Careful What You Wish For
Chapter Five
Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...
Sam couldn't rouse Kayla completely once they pulled into Bobby's lot. He couldn't blame her; both he and Dean were so tired neither of them could see straight. He could only imagine how she was feeling after running for so long, and finally finding a place she could feel decently safe. She woke just enough to wave him off, and mumble something that sounded vaguely like Martian before falling back asleep.
While Dean headed into the house to prepare Bobby for what was to come, Sam pulled her out of the car, into his arms, and resolved to carry her to the house. Kayla kept her death-grip on his jacket, and he found she was lighter than he expected. With one arm under her knees, and the other curled around her back, she fit comfortably into his arms. For a moment he stopped, and put his face into her hair.
Inhaling deeply, he basked for a moment in the scents. She still smelled vaguely of brine, and sea salt, but he could tell she used something pomegranate-scented for shampoo normally. Yet there was something else, something more there that he couldn't quite put his finger on. The moment he thought he had it, it faded from sense and was gone. Kayla stirred in his arms, nestling her head against his chest.
Only then did Sam nudge the Impala's door closed, and start heading for the house. Dean rose to meet him at the door, and to his brother's raised brows, Sam shook his head slightly.
"She's out like a light. I don't even think a nuclear bomb would wake her." Sam whispered, worried about waking her nonetheless.
"Good. Couch..." Dean pointed to where Bobby had a stacked a few blankets, and left a pair of pillows. Sam agreed with Dean's choice. He didn't want her out of sight for too long either. With Dean's help, it took him only a few moments to set Kayla down, but to get her to release her grip on his jacket took a few moments longer.
Dean smirked at her half-awake, mumbled protests, and gave Sam a nudge with his elbow. "Aww, she's sweet on you, Sammy."
Sam's face pinched momentarily, then narrowed. He gave Dean a shove, and turned away, mostly so his brother wouldn't see the embarrassed blush that rose in his cheeks. They didn't know what she was, and the last thing Sam wanted in the world was to get involved with another what.
As if on cue, Bobby came clomping up his basement stairs. "Well, what're-" His eyes widened as both Winchester's shushed him as soon as he'd opened his mouth. "-you two idjits lollygagging for?" He dropped his voice as soon as his eyes settled on the couch behind them. "Damn, boys..."
Crossing the room, with a much lighter step this time, Bobby stopped between the brothers to look down at the girl they'd brought home. Girl, being the operative word. If Bobby hadn't already talked to Dean, he would've easily put this girl at underage, sixteen at the most. She was sweet-faced, with dark hair that couldn't decide if it wanted to curl, or lay straight.
Dean didn't say much, but instead drew Bobby away from the couch. Letting her sleep seemed like the best course of action. It would give them the rein to talk about whatever they wanted to in the meantime. Bobby leaned up against the doorjamb, keeping the couch in his peripheral vision. Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he waited for one of the two to say something.
Sam was the one who cleared his throat. "So what now?"
"We keep her safe." Dean's immediate reaction wasn't unexpected. "Both sides are hunting her, she deserves to be safe until we know why. Then we deal with the why, once we get to it."
"That's all well and good boys, but we got bigger fish. The Alphas. And Eve." Bobby sighed. "If the angels and demons are power-struggling over her, no one's gonna help us with the Mother of All."
"Unless Kayla's another one of Eve's creations," Sam said quietly.
"She's not."
Dean looked up to find Castiel staring intently at him. As usual, the angel had just appeared out of nowhere. Dean wondered if he could look more haggard. Something caught his attention though, and pointing, Dean leaned a little closer.
"Dude, is that a split lip?"
In answer, Castiel raised a hand, and used the cuff of his overcoat to wipe away the trace of blood. He ignored the wound, because it would close shortly enough. His vessel wasn't badly hurt, but the pain Cass could feel wasn't physical. He didn't like having to hurt Balthazar to get answers out of him. Ignoring Dean's attention for a few minutes more, he tried to explain what he's learned.
"What Kayla is shouldn't exist... they were antediluvian creatures -"
Dean held up a hand to stop him. "Anti-wha?"
"The Flood, Dean." Sam answered in his most patient tone. "As in, the Great Flood. Noah's Ark, the whole nine yards."
Cass nodded to confirm. Bobby recrossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes. "Wait, are you talking apocryphal lore here?"
"Yes. I am." He drew breath to continue, but Sam had already turned to Bobby.
"Wait a minute, the church doesn't acknowledge those books as cannon; I thought that meant.."
"Doesn't mean it's not true, son. Just cause the church thinks it don't exists, doesn't meant it isn't there. Haven't you learned anything?"
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Dean stuck his hand in between the two of them. Then he pointed to Castiel. "Guys, angel here, has got a few more things to say."
Tension unwound from Cass' shoulders. "Thank you." Dean smiled in response, and settled back against the wall for the rest of the story. "As I was saying... The Deluge should have wiped out all knowledge of even how to create them... Nearly all of the angels who fathered them are imprisoned still."
Dean shot a look at both Bobby and Sam. They were the brains in the operation, but Sam had turned to Bobby as well, waiting for some unveiling. Blinking, Bobby looked at Castiel, as if trying to see where the punchline was coming from. He then looked at the girl in the other room, sleeping peacefully on the couch.
"You mean to tell me, that little girl there... is one of the nephilim?" Bobby's question was answered with silence.
Castiel's eyes closed. A muscle tightened in his jaw. Dean knew that look. That look wasn't good. That look usually meant the angel was about to do something he really, really didn't want to do. As Cass started to take a step, Dean immediately moved to block his path.
