Whew. Well, that could have gone worse. Or better. At least Rowena and Michael have met and everyone's still alright!
When the witch finally made her excessively dramatic exit from Michael's warded lodgings, it took Castiel great effort not to roll his eyes.
He found though that he couldn't quite hold back a rather satisfying, "What took so long?"
The look it got him was worth the ungodly long wait.
"Oh, I'd love to see you attempt what I just did and come out half this successful," challenged the egotistical woman.
"So it worked then? You were able to heal Michael?" The angel asked, brow furrowed farther than he'd expected.
"Oh, Castiel, dearie, I didn't go in there to heal the blighter; I went in there to let him heal himself."
The sudden spike of adrenaline at the first half of the witch's rather condescending statement nearly had Castiel clutching his chest. Or reaching for a weapon.
Thankfully, he must have hidden the compulsion well enough, for the shimmering magic user simply stood a little taller and preened expectantly.
"And exactly how did you go about that?" The relieved angel asked, soon as his heart had settled back down from its inconsiderate jump up into his throat.
"A witch never reveals her secrets," the woman replied with a Cheshire like smirk. Going on when Cas only blinked. Unamusedly.
"Och, fine, you can go and check on the brute if you're that concerned, but know that all I did was rebalance the wardings so that his destructive powers have been completely sealed and his constructive ones given just a wee bit of wiggle room."
"Thus the purported 'healing himself'?" Castiel queried, all dubiousness.
"Thus the actualized healing himself," the witch corrected. All confidence.
"...Yes. That is good news," Cas allowed, hoping his expression didn't give away any lingering doubts.
"Well, now that this whole 'coma' situation has been dealt with, I'll want a look at this new vessel you've secured the archangel," Rowena declared, clapping her hands together in a rather excitable manner.
"Uh, about that," Cas said, forcing himself not to avert his eyes at the sudden sharp look the witch sent him.
"Let me guess: You haven't secured the new vessel?" She asked, eyes accusing.
"No, but we've been in contact with the care facility and the transfer request has now been granted," the angel assured, maintaining as close to a genial tone as he could muster under such scrutiny.
"I was under the impression that things were already lined up," the unhappy witch leveled his way.
"Mary and a squadron of Sam's Apocalypse hunters are scheduled to make the trip, first thing in the morning," assured the angel, spine relaxing when the witch's glare lost some of its edge.
"Alright then. At least Dean and the archangel will be ready when we are," she decided with a quick nod. "Now, if there isn't any more pressing business, I think I'll avail myself of my suite and enjoy a nice, long, uninterrupted soak while we await dear Mary's departure."
And without another word, the witch was off, leaving Castiel alone and befuddled as ever.
Putting the chair he'd used through his rather lengthy wait back where it belonged, the heavenly caretaker contemplated the medical tent. Wondering, with a vague sense of unease, what exactly he'd see if he went inside.
Being fairly confident that Rowena wouldn't have done anything to jeopardize the safety of anyone in the bunker —considering she too was indeed in the bunker—, Castiel was therefore near certain that nothing untoward had taken place within.
Still, standing there in the middle of that deserted ward, he found himself wavering between taking the now long gone witch at her word, and going immediately to check on her 'good' work.
Eventually Cas decided that it made every sense for him to want to check on his heavenly relation no matter who had been visiting and for what purpose. After all, it had been far too long since he'd personally checked in on the injured archangel as it was.
Decision reached, the angel squared his shoulders and made for the splotchy front flap, pushing his way through with only a moment's hesitation. Stopping dead though when that old, tired feeling of heavy oppression didn't hit him the way it always did. More like a thick blanket over his senses than the brick wall to the face he'd become so very used to.
Then he felt something that shocked him to his core: a resonance whose familiarity undercut even the most basic of his angelic perceptions; a bond that he hadn't been sure he'd ever be lucky enough to feel again. A bond so profound, he'd felt utterly alone without its presence.
"Dean?" He asked of the figure in the bed, surprised when his voice managed to crack on the simple syllable.
"Mm?"
At the low, barely audible grunt, Castiel suddenly found himself pressed against the railing and sheets of the medical bed, barely holding himself back from bending low and checking the inhabitant's vitals.
"Dean, is that you?" He asked, not caring that his throat hardly got the sounds out at all. Too engrossed in his study of the unbelievably no longer utterly pulverized form of his best friend.
"Who's askin'?" Asked the face miraculously now only brushed by light greens and yellows and swelling so mild as to be practically negligible.
"Dean, it's me, Castiel. How are you feeling?" The overwhelmed angel asked, his own eyes threatening to dew as he watched his friend's uninjured one work itself open.
"Oh, hey, Cas... What's shakin'?" Came again that oh-so familiar voice, following that oh-so familiar eye finding his face and studying it longer than it might usually have needed to.
