Some Destiel fluffiness ahead, read at your own risk! ^o^
Chapter 14
Castiel stepped out of the sandbox, deeply affected and overwhelmed by the latest news from Heaven. Not only his former tormentor was mostly well and alive, but his kin was on the verge of disappearing. Angels were going extinct, and without them Heaven would crumble, unleashing a cataclysm of biblical proportions upon Earth and humankind. So, even if Team Free Will found a way to stop AltMichael from invading them, another crisis was already pending over their heads.
"If you find Lucifer's crypts and anything of value in them," Naomi was saying, "I know you'll try to do what's best, Castiel."
"And if I don't?"
"We'll do our duty and keep things running."
"For how long?"
"Haa, that's the scary part," she sighed, worried and unsure.
Seeing Naomi now, and comparing her to what she used to be, Castiel couldn't help but feel both saddened and concerned. In the past she had committed crimes and mistakes, but no more than he had too. While the seraph had always tried to help humanity, Naomi had done what she considered best for Heaven. It had only been on the eve of a catastrophe that they had finally understood that both things should have gone hand in hand.
"We will find a way to fix this," Castiel attempted to reassure her. "We will."
"This may be one of those things that can't be fixed."
"This is Heaven we are talking about," he murmured earnestly.
"Everything ends, Castiel," Naomi lectured him with a tone of finality, resigned to the worst possibility. "But until then, the gates of Heaven are closed."
They nodded in farewell. Naomi stepped back into the sigil drawn in the sand, and after a whirlwind of dust and white light, she disappeared. The sigil vanished, the gate closed. Castiel crouched down and brushed a handful of sand between his fingers, missing the angelic feeling that it had housed barely a minute ago.
A rustle behind him alerted the angel. Normally he would have paid it no mind, he was in a playground after all, and children were expected to make noise. No, it was the type of noise that made him react immediately, turning around blade in hand: the flapping sound of wings. And as far as Castiel knew, all the few remaining angels had been called back to Heaven, even the gate guardian. Not that it really mattered, because even if one of them had stayed, their wings were burned and not usable for flight. Hence why the flapping sound had set Castiel off.
But when he looked at the person in front of him, barely a few metres away, he couldn't believe his eyes.
"It is not possible," he spoke, petrified. "Balthazar?"
"Yes, the one and only, darling," the rogue angel greeted. "I'd say Surprise!, if not for the fact that I'm the first surprised here."
Castiel continued to look at his friend, awed, and slowly walking a few steps towards him; Balthazar instantly walked them apart again, hands raised in defense. The dark-haired angel realized then that he still had his weapon out, which didn't come out as an amiable approach, and willed it back up his sleeve.
"My apologies," he whispered, contrite. "I mean no harm to you, Balthazar. I was merely unsure if you were really... you."
"I am me as much as I can be," Balthazar answered, cautious. "But considering the facts that happened during our last meeting, I won't simply assume that my reappearance is at all welcome."
"You are wrong," Castiel replied, advancing again, and this time his revived fellow remained in place. "You cannot believe the joy that brings me seeing you again, Balthazar. But I am disconcerted, how are you alive?"
"Well, that's a good question that I'd like to have answered as much as you, but... I know nothing."
"Maybe Jack did it again when we were talking about you," Castiel hypothesized, more to himself than to the other angel.
"Who?"
Now, being finally face to face, Castiel couldn't resist the emotional impulse anymore and strongly hugged his friend. Balthazar was taken aback for a second, not fully understanding what he was doing, until it got to him and awkwardly hugged him back.
"Wow, Cas. If you were going to miss me this much, you shouldn't have killed me in the first place!" he chuckled.
"I knew that even before your eyes closed, Balthazar," Castiel confessed, his voice full of remorse, finally letting him go. "And I regretted doing it since the very moment I saw your wings singed into the floor. Welcome back, brother."
"Speaking of wings, what the heck happened to yours?" Balthazar asked, grimacing at the poor state of his friend's flying appendages.
"Many awful things have happened since you died, Balthazar." Castiel's eyes diverted from his, ashamed and feeling guilty. "It would take a considerable amount of time to explain all of them, so if you allow me, I will share my memories directly with you."
