The first time Castiel wakes up that night, it takes him a few minutes to sort out why he's awake. A glance at the clock tells him it's around four in the morning, and God bless it, he has no desire to be in any state of consciousness. The last few weeks have taken their toll, and he's desperate to get back to the first real rest he's had since he was woken up by that terrible phone call. He's even more eager for Dean to continue to sleep uninterrupted.
Dean.
With a sleepy sort of surprise, he realizes that Dean is laid entirely on top of him, head tucked beneath Castiel's chin, snoring rather loudly. He's a warm, solid, heavy weight on Castiel's chest.
He smiles and tightens his arms around Dean's waist, savoring the closeness even though he's sweating through the sheets tangled around their legs. His heart thuds a warm, steady beat against Dean's chest, where he can feel an answering rhythm. What I wouldn't give to have this forever, he thinks as he drifts back to sleep.
The second time he wakes up, it's because the smoke detectors are wailing and there's an acrid taste building in the back of his throat.
He jolts up, cold adrenaline dumping into his bloodstream and clearing the sleepiness from his mind. Smoke is starting to gather in the corners of the room up at the ceiling, and the scent of burning plaster and wood stings at his nose. There's a dull roar coming from the direction of the hallway. Castiel remembers dimly that he once read somewhere that, according to the victims, the most surprising thing about housefires is how loud they are.
Next to him, Dean is also sitting up, blankets pooled at his waist. His green eyes are wide and frantic as they take in the details of their room.
Their brains kick into high gear at the same time, apparently, because they simultaneously leap out of bed. Castiel grabs the first pair of pants he lays hands on and yanks them on.
"Sam," Dean is gasping, doing the same thing on the other side of the bed with a pair of plaid pajama pants. His voice is harsh and scared, but his movements are decisive. "I gotta, I mean, Sam, I gotta-"
Castiel rushes around the side of the bed to grab Dean's arms, forcing him to stare into his eyes. "Go get Sam," he says firmly. They don't have time for it, but he presses a firm kiss to his boy's forehead. "He needs you to be calm. Go. Now."
"What about-"
"Kevin is with Sam, get them both out of the building. I'll meet you outside with the others."
Dean wraps a hand around the back of Castiel's neck and kisses him hard. It warms something deep in his chest, even as he follows Dean.
It occurs to him, as he runs toward the shared apartment, that they should probably have taken a few moments to put shirts and shoes on before leaving the bedroom. It doesn't stop him from dashing toward the shared apartment, but the little flares of pain on his chest and arms, as well as the gritty feel of the carpet beneath his feet, make him think he's going to regret his oversight. He thinks of Dean with a pang of guilt, but doesn't turn around to make sure he's safe.
Dean will get the boys out, he thinks firmly to himself. You have other responsibilities.
He watches warily as the fire on the other side of the hallway, climbs up Benny's apartment door. The boy is gone for the night, thank God. Castiel is reasonably certain that he'll have enough time to wake Charlie, get her going down the stairs, and get to Garth's apartment, directly across the hall from Benny's, to get the last of his crew out of the building. He hopes the residents on the other floors are getting to safety, as well.
He prays hard for the first time in years as he bangs on the shared apartment's door several times. "Charlie!" he bellows. "Charlie! Wake up!"
The door flies open to reveal the girl in question, hair fluffy around her head, with a laptop sleeve under her arm and dressed in pajamas. Her feet are bare, too.
"What's going on?" Her green eyes are wide with fear, and Castiel desperately wishes he had the time to comfort her. She looks so incredibly young.
"There's a fire. Go downstairs, meet Dean and the others on the sidewalk." When she hesitates, he snaps, "Go!"
She turns and hurries down the hall. Satisfied, Castiel turns toward the hallway. The fire is growing up one wall, but the other is still mostly unscathed. He may get burnt, but he can get past it. He has to get past it, because Garth is still-
His rapid-fire planning is halted by a soft whoosh, accompanied by a wave of heat as the fire explodes in front of him, consuming the hallway before his eyes. He's pushed back gently, but there's nothing gentle about the way the walls are blackening so quickly, exposing the wiring and framing behind the plaster.
"No!"
The way is blocked by roaring, crackling fire. There's no way he can safely get through now.
There must be a way.
"Garth!"
Castiel charges forward, feet and chest be damned, because it's Garth. He must get to Garth, there's no alternative. He must save him.
