AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special thanks again to LittleIsis for editing this. With out your support I couldn't have posted this on the Internet. Oh and to all you reviewers thank you! I am so happy you guys like my story so far. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Oh and did I mention before that this is cattlepunk? It's like steampunk but frontier-y.
Chapter Two: Rivers
Castiel woke to a plain white canvas hanging above his head. This was not the green-eyed heaven he had seen before he welcomed the black. His whole body ached while his skin felt like it was on fire. If it weren't for the cool wet blanket draped over him, he was sure he would have fainted from the pain. Somewhere beyond the white wagon covering he could hear the gentle twang of someone playing the guitar accompanied by a low voice singing a melancholy cowboy hymn. He was soothed back to sleep by the crooning like a child hearing a lullaby.
The second time Castiel woke up the angel was back. He was murmuring something while pressing a cool bottle to his lips.
"You have to drink more or you'll die." Dean pushed the bottle against the man's chapped lips till he met teeth. Weakly, his charge parted his lips to allow the water to pass through. Castiel swallowed while his angel poured the icy water into his mouth. The man was satisfied once Castiel had drunk the entire canteen. "See I bet you're feeling better already."
"Yes." Castiel coughed. "Slightly." The angel beamed at him with crinkled eyes.
"Now that you can talk want to tell me your name? "
"Castiel, Father Castiel Novak." He raised a weak hand to his throat to tug at the white collar that had once rested there. He had forgotten for a moment that it had been ripped away. "Oh, I suppose I'm not that any more." The angel gave him an odd look.
"A priest? You're a priest? What the hell are you doing in the middle of Texas? Shouldn't you be in a church somewhere blessing virgins or whatever you guys do?"
"I-I was excommunicated from the church." He squeezed his eyes shut so his savior couldn't see the pain.
"What happened?"
In Castiel's mind he felt the solid ground turn into sand. Behind him he could hear the angry yells of men and smell the burning rags used to light the torches. The desert was stretched out in front of him with only pinpricks for stars to light the barren landscape. He hoped his feet could carry him faster then the hate could carry the men thirsty for blood behind him.
"I don't really remember." Castiel lied. He felt ashamed for lying but surely this man would think differently of him if he told the truth. The angel's brows knitted in concern but didn't press the question any further.
"The heat really got to you. Are you still running a temperate?" Dean placed a warm rough hand against Castiel's brow. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, it was shameful but he hadn't had human contact in so long. "Nope. Looks like the two straight days of water and wet blankets have really helped you. Do you think you're ready to eat something Padre?"
"Yes, I don't think I've eaten in days." Castiel used all his strength to sit himself up. The wet blanket slipped off of his shoulders to pool in his lap.
"Alright I've got some stew bubbling on the pit. I'm going to grab you a bowl and spoon so you can chow down. Lay back down Cas, you need to conserve your strength." Dean ducked out of the covered wagon, slinging his long legs to the ground with ease he dropped out of the bucket like a stone. The sun was slowly setting in the west, which marked the third day the stranger had been in their company. When they had found him Father Castiel had been at least a three-day horse ride away from the nearest town. How did the scrawny man get so deep into the desert with only the shoes on his feet and the shirt on his back? The universe works in mysterious ways he mused.
Sam was stirring the pot of rabbit stew while watching the setting sun. Dean could tell he was day dreaming again. Probably thinking of that little university in the Pacific West that wanted him so badly. It was rare for a cowboy to read, it was even rarer for a cowboy to be as intelligent as Sam. But they needed at least a thousand dollars for the kid to afford the usual four years. Dean coughed to break his brother out of his melancholy trance.
"Hey, how's our stranger doing Dean? Or should I say Angel." Sam lifted the wooden spoon to his lips to taste the brown broth. It was nowhere near as good as Ellen's but it would do.
"Better. He's talking, sitting up and wanting some grub. Do we have any bread left?" Dean grabbed the spoon from his brother and tasted the remainder of the stew. "Bleh needs more salt and pepper."
"Yeah well we used that all up yesterday. Same with the bread." Sam took offense to the salt comment. His cooking was fine thank you very much.
"Good thing we're only a day out from the Texas line. Rufus has got himself a trading post just a day's ride from there. I've got enough gold to buy us some supplies and Cas some clothes." Dean poured some of the stew into a wooden bowl making it more broth then stew.
"Oh you finally got the guy's name huh?" Sam spooned his own share into a metal tin. He didn't bother finding a spoon, just sipping it directly from the edge of the container.
"Father Castiel Novak. He's a fucking priest can you believe that? Well ex-priest I guess." Dean threw a rag over his shoulder and carried the steaming bowl towards the wagon.
"Wait, you told him your name right? I mean he can't just keep calling you angel. It's kind of creepy."
"Shut it. You're just jealous." Dean smirked before hopping up into the wagon bucket. Sam snored into his stew; Dean liked being called angel, what a jerk.
On the seventh day of Castiel's recovery the trio reached the Red River, their last stop before the rolling grass of the Great Plains. The river ran like smooth blue glass reflecting the white clouds above. With the green grass billowing gently in the distance and the call of bird song in the air Castiel was filled with a sense of wonder he had never felt in the confines of the church.
"Who needs a church when you have sights like these, right Padre?" Dean smiled warmly. Castiel felt his stomach pitch in an odd way.
"It's beautiful." Castiel shivered though he wasn't cold at all. Dean decided they'd settle right at that spot for the day and enjoy some time out of the wagon. Baby pranced around their camp excited to be off of her reigns. Her glossy black coat mixed well with the never ending blue of the sky and the green of the grass. Castiel wished for a moment he were an artist; he wanted this image to last forever. He would paint the light, the man and the grassland sea in slashes of blue, grey and green. Dean's eyes would be the same color as the land.