"Sure, go ahead."
Castiel then tapped Balthazar's forehead with his fingers, and in a couple of seconds, all the information pertaining to the events of the last years were shared between them.
"Oh my, what a ride this was," Balthazar whistled. "I didn't even know Metatron was still alive! And to think I missed such a party... Not that I'm actually envious, mind you."
"I guess you are not," the seraph accepted. "How did you get here, by the way?"
"That Cosmic Entity or whatever you chatted with? It made me show up in Dubai. I spent a couple of days in the hotel and then flew to the States."
"You are lucky about that, Balthazar. As you now know, you are the only remaining angel capable of flight. The rest of us... our wings burned during the Fall."
"Yeah, now that you mention it... I may be able to fly, but I still feel my grace and abilities somehow diminished."
Castiel pondered about that too. Balthazar was not the only one, for he too had felt his grace growing weaker since some time already.
"I felt it too. Even my combat skills have been less than outstanding lately. I did not imagine the cause, but after talking with Naomi today, I might have an explanation. I think it is due to the meagre number of remaining angels. All of us, we used to resonate to each other, like an echo. If this situation is not fixed soon, I fear Heaven's power will not be enough to keep things from tearing apart."
Balthazar seemed disconsolate, taking in the seriousness of the situation. Sure, he had fled from home, but that didn't mean he wanted to see it disappear or his kin to be gone forever. There had to be a way to save them!
"What are you going to do, Castiel?" he asked his friend. "Shouldn't you go back home and help maintaining it for as long as possible?"
"There is nothing for me to do in Heaven. I cannot help up there, but we might have a chance down here. However, you should return."
"You kidding me," Balthazar laughed humourlessly. "I ran away for a reason, Cas. I wanted no part in the family melodrama. Just like you, I guess."
"I did not run away," Castiel retorted, somehow irked. "I made a choice, which is different. And while I wish no ill fate to our brethren, among my human family is where I have been the happiest, despite my many mistakes."
The silver-eyed angel thought about it for a moment, considering his options. The idea of war against a deranged archangel from another world wasn't appealing to him, but on the other hand, he really liked it here. He didn't want to see Earth destroyed right when he was back in the game. And if things got a turn for the worse... well, he could always go back to Heaven, even on the prospect of facing imprisonment for his mischiefs. Still having his wings, it wasn't like he needed any gate to cross upstairs.
"Okay, darling, then it's decided," he smiled smugly. "Do you mind if I hitch a ride with you to that secret bunker? I bet the Winchesters are going to be delighted to be in my company again."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
When the angels finally arrived at the bunker, Balthazar (who was complaining the whole trip and swearing that he was never going to get in a car ever again) discovered that he wasn't the only sudden guest, judging by the surprise painted in his brother's face.
"Rowena?" Castiel spoke, tilting his head.
"BALTHAZAR?!" the Winchesters shouted in response.
For a moment everyone stood still, looking at each other speechless. Then Jessica, who barely a few minutes ago had served a warm cup of tea to a quite devastated witch, thought it to be a good ice-breaker to also offer something to the newcomer.
"Balthazar, is it?" she asked, smiling politely. "I'm Jessica, Sam's resurrected fiancée. We have coffee, tea, beer and soda. What would you like?"
"I'm usually more of a Bourbon guy, missy, but today I'll settle for coffee. Much obliged."
She arched an eyebrow at the comment, but didn't reply anything and went to the kitchen to fetch another mug.
"Ok, what the hell is happening here?" Dean lost no time getting to the point. "How are you alive again?"
"Oh, don't act like you're not thrilled to see good ol' me again. I never took you for a shy one."
If looks could kill, Balthazar's miraculous resurrection would have been reverted right then and there.
"It's not that we're not happy for you, Balthazar," Sam tried to keep things calm. "We're just... very surprised, to say the least."
"Well, you're not the only one, that I assure you."
"I think it is possible that Jack did it," Castiel proposed. "Same as how he woke me up in the Empty, he did it again with Balthazar."
"Me?" Jack frowned, confused.
