Sam waded through left over take out boxes stacked in the fridge, trying to remember what was what without actually pulling them out and opening them. Dean had already left for work that morning, muttering something about going in early and getting off early, so he didn't bother making a nice breakfast. It's not like they even had anything in the house for a nice breakfast anyway. He sighed, pulling out a box that he assumed was something with noodles and closed the fridge.
He then opened the box, "Nice." And mumbled when he found that it was something with noodles and plopped some out onto a plate, then stuffed it into the microwave. He set the timer and yawned, then stretched his arms out in front of himself. He was still in his boxers and under shirt, knowing there was no way he'd be hearing back from Michael so soon, or need to go out and do anything today. He was actually relieved he didn't have to go anywhere, or do anything for once.
The microwave timer went off, and a moment later Sam was carefully pulling the plate out, trying not to burn his fingers on the hot dish, although he still hissed at the sensation. He then set it on the counter and stirred it with a fork, not really caring if it was even heated thoroughly. He took a forkful and shoved it in his mouth, silently eating his breakfast of champions.
Unfortunately for Sam, there was a knock on the door, yet again interrupting his period of rest. He groaned, his head falling forward and hung between his shoulders. "Who the hell…" he mumbled, not caring so much as who was at the door, but rather why someone was at the door. It was barely half past nine, and he really didn't want to put more clothes on.
For a moment, he thought that maybe if he stayed quiet, the person would leave…
But another knock at the door, followed by two well-mannered rings of the doorbell quashed his hopes. He groaned, dropping his fork to the plate and went for the living room. He had a baggy University sweater lying across the back of the couch that he quickly grabbed up and slipped on. He was fairly certain that if he needed to put on any clothes, it was pants, but there really weren't any close by, so he didn't try any harder than he already was.
Without much care as to who would be standing on the other side of the door, he simply opened it, and was incredibly surprised to see Pamela standing there, a grocery bag in one hand and her cars keys in another.
She grinned at Sam, "I didn't wake you up, now did I?" she asked, observing his attire, only slightly concerned about it.
Sam turned red, then tried explaining himself, motioning his hands over his body but was only able to stutter and trip over his words.
"Don't hurt yourself, Sweetie." Pamela mumbled as she walked in past Sam, patting his cheek as she went. "Go out to the car, I've got more bags for you." She told him, on her way to the kitchen.
Sam looked at Pamela, who was setting her bag on the kitchen counter, then to her car, "Are these groceries for us?" he asked, confused.
"They sure are." She replied from the kitchen, then opened their fridge, "Oh dear Lord." She mumbled, appalled. "I'm glad I came when I did." She yelled at Sam from where she was. There were only three take out boxes, half a ketchup bottle, a bottle of soy sauce, and a couple cans of beer. "A real bachelor's fridge." She mumbled, shaking her head.
Sam smiled, "I don't know how you sense these things." He told her before going out to the car in the drive. He pulled out two more bags, one filled with produce, and one filled with canned goods. There were still a few more bags in the car that he would have to make a trip back for, but Sam didn't mind. Pamela was a Godsend, and somehow knew of their distress and would gladly carry a million bags into the house. He came into the kitchen with the bags and set them next to the others. Pamela had already pulled out a jug of milk and orange juice from the one she'd brought in herself and set in the fridge.
"I hope you boys don't go through this too quick." She then went back to the bag and reached in, pulling out a carton of eggs, "I won't be doing this every week." She told him, not hiding the warning look she gave him.
"Thanks Pam." Sam mumbled, "But it's not really me you have to worry about. Dean's the one who eats like a horse when he comes home." He then started handing Pamela things to put in the fridge from the other bags.
Pamela chuckled, accepting Sam's help, "Oh no, you've still got some growing to do. You'll get to be just like Dean here soon." She told him with a resolute nod. She then waved him away from the bags, "Don't forget the other ones, now." She warned, making Sam blush again, turning and heading back for the car.
As he grabbed up two more bags, he shook his head. Sure, Sam was only 22, but he was pretty tall. He wasn't going to be growing much more, maybe just a few more inches, maybe a little more bulk. But nothing dramatic… right?
Castiel woke slowly, allowing himself to lay in bed for just a few minutes extra. He didn't much care for mornings in the fall, and he knew he'd be cold the instant he left his blankets. Instead, he reached out from his blanket and grabbed his phone, unplugging it from the charger. He checked the time, then, seeing as how it was only a few minutes before ten, he decided to try and call Balthazar. It was a Thursday, and he knew he wouldn't be too busy. Besides, it had been a full day since the last time he spoke to him. He was excited to tell him the good news about his time with Dean.
