. Noelle had thrown herself headfirst into the life of a hunter, sacrificed all she had known without complaint, put everything she had into training, and nearly died saving Castiel's own diminished life. And Dean… after everything that Heaven and Hell and his father and his brother and his own crazy head had put him through, Dean deserved more than even God could give him.
Not a lot of action (or Sam… sorry, Sasquatch), but some character and relationship development. Things should pick up in the action department soon.
Also, as the lovely and thoughtful DemonUntilDeath pointed out, I realize that Dean's rushing in to get Death to go get Sam's soul was a little rushed. I should have paced that better, but there is a scene in a couple of chapters where it is explained just what was going through his damaged little head when he did the deet. Thanks for reading.