Small but strong hands grip at his arm and yank him back. He turns to snarl, and Charlie's eyes are still terrified, but her mouth is set into a grim line. "Cas, you can't!" she shouts to be heard over the din of the fire. "You'll kill yourself!"
"Garth is in there!" He pulls away and takes another step toward Garth's apartment, but the fire flares out and he's forced back.
Charlie grabs him and tugs at him again. "I know! The firefighters will get to him!"
He pulls out of her grasp. "I can't leave him!"
"You have to!" She yanks at his arm again. "Come on! They're wasting time trying to get to us when they could be going to Garth!"
That sinks into Castiel's panic-ridden brain, and he immediately turns to follow her down the hall. The smoke is starting to cloud the entire area and breathing is becoming an issue, but it gets better the further they go down. Charlie is right next to him, hurrying down the stairs in bare feet, clutching her computer and coughing.
On the way down, Cas' thoughts are in a jumble. Should have acted sooner. Should have gone to Garth first. Should have protected my crew.
They burst out onto the street and directly into chaos. There are firetrucks and firefighters in uniform everywhere. Other residents of the building are quickly pouring out behind them. Castiel takes Charlie's arm in hand and pulls her away from the door where they were both frozen.
"Cas!"
As always, Dean is a guiding light. Castiel moves towards his voice until he sees him, bare-chested and running to them. He manages to let go of Charlie in time to catch Dean as the boy throws himself at him. He holds Dean close, crushing him to his chest as he babbles.
"I got Sam and Kevin out, they're getting checked out at an ambulance. I got them out, Cas, they were asleep, Cas, they would have… But they didn't, I got them out." He pulls away, finally, to look Cas in the eye. "What about the others?"
"Benny…" Cas swallows hard. His throat burns and aches all the way down, but he relishes it. It's a punishment for his failings, one he embraces wholeheartedly.
"Benny is with Andrea tonight," he says hoarsely. "Charlie is here, she was already awake."
Dean frowns. "What about…"
"I…" Castiel's eyes fill with tears and he looks away, unable to watch as he falls off of the pedestal Dean has put him on. "I was unable to reach Garth before the fire… Before it became too dangerous."
Selfish, you selfish bastard. How could you? You should have let the fire rend the flesh from your bones rather than leave Garth there. You should have run straight through those goddamn flames, and instead, a boy could be dead because you couldn't-
"Cas," Dean's sharp voice breaks into his thoughts. When he turns to look, Dean's eyes are fierce, defiant. "That ain't your fault. The firefighters are trying to get to him now, okay? They would be wasting time trying to save both of you if you were still in there. There are only a few stragglers left, so they're up on the ladder trying to get to him. There's no damn use in the both of you being hurt."
"Dean, if something… Happens…"
"Nothing will happen to Garth," Dean snaps. "Nothing will happen to him. The smoke detectors did their jobs, they woke us up, we were up on time." Castiel isn't sure which of them Dean is trying harder to convince. "Come on. You gotta get checked by a paramedic."
Dean tangles their fingers together and drags Castiel over to where the other three are huddled next to an ambulance. As soon as they get close, Charlie leaps into Dean's arms. He hugs her hard and presses a kiss to the top of her head.
Sam surprises Cas by hugging him just as hard. It takes him a beat, but he hugs the boy back, desperately relieved that he's okay.
"Glad you made it out, Cas," Sam murmurs against his chest.
"And I, you, Sam," he says solemnly.
As soon as Sam steps away, Kevin launches himself at Castiel. He's surprised again, but less so this time. Kevin had a particularly hard time after his mother passed and was a clingy, affectionate child. Castiel holds him tightly, rocking him back and forth.
"We're all right," he murmurs, meeting Dean's eyes over the boy's head. "We're all right."
God, please. Please let Garth be all right, too. Please.
"We did everything we could," the fire chief says solemnly. "The structural damage was too significant, there was no safe way for our guys to get in there. Some sort of accelerant must have been used for the fire to burn so hot so fast."
So hot so fast. Accelerant. No safe way. The words ricochet around in Castiel's head, but he lets no trace of his emotions show on his face as he nods at the man's words.
"If it's any consolation, he probably never even woke up," the chief says kindly. "He probably died of smoke inhalation and carbon monoxide poisoning before he was awake at all."
