Chapter Twenty-One "Respite"
It's gone midnight when the Impala pulls up in front of a familiar cabin in the woods. Castiel can remember staying here when the Leviathans were chasing them. He remembers he was insane then, and Meg was with them. He tries not to think about her, but it's difficult when he knows her killer is standing right next to him. He doesn't want revenge. Not really. He's not sure what he wants, and he's certain that being human was never meant to be so confusing.
There aren't enough beds for everyone in the cabin, but there is a couch, and someone suggests sleeping in shifts so they can keep watch for enemies. It's just as well. Castiel couldn't sleep now anyway. Kevin passes out on the couch while Dean and Crowley claim the bunk bed in the other room, and Castiel is left to sit in silence.
The drive had been impossibly long. Dean had only slept fitfully for a few hours before taking the wheel again. They had made him switch drivers every now and then, but he hadn't slept any more. Castiel is perfectly aware of the reasoning behind this behavior. Dean is worried, naturally. He wants to make sure his family is safe. If they are his family. They're as close as any of them will get. But there's more to it than that. It may be guilt, but Castiel is certain that Dean suspects something about Gadreel's sudden appearance. It's not as if Dean has given any indication of this, only that Castiel knows himself to be a terrible liar. And lying by omission is the same as lying straight out.
Castiel gets up from the rickety table and walks over to the front window. The darkness in the forest is made more absolute by the fact that all the lights in the cabin have been shut off. They don't want to draw attention to themselves. After a few moments of staring, Castiel goes to his bag and gets his red sweatshirt. It's not as warm as his coat, but it's all he has now, and he has a feeling he'll need it.
A biting wind blows through the trees, and Castiel gets the strange sensation that it's about to snow as he walks down the steps out of the cabin. His sweatshirt doesn't do much to keep back the cold. He'll have to see about getting some warmer clothes soon.
As it is, Castiel stumbles through the trees, cold and without a flashlight; which seems, in retrospect, like a rather silly idea. Still, he carries on for about ten minutes before he finds a small clearing where the moonlight has broken through the clouds making it seem colder than ever, but a little lighter.
When Gadreel appears before him, Castiel notices a faint glow, making it easier to see the angel in the gloomy woods.
"This is very remote," Gadreel says, with a hint of approval in his voice. "I take it you ran into no trouble on the way?"
"No," Castiel replies. "It was a strangely quiet trip. We have the tablet and everything we need."
"Good. Bartholomew and his forces have noticed your absence, but it should be some time before they track you here. Should that happen, I will be quick to warn you."
"Why did you say you were following us in Wisconsin?"
Gadreel looks mildly surprised. "Did you want me to say that you called me? I was of the impression you did not have the approval to speak with me."
Something very human in Castiel bristles at the thought that he would need anyone's approval to do anything. But Gadreel is right. Dean would not be happy if he knew.
Gadreel smiles faintly at Castiel's silence. "I think it would be best if our meetings remained between us for now. It is not such a far fetched concept that I would be able to follow you anyway."
"You didn't follow us here; I called you."
"I was occupied. I am not omnipresent, you know?"
"Yes, of course, but when do you plan to explain how you've been occupied? You said Bartholomew had an army?"
"Yes, he is building up a faction of angels. Their hope is to return to Heaven, but because they see you as their chance, they are going about things all wrong. Meanwhile, Metatron laughs."
"You've seen Metatron?"
"Yes. He came to me. Made me quite the generous offer, but I have my suspicions about his motives."
"Good." Castiel can't help feeling a surge of bitterness at the idea of Metatron still pulling strings. "He's proven he can't be trusted."
"It does seem like a good idea to learn what he is planning, though."
"You're going to spy on him?"
"He came to me. He made it easy."
"But what if he finds out you aren't on his side?"
"If I can learn how to open the gates of Heaven again, I do not care what he does to me. There is very little I cannot withstand."
"You could get yourself killed."
"Death is not the worst thing that can happen, Castiel. Remember that."
Castiel is alone once again in the cold dark. He finds a dry log and sits down at the edge of the clearing to wait for the sunrise. There is too much to think about for him to go back just yet.
~oOo~
It's something like four in the morning when Kevin wakes to a series of clanking noises coming from the kitchen. His head is at that end of the couch, so he has to turn onto his stomach to look over the ratty old pillow to see Crowley behaving quite viciously toward the coffee maker.
"What the hell are you doing?" Kevin asks in a heavily sleep coated voice.
"Sorry, did I wake you?" Crowley replies, looking briefly toward the living room before returning his attention to the ancient coffee maker.
"Little bit," Kevin says. "What are you doing up so early anyway?"
"What is sleep when there's strategy to plan?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe something like sanity?"
"Says the prophet who stays awake for days on end reading Metatron's indecipherable sludge."
"I never said I wasn't crazy." Kevin gets up, feeling the last traces of sleep forsaking him.
Crowley seems to have found the right button because the telltale dripping of hot coffee sounds from the kitchen, and the smell immediately permeates the room. He then begins searching the cupboards for clean mugs.
"Coffee?" he asks.