Dean helped Cas out of the wagon on to the soft grass. Castiel tried to argue with Dean that he could stand for himself but Dean would not budge on the matter. Castiel could have died out there in the heat. They walked, though Castiel was shaky, towards the river. The pebbly sand of the riverbank was warm from the sun, the cool water lapped at the shore in a gentle sigh.
"I'm going go read a bit, you guys enjoy the scenery."
"Wait, send a message to Rufus that we're coming okay? You know how he gets jumpy." Dean handed his brother a small nut shaped object that glittered bronze and silver in the sunlight. Castiel looked curiously at the thing held in the giant's palm. Before he could ask what it was the metal object popped open. Small wings extended from the sides of the sphere while the top dome opened to reveal a bird like head.
"Message sir?" The metal bird chirped in a girlie voice. Castiel could only blink in amazement.
"Send to Rufus." Sam's clear voice rang out " We are on our way. Stop. See you in two days. Stop. Thank you Squawk." The metal bird ruffled it's feathers and stood up on two tiny silver feet.
"Thank you sir! Coordinates for Mr. Rufus Turner are the same I would assume?"
"Yup, good job Squawk. Please wait at Mr. Turner's until we arrive." The tiny tin bird nodded then by some modern marvel flew off towards the South. Castiel could hardly believe his eyes.
"What the hell was that?" He swore, he rarely did but he felt like the situation garnered strong language.
"An invention from the mind of an orphaned red head. When we get to South Dakota you will be able to meet our evil genius." Dean explained, behind him grinned in a mirror of his brother's half smile. They didn't look alike but their mannerisms were so similar it was easy to tell they were brothers.
"How does it work?" Castiel pressed.
"Do I look like I would know?" Dean laughed and began to strip off his black duster. Castiel raised a brow in surprise. The heavy black cowboy boots came off next.
"What are you doing now?" He watched with veiled interest as the second layer, a vest came off. Then his pale green button up shirt till all that remained was a plain cotton shirt. Castiel had only felt this type of stomach churning confusion once; when he was in seminary school he met a girl whose beautiful green eyes nearly charmed him away from the church.
"Come on Cas, I need a bath. I've got dust in my ass crack." The last layer of clothes consisted of his shirt and the dusty pair of pants he wore.
"But I don't have any bathing shorts." Castiel sputtered trying so hard not to look at Dean's body. Only look into his eyes, don't look, don't look he chanted.
"Then you'll just have to go in naked like the day you were born." In a flash of tan cheeks the cowboy was up to his neck in the water. "Come on!" He yelled before disappearing into the river like an otter.
The dark haired man inched his way towards the river. He shed his ever-present blanket to carefully remove what was left of his trousers. No body was around for hundreds of miles except for the two brothers. He wasn't very good at swimming but it wasn't very deep. He could see the bottom through the sunlight patches. He threw his shirt to the beach and waded into the water. It was warmer then he expected it was like a warm bath. Dean surfaced right by his waist with a huge smile on his face.
"See it's nice. Winchester's don't lie, very often." He flipped on his back and swam backyard through the water to watch Castiel who refused to look anywhere but his eyes. He held Dean's gaze for so long his heart was the only thing he could hear. If there was a heaven the whole force of it lay behind Castiel's eyes.
"You were right. I'm sorry I ever doubted the great Dean Winchester." Castiel broke their eye contact to dive upstream.
"Was that sarcasm? I didn't think Priests could make jokes." Dean called.
"Ex-priest." Castiel reminded. He swam a bit deeper liking how weightless he felt. The water was cooler; it eased the burns on his raw skin. He felt stronger somehow.
"Can you still turn water into wine?" Dean was right behind him radiating heat like some kind of sun god. Despite their close quarters in the wagon Castiel suddenly feels stifled. "Cause I could really use a drink right now. Hey now, how about whiskey instead of wine?" Dean laughs heartily at his own joke.
"I'm afraid they didn't supply us with that knowledge in the how to be a priest hand book. You'll just have to deal with river water." Splashing Dean in the face took a certain amount of courage. Swimming quickly away didn't take any bravery at all.
"Pretty good joke for some guy we found rotting in the desert. I'd be careful or you might end up there again." Dean was a much faster swimmer and didn't have the disadvantage of wet cloth. He was behind Castiel in a minute, looming, casting a long shadow over the beach.
Castiel froze in fright. He wasn't on the beach anymore he was back at the church. The Bishop was roaring with unbridled rage. "I will cast you out Castiel! I will damn you to hell!" His voice was accompanied by the harsh crackling of the burning torches and the scent of sweat. Dean's hand found it's way to his shoulder and with one swoop the visions were gone.
"Shit I was kidding man. I would never do that to you."
"But you're right. I'm a stranger you don't even know me." Dean visibly winced, it sounded cold to his own ears.
"Don't say shit like that Cas. I'm sorry." He laid his other hand on Castiel's tense shoulder. The warmth of his palms should have been reassuring but he felt wrecked by it. Castiel didn't know why but his chest hurt. The pressure was slight enough for him to ignore it most of the time but whenever Dean was around it tightened. He justified it by telling himself it was because he was grateful he had been rescued. Saved by a green-eyed man that would spare him some of his own water in a place where water was so rare. Saved by a man who gave him the shirt off of his back. A man who cupped him by the back of his neck with his large calloused hand and fed him soup like an infant.
"I'm going back to the wagon. I'm feeling rather ill. I must have over worked myself. Excuse me Dean." He tried to walk slowly but his legs itched to move. The adrenaline from the flash back made him yearn to run. If only his legs weren't shaking like a new born calf's. He let himself look at Dean once more before retreating to the shelter of the covered wagon.
"What happened Cas? Are you ever going to tell me?" Dean whispered to the shadow of the man crossing the grassland.