Smoke inhalation. Carbon monoxide poisoning. He probably died.
"Thank you," Castiel says tightly before turning and walking back toward the crew.
They've watched for forty minutes while the firefighters tried to reach Garth's apartment, then watched as they admitted defeat. No one was unaffected, the men and women making the rescue attempt look devastated. It's a small comfort.
Kevin and Sam are clutching one another, wrapped up in a scratchy emergency blanket and sitting on the sidewalk, staring up at the building. Charlie is standing next to Dean, just behind the boys on the ground. They're holding hands, but she's staring up at the building, too. Her laptop is resting against her feet and her free hand is carding through Kevin's hair comfortingly.
Dean is staring straight at Castiel. His eyes are anguished and concerned, and Castiel doesn't know what to do.
He wants to get them all to safety. He wants to take them somewhere far away to let them heal where they'll be safe. He wants to take Dean to bed, cocoon them both in blankets, and sleep for approximately forty-eight hours. He wants Garth to be alive.
None of that is immediately possible, however, because Castiel, deep in his heart, is not a good man.
Oh, yes, he takes care of his charges, and loves them like his own. He teaches them to take care of themselves in a world that won't care one bit if they fail and sends them out into it. He would take each and every one of them back in if they needed it. Hell, the floor he owns (owned) had several empty apartments waiting for someone to need to move back in.
But Castiel is a thief. At thirteen years old, he stripped himself of his given name and chose a new one for himself and stepped away from that a different person. Cain saw the transformation and accepted it easily, helping to shape Castiel into the man he is now. A man who, while capable of kindness and tenderness, is also capable of harshness and ruthlessness.
A man who craves revenge on those who harmed his family.
"Charlie, Dean," he says once he's close enough to (what's left of) his crew. "I want you to take Sam and Kevin to the safehouse. Charlie, you know where it is. Go there now, in my car. There's a spare key under the tire well."
Dean is frowning. "What about you?"
Castiel takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, looking away for a beat. "This was Abaddon." At the combined gasps he gets at that, he nods. "I believe she's working with Azazel, and I believe that he started the fire. I have to…" He clenches his jaw and hardens his heart. "I have to go take care of this."
"Take care of it how?" Charlie asks.
"I have to go make that vile woman regret ever entertaining the notion of coming after us," he promises grimly.
"Benny?"
"Boss, I heard about the fire, and Garth." His Cajun accent is thicker than normal, like it usually gets when Benny's feeling emotional. "I'm on my way home."
"Don't. Meet me at the studio we have rented on fourth street."
"... Boss?"
Benny is good. He's welcoming and warm and laidback enough to be accepting about pretty much anything that's thrown at him. Castiel is lucky to know the boy, much less have him as part of the team. He knows Benny won't be a thief for life, and he knows that Benny is close to the time where he'll start living on the straight and narrow.
But Benny also has it within him to be just as relentless as Castiel is. Because Benny's own family was so incredibly awful, he has a fine appreciation for the family they've managed to carve out for themselves. Castiel knows, as well, that he'll be just as determined to exact retribution as he himself is.
"This was the work of Abaddon and her gang. We're going to… Take care of it."
"... I'll hit the studio on fourth to grab you some clothes and meet you at the apartments, boss." Already his voice is colder, more distant, although Castiel knows the fire burning in Benny's breast is as fierce as his own.
"Thank you, Benny."
Dean resentfully drives Cas' pimp-mobile to the safehouse, following Charlie's soft, hesitant directions. Sam and Kevin are in the backseat, still sitting with their shoulders pressed together. Sam looks scared and upset, but Kevin looks straight up haunted. The kid is freaked out to the max, and Dean gets it, he really does, but he's…
Well, he's too pissed off to be very sympathetic right now. The job is better left to Sam to comfort Kevin.
When they get to the safehouse, a pretty generic ranch-style home smack-dab in the middle of a suburb, he punches in the garage code Charlie gives him and pulls in, making sure to close and lock the garage door behind him. Charlie is already at the security box on the wall, putting in the series of numbers to keep the alarm from going off. Once it beeps that they're good to go, they trudge into the house.
It's nondescript, just like the apartments were before each member of the crew personalized them. They all smell like smoke and fire, so they draw straws to decide on which of them gets to shower first. It's easy to rig it so that Sam and Kevin are entering the two bathrooms first, leaving Dean sitting with Charlie in the kitchen.
