A/N: Vivi here! Hope everyone is having a good week. Here's the next chapter.
Just FYI, I don't write Destiel or Sastiel. Nothing against it, just not my style of writing.
Also, I never realized how violent some of my writing is. I was talking with my friends (and fellow writers) and they pointed it out. I guess conflict is my style of writing. No guts, no glory, right?
Enjoy!
Previously on Enter the World:
The highlight of my day, well, second to seeing Cas for the first time in a long time, was Jo offering me her bed for the night. She proposed an every other night schedule until they could find me a real bed. I didn't blame her for not wanting to sleep on the cot every night. Gratefully, I accepted. I slept like a log.
"Cas?"
The voice was so loud and full of shock that it woke me up before Jo's alarm the next morning.
I was in Cas and Sam's room right after Dean, my hair a mess and my polka dot robe still askew from sleep. "What's going on?" I asked quickly, pushing Dean out of the way to see what was happening.
Cas was awake. Kind of. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, far enough forward that his wound didn't have any pressure on it, but his head was propped up in his hands, face down. He wasn't moving aside from the minute expanding and collapsing of his ribcage as he breathed and nearly imperceptible shivering that made his whole image quiver ever so slightly. Those massive wings that yesterday had drawn themselves into such order on his back were now drooping to either side of him on the mattress, like they were too heavy, or too worn out, to hold up in a sitting position. As I suspected the day before, he was wearing flannel pajama pants, probably an old pair of Bobby's, no socks, no shirt, no extra blanket.
Sam sat on his cot, looking just as shocked as Dean and I felt from the doorway.
"Hey, man. How're you feelin'?" Dean asked, stepping closer and taking his time with each movement. I wouldn't want to scare the angel either. And I didn't miss the fact that he stood between Cas and I when he stopped. "You got a headache?"
Cas nodded but didn't look up.
"We, uh, we have some medicine, if you think it'll work for you." Dean didn't sound confident at all.
Cas nodded again, but this time he let his head drop so that his fingers ran along his forehead and into his filthy, blood-matted hair. After a few seconds of being frozen like that, he pulled his head back – it looked like a herculean effort – and looked at the floor.
He looked dead. His skin was pale, there were huge dark circles under his eyes, all of him looked skinnier than it should've, and his exhaustion left him struggling to support the weight of his body and wings, forcing him to lean on his knees, hunched over. Overall, he looked so much smaller than the blackened masses that framed him.
"Cas?" I went to stand next to Dean, closer to Cas, but still close enough to the door that I could get away if Cas turned out to be pissed about what happened because of me.
He looked at my face, somewhat confused, then down to my belly. Those normally beautifully blue eyes widened and lost some of their brilliance. "Allison?"
I smiled. I didn't even think about it before it happened. "Hi Cas."
He then moved to look up at Dean, who was equally as confused as Cas at this point. "D-Dean?"
"Somethin' wrong, Cas?" Sam asked, drawing Cas' attention.
"Sam." Cas was starting to sound a bit more confident, his posture beginning to relax from what must've been a difficult awakening.
"Yeah, it's us. How do you feel?" Dean asked, folding his arms and moving to stand just a little bit ahead of me again.
"Sore."
"What's sore?"
Cas stared at Dean for a few seconds, like he was trying to collect his thoughts or maybe catalogue his pains. "Everything."
"I'll get some medicine." Sam offered, standing and leaving the room. I grinned when he walked like a drunk, still a bit uncoordinated from a full night's rest. Like a sleepy puppy.
"More detail." Dean spoke again, drawing Cas' cloudy gaze once more.
"I, uh…" Cas scrubbed his hands over his face before very slowly lifting his head once more. "My leg. I think it is damaged. And my back, too. It is very difficult to think with this pain in my stomach." As if on cue, one of his hands leapt to his stomach and his eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted in pain.
"What's wrong with your stomach? It looked fine when we did a once over." Dean moved in closer and pushed Cas upright by the shoulder before tugging his hand away from his belly. There was nothing there but well-toned, very pale flesh.
"It- it feels like it is on fire, or that it is trying to collapse in on itself." Cas opened his eyes and seemed to sag again. "My mouth is dry, too. Makes it difficult to speak."
