Chapter 75.
With Sam safely consigned to a dreamless sleep, Cas went to his own room. He had never understood why Dean found its Spartan nature disturbing or understood how clutter could comprise a sense of settling into a place, but everything Jules had left there, from the comb on the nightstand to the jacket hung on the back of the door, made the little room seem more of a haven to him.
Wandering alone, he had been so sure that he could not justify remaining a part of her life and even when he went to meet her at the farm, an ending to their relationship had seemed inevitable if not imminent. She had looked at the broken mess in the doorway and she had said, "Come to bed."
He felt he should have told Sam what his consideration had allowed. Had anyone intruded on their room in the night, he knew it would never have happened. Only alone with Jules, forgetting the world beyond the door for a while, could he have dared to touch her and kiss her in the ways he had, but he could not have found the words to tell Sam.
That humans were naked under their clothes had seemed a mere functional fact and although the sight of a naked female form had sometimes awoken feelings in his borrowed body that confused him and unsettled him, only her nakedness had become a spiritual experience and the unspoken covenant between them seemed too sacred to be shared, even with Sam.
The bed was made. When she had gone for her morning shower, he had occupied himself with tidying the room, but angelic memory was perfect and with every glance at the bed, he could see her lying there, that light glittering in her eyes, unmocking laughter on her lips and he could hear her whisper his name and taste again the nectar he had discovered for the first time. Any new discovery amazed him, after all those ages of watching the world, but that one had been a revelation indeed.
Her joy in his love had been another. His limited, controlled, focused love that denied them both complete fulfilment because he could not tear his mind away from his lost brother seemed like it should be a disappointment. He would not have blamed her if her response had been bitter contempt, when her love had no limits that he had found.
She had looked into his eyes and smiled. She had spoken his name with reverence and gratitude. She had understood that he was giving her all that he could and she had accepted the gift as if it were all she could desire.
She was human and he never would be. He still felt the doubts that he could ever be allowed to touch one of her kind, the people he existed to protect. Michael ... this world's Michael, would have called it dereliction of duty or worse. His own conscience often declared it sacrilege or blasphemy. She belonged with a Winchester, not some bloodless automaton as Rowena had called the angels. But the Winchesters said she belonged with him. She had chosen him and she knew better than anyone how worthless angels were.
He had now made a decision, in any case. Rightly or wrongly, he had given her that ring, that promise and she had made a like promise to him and they were, in their own eyes, if no-one else's. betrothed, pledged and committed.
In the undercrofts of his mind, uncomfortable whispers reminded him that there might be a high price to pay for such presumption, that his love for her might be his deepest and most unforgivable fall of all, but Heaven lacked the imagination to devise a punishment more terrible to him than the thought of not holding her in his arms or never again hearing her voice. Even a torture lasting centuries could not make an impression on the mind that carried a memory of her in his arms.
He still wanted to find a way to use his grace to make something that could protect her when ... if he predeceased her, but that would have to wait until he could persuade Sam to sanction the idea. Either that or he would have to wait until Dean returned and the rules were relaxed. That felt possible now. Two nights with her and anything seemed possible.
He heard a light knocking on the door. "Are you there?" said Jack.
"Yes." said Cas, "Just a second." He moved her comb a fraction of an inch, just to feel it under his fingers and remind himself that it was real. Then he turned and opened the door, stepping quickly outside. He didn't know why he didn't want Jack in his room, but it seemed important to him at that moment.
"Sorry." said Jack, noticing the lack of a welcome and misinterpreting it, "Are you busy?"
"No, not at all." said Cas, trying for casual insouciance and missing it by several zip codes.
"What's wrong?" said Jack.
Jack was too young to ever understand. Cas barely understood at all and he was ancient. This infant nephilim knew nothing of complicated adult human emotions. He almost said, "Angel stuff." and left it at that, but that would hurt Jack and that was unfair, but Jack was waiting for an answer and he had no easy answer to give.
"Castiel?" said Jack.
"You know how I am with change." said Cas.
"What's changed?" said Jack.
Cas looked at the closed door behind him. "Everything. Jack, I can't explain. Even if I had the words, they would be meaningless to you. Loving Jules ... "
"Oh, good. I thought I'd done something wrong. I thought you were sad, but you're just finding happy complicated."
Cas smiled. Jack had, in his innocent, straightforward way, made perfect sense of the confusion. "Exactly." he said.
"I'm so glad you didn't screw things up with her."
"There's still time."
"Don't. You need this and you deserve it and just once, I want to see you get what you deserve."
"What did you want me for, anyway?" said Cas.
"There's dust on the Impala. With Dean away, I thought we should clean it."
"Good idea." said Cas.
"Should we check with Sam first?"
"Sam's sleeping. He'll wake in a few hours. I think we can assume his permission for this."