He starts a pot of coffee and stares at it as it brews and thinks.
He understands why he's here. Not only to make sure the younger kids are taken care of, especially since Kevin is so shaken, but to protect them. To make sure they don't end up hurt or targeted as Cas and Benny go to take that bitch Abaddon and her crew down a peg, or hopefully take them down altogether.
Dean wants to trust that Cas knows best, he really does. He wants to trust that Cas has taken the best man for the job with him, and that Cas will be safe without him, and that he doesn't currently need Dean along with him.
He just… Well, he doesn't trust any of that at all. He needs to be with Cas, needs to be helping him exact revenge.
"Charlie-"
"Look," she cuts him off with a shrewd look over the top of her laptop screen. "This is a really, really, really bad idea. Like, colossally, holy shit, the worst idea ever bad."
"... But?" he asks hopefully.
A put-upon sigh leaves her lips. "But… I think you're gonna do it no matter what I say. So I may as well make sure you don't fucking die while you do it."
Dean grins. "That's the spirit."
"Shut up," she snaps, but she's smiling, too. "You check in every fifteen minutes sharp, or I sic Cas and Benny on you."
"Done."
"You keep the GPS on your phone turned on so I know where you are."
"Done."
"You take another tracker in your shoe, in case your phone is compromised."
"Paranoid, but done."
"Dean." Her voice is soft and serious now. "They killed Garth. I understand that you can't sit here with us, that you can't just be here and feel okay about it. I get it. But you've gotta let me take care of you, too, because I can't lose you, too." Her eyes are alarmingly misty. "We can't lose more than one of us tonight, okay? You gotta be careful. You gotta."
Dean stands up and rounds the table to scoop Charlie into a tight hug. "I'll be careful, I promise."
"You'd better be," she mutters into his chest. "Now, go shower and get some of the blacks from Cas' dressers, because if you leave in just pajama pants, you're gonna attract undue attention."
Dressed in blacks and driving a sedan he stole from a supermarket three and a half blocks away from the safehouse, Dean goes to the studio apartment he heard Cas telling Benny to meet him at. He knows they won't still be there, but it's his best lead. Maybe they left something that will give him a clue as to how to find them, because neither of them are answering their phones.
He parks and stares at the shitty little apartment complex. He takes a moment to be thankful that at least Cas owned nice apartments for them to live in, and they weren't stuck in places like this. Or, at least, weren't still stuck in places like this. Hell, this apartment isn't that far away from he and Sam's old apartment where they lived with their father.
Dean shakes his head a little to dispel the memories that threaten to come up and drown him. A fire that he barely remembers killed his mother, and with the events of earlier tonight, it's enough to give a guy a complex. He tries to keep his cool, at least until he and Cas are behind closed doors and they can break down together, maybe hold one another up.
He gets out of the car, locks it, and starts toward the apartment complex. He gets no more than four steps away before a wide, strong, calloused hand is clamping over his mouth and the sharp blade of a knife is threatening to dig into his neck.
In front of him steps Abaddon from the shadows. Her red hair seems to glow in the shitty streetlamp light, and her lipstick is untouched by what must have been a hectic day for her.
"Oh, pretty little boy," she purrs. "Off to a daring rescue, hmm?"
Dean can do nothing but glare at her as he contemplates struggling, but the knife is a solid reminder that it would be a bad idea.
She laughs. "Oh, honey, you didn't think you were the only ones who had someone watching, did you? I knew that one of you would come out and try to rescue our dear Cassie, just like I knew he'd come running to get his vengeance about your building." She tilts her head with a cruel smile. "Tell me, did anyone die in my little fire? It was so very difficult to get close enough to tell."
Knife be damned, rage crashes over Dean like a wave and he lunges for her, intent on getting his hands around her pretty, slender neck and crushing the life out of her for having the audacity to mention Garth.
Instead, the hand over his mouth grips his jaw hard and yanks his head to the side, throwing him off balance and wrenching at his neck and shoulder. He yelps out in pain, scrabbling at the hand holding him.
"Hit him," Abaddon says carelessly. "We need him quiet to transport him. I know Cassie will come for him, and then we'll have some fun."
A sharp pain explodes at his temple, and everything abruptly slips away from him.
- I'm so sorry. Feel free to shout at me in the reviews.
