A/N: Betcha didn't see this coming did you? A double update, haha! Unfortunately this one's just a bit of a fluffy filler and not much happens but I hope you guys still enjoy :)
Reviewers for chapter 3, iloveyouall – you are awesome :')
Chapter Four
Patch Me Up
Castiel waits before he can no longer sense Raphael's Grace before crumbling to the floor in a heap of tears and blood – his master's ring had cut into the delicate skin along his jaw, busting it open. It's throbbing, spikes of pain threatening to bruise and Castiel winces when his fingers brush against the tender flesh.
He has completely forgotten about the two hunter brothers when they enter the room once more, looking utterly confused. Dean speaks first, "What's the deal with Big Bird?"
Castiel does not know of this 'Big Bird' person but supposes that Dean is referring to Raphael. He turns to look at him and both brothers gasp at the sight of the angel's face.
"The deal," Castiel starts, voice thick with tears. "Is that he is my master and I must obey him. If not...well, you can see the consequences with your own eyes."
Castiel's words trial off with a pained cry of self pity which rapidly turns into soundless uncontrollable sobs as he wraps his arms around his knees and curls in on himself, wings arching around his shoulders. Dean silently fumes; he and Sam had shuffled along the balcony in order to watch the scene between Castiel and whoever was coming up the stairs unfold. Both had only caught a glimpse of the huge-winged holy bastard though before Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket alerting him that Bobby was calling. They had missed the whole angelic showdown by the time Bobby had finished telling them that there was a ghost haunting a nearby school that needed to be taken out and when they peeked back into the window all that could be seen was Castiel scrubbing at that huge bell hanging in his room like an angel possessed.
Now though, Dean knows what went down. And okay, he's only just met this angel but there is something deep in his gut that is screaming at him that this situation right here, well, there is something seriously wrong with it and Dean is finally getting a picture of what that is when Castiel refers the feathery beast as 'master'. He has to fight hard to hold down the bile threatening to rise up his trachea.
Sammy is crouched down in front of the angel, careful not to get too close for fear of frightening him and Dean can't help but wish that he had gotten there sooner, before Sam. 'Cause he wants to comfort this angel, this angel that is so different from the other holier-than-thou, stick-up-my-ass prick angels he sees and deals with so often. This angel is calm and quiet, soft and placid and there's something soothing about that gravelly voice of his and something very enchanting about those midnight wings. Dean joins his brother who is trying to calm the angel by telling him that "It's ok, Castiel. Everything is ok."
Somehow Dean doesn't think that's going to work.
"Cas," he starts, crouching closer to the angel than Sam is, too close, he thinks, but the angel doesn't push him away, only looks up at him with those eyes. He doesn't realise he's just given Castiel a nickname until the angel points it out.
"That is not my name," he says, all breath and no voice. He isn't complaining though, Dean can sense that in the way his eyes are gazing in wonder, so many emotions swimming around in the endless blue of his irises.
"I know," Dean replies and thinks how stupid it sounds. "It's uh...a nickname. You never had a nickname?" Castiel shakes his head and Dean doesn't quite know what to say but at least the tears have stopped and at least he's getting up off the floor now and smoothing himself over.
Sam and Dean follow suit and then Sam is talking to Cas about healing and Dean is walking over to the window. It's dark out now, they've spent far too much time here already and pretty soon they're gonna have to leave. What they're gonna do about Castiel, Dean doesn't know 'cause the whole reason for them coming here was to gank a supernatural freak that was terrifying the locals with its, and Dean quotes, "horrifying black wings that look like they belong to a monster sent straight from Hell". Remembering that particular woman and her comment about Cas's wings, Dean almost laughs at how wrong she had been. There's nothing remotely hellish about Castiel, nothing at all. In fact, Dean thinks that Castiel's wings are the furthest thing from evil he has ever seen and more on the other end of the spectrum.
Turns out, Cas has used up his grace for today trying to track Raphael when the sneaky S.O.B came to crash the party. Dean doesn't quite understand how an angel's grace works but he figures that's a question for another day.
"There is a medical kit under that loose floorboard, Sam," Castiel says, pointing to said floorboard and Sam begins to dislodge it. "Could you hand it to me, please?"
Dean intervenes, "Here Sammy, let me take it. Cas, lay back."
The angel looks hesitant but does as Dean asks, lies down on the pathetic bed in the corner and waits for Dean who is rummaging through the very old, very won out medical kit. Once he's found what he's looking for – the last antiseptic wipe and an oversized band aid – Dean makes his way over to Castiel. The angel is nervous, Dean can see that from the way the feathers on his wings are twitching restlessly and his eyes are wide again. He sits on the edge of the bed.
