Castiel sighed, letting his hand flow meekly across the gray sheet beneath him. The comforter that was wrapped loosely around his waist was one of the few luxuries of H.O.A.M. It did a fine job of being a blanket, velvety and flexible, but was still lacking in some areas. It didn't smell like the rounded scent of coffee and beer, tanged with a lighter breeze of cinnamon old spice. It was not steaming, fresh from the dryer, and he did not find himself curled into its aura. It worked as a blanket though.
He turned over in slight anger, disappointed in his inability to sleep tonight. He thought that maybe a visit from Dean would soothe him enough for at least a few hours, but found no such comfort tonight.
Cas sat up, pressing his bare elbows against the mattress. In the darkness the creak of the bed was louder, banging rapidly into his ears. He bit his lip now, turning his head a few times to assure nothing lurked in the dark that cascaded around him. However, the monster under the bed was nothing compared to Amara.
Cas was suddenly reminded of how she had twirled her fingers through her hair, pressing every part of herself on Dean. He was reminded of how her hands clasped on his back, her lips so hauntingly close to Dean's. Those lips were for Cas. That devilish, horrible smile that rattled through his skull, the scream the hid itself inside him until she finally broke away, but the heat of her touch still ached on Dean's chest.
Amara was here. She was as real as his fear. The fear that trembled now under his skin, that made him shake and curl, an electrified cartoon character. His hair stood up messily, his clothes sweaty, and with every breath it felt as though she was coming closer and closer, even though she probably dozed hazily a few rooms over. How can she still sleep at night when I cannot even close my eyes?
Dean threw the soaked towel back into the bucket, wiping the sweat from his brow. Baby was sparkling again, warm and welcoming in the late summer sun. Her black seats displayed no sign of damage or stain, and her exterior could be marveled at. In all honesty, she didn't need to be cleaned. She was fresh before his hour long work, but it was something to do on such a perpetually hot and gloomy day.
Baby held many pieces of Dean. She held legos and army men and 2 lazily carved initials that boxed and curved at the wrong parts. Her tires were her newest feature; high density rubber and traction to conquer any road . Of course, like his father, Dean would never take her to any place too daring. She was his beauty, his baby girl, and nothing would change that. She was the only familiar thing in this jumbled, depressing, and almost humorous story he felt like he was living in.
When she finally shone like the sun in the afternoon, he took her for a ride. The roads of the pine barrens curved and shifted, turning quickly and scouting out gateways between trees. Dean admired the adventure every ride through them brought, especially the long road.
The long road was a rarely used strip of straight asphalt, going for at least ten miles. At the end, one could choose left or right, right bringing one to a small set of of houses, and left a dead end blocked by yet another rusting old fence. It was a theme in these parts.
No police ever checked the long road, so Dean was free to speed at his heart's content, pushing her over a hundred most times. This time was a bit more.
One hundred and ten down this smooth and warm track, the Impala loosely clutching to the road. He kept his foot on the pedal, the brake seeming far, far away as he cruised. She roared through the dank forest, the gasoline evaporating behind her. Dean laughed wildly, and remembered.
"Dean, you're driving too fast.," Sam exclaimed matter-of-factly, his finger pressed inside his book. Dean rode down the highway, the car beneath him at a steady 90. Sam hated ever passing sixty, and even that was a little much.
"Oh, come on Sammy. Have some fun, feel her. She's alive. A being of true power," he pushed on the gas, laughing happily as she growled in response. Sam said nothing, just kept his lips pressed together and his book closed on his hand. He gritted his teeth as a few bumps in the road sent the car bouncing.
Dean looked over at Sam's silence, seeing the fear that gripped tightly to his eyes. He sighed and slowed her down, the tires easing steadily to sixty.
Sam finally breathed, laughing nervously over at Dean and scratching his neck, "Th-thanks Dean."
Sam slept the rest of that ride, a very familiar soundtrack playing through his headphones.
At the end of the long road, Dean left the car briskly, not having a clue what he was doing here. Something just… felt right A missing puzzle piece found. In front of him, was nothing, just a cement wall. The right, again, had houses, so the left called smoothly to him, eyeing his movements.
Dean jumped the fence, his feet hitting the red pine cones. Down a small little path he realized something lay there. Not really a thing- per say- more a sensation that now made him run over. It was hill that he ran down, leading to an open field that stretched not too far. It was covered in small white flowers and littered leaves and grass that matched his eyes, but it only went so far. At the very far end, another hill.
This one he walked up. He felt he needed some buildup to whatever was on the other side. Of course, it would be something spectacular; his blood was never wrong.
"Who did this?" Sam's voice dawned on angry, fear being the main factor in the weird twitch in his voice.
