Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Six

… With not a Shout, but a Whisper

Morning always came too soon, as far as Sam was concerned. Sunlight cut through the curtains and landed in a perfect beam across half his face. Rolling irritably away from the sun, he caught sight of Dean still sprawled out on his stomach across the room. Dean's pillow was pulled over his head to block out the sounds, and the light. For a moment, he was envious, but then he remembered just how much driving Dean had done in the last few days. Scratching his chest, and trying to shake the sleep from his limbs, Sam eased out of the guest room and started downstairs.

Top on his list of things to do today was to grab a shower. And get his laundry done. Downtime was rare and they had monsters to catch. But for the moment, they could catch their breath and figure out what to do next. The double doors leading from the hallway into the study were closed, so he went the long way around to avoid disturbing anyone still sleeping.

Bobby was already up. Or maybe he'd never gone to sleep. A fresh pot of coffee still bubbled in the kitchen, and Bobby himself was seated at the table with the morning paper. He simply nodded when Sam came in, and then cast a pointed glance into the study. Sam didn't bother knocking on the wall before entered. Kayla was awake. It didn't look like she had slept either.

But at least she was showered, some small part of Sam's mind noticed. Her hair wasn't straw-hard anymore, though it was still damp. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her knees curled up, but Sam could see a glimpse of a flannel button-up beneath. She'd borrowed clothes, presumably from Bobby. Sam glanced back to find Bobby watching him. When the Winchester boy gave a questioning eyebrow, Bobby just shrugged in answer.

"Hey," Sam got her attention before he sat down on the couch with her. "Did you sleep at all?"

Kayla looked up from her book, and settled those vibrant green eyes on him. Biting her lower lip, she simply shook her head. "Bobby gave me a book, so I'd stop asking him questions. I've been reading."

Sam reached out, and tipped the cover of the book up slightly. Both brows raised, and he glanced back at Bobby, who was paying attention to his paper again. "The Book of Enoch?"

Kayla nods slightly. "It gets weird at the end, but it talks about..." She paused, as though unwilling to continue. The word stuck in her throat, only because of what she had read. "... the nephilim in the beginning."

Sam settled in slightly, inviting her questions by the action. Not that he would know exactly what to say, but maybe between the two of them, they could figure something out. Bobby's chair scraped across the floor and Sam heard the sound of mugs being drawn out of the cupboards.

"But it says that all the angels who fathered the nephil were cast... into prison, I guess..." Kayla flipped through the book until she found the page near the beginning that she was looking for. "All two hundred of them... Do I mean that they've escaped?"

"We're not sure, kiddo." Bobby answered as he came into the study. His hands were occupied by an offering of coffee, one of which Sam gladly accepted. Kayla took her mug as well, but only seemed interested in warming her hands around the ceramic. "That's what the boys angel-friend is trying to find out."

"If he's not fighting his war..." Sam amended.

Kayla looked between the two of them, and closed the book in her lap. "Tell me about him? What's his name? How'd you manage to get your own personal guardian angel?"

Sam began to laugh. "He's not our guardian angel... Look, Kayla, it's a long story."

"We've got time," she interrupted. "Don't we have to wait for him to bring us answers?"

Sam looked to Bobby for help, but the old man just shrugged. "Girl's gotta point."

Grumbling slightly, Sam stretched out his frame and crossed his legs at the ankles. "So, I guess it started a couple years ago..."

"You told her?"

"Not all of it, Dean, just... just the important bits." Sam hated trying to rationalize with Dean while he was preoccupied. Dean's body was hidden beneath the Impala, working on an over-due oil change for his baby.

Dean made a noise. Something not quite accepting, but not condemning either. "But you told her, about us... the whole... Apocalypse thing?"

"Just surface. Look, Dean, she deserved to know, with what she's getting herself dragged into. I never said it was us, I just said we had a hand in stopping it." Sam sighed. He wasn't going to get through to Dean this way, not in a long time. "I'm just happy she's not terrified of Cass anymore. It'll help out when he stops by next." Dean answered with silence. "Or when we call him."