"What's 'shaking' is that it is very possible I have never been more pleased to see you," the angel admitted, grin growing even as the man staring up at him showed no sign of comprehension.
"...What?" Dean asked, confirming the apparent lack of understanding.
"I am happy to see you," Cas reiterated, a bit slower. Hoping the simplification would help.
"...What for?"
"It's just, it's been so long and- I'm glad to see you so well. And awake," Cas admitted, not wanting to trouble the obviously confused hunter with unnecessary detail.
"Why was I sleepin'?"
"Because you were... injured," Castiel informed, trying not to let fear take hold when his friend's eye fluttered shut part way through his explanation. Realizing though that Dean must simply be tired when it opened back up a protracted moment later.
"Oh. Explains the digs," the hunter mused with a languid look around the medical tent.
"It was the best way to keep you and Michael while you recovered," Castiel informed, wanting to kick himself for his indiscretion when all it did was bring a crease to his friend's brow.
"Someone else here?" Dean asked, unexpectedly attempting to glance around his visitor.
"Uh, no, not at the moment" Cas said, moving just enough to allow Dean to confirm it for himself.
"Huh, weird. Thought there was... for a sec."
"Hm," the angel said, distracted for a moment when he noticed a certain other soul peeking out at him from behind that tired eye.
"What's up, Cas? You okay?" Asked the only half-awake human, seeming genuinely concerned for his visitor.
"Uh, I'm fine, thank you," Cas assured with a start, not having realized his expression had changed. "Though you on the other hand are looking a little tired. Perhaps some sleep would do you good?" He suggested, schooling his face to offer a reassuring smile as he did.
"Oh. Yeah," the hunter said. Sounding to the angel like the thought hadn't crossed his mind. "Night, Cas," he bade, letting his drooping eyelid slide the rest of the short distance shut.
"Good night, Dean."
And with that, Cas stepped back from the bed. Putting a safe distance between himself and the archangel he could this time sense swapping places with his slumbering friend.
"We both are healthy enough for our own bodies once more," Michael announced, sounding rather like he was talking to himself. Before turning his attention to his visitor and giving the angel a good, imperious, looking over.
"Hello, Castiel. Enjoy your little tête-à-tête?" The archangel asked, tone for once closer to taunting than threatening.
"Yes. Though I'm not sure you're yet capable of understanding how deeply," Cas insisted, for some reason not feeling the need to guard his emotions around his heavenly relation that evening.
"Tch, you remind me of Samuel; all softhearted sentimentality and goodwill," Michael informed with a scoff, insinuating that the qualities were not in fact desirable ones.
"You know that sounded like a compliment?" Castiel informed anyway.
"Take it as you will. I still insulted you," smirked the angelic being trapped in his own bed.
"I'm not so sure," Cas mused with a small smirk of his own.
"Do not mistake my good mood for joviality, Castiel. The witch may have allowed me to heal myself, but she didn't change the depth of contempt I hold for my captors," Michael warned, honestly beginning to look more tired than resentful.
"Well, be that as it may... Thank you, Michael. I know what you've done for Dean and I know that you didn't have to," Cas informed with a sincere nod.
"Had I not, you would have, and have you looked in a mirror lately? If you'd killed yourself trying to heal him —and I wouldn't put such a thing past a one of you single-minded simpletons— Samuel and his mother would have lain the blame at my feet. It was purely self-serving," the archangel assured, even as he could barely keep his eye open any longer.
"Rest, brother. You've done enough for today. Tomorrow you meet your new vessel," Castiel assured, denying the sudden compulsion to offer his relation a reassuring pat.
"Don't- don't call me... that," the heavenly being demanded, displeasure obvious even as the last of the energy bled from his frame and his eye closed of its own accord.
Castiel couldn't help but smile down as the exhausted archangel fell swiftly into the waiting embrace of a regenerative sleep. Knowing then, with far more certainty than he had before, that Michael did indeed possess a conscience. Or some form of empathy. Or, in the very least, some moral code which dictated he repay, in his own way, the kindness of others.
It was a beautiful thing to think.
And as the other exhausted heavenly being left the medical tent, intent on acquiring a few hours of sleep for himself, he realized that he'd sold Rowena short.
She had made more progress in there than he could have hoped to. And in such a short time. And she hadn't demanded extra compensation for it either, even though the ward hadn't been part of their original deal.
Then a strange thought occurred to Cas, as he made his way down the hall and toward his quarters: that trust between him and the flamboyant, surprisingly magnanimous witch... no longer felt such an impossibility.
If she didn't give him any more reasons not to, that is.
Ooh, Mary's going off on a top secret mission? Righteous! Hope Michael likes his new forever vessel!