He groggily dialed his number, too lazy to find it in his contacts, and held the phone to his ear as he smiled at the ceiling. The phone rang three times before Balthazar finally answered.
"Hello?" he answered, sounding very groggy.
Castiel's brows furrowed, "Are you just waking up?" he asked, sitting up in bed, despite his fear of the cold.
Balthazar made a noise akin to a moan, but Castiel assumed he was stretching. "Yes. I forgot to set my alarm, apparently." He coughed, then continued, "So…What's up?" he asked in a tired voice.
Castiel chuckled, "Well, I just wanted to tell you about last night." He said, looking down at his hand. Even though nothing much happened, he still wanted to give his friend an update.
"Ooooh." Balthazar sounded a bit more enthused, and seemed to wake up at the thought, "What happened?" he asked, sounding giddy.
Castiel chuckled, "Well, I talked about my writing, and schooling." Then his vibrant smile slowly faded, "And he told me about his father."
Balthazar seemed to sense the change in his tone and prompted him, "What about his father?" he asked.
Castiel sighed, "He passed away a few weeks ago." He told him, his mood changing dramatically. "And then that brought up the topic of my father."
Balthazar sighed, "Did that ruin the mood?" he asked, though he already knew.
"Yes." Castiel answered, clenching and unclenching his hand into a fist. A small smile grew on his lips a moment later, "But he did invite me to come to his house today." He told Balthazar with slowly growing enthusiasm. He wasn't sure how today would go, but he was excited none the less.
"Oooh." Balthazar chuckled, "Did he say you'd watch Netflix and chill?" he asked, then immediately laughed at his own joke.
Castiel's brows furrowed, was there a joke here he wasn't getting? "I don't understand the reference." He told Balthazar.
Balthazar scoffed, "Of course you don't." Castiel then heard him shift in his bed, "What are you going to be doing?"
Castiel grinned, "He wants me to show him some of my poems."
There was a brief pause over the phone, as if Balthazar was expecting more from him, "Is that it?" he asked, sounding incredulous.
Castiel blinked once, "I mean, I assume we'll be doing other things." As soon as it came out of his mouth, Castiel realized what he'd said, "And I don't mean that!" he corrected himself, because he knew Balthazar would go there.
Balthazar chuckled, "I have no idea what you mean." He spoke, feigning innocence.
Castiel rolled his eyes, "Sure." He then lifted his blanket and threw his legs over his bed side, "I'll go ahead and let you go. You'll be a lot busier today, having over slept." He didn't want to keep Balthazar from doing what he needed to get done today.
Balthazar yawned, "Well, it's not like I'm even really doing anything today." He mumbled.
Castiel's brows furrowed, "You're not at the office?" Usually Balthazar would be at his office this time of day, working as a financial consultant to sustain his writer life style. Though if you'd ask Balthazar what the writer lifestyle was, he'll always give an unclear answer.
"Nope. They brought in a fire marshal the other day, and the building was deemed hazardous. Until they install a few more fire extinguishers no one is allowed in." he explained.
"What?" Castiel asked, not really asking a question, but simply shocked.
"Yes, well, that's how it is right now. I mean, I knew the building was old, but I didn't realize it wasn't up to date with safety standards." He sighed, "So I'm going to be sitting in bed for a few days." He ended.
Castiel gave a "Wow." But otherwise left it at that. "I hope you find something to occupy your time today." He said, then fell back onto his bed. "I'm going to be here, maybe try and write something, and just wait to go over to Dean's." he explained, realizing he still had a lot of time to blow.
"Alright, my little Chickadee, I'll talk to you later. Have fun today! And stay safe." He warned him.
Castiel chuckled, "Good bye, Balthazar." He mumbled, then ended the call with the pad of his thumb. He then looked towards his closed curtains. Sighing, he stood out of bed, and as expected, the air in the room was chilly. He then went to his window and opened the curtains, revealing how far the sun had risen already, trees casting long shadows in the garden. He thought about going downstairs, seeing if his father was awake or not. He would very much enjoy speaking again with him today. Maybe he could tell him about meeting with Dean, the new friend he made. Yes, he'd call him his new friend and leave it at that, because that's all he is.
Castiel then ran a hand through his hair, and down his face, rubbing the sleep away. He hoped it would warm up some today.
Work seemed to drag on and on. No matter how much progress Dean made, the clock never seemed to move but a few minutes every time he glanced at it. He knew Bobby was excited he had such enthusiasm for working today, especially since he was knocking out tasks left and right. When Dean asked about leaving a little early, Bobby laughed and asked if there was some sort of special occasion. The only response Dean gave was that he'd be having company over today, and he needed time to spruce the house up. Then that really got Bobby laughing.