"Dean, he's hungry." I spoke as soon as I realized what was going on. Then Cas stomach growled and he looked like he had just seen one of us get killed; there was terror and panic in those pools of blue.
Dean had the exact opposite reaction to the sound. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a deep breath of relief. "We'll get you some food. Peanut butter sandwich?" I imagined Dean with the little boy from yesterday. He used the same voice with Cas as he had with the kid. It worked well in both instances to calm frayed nerves, apparently.
"This is hunger?" Cas asked, confused. He looked to me, then to my belly, then back to my face. His confusion only deepened, this time with a layer of frustration coating it. "Allison, you told me the child was 'okay'."
This time I was confused. Must be the emotion of the day or something. "He is, Cas. He's fine." I brought my hand to my stomach and traced out the soft curve.
"Then why can I not see him?" Cas snapped, wincing at the volume of his own words.
"Cas, I don't think you're at full power right now. You're hungry, and thirsty, and you look like you're exhausted." I moved closer to him and reached out. "And your wings are showing."
The moment my fingers brushed a bloody feather, Cas jumped in his seat and the wings pulled up tight against his back, shaking like they'd done something wrong.
Cas' eyes were huge as he looked from me to Dean. Swirls of fear and horror and embarrassment washed over them like waves on the ocean. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Slowly, he brought the edge of one wing forward and started to reach back for it. On contact, gasped and backed away from Dean's hand, which was still on his shoulder, scampering as far back onto the bed as his wings would allow. Only a few seconds later did he remember his leg wound and hiss in pain before stretching it out. The wings looked like they were trying to hide behind Cas, but there was no way that could happen. Not with those things as big as they were.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. You're awake and breathing, that's all we care about, right, Li?" Dean said quickly, backing away just a step to give Cas some space.
"Of course." I said wholeheartedly. Then my brain made a few synapses and I connected some dots. "Wait, you can't see the baby. So you can't see our souls either? Is that why you didn't know who we were at first?"
Cas, still looking terrified, nodded.
My heart broke a little. "You don't have to be scared, Cas. You're still family, powers or not. Wings or not. We're still us and we care about you."
"She's right." Dean said shortly. "What's all this scaredy-cat stuff about?"
"It is not you." Cas said, swallowing hard against his undoubtedly dry throat.
"Then what is it?" Dean demanded impatiently. He was probably just as eager to get some food and liquids into the angel as I was. Cas had already lost some weight and he did not need to lose weight in the first place.
"An- an angel's wings aren't supposed to be visible." Cas' voice was quiet.
Sam walked in with a glass of water and a bottle of meds. "What's going on?"
Dean took the things from Sam and set them on the nightstand where Cas could reach them easily once he returned from his cowering against the back wall on the bed. "Then why can we see 'em?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's confusion.
"You know that when an angel dies, they leave behind scorched markings on the surface where they fall." Cas hadn't added any volume or confidence to this words.
"Yeah. What does that have to do with this?"
"It is a result of an extreme release of energy. Keeping wings out of sight takes an effort that to any… healthy angel is minuscule. Yet it is enough to burn our memory into anything we touch while dying. As one of us draws closer to death and the end of our grace, our last reserves are redirected to preserving our lives. So… we lose the ability to see souls. We lose the effortless upkeep of our vessels. We lose much of our ability to fly. My wings… My wings are visible because I came so near to perishing that my body needed that tiny bit of energy to stay alive." Cas let out a shaky sigh. "I have never heard of an angel being preserved by their wing reserve. Most of the time it is only used up once it is too late and that burst is what leaves the mark."
"Cas…" I said quietly, not knowing what to do. If my heart had been broken before, it was shattered now. I nearly killed him. He almost died… for me.
"But you're not gonna keel over anytime soon, right? I mean, you're stable now. You're talking and moving and those things move pretty well; you're okay for now. Right?" Dean asked, seeming almost as nervous as Cas but hiding it well. He always did have a fantastic poker face.
"My wings are stable. I am as well, I believe. My grace seems to have stopped just short of depleting itself, which is why I am in pain. I cannot heal myself." Cas hadn't moved from his position against the back wall, but he did seem less high-strung now.
