CHAPTER 4 - The Good Housekeeping Solomon's Seal of Approval

By Darklady

Who reaffirms all previous declarations of faith (in Kripke).

"Come, Dean." Castiel returned to where the human's waited. "I have need of you."

Already they had waited over long. His next task would wait no longer.

"What tha'?" Bobby turned from his place by the hospital bed. "Can't ya see we're sort of busy here?"

Castiel glanced briefly at the bed.

Samuel Winchester was out of surgery. This was a positive, as he knew Dean would never abandon his watch while his brother was bleeding. That he was pale, with plastered limbs hanging from the bed supports, did not bother the angel. He knew the younger human would recover, eventually. He slept now, but as his battle was over that was in no way a bad thing.

"You should remain with him," Castiel agreed, conceding to the older hunters desire to defend his 'boy'. Not that such guard was needed now. Samuel would be safe in the care of the medical staff.

"Darn right I will." The older man put on what, on Sam, Dean would have called his 'bitch face'.

Castiel was not inclined to challenge the hunter. His attendance on Samuel was wise. At least, it would do no harm, other than to Singer's aching lumbar - a detail he did not mention. Castiel owed Bobby Singer more than his own life. He did not wish to offend his new 'godfather' by stating a truth the man would likely find heartless.

"I'm not going anywhere either," Dean snapped.

"You must. Although the battle is over there are still weapons and… other things… that must be secured."

"So I'll do it." Singer heaved himself unsteadily to his feet. "If you're talking mystical doodads? I'm still your man. This kid wouldn't know a pentagram from the prize in a cracker-jack box. " At Dean's offended frown Bobby added. "Not beat up as he is tonight."

This was true. Bobby Singer was well versed in mystic lore. Plus the man had come though the battle with fewer injuries than most, and after that had been in the range of Zachariah's angelic healing. That did not, however, remove age. Dean Winchester would be the better battle-mate, once one adjustment was made.

From the way Dean shifted from foot to foot, jolting upright each time exhaustion brushed him against the wall; his serrated back was already inflamed. While each wound Castiel had seen was small, taken one by one, the total effect of the blast-born rubble had been something like taking a cheese grater to flesh. By morning his human body would be unable to bend.

All the more reason, Castiel considered, to work now.

"Here." Castiel passed Dean a small paper cup with three white pills. "These will help with the pain."

Dean held the pills to the light, checking the impressed names. "Where did you get these from?"

"The patient next door." Cas could have gone down the pharmacy, but he had not realized he would need these human drugs until he was almost back to Dean. Turning around at that point would have been one further delay.

"Stealing meds?" Dean shook his head. "Not good."

Castiel did not understand why. "You steal all the time, for the greater good."

"Yeah. But not from sick folks. That's…" Dean waved his hand vaguely. "Sick."

No. Dean was sick. "You will need them." Castile explained calmly. "Your back is already beginning to hinder you."

"So I'll go downstairs to the clinic and…"

"They will put you in a bed - which would normally be wise as you will be in grave pain once the shock has worn off. However, that must wait until after we have finished this last mission." Castiel spotted a cup on the narrow stand beside Sam's bed. Filling it with water, he handed it to Dean. "The pills will defer the pain."

"Yeh. Like they were supposed to defer his pain. Whoever he is." Bobby pressed forward, taking the pills from Dean's hand. "These go back to the guy you stole them from."

Ah. Now he understood the nature of the human's objection. "He will not need them." Cas reassured Singer. "The man will be dead by morning."

Bobby Singer snorted. "Doesn't mean you can just…"

"Plus." Castiel reclaimed the pills. "I have given him ease until then."

"Oh." Bobby stopped."Guess it's all good, then."

"Still, Cas." Dean sounded - at most - half convinced.

"Please." Castiel took Dean's hand. "If I could do this without you I would, but there is no other I can both trust and…" What more was there? "Trust."

Dean shrugged, then tossed back the pills. "I guess it's good to be trusted."

Castile had never considered that question. Of course, he always had been trusted absolutely. At least, until this battle. Now he could not hear his bothers, here in his self-exile, but he knew whatever faiths the various factions of Heaven held, none now held faith with him. No soul in Heaven, or in Hell, or on the earth between. Except Dean. Sam and Dean. Bobby Singer and Samuel Winchester and… Dean.

Dean, who's battled calloused hand he pulled to his chest. "In this I must ask you to trust me."

"I do." Dean spoke it like a vow. To Bobby Singer he said, "You watch Sam until I get back, OK?"

"Ok." Bobby sighed. "You boys go about your business. But?" Bobby sent Castiel a hard glare. "Once we get these chuckleheads back to normal? You and I are going to have a serious talk about ethics."

Just a short transitional bit before things … start.

This is shifting to incomplete status as the series of irrelevant events has finally spawned a plot arc. For a very small value of 'plot' and 'arc'.

For those who can't stand WIPS? Basic story here in 100 words or less.

Stuck with 'life on earth' (at least until he can figure a way out that doesn't include the direction *down*) Castiel has to deal with his almost-human family life. It comes complete with incomprehensible in-laws, sniping siblings, and a dad who *still* won't answer his calls. He's sure there must be a plan somewhere, but the 'guidebook' is about as comprehensible as a Japanese cell-phone manual. One translated from the Basque by part-time workers in Ulan Baltor. Eventually, like every other family trauma, it all works out. Somehow. More or less.

I could wrap it up in three chapters. I'm probably going to take 300. Mostly so I have space for the crack.

Enjoy the ride.

(Suggestions welcomed.)