Chapter Four: Changes

Castiel lowered himself in the hot bath water slowly. The steamy water felt like bliss on his bruised body. He was thankful for the little things, like the lemon scented soap left on the side of the tub or the fact that he could submerge his head without spilling any water. It had been so long since he had a proper bath. The wade in the river was so long ago he wondered how Dean could put up with the scent of sweat on his skin. Then again Dean never smelled unpleasant though he was unwashed. Castiel scrubbed the dirt from the creases of his neck while he tried to pin Dean's scent to a particular smell. He moved his soapy hands down his chest washing away the weeks of filth. He remembered Dean when they were at the river, his eyes so green against the hills- in the scripture angels were unearthly beings of insurmountable beauty he could see why in his feverish state could mistake him for an angel.

His heart did the strange leap again but this time he knew what it was. He had tried to shut the feeling out but somehow it kept creeping back. When he had first met Daphne he had not taken the pledge yet, he was still a "free agent" as Brother Zachariah had called him. Daphne worked with the merchant who delivered the seminary school's food. She was beautiful with soft green eyes that seemed to twinkle under the stained glass windows of the cathedral. He found himself daring to touch her arm while the colors danced across her face. He wanted so badly to kiss her but he knew his place was serving the lord. Yet here he was again, a free agent with no God to serve and no church to call his own.

He probably should have felt sad about being excommunicated from the church. He knew it would be the good catholic thing to do. The guilt did not weigh on his mind half as hard as the circumstances did. Castiel would not admit it out loud but he knew what he had done was right and the church; hell the whole town had been the ones wrong. What he did, what he did surely couldn't have been as bad as the Bishop had said right? The desert was in his view, a hazy mirage, and the hot sun turning his bones to dust while the angry villagers chased after him with murder on their breaths. Castiel jerked out of the water with fright, spilling the bath water all over the tiled floor. His breath came out in ragged sobs as he dry heaved over the edge of the tub.

Dean exploded through the door splintering the oak with the force of his shoulder. Castiel tried to tell him he was okay but he could only muster a whimper.

"Cas!" He heaved the shaking man out of the tub and wrapped a towl protectively around his wet shoulders. Castiel tried weakly to protest but his begging fell on deaf ears.

"Dean I swear I'm fine. I'm really fine." He weakly pushed at Dean's chest with the flat of his palm. Dean responded by pulling Castiel against himself. Castiel's hands left wet splotches on the front of Dean's shirt, but if he noticed Dean did not care. Dean's arms were steel but comforting.

"No you're not Cas. You can't even take a bath without have a fit. Man you really need to tell me what happened otherwise I can't help you." Dean's voice was soft and reassuring in his ear.

"Dean please." He whispered faintly.

"Shut up and let me help you. God damn Padre you are as stubborn as a mule."

"Takes one to know one."

"Sass, at a time like this? I knew I liked you for a reason. Now lets get you dressed. Do you think you can manage that without me needing to rescue you Princess?" They're faces were so close.

"I'm not a princess." Castiel grumbled. Dean laughed but Castiel's face was still pale. It frightened Dean a little; he thought Cas had been close to full recovery now he wondered if half the battle was a mental one. The kid obviously had suffered from something traumatic recently he wished Castiel trusted him enough to tell him.

"I used to get these after the fire when I was young." Dean helped him to his feet. "After I carried Sammy out of the house I couldn't get the flames out of my head. It's like they were imprinted into my brain." Castiel's heartbeat began to return to normal as Dean spoke. He pulled away from him and leaned into the wall a bit.

"What happened?"

"My Mom, she uh she was burned to death in Sam's nursery. Some desperado set the fire." His voice came out rough. He was smiling as he spoke, like the memory didn't harm him but his eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm so sorry Dean." Castiel timidly touched Dean's arm to comfort him.

"Thanks Cas." He looked at the priest with unshed tears in his green eyes. That moment he saw Dean for what he was, a man, a hero, and a cowboy with the urge to roam because his family was stolen from him. Castiel's heart ached painfully for him. They gazed at one another adoringly till Dean break their locked eyes by looking down. He turned a bright red from the tips of his ears down to his chin. "We should get you dressed buddy."