"Your vessel can heal itself. It'll take time, but your physical pain will go away." I said softly, slowly walking forward to sit on the edge of Cas' bed. At least he didn't seem scared of us anymore.
"But my grace-"
"Let's focus on fixing you up first. Nothin' we can do about your angel juice right now."
Cas, looking more innocent and calm now than frightened, looked to Dean and nodded timidly before staring at the bed sheets in front of him. "How long was I unconscious?"
"Couple days." Sam finally spoke up.
"Tristram has Francesca?" Cas asked, looking from Sam, to Dean, to me.
I nodded. The guys seemed confused, but it had already been established that he remembered my monologue from last night.
"And we are safe here?"
"Yeah, Bobby set up warding. It's a couple miles wide, so no shifters or demons can get to us." Sam said it as if the fact that we were safe was like winning the lottery. He even smiled.
"Good."
"How about that sandwich?"
Jo stared at Cas' wings for most of breakfast. The rest of us just kind of accepted it and moved on. He ate enough for three full grown men, out-eating even Dean and Sam combined. By the time the meal was over, he seemed to be in much better spirits.
"Cas, honey, we're gonna have to do something about your clothing situation." Ellen said as she loaded up a shiny, new looking dishwasher. "Can't have you walking around half naked with so many guests millin' around."
I could have sworn the angel blushed. No shirts would fit him with those wings so he was still shirtless. We tried to find something that would work but no article of clothing could accommodate his new body.
"I'll see what I can do." Ellen said.
"I got it. You're already so busy." I said quickly, gathering up serving dishes and cutlery as people started dispersing to go prep for today's set up. Cas stood and tried to stretch his back, but all he got was the weight of his wings almost dragging him over backwards. With a frustrated growl, he limped towards the stairs and out of sight.
"You sure, Ali?"
"Yeah, it's the least I can do." I shrugged. "I'm not much help at the events, I guess."
"Takes gettin' used to. And honey, you were just held hostage for a few days. We probably shouldn't have pushed you into the soup so quick." Ellen shut the machine and pushed a button to bring it to life.
"I'm fine."
"Y'know what? We only have one event today and it doesn't start until two anyhow. Why don't you and the boys take the morning off? Get Cas fixed up and ready for action, er whatever action he can manage. Just relax a little." Ellen came up to me and squeezed my shoulder affectionately before walking away, into the house.
"Okay. I guess." I was the only one left in the room. I'm sure the dishwasher appreciated the conversation, though. Feeling guilty about not helping out this morning, I trudged up the stairs to tell the guys.
I heard them talking in Sam and Cas' room, so being the eavesdropper I had recently become, I paused just out of sight.
"Stop being such a dick, Cas." That was definitely Dean.
"Yeah, dude, just let us help you. You help us all the time." And there was Sam.
"I don't think you understand the significance of what you are proposing." Cas sounded upset, which really wasn't a surprise.
"I think I do, Cas. There's no way we're just leaving you to fend for yourself."
"And you're far from useless. You're just… kinda like a human with wings now. No big deal."
"No big deal? How am I supposed to keep up with you? I've never had to live with corporeal wings before. And if you think the other humans are going to just accept that I, an otherwise 'normal' man, have wings, then you do not understand human nature in the slightest."
Dean sighed. "Look. Your body will heal. If anything, we'll have trouble keeping up with you. And have you seen some people nowadays? A guy walking around with wings isn't going to make most people bat an eye. They sell friggin' devil's horns and pretend animal parts at the mall, Cas. I even saw a guy with a rubber elephant trunk on his face once. If I hadn't seen the string, I would've followed the weirdo home."
"Hunters might react, but if they see you with us – with humans -, you'll be fine. And if they don't, just pretend you're a college student in some D&D club. Say they're fake." Sam had a point.
"What is 'D&D'?"
"Dungeons and Dragons. It's a role playing game."
"I see."
"Don't worry about other people, Cas. You're much safer with the humans than you are by yourself being hunted down by some demon. We've lived our whole lives like this."
"Sam's right. We'll show you the ropes."
"There are ropes?"
I grinned and decided that was a good time to intrude. "Hi, guys." I went to sit on the bed next to Cas, since the cot was currently occupied by the brothers. Cas still didn't have a shirt on. "Ellen said we can have the morning off. The event doesn't start until two, so we have a couple hours to ourselves."