"I'm not praying for Cass, right now, Sammy!" Dean shot out from beneath the Impala, the rolling board making a racket on the concrete. "We need a day or so to get back on our feet, figure out where to go from here. We're at a bunch of dead ends. Nothing new on the Mother... nothing new on the war. We've got nothing, Sammy."

"That's exactly why we have time." Sam put on his best I'm not frustrated, really face, and turned to face Dean as his brother stood up. "She's asking questions that we can't answer. We're out of our league with this one."

Dean snatched a rag up from the side, and wiped the worst of the grease off his hands. He didn't even bother giving Sam a look, because Sammy would turn on those puppy-dog sad-eyes to make Dean cave. Instead, he was planning on going to Bobby for mediation. Like the dutiful puppy he often looked like, Sam followed Dean right into the house. And right into a whole different sort of argument.

"I'm not going down there." Kayla stood with her arms crosses, her chin set at a stubborn angle, looking up at Bobby. "No way. No how. Nuh-uh."

For his part, Bobby looked like he was six seconds away from exploding. He pointed again at the basement door, and without even bothering to hide the strain keeping his temper in check was putting on him, stated for the hundredth time: "It's safest for you if you're in the panic room. It's warded, against angels, demons, and anything else that doesn't belong on God's green earth."

As the girl drew breath to counter, Sam pushed between them, grabbing the door to the basement and pulling it shut. He ignored the dirty look Bobby sent in his direction, in favor of putting his hand on Kayla's shoulder, and turning her away from the place.

"I take it you're a little claustrophobic?" He asked gently, leading her back into the study.

Kayla turned bright red instead of answering him, and he let her settle down onto the couch before he prodded her a bit more. "It's... underground actually... more than anything else..."

Dean watched Sam work his magic from the doorway, letting Kayla calm down. Bobby, after having retreated into the kitchen, joined him, offering a cold brew. The two drank in silence for a few minutes, with Dean breaking into a smile as a nervous laugh rose from Kayla. Then he sighed, and looked at Bobby.

"We have got to figure out what to do with her." Dean couldn't think of anything, so he was hoping Bobby had come up with a brilliant plan.

Instead, the grizzled hunter just shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." He took another pull off his beer, grimacing slightly at the overly wheaty taste. "Maybe we start teachin' her to hunt. Protect herself. Seems as good a idea as any."

Dean shook his head. "No way. I'm not going to force her to give up her normal life to be like... like.. us! She deserves better than that!"

"Dean." Dean flinched as Castiel appeared just to his left. Swearing under his breath, Dean fixed the angel with a fierce stop-that look. But the angel ignored him, and carried right on. "Her chances at a normal life were forfeit the day she was created. I'm sorry."

"I hope this means you have answers for us." Bobby sounded tired, and he succeeded in phrasing the words as a common statement. But as soon as Castiel's blue eyes turned on him, he knew the answer.

"I'm afraid not. Only more questions. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." Cass slid between them to stand before Sam and Kayla. The smile fell right off her face as soon as she saw the trenchcoat. Sam gave her shoulder a squeeze before getting up and joining Dean and Bobby.

Cass stood awkwardly for a moment, as though waiting for Kayla to have a panic attack and need to be rescued. Kayla focused on the angel's loosened tie, unable to meet his eyes, waiting for some sort of divine wrath of God to rain down upon her. Finally, Cass bent at the knees, dropping into a crouch so he could be on eye level with her.

"I need to ask you a few questions, Kayla." It wasn't the same brusque tone he usually took with the brothers. "Some of them may not be pleasant for you, but I need the answers, as best you can."

Kayla nodded, mutely, unable to free her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Cass readjusted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He ducked his head, until Kayla met his gaze; she only held it for a few seconds, before darting her eyes away again, but it was progress.

"What was your father's name?"