"Hell if I know! Someone… someone who knows Cas' wings. It has to be someone he knows." Gabe was just as confused, though his dirty face and shriveled form hinted he had been here pondering for much too much time.
His face scrunched again as he pounded the ground. Pines and branches escaped in the wind his fist made, and after his knuckle was red from the twigs.
"Was it you?" Gabe didn't falter at all this time.
"WHAT?"
"WAS IT YOU!? YOU'RE ALWAYS SO PERFECT AND THE STRONG ONE OF THE FAMILY. YOU STOLE IT FROM HIM DIDN'T YOU? HAPPINESS?"
Sam didn't know what to say, just backed away slowly, horrified at Gabe's accusation, "Gabe, he's a brother to me. I would never hurt him."
"Maybe you loved him a little too much huh? SO MUCH THAT YOU THOUGHT HE WOULD MAKE AN EXCELLENT ESCORT!?"
Sam froze. Gabe had never mentioned how Cas was trafficked. Escorting, and by the way he was spitting out such venom and Cas' refusal to ever be touched, Sam suspected more than just escorting had happened. Oh, Cas.
Sam ducked his head in regret, "Gabe…"
Gabriel didn't respond, just punched the ground and sighed, swallowing his anger. His grumble was audible, and he turned away from Sam, shaking his head in a daze, "...who?..."
In the silence, both of them stood still, remembering. They remembered how Cas used to run through the lawn, his trench coat flying above him in a display of pure truth. They remembered his dark sketches of Dean reading, or watching TV or just his hand resting on the table. Cas' music too. His heavy bass guitar where he would play ballads for the mountains at midnight. That quick, pure, moment hung on their minds. Where had that gone?
Who?
Dean gaped at the green. All of the layers and shades, dark and light twisting together in paint strokes. The hill truly did lead to something spectacular, a hidden world deep in these woods. One with a small pond and waterfall the captured the freedom the wind so happily sang. The oasis in this two- part tragedy Dean felt he was living in. Sheltered from the world, this was… home. He had used the word before. He had used it for his house and the name of Cas' hospital, but never before had the word felt so authentic on his tongue.
And then, he realized why. This was just like the home of the mustang. The stampeding hill and gushing water; white and yellow flower buds and blades of grass the surfed against the wind. Spirit's homeland. The one he promised to always return to. He sang songs about the fireflies and stars and breeze- filled nights. Right here in the lonely Pine Barrens of New Jersey.
Cas would love this. And he would. He would love every breath he took here. He would love the mist from the water and the tickles of the pollen on his nose. He would love how the wind lifted his trench coat in glee and flight. He would love every second of standing on that hill. He saw it too. Cas' outline as he ran across that green. He saw his laughter and him yelling "Come on, Dean!" He heard his voice.
A spasm of heartache broke Dean from the vision, his hope twisting into deep regret. Cas couldn't see this; not yet at least. He was still stuck in that damn hospital for 2 more months. It shocked him how he still remembered Cas' voice. It was… crinkly and wise, old yet so very new and different. He spoke only when needed, so every word really did matter… a lot. Cas' smile was the one thing Dean was forgetting. The one where his thin lips would truly show and his teeth would poke out between them. The real smiles like when Dean made him tea in the morning or he finally finished that one poem he had worked so hard on and was now framed above his bed. Castiel's poems. The ones that shocked the reader with how they twirled in their mouths. Cas' poems were the best poems.
Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out the small teal camera he had brought with him. Something about this day had seemed special; a day that needed a camera. He turned out to be right as this landscape needed to be shared; with Cas at least. Maybe it would provoke a memory or idea or something. Something. Dean needed something. Just… one win. One win where the world would go his way for once. It didn't happen often enough.
He took a photo. The camera vibrated in his hands, now containing a piece of happiness just for him. Cas would love this so much. 4 years ago he would smile and laugh and hug Dean tightly with a "thank you thank you thank you" before running upstairs and trying it on every inch of his wall until it fit. Then, at night, he would wish the photo a 'good night' and blowing it a kiss. He did that with everything he believed had a spirit to it. This photo surely seemed like it did.
As Dean walked back to the impala, he shook his head, still baffled. 2 more months and the Cas would be out. 2 more months until maybe, Cas would be speaking and hugging again. 2 more long months until Dean could hold him and kiss him with every ounce of love he had in him. 2 months though, where Cas would be miserable. The last time Cas was miserable for an extended period of time…
Dean was angered by his trail of thought, slamming the car door abruptly. No, no he couldn't think like that. He needed to be Cas' hope. He was the only thing holding them together.
Yet, no matter how much he kept trying to push it away, a new fear plagued his mind on that drive home.
Would Cas- could Cas- survive 2 months? And that was a question, Castiel would have to decide the answer to.