Sam grinned until Dean elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Not while I'm around." He growled. Sam just rolled his eyes and swatted at his brother.
"Ali, can you convince Cas to let us change the bandages? He's throwing a fit about it."
"I am not." Cas pouted, the dark circles under his eyes making him look even sadder.
"Why don't we get you cleaned up first?" I offered an alternative, hoping that the thought of getting the caked blood off of him would brighten his spirits.
I watched as Cas shuffled his wings uncomfortably and frowned. "That would be… nice. It's uncomfortable having them this heavy and the… the blood makes them itch."
"It's a plan, then." Dean stood. "So how do we do this?"
"I, um, I don't know how to clean them." Cas' voice was as timid and unsure as first grader answering a math problem.
Forty minutes later, after browsing through around twenty three websites on bird maintenance, we decided to put him in the tub once the shower was warm. We hoped it would wash most of the gunk off and let the feathers breathe. Dean and I started on that project while Sam continued researching more ways to deep clean a bird.
It kinda worked. A lot of the big clots of blood came off, but most of the feathers were still coated in the stuff. Cas looked miserable with his head on his now pajama-ed knees, just sitting there with his wings still itching and heavier than ever. His hair and clothes were already soaked; that was good for his hair, it got a lot of blood and oil out of it, but there was no salvaging the pajama pants. Not even I could get all those stains out.
"Hey Sam, you got anything else for us?" Dean leaned out the bathroom door and called down the hall to Sam and Cas' bedroom, which was our impromptu research headquarters. The rest of the house was deserted; Bobby, Ellen, and Jo were out at the barn already.
"Uh… This says you can use mild dish soap to get oil off. I'd try shampoo, or body wash, maybe." Sam yelled back. "He can tell you if anything hurts him, unlike an actual cockatoo."
"Got it." Dean returned. "New plan. We need suds."
"Body wash?" I looked up at Dean from my seat on the floor next to the tub, where I was facing Cas' front so he wouldn't feel as ogled or alone. He didn't even move when we suggested soap. He just let his wings twitch, groaning every so often at the myriad of discomforts he was experience.
"Yeah, I guess. That's mild soap, right?"
I nodded, then turned to Cas. "Hey, is it okay if we touch your wings?"
No response.
I reached out and touched his arm, which got him to lazily lift his head and look at me. He looked about one hundred fifty percent done with this whole ordeal. "Can we touch your wings to wash the blood off? We're gonna try soap."
He frowned and hesitated, but then his right wing gave an almighty twitch, nearly flinging water across the room. "Just do it."
I ran back to my room – well, Jo's room – and got my big bottle of soap. It was even the kind for sensitive skin. I'd been using the same brand ever since I burned myself with bleach and this kind of soap didn't hurt when I used it.
We shut the water off and each took the back of a wing, sharing the bottle between us. Cas let his head fall again. He jumped every now and then and turned to glare at whoever the offender was who twisted or tugged at a feather or scrubbed too hard. Most of the time, however, he was practically purring.
"Still doin' okay, Cas?" Dean asked, trying to work the dark stains of blood off of a particularly large feather. The normally white bubbles came back pink wherever we worked. I took that as a good sign.
"Mmm-hmm." Cas sounded like he was almost asleep.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Dean grinned and moved to the next feather.
Cas just nodded. I almost laughed.
We finished the tops of his wings and had to reposition to get at the other sides, since they were just as bad if not worse. Sam chose that moment to pop his head in, laptop in hand. "Hey, are you just starting the undersides?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Be careful; those feathers are really fragile. You could really mess him up if you pull enough of them out. This website says 'use extra caution' around there." Sam said, holding his laptop in one arm. He watched me start to work up some bubbles in my hands before spreading them on the matted down feathers in front of me.
Very gently, I dug my fingers in, dislodging and very carefully lifting the superficial-most feathers so I could get the soap underneath them to where it needed to be.
"Got it. We'll be careful." I said as I worked at a single feather. Going one at a time had proven to be the easiest way to do this. At least for me. "Thanks."
Sam left.