"Yes, Jack. Did you feel anything out of the ordinary when we were talking about him?"
"I don't know. I saw your guilt, your anger... Your sorrow was deep and hurtful, similar to how Dean's grief about you was before. I wanted to take it away, but I didn't know how. I thought that I had merely hugged you, but maybe something else happened then."
"Well, whatever you did, thank you, kid!" Balthazar smiled charmingly, slapping friendly the nephilim's shoulder.
"You're welcome," Jack grinned back, glad to have done something nice for his father.
"And who is the dangerous beauty on the other side of the table, if I may ask?"
Rowena took the hint and smirked, flattered. She was about to introduce herself when Jessica returned from the kitchen, a hot coffee mug in her hand that she put in front of the new angel.
"Rowena MacLeod, proud Scottish witch," she spoke in a silky voice. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Before Balthazar could take the mug, Dean moved faster behind him and took it out of his reach, instead handing him a small iron knife that he usually kept hidden in his ankle. The angel squinted at him, tensely offended, but took it anyway. No reaction.
"Convinced now?"
"Not yet," the hunter snorted, but he gave back the mug.
"So, Rowena," Balthazar tried to start a conversation. "You wouldn't be that Rowena, right? The one who caused an uproar in the Coven?"
"Oh, I am," she answered coquettishly. "But I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific. I caused quite a few uproars back in my good days."
The angel intended to do so, bringing the hot beverage to his mouth, but the next thing to come out of it weren't words but said beverage. Coughing and sputtering, he spat a full sip in a very ungentlemanly way.
"So you're a demon," Dean said, drawing his gun.
"I'm not a demon, for Chrissake! What are you...? Wait," Balthazar looked annoyed at the Winchester, understanding. "Did you put salt in the coffee?"
"Yeah, I did. And you reacted just like expected."
"It was a hot coffee, you moron!" The angel took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth. "Anyone would have spat it, demon or not!"
Dean grunted in response and didn't apologize, putting away his gun, but the rest of the audience found the situation kinda funny, and soon the sound of laughing filled the library.
"I'll bring you a new unadulterated coffee, Balthazar," Jessica offered, taking the mug.
"Thank you, missy. And you," the angel pointed at Rowena, "have just lost all my sympathies, Reddie. You're opposite to me in a direct line. There's no way you didn't see what this brat was doing, and still you said nothing."
"Oh, Balthazar," the witch shook her head, sipping her tea. "Right now, a good laugh is what I needed the most. I'm sorry it had to be at your expense, but don't take it personally."
"Speaking of which," Castiel inquired. "How is it you are here, Rowena?"
"Well, to say it delicately, I wasn't playing nice with Death and her reapers. So of course, Chip and Dale had to step in and make sure I behaved. This means that I'm with the team to stop AltMichael for the time being, as short as that might be."
"What about you, Balthazar?" Sam asked, worried. "Are you with us? I'm not going to sugarcoat it. We're kind of in a tight spot and we could use some help, wherever it comes from."
The silver-eyed angel pondered the question, not making light of the situation.
"The last time I was 'with you', I ended up dead," he said with a slight tinge of accusation in his voice. "And while I'm not one to dwell in the past, I'd certainly like to remain alive this time. Meaning, I'm not refusing to help, but I'll only do field work. Don't count me in for any battle, specially against AltMichael. Are we clear?"
"Neither against the shedim?"
"The what?!" both Castiel and Rowena exclaimed, alarmed.
"What's a shedim?" Jessica asked, just returning with a new coffee for Balthazar.
"It's a, hum..." Jack mumbled sheepishly. "A kind of creature I somehow accidentally released from Hell."
"Oh, Jack..." Castiel sighed deeply, rubbing a hand on his face. "When did this happen? And why none of you have informed me before?"
"You mean to tell me that one of those abominations is running around free?!" Rowena shrieked.
"Hey, this happened when you were still dead, Cas," Dean explained. "And with everything that has been happening lately, it's not like we had any time to cool down and share stories around a campfire."
"Rowena, did you know about them?" Sam asked, curious.
