Hope you've all had/are still having a happy holidays! I had a lovely time. Glad to be home though!
This is the last chapter I'll be posting for a month or two, sorry! Super busy right now. Definitely still got plans for this fic though!
See you in a while and I hope this is an alright place to leave you for a hellatus (really am sorry!) xxx
All I want 2 know then is who the fuck is in my brother?
I don't know. Clearly not Ezekiel, if Raziel was speaking the truth.
Might not've been, sounds like a dick
He was quite unpleasant. So was his blade.
Yeah remind me 2 send this Hannah chick flowers. U were on ur way 2 hospital when she showd up right?
If you wish to give her flowers then have them waiting at the bunker, posting them will not work. And whether I was going to hospital doesn't matter now. What matters is I've found a suitable angel to help us and as soon as I find her again I'll bring her to you. Are you prepared?
Dude, it fucking matters, ur human and u can't just heal up without help. If u get hurt there won't always b a nice angel around 2 help ok?
OK, I understand that. But are you prepared for me to bring Hannah to replace the angel inside Sam?
Yeah got the spells. What's she like then?
Hannah is an unusual angel. She is something of an idealist, perhaps even a romanticist, or as close as an angel can get. She's kind and passionate.
Huh, sounds just like u… I like her already. Good work Cas, thanks.
I blink tiredly down at the bright little screen of my cellphone, my eyes aching. It's the early hours of the morning and I'm no longer mentally equipped to process new ideas. Is Hannah like me? I suppose she is. It's a comforting thought, because I like and respect her. I feel bad about leaving her to wonder where I've disappeared to overnight, because she has no way of knowing about the warded Impala protecting me. Hopefully she won't assume that I've been killed.
Yawning, I decide reluctantly that it's time for sleep. I don't want to cut off the conversation with Dean, though. He called me soon after I drove away from my motel room and I ignored road safety by holding a phone call with him for almost half an hour whilst driving the car. But then he had to return to the bunker from the walk he'd taken to be able to call me, and we were restricted to texting. I was on the far outskirts of Fort Collins by then, up on a hill overlooking the small city, and I parked up for the night. Now, an hour later, I'm finally too tired to text Dean.
You're very welcome, Dean. I have to sleep now. I'll text you in the morning. Goodnight xxx
He replies quickly and I curl around the phone with a fond smile, trying to get comfortable in the partially reclined front seat, tucked into a musty blanket.
OK, get some sleep. Miss u. Stay safe.
I fall asleep thinking that I miss Dean too, more than even I expected to.
I wake up before dawn, after just over four hours of sleep. I'm chilly and aching and lonely as I stretch and feel around for my bottle of water. I wonder blearily how Dean's coped living most of his life on minimal sleep. In the short time that we've been sharing a bed, Dean's told me - with his endearing shy smile that indicates he means more than he's saying - that he's been sleeping for longer than he used to, despite always falling asleep after me and getting up well before me.
Rolling my aching neck and shoulders, I open the door and shiver at the cool breeze that hits me. At least I'm more awake now. It's time to get out of the Impala and hope that Hannah shows up before anyone else.
Clambering out and stretching in the cold air, I jump as my phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. I pull it out to see a text from Dean.
Mornin sunshine! Sorry if this wakes u up but u should b up early anyway to find this Hannah chick and get back here. Got a plan 2 stick 2. Hope ur all good.
I smile wearily as I type back. Obviously Dean has reverted back to his previous sleeping habits.
I just woke up. Good morning. She should be able to find me now, I'm waiting for her. I am still unharmed, if not very well rested.
How was sleeping in Baby? Ha ha a night with her'll leave u sore…
I narrow my eyes. Dean has added a winking emoticon to his text, which is unusual for him and makes it clear that his comment is probably some form of euphemism or innuendo. I think about it for a moment and then chuckle as I understand the joke. Predictably, it's sexual innuendo. I add a laughing emoticon to my response.
I have discovered that for myself, unfortunately.