"Martin." Kayla's voice came out quiet, and shaky. "Martin Druin."

Cass got quiet, his eyes moving slowly from side to side. Inside his head was a vast body of knowledge, most of which he never realized he knew until he needed the information. As he was sifting through the facts, repeating the vessel's name to himself over and over again, Kayla snuck quick looks at him, wondering just when he was going to get tired of this game and do what had been recommended.

Finally, when he shook his head and looked back up, Kayla's eyes dropped like rocks to rest on her hands. "He must have changed it when he went into hiding. It's no vessel I've ever heard of." Cass glanced back at the brothers, only to find they had moved into the room, and now sat on the end of Bobby's desk watching the exchange. "How did he die?"

"Car accident," Kayla's voice was again tiny, and small. "I... I was four. I don't remember much."

Dean nudged his little brother, and Sam coughed softly. "I found the article about the accident. Online." He supplied, helpfully. "Kay's dad swerved to avoid a tree, that fell... in the road." Something about all the eyes on him suddenly made his throat go dry. Kayla even stared, but he wasn't sure if it was awe or fear on her face. "Tropical storm... and road was slippery.. well, he, uhm... he hit the guard rail and went over, but... Kayla... and her car seat, were found stuck to the end of the twisted metal. The metal was through the car seat, into her back." He wanted to reach forward and hug her, but Cass was in the way. "Your dad died on impact, Kayla. He didn't feel any pain."

Cass seemed to absorb it all, before looking back at the girl. She had tipped forward on the couch, her elbows on her knees and her face hidden behind that curtain of dark hair. Her despair was heady and thick on the air, so much so that Cass felt he could reach out and touch it. Instead, he laid a hand on the crown of her head, rising as he did so. The gesture was meant to comfort, but only served to make her more miserable.

"I'm sorry." He murmured softly, before turning away slowly. He moved specifically toward Sam now, standing deeply inside the younger Winchester's personal space. Sam straightened a bit, putting himself a full head taller than the angel. "Did the report say anything about ash?" When Sam shook his head to the negative, Castiel scowled a little harder. "What about her mother?"

Kayla heard that last question and perked up. For the first time, she actively touched Castiel, grabbing his sleeve and pulling his attention to her. "You will leave my mother out of this!"

Cass' eyes widened. "She's still alive?" He glanced to the side, and suddenly, vanished.

Kayla swiped her hand through the space the angel had just occupied, nearly belting Sam in the process. She looked around frantically, and in one split second, closed her eyes. A moment later, she too vanished.

Bobby let loose a low whistle. "Great. Now we got two of 'em."

Castiel didn't expect to be followed, much less tackled upon arriving at his destination. Kayla hit him less than thirty seconds after he'd arrived. Following him like that, trusting in her fledgeling translocation skill had taken guts. Attacking him, when he was on a mission, however, felt like sheer stupidity. But she had taken him by surprise, and they went tumbling down to the ground together, landing in a heap of arms and legs, and fabric. Kayla was wild and inexperienced; it didn't take Cass long to flip her over and pin her down.

Still she fought, twisting and writhing under his grip. A dim part of his mind, not concerned with self-preservation, admired her fighting spirit. A more animal part of his mind simply admired her.

"You need to calm down. All I want to do is talk to your mother." Cass used his calmest tone of voice, repeating the words until Kayla stopped struggling. He uncurled his hands from her wrists, and pushed himself up to his feet. Squaring his shoulders, he looked down at the girl, working to catch her breath on the ground.

Once she calmed down a bit more, he offered her a hand up. She stared at his long fingers for a while, before accepting, and allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. "Good luck talking to her. She hasn't had a sane thought since I was ten."

"I will try nonetheless." Cass began to walk away, only to pause a few feet from their tussle. He looked back to study Kayla, and was again taken by the subtle aura of power surrounding her. "Come with me. We must be quick. She hasn't had time to put her wards up yet." Cass blinked out, trusting her to follow on instinct.

