Sum:
"What did you just say?"
Now it was Castiel's turn to shut up and face forward.
"Harrison Ford?" Came the demand.
"Ford… Harrison.."
A/N:
Hey y'all, I'd like to start this off with a big thank you for being patient 3
I know it's been a while and sometimes it may seem like I've forgotten/abandoned this work. It may take a while, but I do not ever intend to leave this. On that note, I might be pushing things a little fast - or faster than I originally planned. My personal life likes to get in the way a lot - and, excitingly I've been working on a few originals on the side - stuff I enter into contests. If it helps I do think about this story a lot and, well, all of you. This community and your amazing readers/commenters have been too kind to me. So yeah, here's what you've been waiting for ;)
I hope y'all enjoy, and until next chapter!
"Why Ford?" Castiel pondered aloud.
"'Cause it's the closest I could get to Harrison Ford." Dad chuckled, grinning at him from over the top of his glasses. "It's what the man deserves, with avoiding a publishing company ruining it."
"It's for one of his war buddies, you doof." Jimmy flipped the page from over his shoulder.
Gabriel perked up, "wait, like that one gun dude?"
Gadreel rushed to sit on the couch sensing where they all knew this was headed.
Dad just smiled as he shook his head with a chuckle.
The trio stared at their father with starry eyes. Dad never spoke much about his time overseas. Not much about being a Marine either. Even Michael and Nick's heads poked into the room. Anna jumped onto the couch and crossed her legs, nearly pushing Gabe to the floor.
"Please?"
"Alright," The man tried to sound exasperated. "Ford isn't his real name, but he saved my ass more than I can count. I saved his a couple of times too."
Castiel had never seen his father don such a mischievous smile. It didn't stay long as he witnessed Dad's eyes become distant.
"Hey, hey!" Ford- John Winchester snapped. He hauled Castiel up by the collar of his shirt. "You need to start talkin'. Who the fuck are you and where's-"
A petite frame appeared between the two.
Suddenly Cas found himself more afraid of Bess than of John.
"Stowe it, Winchester," her growl was low and deadly.
John rightfully took a step back when Bess bared her teeth.
"My husband was taken too. You've terrified Cas enough. You better start playing' nice. 'Cause if you keep up this tantrum then I will put your ass in time-out."
Both men were silent as Bess stomped away, finding someone else to yell at.
"I work with scary shit for a living… and right now I'm more terrified of Bess." Cas snorted, hoping to break the tension.
John's eyes were still hard. Though, he still kept Bess out of the corner of his eye. "Then you should have met my wife."
Castiel tried not to chew his lip, going so far as to put his hands behind his back when he couldn't stop fidgeting. "But… I'm Cas. I'm Dean's fam- er… friend." For two seconds Cas could see Dean's anger in this man. How the criminal said that John will never find out that he was a 'familiar.' Whatever the fuck that meant anyway. Nervously he rubbed his thumb over the mostly healed wound on his shoulder. Cas found himself under the watchful glare of John Winchester. He tried to calm himself, it wasn't like he was meeting a significant other's parents. That thought made him wince.
John drawled a breath, his lips moving in a harsh manner akin to a drill sergeant.
Before the man uttered a sound, their attention was snapped to the front of the house. "Deava!"
Bess suddenly appeared before the two once more. A snarl left his lips in discontent.
John held a hand out for the gun Bess held tightly. "I can-"
"No, you listen here, Winchester. You two are gonna play nice and find my husband and Dean." She shoved Castiel's bag at him. He fumbled it as his father's notebook had tipped out. "Now get! We'll cover you."
There was a cacophony of what sounded like barking as they two sprinted out of the farmhouse. They dodged bullets before the cover fire was laid. His foot slipped on the gravel driveway, throwing him into the door of the Impala. He fumbled to open the door so he didn't end up on his ass, the leatherbound book clutched in hand. The shots were succinct and reminded him of a long, long time ago.
There were a lot of people. A lot of sniffles and tissues raised to dab at the tear-streaked faces. The tearful crowd and his own mind nearly drowned out the sound of the trumpets playing Taps. Castiel fidgeted with his long overcoat. It had been his father's, but it was the only one Gabriel could find that worked with his sling. The dark clouds above their heads didn't dare drop an ounce of rain. Instead, a cold wind blew that reminded him of the calm before a snowstorm.
He flinched at the shots for the 21 gun salute. Suddenly he couldn't look at it anymore. The sea of people dressed in black. The garish pop of color on the caskets. The three graves, and the flag being folded to give to the family. He's been here before, at a military funeral. He tagged along with his father to pay his final respects to another man from his unit. He just didn't want this to be the reality he lived in. The trumpets, guns, and flag for his father. All the while his mother and twin were to rest permanently beside him. Why was he the one to live?