Ha ha yep. Look I have 2 go, Sam wants 2 talk again now I've slept on it or whatever. Should b fun… good luck with Hannah and txt me later with an update. Stay alert xxx
My mouth twitches at the 'x' kisses. The dull ache to be back at the bunker intensifies raggedly and I heave a deep sigh, typing back sadly.
Alright. I'll be back as soon as possible xxx
I gulp down some water, rub unhappily at my neck and watch the beginnings of sunrise light up Fort Collins below. It's a pretty view, and I try to muster up some positivity as I ponder it. It might not take long for Hannah to find me at all, and I've already decided that once I've reunited with her I'm going to ward myself. It's imperative that none of Bartholomew's assassins, or any other angel or stranger at all, follow me back to the bunker. I need to get a tattoo to prevent that from happening.
I start to make a list in my mind of possible tattoo locations on my body. The first one that comes to mind is my chest, in the same place that Sam and Dean have their demon warding. I get slightly sidetracked thinking that Dean's tattoo suits him and remembering the way he always huffs an odd, almost embarrassed laugh when I kiss him there. The embarrassment transfers to me as I contemplate getting a tattoo in a matching location to Dean. No, I won't get it on my chest.
I look down at my arms. Arms are a common tattoo location. I could get the necessary Enochian script wrapping around my upper arm. But Enochian generally needs to be written on a flat surface to work at full capacity for warding; some of the symbols are too similar to each other and have to be very carefully shaped. My arm would be unwise.
I think of the flat stretches of flesh on my body. My torso would be best. I consider my back but dismiss it; I want to watch it being done to be sure that no mistakes are made.
Stomach and ribs are left, then. I decide quickly that a stomach tattoo would simply look strange, so ribs it is. I pause to wonder at my developing sense of vanity. Prior to falling, the aesthetics of a tattoo - of anything in the physical realm - wouldn't have even occurred to me. Now, the thought of looking unattractive or foolish worries me, and not even entirely because of my relationship with Dean. I've changed through becoming human.
The thought comes to me that even if I do recover my grace, I might never be a true angel after this. I might always be caught halfway to humanity. I remember Anna's sad eyes after becoming an angel again, and I shiver.
I'm startled out of my reverie by the sound of a car turning onto the gravel road leading to my little lookout carpark. Tensing, I pull my angel blade out from the back of my jeans once more. It's a small car and the sun is reflecting on the windows in a way that makes it impossible to see inside. I imagine Bartholomew's face through the glaring glass, although I know that he was always the sort to delegate tasks like killing. Raziel's cold eyes flash in my mind and I start to sweat even in the cool air; what if the sigil didn't send him as far as it should have? Even a small scratch or a hastily daubed sigil-
The car stops a dozen yards away, and Hannah climbs out.
"Hello, Castiel," she says solemnly. I collapse sideways against the Impala in a rush of relief, weak with dissipating fear. Rolling to lean back, I tip my face towards the pale blue sky and thank my absent Father.
"Hello, Hannah," I reply hoarsely, still staring upwards. I take a few deep breaths and then straighten up, stowing my blade back in my jeans. She hasn't moved from standing in her open car door, her mildly puzzled expression half-obscured by her dark tresses wafting in the hilltop breeze.
"Weren't you expecting me?" she asks slowly. I nod hastily.
"I was. I just wasn't sure if you'd still come, or who else might show up first. But you're here. Thank you."
She nods in a way that would probably be accompanied by a shrug if she were a little more fluent in human body language. "I was confused by your disappearance all night, but I assumed you had found a way to ward yourself while you slept."
"The car is warded. I think it would be a good idea for me to ward myself more permanently though. Before I take you back to where I live - where my friend needs your help - would it be alright if we stopped for me to get a warding tattoo?"
Hannah gives that disinterested nod again and I wonder if I was this distant when I first interacted with humans, with Dean and Sam and Bobby. No wonder they were wary around me. Laboriously, I open up the maps application on my phone. I used it to reach Fort Collins and I was hoping not to use it again despite its helpfulness, but it would be rude to lead Hannah in a meandering search for a tattoo parlour. Finding a place back down in the city, I wince as the strange robotic voice begins to direct me there. I ask Hannah to follow me and she gives me an enigmatic look as she slides back into her seat.