"Sure," Kevin replies, sitting down at the table where he left all their notes the night before. He's glad he doesn't have to read the tablet anymore for a while. They have enough ammo on the angels just from what they've translated so far. He picks up one of Crowley's notebooks which is color-coded and full of explanatory notes. In comparison, Cas' notes are bare bones. Just the facts as plain as he could make them. His handwriting is weird too. Kind of squiggly like he doesn't quite know what the words should look like. Kevin has to hand it to Crowley; his work will be easier to deal with.
After a few minutes, Crowley sets a plain ceramic mug on the table in front of Kevin. "We're going to have to stock up on food today," he says conversationally. "I think this coffee is growing hair."
Kevin takes a sip, and it is disgusting. "How long has this been in here?"
"Let's see, the boys were using this cabin back when the Leviathans walked the Earth. I don't know when they found the bunker exactly, but it's probably been a year or more."
Kevin pushes the mug away. He's not going to risk any more of that substance masquerading as coffee. "Hey, you know how you said if we got out of the vampire nest alive, you'd talk about... you know?" Kevin doesn't know why he's bringing this up now. He's not even sure he wants to get into it, but it seems as good a time as any.
"Yes," Crowley replies, staring back at Kevin from across the table.
Right about now, Kevin feels more like sinking into the floorboards than saying what's been on his mind. "I was just wondering—I mean, I know you're... not like you used to be."
"Is there a question in there?"
"How does that work, exactly? Did you just become human and suddenly that makes you a good person?"
"Do you think I'm a good person?" Crowley can be so damned Socratic sometimes.
Kevin sighs. "I don't know."
"Then let me tell you." Crowley rests his hands on the table, clasped together. "I'm not. I don't think humanity is split up into good people and bad people. I think it's messier than that. Being a demon is easy. There are rules. Humans don't have rules. Not the same way. There's free will, and there's destiny, and there's something in between, and who knows which way is up?"
"That's not an answer."
"That's what I am now. Complicated."
"So, why are you here? Why do you care what happens to us?"
"Someone died for me. That leaves a mark that can't be erased. I have a debt that can never be paid."
"You think if you help Dean you're paying back what Sam did for you?"
"For me, to me. I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's a jarring thing, Kevin, to receive a second chance you never asked for."
"Isn't that kind of what redemption is?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I think I can handle that."
Crowley smiles in a way that is not altogether unpleasant, and Kevin doesn't think to be concerned about it.
~oOo~
Dean isn't sure whether the cool yellow light streaming through the windows or the loud banging of the front door is what wakes him. Either way, he's on his feet in a matter of seconds, ready to attack whatever is invading the cabin.
However, it turns out that Crowley and Kevin have just come inside carrying brown paper bags full of food and other supplies, so Dean forgets his impulse to kill something and moves out into the main room. The clock on the wall reads 6:12.
"How early did you get up?" he asks as the others begin putting away groceries.
"Around four, I should think," Crowley replies absently. "We had a nice chat, organized some notes, and found the larder completely lacking in anything edible. Really, when's the last time you stocked the shelves?"
"Almost a year. Once we found the bunker, we didn't need it anymore. It didn't do much good to hide in a place most people already knew about anyway."
"That's why the coffee tasted like battery acid."
"Yeah, don't drink that."
"Thank you, you've been so helpful."
"Hey, where's Cas?"
Crowley looks around the room, seeming to just realize their group is one member short. "I suppose he went for another of his solitary walks. Was he here earlier?"
Kevin shakes his head. "I thought maybe he went to sleep when you got up."
But all the beds are empty, and it doesn't take long to search the cabin and find that Cas is indeed gone.
"I'm gonna look for him," Dean says as he begins pulling on his shoes.
"If he's been out there in the dark, he's gonna be freezing," Kevin says.
"You can figure out that cursed coffee maker," Crowley says.
Dean crosses the room, pushes a couple of buttons on the machine, and it starts up again. "The labels wore off a long time ago," he says. "You just gotta know what they used to say."
He leaves the cabin without waiting for further questions or bickering from Crowley and Kevin. More because the bickering is actually friendly, and Dean doesn't think he can listen to that right now when his stomach is twisting in knots at the idea that Cas might be lost or hurt or worse.
There's an easy trail to follow away from the cabin. Dean even finds a bit of red thread on a branch from Cas' sweatshirt. But he still can't understand why Cas would go out at night and traipse through the woods alone. That's dangerous on the face of it, but with Bartholomew's people out there looking for them, it's even worse.
It doesn't take long for Dean to see a flash of red in the distance. He's sure Cas can hear him coming, but he doesn't turn around. It's a miracle the former angel manage to come all this way in the dark without breaking his neck.
The little clearing where Cas is sitting is covered in dew which reflects the first rays of sunlight. Birds have begun to sing all around them, and insects chirp with life. Dean is no longer surprised to find Cas sitting in a place like this. So, instead of showing his fear or getting angry, Dean sits down beside Cas and doesn't say anything at all.
Thanks for all the feedback on how to post new stories. I have a poll on my profile right now if you'd like to vote for which story you want to see first. And if you've got any comments on them, feel free to PM me and let me know.
And of course, let me know what you think of this chapter, I've got another one finished already and the beginnings of the next one after that, so I'm slowly getting ahead. Hopefully by next week, I'll have more stocked up. This weekend was terrible for writing with a bunch of out of town family staying at my house. But now I'm free, and the words will flow!