"Oh, no, Cass, you need to tell us exactly what this means." Physically, Cass' vessel was a few inches shorter than Dean, so it was one of the few times in his life he could actually loom over someone for effect. He greatly enjoyed these rare moments.
But when Cass raised his eyes to Dean, he remembered exactly why he didn't try to loom over Cass often. The angel's stare could be wholeheartedly disconcerting. Dean took half a step back, but stayed at least in the angel's path. It wouldn't stop Castiel if he got it into his head to do something, but it was making him rethink his options.
"Balthazar says we should just kill it and be done." Cass admitted gently.
"We're not killing her." Sam and Dean spoke at the same time. That unconscious habit reinforced the sentiment that much more. While Sam glanced at his brother, Dean was wise enough not to take his eyes off of Castiel, even for a moment.
"I don't want to." There was a bit of stress in Cass' voice as he spoke, an uncharacteristic strain. Bobby edged around the angel to stand by Dean's side, while Cass kept trying to explain. "Among the other things the Deluge wiped out was the knowledge of how to control the nephil's horrible power. If... if we can learn who fathered her, then perhaps he'll know how."
"And we won't kill her." Bobby stressed again.
Castiel began to shake his head, but his eyes lit on something behind Bobby. The girl. She still lay curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, but her eyes were wide open, and staring directly at him. Unconsciously, he squared his shoulders. The motion caused her to stir, to sink a little further down into the grips of the blanket. He couldn't be sure how much she had heard, but from the expression of terror that she was trying valiantly to hide, she'd heard enough.
"No one dies." Castiel agreed quietly. The intensity of his gaze caused Sam to see what he was staring at. When he saw Kayla awake, he swore softly under his breath.
Dean watched his brother break away from the group, and drop down to his knees beside the couch. Kayla flinched away from him, before closing her eyes and squeezing them tightly shut. Dean, Castiel, and Bobby filled the entrance to the hallway.
"She's frightened of me." The angel sighed.
"Can't say's I blame her," Bobby observed, wryly. Dean glanced over at the two of them. While Castiel didn't look any different, the mood in the room had grown somber, and sad.
Cass turned to Dean. "The panic room has been... angel-proofed. I'll... I should go."
"Cass, wa-" Dean growled as his words were ignored. Castiel vanished anyways. Scrubbing his face with both his palms, Dean tried to lower his frustration level. For a few moments he looked up to the ceiling, and then he glanced over at Bobby. "So, now what do we do?"
Castiel reappeared nearly half a world away, just in time to see Balthazar roll an orange around on the palm of his hand. After a few moments, Balthazar's strong fingers tucked into the rind and stripped off a piece.
"Don't you ever get tired of catering to those monkey's whims?" The question was, of course, rhetorical. Castiel never answered anything he asked straight anyhow. Balthazar was used to it though; this taste of freedom, the taste of the new order of things, was too sweet for him to complain. Flicking his eyes upward, he issued the unspoken challenge to the angel who considered himself superior.
Castiel didn't answer him. Instead, he walked slowly around the table, looking at the sumptuous fare laid out. Spreading his hands, Balthazar wordlessly offered him a seat, but didn't expect the other angel to sit down. He wasn't disappointed.
"I see. So, it's going to be like that, is it?" Balthazar fell into the silence for a few moments, as he stripped another section of rind from the fruit. Tempted as he was to wax poetic about the simple origins of a sweet fruit, he kept his tongue in check. Castiel was angry about something, and prodding at the angry angel would do nothing to improve his mood.
"We can use her, Balthazar." Castiel finally spoke as the rogue finished peeling his orange. "We can harness her power, and use her. Raphael..."
"Knows that it exists, and probably has the key to controlling it." Balthazar finished the sentence for him, placing the orange down on the table, and leaning forward. "How many times do I have to tell you this? You need to kill the nephil. Harvest a soul that powerful-"
Cass held up his hand, cutting off the lecture one more time. "I won't."
Rising to his feet, the rogue affected a huge sigh. He wouldn't let Castiel see how much he was enjoying this. Talking back to one who could be considered his superior was just one of many perks that came with being free. "You're not thinking rationally, Cass. Killing it is the wisest course! We can't control it. Look, if you can't kill that thing, then I will."
He began to rise to his feet, but was stopped halfway through the motion when the flat of Castiel's hand hit the table with a resounding smack. Looking up like a startled rabbit, Balthazar found himself transfixed by Castiel's hard stare. The angel may harbor a soft spot for humans, but as a general, as a war leader, he was hard and becoming more desperate by the hour.
"You will do nothing of the sort." Castiel growled, silently daring Balthazar to try something. "You will, however, bring me the names of all the angels who could possibly even know how to create a nephil."
The rogue's withering stare didn't even hold a candle to Castiel's glare. But still, he had to try. "Now, wait just a moment-"
"Are you forgetting the terms of our arraignment?" Cass murmured. Balthazar's shoulders twitched, and he angled his body slightly away from the angry angel. It was enough of an answer for Cass. "Good. Then you will do as I say, and bring me the names."
Balthazar broke eye contact first, looking down at the sad little orange in his hand. Somewhere during the entire exchange, he had clenched his fist, and squished the fruit, leaving his palm sticky and citrusy with juice. Dropping the pulp back onto the table, Balthazar affected a smile for his superior, and departed in a flutter of unseen feathers.
Castiel sagged as soon as he was alone. His shoulders slumped, and his chin touched his chest. Drawing a long, steadying breath, he closed his eyes. Being a general was tired, and wearisome, and some days, like today, Cass just wished everything could go back to being the way it was: predictable, predestined. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the call to arms, and decided to rouse himself.
Just another battle in a war of attrition.