Castiel looked down at himself to see that the blanket only covered his shoulders and chest leaving his sensitive bits exposed for the whole world to see. The ex-priest yelped with fright and tried vainly to cover himself up. Dean stammered an apology while he ducked out of the room, redder then before.

Castiel quickly yanked on his new clothes staining the white collar of his shirt with his wet hair. He had avoided the mirror when he had first walked into the bathroom but now found his own image to be mesmerizing. Somehow in the six years of poverty he had given to the lord he had forgotten what he looked like. He touched his scruffy beard and peered closely at his eyes that were the same deep blue as they had always been. His reflection hadn't changed much besides the gauntness of his cheeks or the thickness of his beard. Maybe it was time for a change?

Rufus had left his straight razor on the counter next to a woman's perfume he assumed belonged to his wife. He soaped his beard with the lemon-scented bar in the tub and carefully ran the borrowed razor down his cheek to chin. The pale section of skin became larger as he moved methodically down his face freeing himself from his beard. It was the only thing he had left from his old life. The larger the patch became the freer he felt. With one last flick of his wrist all of the hair was gone from his face circling down the drain. He looked at himself again and was satisfied.

Linda Tran-Turner was not a push over nor a delicate flower like most people we led to believe because of her gender. She was a hard woman that kept the railroad workers in line with just a glare for her cool brown eyes. She kept her seventeen-year-old son rod straight in just the same fashion. Kevin was smarter then most, he had been able to read at five and took a great interest in steam engines at age seven. By ten the boy had made his own miniature steam engine out of spare parts Rufus had brought him. So when Linda turned her tiger eye's onto the two grown cowboys sitting in her kitchen with their boats on they jumped up faster then a jack-rabbit running from a rattle snake.

"Hello boys I see you remember the rules of the house. Next time try removing your coat and shoes as you come in or I will have Kevin create a mechanical man to remove them for you." Her husband let out a bark of laughter from his seat at the table. She shot a glare at him too; he slammed his mouth shut without even a smirk on his face. The boys were busy ripping their shoes and coats off to see the six-foot man afraid of his tiny wife.

"Has Kevin been in the lab all day dear? It's time for him to study philosophy you know Harvard is going to put him in the higher classes he's going to need Plato at his side." Linda began to pull various spices from the cabinets to assemble dinner for her family and her guests. One of the cabinets held strange vegetables Dean had never seen while the other held chilled chunks of meat. She pulled a hunk of what appeared to beef out of the cold cabinet while throwing the vegetables in a pot. She worked with both hands; one doing the cutting while the other added spices to the pot as though it were normal. Dean tried not to stare but the astonishment was visible on his face.

"Woman you know that boy won't leave his cave unless you tell him yourself. He don't give a lick what I tell him. Especially when he's working on that new water converter for the trackless train he's making." Rufus argued back.

"Rufus would you please gather our son. Dinner will be done soon but I'd like him to start his reading." She repeated in a calmer voice. Rufus grumbled something about witches but got up to find his adopted son anyway.

"Dean I heard we have a third guest gracing us this evening. Is this true?" Linda cut the meat as she spoke while somehow meeting Dean's eyes. He was a bit worried about her fingers but cared not to comment just incase she would take offense.

"He's getting dressed ma'am. Took him a minute to clean up."

"Actually Dean I'm right here." Castiel walked into the room with a different aura about him. The defeated man they had come to know was renewed, not just visually but emotionally it had appeared. Sam grinned widely at his friend while Dean stared at him as though he was seeing him for the first time. Sam said nothing but recognized the look that passed through his brother's eyes, the look of veneration was mixed with adoration. Something was brewing inside the older Winchester and Sam couldn't help but smile even wider.

"Hey Cas." Dean said softly. He wore a lopsided smile that made him appear drunk. Castiel looked so different without his ragged clothes or beard. The white button down paired with the slick black vest made his tapered waist appear slimmer while his strong jaw line was more apparent now that it was shaved. They stared at one another in the odd way that made it look like they could communicate telepathically.

"So how about that dinner?"