"Wards?" Kayla asked to the open air, before closing her eyes and picturing Castiel once more.

This time, she overshot slightly. Instead of landing with her feet on the floor beside him, she appeared a good foot above the floor, only to drop suddenly when gravity took hold. Cass cast her a glance, and put a hand out to steady her. Kayla fought against a sour face as her stomach rolled, angry at its emptiness. As she recovered, Cass pointed across the room to where willowy Daphne Druin was poised at her easel, paintbrush in hand.

One look around told Kayla this wasn't the same hospital. Of course not, the last one had a massacre take place next door. It was only logical that all the patients got transferred. This room wasn't nearly as nice as Daphne's prior one; it looked more like a traditional hospital room instead of a hotel suite. As they approached, Daphne touched her brush into a pot of paint and dabbed at the empty canvas.

"Mom?" Kayla always asked the question, and never got an answer. As she always did, the older woman simply ignored everything and everyone that didn't fit into her quiet little fantasy world. Kayla's voice nearly broke as she leaned forward. "Hey, Mom, it's me."

Cass shook his head slightly, dismayed by her lack of answer. Kayla backed off for a moment, and the two of them stood quietly and watched Daphne go about her dreamplay. The woman hummed softly to herself and painted more and more on her blank canvas, just sort of arbitrarily placing dots of the single, primary color around. Every once in a while, she would glance over to the small bassinet placed beside the hospital bed; Castiel, his curiosity piqued, wandered over to take a look inside.

"She has a doll." He stated flatly, brow furrowed as he looked up to find Kayla watching him.

She nodded, simply agreeing with him, before she pushed her hair back from her face and leaned down to move the blanket slightly. "It's supposed to be me. The doctors said she's regressed mentally, and is stuck in a point where I'm a baby, and Dad's still alive. And worse yet, every day she wastes away... and they can't tell me why."

Castiel studied Daphne Druin carefully. "How do I get her attention?"

Kayla sank down to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, and she pointed at the baby doll. "Pick it up."

So Cass did. He grabbed the doll by the left arm and pulled it none-too-gently out of the bassinet. Holding the doll at about shoulder height above the ground, he cleared his throat. "Mrs. Druin?"

Daphne stopped humming instantly, and spun around. Her paintbrush plopped to the floor, wet end first, as she hurried to the side of her baby doll. Snatching it from the offending hands of the stranger, she glared and opened her mouth to berate him angrily. Cass struck first. His now empty, extended hand swung around and he pressed two fingers to the center of her forehead. Kayla was the one to cry out in shock, as she lunged, desperate to catch the crumpling form of her mother.

Barely managing to keep her mother's head from bouncing off the tiled floor, Kayla glared daggers at Cass. For his part, he felt confusion. Looking from his fingers, to the woman on the floor, he shrugged slightly.

"She wasn't supposed to fall." Crouching, he slid an arm beneath her legs, and shoulders, picking up the slight frame of the older woman and laying her down upon the bed. Kayla shoved him out of the way, and took up vigil beside her mother, curling her hand into the woman's smaller one.

"What was she supposed to do? Start dancing an Irish jig?" Kayla shook her head, dismissing Cass' open-mouthed attempt to explain. Instead, she ignored him, and smoothed her mother's hair, and talked quietly to her unconscious form.

Feeling guilty, Cass shifted inside his jacket. Who knew what would happen when the woman opened her eyes; he'd only meant to bring her mind back to the present day. He'd only wanted to talk about Kayla's father, perhaps find the answers he needed. He glanced upward, for a moment, only to be drawn again to watch the young woman bent over her mother.

The young nephilim, he corrected himself. A nephilim who should have a nearly insurmountable power, he reminded himself casually. So why was she so weak? He couldn't use a weak nephilim. He decided that he would give this a few more days, before abandoning this plan and returning to his original one. Just as he was about to return to Heaven, Daphne stirred.

"Babygirl? Is that you?"