"Castiel, listen to me. I'm not going to hurt you. But you can't freak again when I touch you." He says it gently, trying to further relate his message by looking Cas right in the eyes. The angel gulps and then nods and Dean begins to work on the gash in the angels jaw.
His first touch is hesitant; he places the tips of his fingers under Cas's chin and pushes up ever so slightly to get a better angle on the wound and he can feel the angel trembling beneath him. He doesn't seem to be freaking too much though, which is definitely an improvement from earlier. Dean works quickly, telling Castiel that the wipe will sting and when it does and Castiel winces and grips Dean's free hand, he holds on too and he doesn't let go until he has to put the band aid on.
During Cas's patching up Dean talks to him, asks him some stuff that he wishes he hadn't 'cause he doesn't like the answers. But he's learnt things now, things like the fact that Cas has been stuck up here for most of his life, that those freaky symbols on the door are "Enochian sigils made to entrap an Angel of the Lord" and that Raphael has been beating Castiel for stupid petty things since the angel can remember. He isn't surprised when Cas tells him the whys behind all these horrors, that it's all because of his wings and because they are different but it doesn't mean Dean isn't pissed or that he doesn't grip Castiel's hand a little tighter in a way of reassurance, because he is and he does. What he's trying to reassure the angel of he's really not certain but he feels like something is happening here, something which means that Dean is ready to help out this lonely feathered guy whatever the costs. He likens it to finding a stray cat, beaten and abused and basically left out to dry and Dean so wants to give this cat a big saucer of milk and get some meat on its bones and see it tear out its previous owners jugular. Dean sighs and finishes, placing the band aid ever so gently on Cas's jaw, fingers brushing the stubble on the angel's cheek and gets up from the bed.
Castiel thanks him softly and sits up, scooting up until his back hits the wall and he can lean against it, the cool of the stone pressed against his cheek. He is exhausted.
Sammy has disappeared, Dean notices, and he doesn't know where to. Not wanting to call out and disturb the peaceful silence that has descended upon the room Dean goes in search of his brother, starting with the hidden corridor. It turns out to be exactly where Sam is, brooding by the window and looking out at the sparkling activeness that is Paris. From here Dean can see the Seine river, its calm blue water a startling contrast to the shoppers and tourists and locals roaming around the city and he knows that that is exactly what Sam is looking at. He's probably thinking about how beautiful it is and how nature is a wonder and how he wishes Dean would appreciate it too, Dean thinks. But he does appreciate it, even if he doesn't say so.
"Sammy, you good?" he asks placing a comforting hand on his sasquatch brother's shoulder, 'cause Sammy is looking seriously down and more than a little cheesed-off right now.
He nods but Dean knows that whatever he's gonna say next will completely contradict it.
"It's just...Castiel..." Dean understands and Sam doesn't need to go on. He had been thinking the same thing; they can't leave him here now. They're both in too deep, have witnessed something so unjust and cruel and neither would be able to live with the guilt of packing up and sailing off into the sunset knowing that Castiel is trapped here and being beaten. Fair do's if the angel could escape but Dean and Sam know that he can't, not without that son of a bitch Raphael knowing and tracking him down and even then, secretly Dean thinks he wouldn't leave him stuck here, has grown fond of this quirky angel...after a few hours. Which really is ridiculous but Dean doesn't give it any more thought.
The brothers make their way back into Castiel's room and are greeted with a sleeping angel, snoring quietly, cheek pressed against the wall. Dean smiles fondly but hides it fast. "I'm uh, just gonna lie him down."
Gently, and really damn lightly, he places his hands on the angel's shoulders and manoeuvres him so he is lying flat on his back, head propped up on the pillow, blanket tucked tightly under his chin. Castiel curls in on himself and lets out a slight sigh of contentment and Dean makes sure Sam isn't looking when his hand sweeps quickly through Cas's dark hair that is all soft and smooth and feels just how Dean imagines the angel's feathers would feel. He doesn't dare touch them though.
"Dean," his brother calls and he leaves the angel and finds his brother on the other side of that giant freaking bell, worried face intact as he looks at its smooth surface. "He didn't finish cleaning it."
"Well Sammy, I hope you've got a lot of elbow grease in those gangly limbs of yours." Dean replies throwing a polish drenched rag at him and picking one up for himself.