"Even if she does, I bet she doesn't know half of it," Balthazar opined, tasting his coffee, this time free of salt. "And no, I'm not fighting that thing either, thank you very much."
"Ok, guys, just quit it with the suspense and someone answer the question, please!" Jessica insisted.
"The shedim," Castiel started, concern and dread painting his voice, "are a type of beasts that God created after making us, angels. You all know that we were designed to be faithful, mindless soldiers. However, the shedim were his first attempt of free will. They were a... raw project, to say it kindly. Full of potential but without restraints. No obedience, no feelings, no emotions and no fear... only sheer freedom. And when you fear nothing, you are untameable."
"Not even Purgatory had been created yet, so this failure of his was banished to a secluded, inaccessible part of Hell," Balthazar continued. "I never understood why he didn't simply erase them and start anew. Which one of them got released?"
"Uh, Legion. He... or she... whatever, name's Legion," Dean answered. "We thought it was a demon."
"No, shedim are not demons. But they feed on them," Castiel corrected. "From what little I learned about Hell's internal processes while collaborating with Crowley, punishing a demon with being devoured by the shedim was one of the most gruesome methods of execution. Legion... Do you even have a clue where it may be now?"
Dean looked intently at his little brother.
"Not sure yet, but we might. Jody called, and... apparently Kaia, or someone wearing the girl's face, showed up at her door."
"Yeah, we were going to check it up, but we got sidetracked by Rowena," Sam added. "But now that this has been dealt with, we really should go asap. By the way, Balthazar aside, how it went upstairs, Cas? Will the other angels help us?"
Castiel looked at the hunters, his gaze full of sorrow, and proceeded to explain the situation in Heaven to all the present people. The news about Naomi's return were not taken lightly, and the angel had to assure them several times that she posed no threat, not only because of the current circumstances but also due to her own change of heart.
"They wanted to help, but they cannot leave. We... there are not enough of us anymore. They are actually counting on me to find anything of value in Crowley's vaults and Lucifer's crypts."
"I'm so sorry, Cas," Jessica mourned, taking his hand in a comforting gesture.
"This is just fucking great," Dean cussed. "As if AltMichael wasn't enough, we also have a Terminator spawn on the loose and an impending angelic extinction. Man, we're so screwed that I so need a beer. No, even better: Sammy, go open the whiskey."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After showering and getting ready for bed, Dean was about to return to his bedroom when he passed along Castiel's. The door was almost closed, only a small crack open, but it was enough for the light coming out the bedroom to allow the hunter see his angel. He was sitting on the bed, facing the wall, shoulders hunched and hands fisted over his knees. He was the living description of desolation.
"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted softly, entering the room. "You okay?"
"Hello, Dean. Yes, I... I guess I am okay."
"Sure," he snorted. "As if we don't know how much of a lie that is."
Castiel looked down, in both senses, and Dean raked his brain thinking of something, anything that could help cheer him up. It wasn't easy, because he knew that the sensitive angel wouldn't react to just some stupid joke that Dean blurted out of the blue. Whatever the Winchester was going to do, it had to be meaningful, and sensitive meaningful stuff wasn't exactly his forte.
"Listen, Cas," Dean spoke in a low voice, also clearing his throat. "Do you... only if you want, of course, but... I'm gonna sleep, so I was thinking... maybe you could come and... I don't know, watch over me or something?"
Dean stopped then, internally swearing at himself for his ridiculous stuttering and the blush he was feeling on his cheeks. He was an adult man, dammit! And this was his... his something-a-lot-more-than-a-friend. There was no reason for blushing.
"Dean," Castiel called him, not getting up but a little kind smile on his mouth. "I appreciate your attempt at comforting me, but you have always found my watching 'creepy'. I do not want to make you uncomfortable for my own sake."
"That's not... Okay, maybe it was like that before, when I didn't know why you were doing it, but it's different now. It doesn't bother me anymore, like I got used to it or something. So if you want to come with me and do your ex-creepy thing while I sleep, I don't mind."
This time Castiel stood up and walked closer to Dean, looking intensely at him with that kind of gaze that never failed to make the hunter shiver, like the angel was trying to decipher the truth of his last statement.