The undersides took us even longer to get clean. We had to go from the very tips of his flight feathers all the way back to where tiny, downy feathers sprouted off of the base of his wing, where it somehow attached to his shoulder blades. I was pretty sure Cas was asleep when I finished and washed my hands off in the sink.
"Gah!" Cas shouted just as I saw his left wing, the one Dean was still working on, knock into the ceiling. At the same time, I heard a loud thump coming from something with a bit more weight than the wing.
"Dean? Y'okay?" I called, rushing back to the tub where Dean was now haphazardly splayed out, wide-eyed and soaked on top of the tub's drain, opposite Cas. Cas himself was turned away from me to face him with an equally wide-eyed expression. Both of the wings were tucked tight against his back once more, but the feathers were even more disarrayed now than they had been earlier.
"What did you do?" Cas demanded, sounding more angry than fearful.
"I- I don't know. I was tryin' to get this stubborn clot off the bottom of your wing and you just flipped shit." Dean said, his hands up in the 'I surrender' position.
"It felt like- like you…" Cas paused, trying to find the words. "Like you stabbed me with a needle."
Dean donned the face I had termed the 'adorably confused and slightly offended' face. He had one. Sam had one. Cas had one. All were hilarious and all were elicited by myself at one point or another. "Why would I stab you? Not to mention that I don't even have a needle."
"Then what happened?"
Dean sat up and stood, rubbing at the spot on his back where the tub made contact. "Turn around."
Cas hesitantly did as he was told.
"And loosen up, man. I'm gonna look and see if anything got stuck in your feathers and blood-glued itself in." There was a pause. "Seriously, dude. Relax. Let the wings drop. I can't look if they're clenched to your back."
The wings relaxed, but it took a good ten seconds for the action to be complete.
Dean returned to where he had been working. After only a few seconds of searching, he pulled out one pink, sticky feather. "Think I plucked this by accident. Your, uh, your wing is bleeding a little now. Sorry."
"Do you think you got most of the dried blood off?" I asked quickly. "I don't want that to get infected."
"Yeah, yeah, I think so. Maybe a couple spots need some more time, but most of it's gone."
"Wash the suds off before he stops bleeding. The fresh blood will wash the wound out and we can patch it up once all that pink gunk is gone."
"Say no more." Dean stepped out of the tub and turned the tub faucet on. We waited until the water was warm again to divert the flow to the showerhead.
Once I aimed the spray at his wings and saw that the water was doing its job, I told him to wash his hair.
"Can it wait?" Cas asked, somewhat tiredly.
"Uh, no. Your hair is bloody and it kinda smells. It's been brewing for days now." I said, crossing my arms as I stood next to the tub. Dean was busy washing pink suds and clots from his arms in the sink, so I was left with Cas-sitting duty.
The angel seemed to deflate, hunching over even more and letting his head fall back to his knees.
"What's wrong now?" I crouched down to be at eye level with him.
"I hate this."
"You hate what?" Dean returned from the sink, bringing along a faded green towel to dry himself off with.
"Being weak."
Dean huffed a laugh. "Welcome to the club, fly-boy."
"Let me guess. Too tired to wash your hair?" I asked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes when he nodded. He really did look exhausted; his wings had begun to shake from being held up so long, and the rest of him didn't look much better. "I hope you like the smell of lilacs."
"Why?"
I grinned and squirted some of my shampoo out into my hand before plopping it unceremoniously on his head. He only flinched a little. "Because your wings and hair will smell like pretty little flowers for the next few days."
With his hair now a shiny black once more, I turned the water off and tossed a towel over his head just as Dean was dropping off some clothes. We left the room. I figured he'd want some privacy to change into the clothes Dean left for him.
Sam met us in the hallway, a shit-eating grin on his face and his laptop still in his arm. "Hey, Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Did you know that some birds preen each other as part of a mating ritual?"
Dean punched Sam's shoulder on the way by, ducking quickly into Bobby's room and slamming the door. He missed the pained grimace and the words 'worth it' that came from Sam in the moments after.
Of course Dean left his own clothes for Cas.
A/N: Just because I don't write something doesn't mean I can't tease about it. Oh, Sam.
Anyway, hope you liked it. Let me know. AND I want to hear what color you think Cas' wings will turn out to be under all that bloody soap. There are so many interpretations; I want to hear yours!