It was obvious that it was a little more than that, because even after their father's death, when people came into the house for the wake, he didn't lift a finger to straighten anything out in the house. That was mainly left up to him, Sam, Ellen and Jo. So whatever it was, it must have been really important to Dean. Either that or he was lying to just get out of their early.
Bobby eventually said he'd allow him to leave an hour early, but only if they didn't have anyone else come in the hour before. Dean had wished for two hours, but he was swiftly reminded by Bobby that beggars can't be choosers.
So, Dean kept working, doing oil changes, exchanging brake pads, and fixing head lights. Thankfully Benny had returned that day, and he needed some assistance with removing an engine to tinker on the inside of a Sedan. He knew that would eat up a lot of time, so he agreed and helped out. He knew that if he could get distracted from the clock, time would fly faster that way.
As he worked, he kept wondering what kind of things Castiel wrote about.
After Castiel took a shower and got dressed, he went down stairs, and immediately knew something was wrong. Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer were gathered by Hannah, he kept shaking her head, and seemed to be denying them something. They talked in low whispers, but even still, Castiel could hear the anger in their voices. It was Michael who noticed Castiel coming down the stairs, and gave him a terse glance, and didn't so much as greet, or smile at him. Worried, Castiel descended the stairs a bit quicker.
"What's going on?" he asked once he was close enough for whisper range. They were close to their father's door, so he understood the reasoning without asking.
Hannah sighed, looking to the ground for a moment, and just before she could speak, Gabriel spoke up, "She won't let us see Dad." He said it with venom in his voice, a cruel stare sent at the nurse.
"Even if you did see him, you couldn't hold a proper conversation." She countered, in an equally as angry tone.
"What?" Castiel asked, leaning toward Hannah as if to block out Gabriel's stare.
Hannah gave a sympathetic look to Castiel, seeing the hurt and worry in his eyes. "Your father is awake, Castiel, but he's not coherent. If you did speak with him, and if he did hear you, he wouldn't respond like normal." She explained slowly. "Before you all woke, he was awake, and I tried getting him to respond to me, asking how he felt, asking if he needed anything, and he wouldn't respond. At some point he began asking me where your mother was."
It was obvious their father was going through hallucinations. "So we can't talk to him today." He mumbled, more to himself, as he slowly looked away from her.
"No, we can." Gabriel argued, "We know it won't be a normal conversation, but at least let us see him." He begged, now desperate. That's when Castiel noticed the way Gabriel's lip quiver as he spoke. "I don't care if he's out of it, I just want to see him." He pleaded with her, stepping closer to gain emphasis.
Hannah looked away for a moment. Castiel could tell she was struggling with what her medical background told her to do and what she was being asked to do. "Alright. But I advise you not to be in there too long. When you suffer from hallucinations, you may say or do any number of things." She warned, then quickly turned, as if leading them to their father's door. Gabriel was the first in behind her, followed by Lucifer.
Castiel didn't follow, but stayed standing where he was. He was a little surprised to see that Michael didn't follow in either. He looked to him, but he kept staring at the door, unmoving. His arms were folded over his chest, a tense look about him. Finally, he spoke, "I don't need to hear him speaking in delusions." He mumbled.
Castiel hadn't wanted to be the one to say it, but he agreed with Michael. He didn't think he could handle seeing his father like that. He was sure it would only make him more upset. "What are you going to do?" he asked, seeing as how Michael didn't leave his spot, he wasn't leaving any time soon.
"I'm going to be here for when they come out, shattered into little pieces." He mumbled, sounding uncharacteristically pessimistic. But he knew Michael was right. After they saw their father, he was sure they'd be distraught.
Castiel began to breath a bit heavily, afraid he'd start to fall apart himself, just knowing what the scene would be like in the room. But before he could get himself too worked up, Michael reached out and set a firm hand on his shoulder. "You should go put a coat on. It's a brisk wind outside." He then looked down to Castiel, and he knew he was suggesting that he get out of the house for a bit, at least until this had passed.
Without another word, Castiel headed back upstairs and grabbed an overcoat. He didn't know what he was going to go do, but he knew he had to leave. He couldn't stay and hear them downstairs when Gabriel and Lucifer left his father's bedroom. It would be too much, and he'd be overcome with emotion as well. He didn't want that to be how he started out his day, not before he saw Dean. He didn't want this poisoning his mood.
Just as he was about to head back out his door, he just so happened to glance at his desk. His laptop caught his eye. The next moment was spent putting his laptop in its carrying case and putting it over his shoulder. He had found that he suddenly knew what to write about.