"That is a generous offer, Dean, and I certainly would enjoy very much to keep you company over the night. But I must ask, is this offering only for tonight, or is it to remain from now onwards?"
Dean licked his lips, fidgeting in the spot, suddenly nervous for no damn reason at all. The little motion of his tongue didn't go unnoticed by the angel.
"You... you can stay the night whenever you want, Cas. Just let me know you're there, ok? Don't go invisible mode or any of that crap."
"Alright, Dean. Thank you."
"Yeah, right."
And because the situation was reaching absurd levels of awkwardness, Dean took it upon himself to get the thing rolling. Not thinking twice, he grabbed the seraph's hand and guided him towards his own bedroom, feeling a somewhat mushy sensation in the pit of his stomach when Castiel responded squeezing his hand.
Dean and Cas, holding hands. Who would have believed it possible?
"Lose the trenchcoat and suit jacket," Dean told him after closing the door. "You'll feel better over the blanket without them."
"Over the blanket?" Castiel repeated, confused for a second. "Oh, you mean... you intended for me to lay down beside you?"
"Yeah, obviously. Why, is that a problem?"
"No, not a problem, Dean. Only that your bed is single. There is little space, and if we share it you will not be comfortable."
Dean looked at the bed, measuring it with his eyes. The angel was right, it was too small for the two of them, unless...
"Well, then we... we'll have to..." he sighed, frustrated for being stammering again. "We just have to keep close to each other so nobody falls off the bed, right?"
"Does that mean you want us to cuddle, Dean?"
The Winchester looked away, partly embarrassed for the use of such a word and partly for the clear, hopeful note in Castiel's voice.
"Just... just get in bed already, Cas," he grumbled, placing himself under the sheets.
Castiel discarded the instructed pieces of clothing, hanging them orderly on the door, and took his place beside his human, facing him. The space in the mattress was really limited, but the hunter didn't complain when he snuggled closer after turning off the lamp.
"This makes me very happy, Dean. Thank you," he whispered in the dark.
"You're welcome, Cas. As long as you're ok with it."
"I am."
Dean had intended to close his eyes and fall asleep, but after a while, the little light that filtered through the grid in the door allowed him to perceive Castiel's face. The high cheeks, the firm nose, the stubbled jaw, the tempting mouth... and those very blue eyes looking straight at him. Without thinking, Dean moved his head forward, so their lips brushed together. Sensing no rejection, he pushed with a bit more force, properly kissing the angel.
"Dean..." Castiel moaned.
Encouraged, the hunter cupped Castiel's face with a hand, like he was getting used to do, and guided him through the kiss. Their tongues rubbed against each other for a while, intimately, delicately, without rush. And probably Dean would have denied it, but not all the moans came out of the angel's throat.
"So, how was it? Not bad for a little make out session, right?"
"Dean, do not be boastful," Castiel chuckled.
"I'm not!" Dean feigned offense. "I'm just confident about my skills."
"Your skills very much deserve the confidence."
The man smiled, happy to hear that. But then, a small nagging doubt crossed his mind.
"Cas, you can do that too, you know? Kiss me."
"Dean..." Castiel's smile dropped a bit. "Please, believe me when I say that I would be thrilled to do so, but... you understand there is a reason why I do not, right? Why I let you take all the steps in this development?"
"No, Cas," Dean retorted, frowning. "You're allowed to try things too, whenever you want. Why wouldn't you?"
"Because Dean, I know you are not comfortable with displays of affection unless under very severe circumstances, barely short of death. If I hugged you or kissed you every time I wanted, I am afraid you would never leave my arms. And that would surely be bothersome and impractical for a hunter."
Dean mentally thanked the dark, for it hid his very flushed cheeks.
"Whoa, I didn't picture you like the clinging type, Cas," he tried to joke.
"I have been 'clinging' on you for nine years now, Dean. I thought that I had made my statement very clear."
"Ok, sure, whatever," Dean whispered, annoyed by the fluttering sensation in his heart. "Then right now, what do you want to do?"
"Right now?" Castiel didn't even need to think about it. "I would like to make out a bit more."
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