"Cas?" Gabe questioned as he turned. By mistake, Gabriel grabbed Castiel's bad shoulder, elicitation a strong hiss.
"Let him go," Micheal decided in a voice that disturbingly lacked emotion.
Walking away from his siblings, Cas had to hold tightly to the trench coat so it didn't blow from his shoulders. As he broke through the crowd, he thought he saw a man who looked like the embodiment of Ford Harrison. Cas combated this by blinking hard and looking elsewhere, away from the funeral service. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps follow him. He didn't look up, didn't want to see how real the sympathy on this person's face was.
"Sorry for your loss, son. He was a good man."
"For the love of-"
A big hand snagged his collar, yanking him into the car. Cas scrambled to hold onto something as his body fell. What he managed to do was grab hold of the door and slam it closed right as John gunned the vehicle forward.
Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
The younger man plastered himself to the seat, gulping in air and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
"Diva?"
"Deava." John bit out.
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
"Fuckin' Dylan." Winchester slapped the radio. "The fuck has Dean been listening to?"
Cas knew not to admit out loud that the song had at least been the live version from 76. What he hadn't noticed was the notebook still in his clutches. Then again, the next threat to his life was John Winchester's driving. Castiel's heart pulsed in his throat as the boat of a car fishtailed for the fifth time in two minutes. His shoulder smacks the door before it all settles. Cas whips his head around, not seeing anything but the dust cloud behind them being blown by the wind. It continued down the gravel road as they went down a dirt road. The sound of gunfire was long behind them. He just couldn't place where they lost it. It took him another two minutes to remember the music was off, and the thumping was his own pulse. Time was normalizing again, or he was dead. Either was possible with the way his life seemed to be anymore. His wits returned right as John stopped the car. He didn't say a word, his hands at ten and two on the wheel. His knuckles were turning white. Cas' mouth went dry, he still kept a death grip on the stupid notebook.
"You," he had a death wish, it was clear now. It would have been easier if he called Zachariah and told him what he had been up to. A bullet between the eyes, quick, easy. Not this. Especially with the way John's face was turning red. "Look like Ford Harrison." Put it on his fucking gravestone, because he figured those were his last words.
"What did you just say?"
Now it was Castiel's turn to shut up and face forward.
"Harrison Ford?" Came the demand.
"Ford… Harrison.."
"Why Ford?" Castiel pondered aloud.
"'Cause it's the closest I could get to Harrison Ford." Dad chuckled.
"Holy shit." John's words confused Castiel. There had been no hint of anger. "Holy fucking shit. Novak?"
Slowly, Cas turned his head, brows furrowed.
"Son'ova bitch. Fucking figures." The older man was bent over, breathlessly laughing. Or maybe it was to cover up the glassiness of his eyes. "Fuck you too, Chuck."
"Excuse me?" Cas bristled.
John shakes his head, taking his foot off the brake. "He was right. Don't fucking know-how, but he was goddamn right." He took in a large breath. "Then again, I never knew your father to be wrong. The man was damn near psychic."
Castiel didn't know what to say at first. Then, he asked something he already knew the answer to. "How'd you know him?"
"Chuck Novak was in my unit. We got caught up in a few tight spots together. When the hammer came down on me, he stuck out his neck to clear my name." His brows drew together. "'Fathers start the story, but the sons end it.'"
Cas was taken aback at the familiar words. He just couldn't place where he knew them from.
"That was the last thing he said to me. When I saw him… before the funeral."
"Ford isn't his real name, but he saved my ass more than I can count. I saved his a couple of times too."
It was silent between the two as John guided the car down a few more roads to make sure they put enough distance between the pack and Deava as much as they could.
"How are we going to find him?" Castiel almost didn't recognize his own voice.
John kept his eyes on the vacant road ahead. "I got someone working on it."
Not long after his phone started ringing. John made quick work to snatch it from his pocket and answer. "Report." The conversation was clipped and short-lived. Before hanging up he had snagged a napkin and pen from the dashboard, flipping away from the side with lipstick and a phone number. He jotted down more numbers. "Can you read a map?"
"Yes," Cas cocked his head in confusion. He pulled open the glove box, pulling out a beat-up map.
"Good, we need to go here." John handed over the napkin with two sets of numbers. Castiel could only guess they were coordinates.
He zoned in on the map with the fading light filtering through the window, holding a finger near the general area before looking up at John. Wordlessly asking why.
"That's where Dean and Garth are. We need to get there before he moves them."