I dig a granola bar out from my bag before I settle into the driver's seat and set off. I feel too anxious and elated and terrified to be hungry, but I'm aware that I need to eat to keep my energy levels up. My eyes keep flitting to Hannah's - undoubtedly stolen using what Dean has referred to in the past as 'Jedi powers' - little car in the rear view mirror, both comforted and discomfited by her presence. I have no doubt that I've found the right angel to help Sam, but I already care about Hannah to some extent and I'm probably leading her into a fight. I dismiss the thought forcefully. Sam is in more danger than Hannah, and he has to come first.
Hannah is a clumsy driver, but she probably taught herself the skill very recently so I can't judge her. It's a sad reminder that all angels have lost the use of their wings, not just me.
We reach the little strip of shops containing my chosen tattoo parlour and park. I detain Hannah for probably too long in the parking lot, enlisting her second opinion as to what wording to use and how much it can be condensed and simplified whilst still being effective. After around fifteen minutes of discussion, we finalise the design and I stride almost excitedly to the tattoo shop door.
They're closed. The sign says that they open at ten o'clock. I check my phone to see that it's just past nine.
"Damn it," I hiss, causing Hannah to shoot me a look that's mingled amusement and reproach. I sigh, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. We'll have to wait in the Impala. Is that OK?"
Hannah gives what is becoming a very familiar nod, calm and quiet, and turns on her heel to go to the Impala. I follow after her, but as I slide into the Impala Hannah reaches out to touch my knee, stilling me. I look at her, alert, to see her eyes wide and concerned.
"The reaper's back," she whispers through barely parted lips. "Other side of the shops but getting closer. Drive, Castiel, now!"
I scramble to start the engine and reverse out of the space, heart thumping. Speeding across the small but semi-crowded parking lot as safely as possible, I glance back just as we turn out of view to see the nose of a car cruising slowly around the corner of the furthest store. I release a shaky breath as we tear up the street and I take a series of random turns until, a few minutes later, Hannah lays a cool and gentle hand over mine on the wheel.
"I'm confident that she's not following us."
I give Hannah a look that I'm sure is wild-eyed and frightened. "I was only outside the car for fifteen minutes, Hannah!"
She grimaces. "Yes, the reaper must have been nearby. It's lucky they're so loud when they communicate using the telepathic network. They seem to have no concept of a private message. I hear them coming before they can sense me, but not long before. I-"
"Hannah," I interrupt harshly. "I don't wish to be rude, but please be quiet for a few minutes."
She falls silent immediately and I'm grateful for the fact that most angels are not easily offended. My mind is racing as I drive until I merge into a main road heading south and I make a decision.
"Alright," I begin, a little nervous. "What I propose is that we drive down to Denver, which is further than we need to go to be en route back to where my family live-"
I pause, catching my breath as I realise that I've referred to Dean, Sam and Kevin as my family without thinking about it. Another glance at Hannah shows her frowning at her knees as though troubled. I decide to keep talking.
"So that will already mislead Bartholomew. In Denver, we will go to a tattoo parlour and get me warded."
"Bartholomew has angels looking for you in Denver too."
"I know. But warding drawn onto me will work until the tattoo is complete. You can apply the warding to me with pen. It will protect me as the work is carried out and you can stay in the car outside, ready to intervene if you sense any angels. They aren't looking for you, it's me they're sensing. But they won't sense you anyway as long as you're inside the Impala, and they will sense nothing of me if I'm warded."
Hannah is looking at me now, but I keep my eyes on the road, feeling nervous. It's not a bad plan, but strangely I want Hannah's approval. Finally, she speaks.
"Alright. Do you have a pen? I don't."
I relax and smile, relieved. "Yes, I have a pen. When we locate a tattoo parlour in Denver we'll park and you can draw the warding onto me according to the design we finalised back there."
Hannah agrees quietly. I think idly of her little car back at the small shopping strip. I hope that she wasn't very attached to it.
The rest of the drive to Denver is spent in companionable silence and I think, yet again, that I really do very much like Hannah.