Finding the office of Fisher Reality as not hard. Even at one in the morning, there was a light on in the back room, and the lamp that shone in the street outside illuminated the sign like a beacon in the night. Castiel wondered if it was best to take the front door. Of course, there was still the chance that Bradley was wrong, that he really was crazy. Cas might end up breaking into a legitimate business and scaring an innocent woman half to death. However, the nagging familiarity of the name and face convinced him otherwise.
He decided to scope the place first. He crept down a little alley that took him to the back of the building, which opened on a parking lot. A strikingly familiar pick-up was it's only occupant. Sure enough, a back window stood open, almost as if they wanted him to break in. There was one capera, pointed at the window. He didn't care overmuch. How much did it really matter that they knew he was coming?
Another Castiel would have waited before jumping into this. He would have known his limits. But this Cas was dying anyway. Without further thought, he slid through the open window and into the hallway beyond. There was wall-to-wall carpeting, the kind all businesses seem to have, every shade of vomit splattered on a beige background. The walls were white and lined with labeled doors. Supply Closet/ Electrical Closet, DO NOT OPEN, RISK OF DEATH/ Unisex, accessible bathroom.
Only one door showed light beneath it. One labeled Copy Center. Castiel paused only a moment, to feel the hard reassurance of his knife handle. Then he went in.
The woman did not seem surprised to see Cas. She did not scream, did not threaten, only started a little. Upon seeing her in person, he was able to place her in his mind. Kit. Kit who gave him money and a phone number. Kit who gave him a ride to Joyful Valley that first, awful night.
"Castiel," she said, "Long time no see."
He gawped.
"Come on, don't stare at me like that! Where's the hardy little angel gone?"
What?
"You look so surprised, it wasn't that hard really, I can still smell it on you."
Castiel was looking behind her, there was an alter, strewn with bones and knives and other strange things.
"You're a witch," he murmured softly.
Kitty's eyes narrowed with mal-intent. "I guess that's all I am, isn't it. A witch. Of course you don't remember me this outfit is pretty new. How about I give you a hint, Sugarplum, you and me, we have the same daddy."
"You're an…angel." The realization hit Castiel like something solid.
"Correction, was an angel. Verb tense you know, pain in the ass. No, I'm human now, just like you. Only unlike you, I came up with a plan B to keep some of my old powers."
"Witchcraft."
"Bingo. And you know, I've been looking for a way to fix it. Thought I found one too. Didn't work though, still human, just, now I'm a human with a bunch of dead kids buried in my back yard."
Castiel still did not know how to answer.
"Well, I'm going to spare you the rest of the villain monologue, I'll cut it down to this: Cas, you're going to die. It's only fair, after everything you did, well, I'm not usually one for the death penalty, but you, Sweetie, take the cake."
Castiel felt as if the air were suddenly snatched from his lungs. He gasped fruitlessly. Magic, she was cursing him, but how? He looked around the room, hoping it would simply offer up the hex bag, he was too weak, dark spots were forming in the corners of his vision. Please, he mouthed, looking up at the woman who was killing him, his sister, for all intents and purposes. He searched for some sign of familial mercy that might incline her to spare him. He found none.
This was how he was going to die; this was it. He would never see Dean again. Suddenly that reality seemed more solid, more terrifying than ever. There were words that common sense had held back before, that would never have their chance at life. He would never see Dean's smile again, never hear the sound of his voice. Curse the selflessness that ever tore Castiel away from the man he loved, yes, that was the word, the unspoken word that the silence hungered for between them. Love. And now it was still born in his empty lungs. The silence would remain, hungry, it would remain forever now that he could never speak to Dean again.
He felt his knees buckle, but it was the least of his worries.
"After you screwed up heaven," Kitty went on, "you couldn't stop there could you? No. First the Leviathans, then, damn, it would be you who let Metatron cast us out. It's always you, Castiel. I hoped you'd had the decency to fall into the ocean and drown, but it was better. God delivered you into my car. He let me kill you myself. Well, I had a little help from Bradley, but, you know, the sentiment's the same."
Her words ceased to posses meaning. Reality crumbled around him. So this was dying, really dying. It wasn't as painless as he had thought.
Then there was a flash, a noise like the thunder of an avenging God.
He could so easily have been too late. He wouldn't have known where to find Cas at all if it weren't for a particularly sketchy homeless man hanging around the alley where the kids had gone missing. He hadn't bothered to find a back way, instead, he charged straight through the front door.
There was a second when he paused. Separation had made him crazy. Maybe Cas was in there doing just fine. What f he didn't want to see Dean. Ad then, then there was the other possibility that was even worse: what if Cas was already dead? Those images that had plagued his imagination and his dreams, they all came rushing back. He gathered his strength and burst in.
If he normally shot first, asked questions later, it was nothing like this. All it took was a second, was Cas's crumpled body on the floor, the woman standing over him, the gun practically fired itself. The woman did not even cry out but collapsed like a curtain falling to end a play. He crossed the room in three steps.
It was more natural than breathing to take Cas's limp form into his arms. He felt that lean body, the regular ridging of his rib cage, the hollow beneath it. Had those always been there? Dean wanted to fill those hollows, to perfect the imperfections in that broken body.
"Cas," he whispered, "Cas come on. You always pull through, don't let me down now, come on buddy."
The delicate, damaged form suddenly inflated with breath. "Dean" he whispered, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean. The name dripped from Cas's lips like raindrops falling to put out a fire. Suddenly life came into the heavy limbs, which rose to clutch Dean closer to him.
The weird thing was, Dean had expected there to be some kind of stop, a wall that would keep him from doing this with another man. But there was nothing, no glass barrier that came up to stop him holding Cas, or kissing, first tentatively, surprised at Cas's initiative, then deeper as his own took hold. There was nothing to stop him entangling his fingers in another man's hair, or whispering I love you against his unshaven cheek, or feeling ecstasy at the sound of I love you too.
At last the moment ended and they pulled apart. Dean helped Cas to his feet. They left the room, the dead witch, behind. Cas was still weak and leaned against Dean as they staggered out of the building.
"Why don't we get a motel room," Dean said, "You need a shower."
They drove an hour out of town before pulling in to a darkened parking lot. The woman at the front desk said she had the perfect room for them. When they got there they were met by the same crumby, wood paneled room as always, except, there was only one bed. Maybe he was just too tired to complain.
"I'll take the couch," Cas moved in that direction.
"No," Dean said, sternly, then softer, "no, why don't we just share the bed. I think I'll sleep easier knowing you're actually here."
"I love you Dean." Cas said it one more time, more real than before now that the peril was through.
Author's Note: Hello again readers! I must confess, I planed for this story to be much longer but what with school about to start up and me not having done any of my summer homework, I don't think I'd get much more done. So here is the second to last chapter of a Hungry Silence, it's pretty much just going to be fluffy bunnies and butterflies from here on out, but I think we've had enough plot. It's been fun, and I apologize for the sub-par writing in chapter four. Please, please, please give reviews, good or bad. I will see you all again in chapter 6. Also remember that I am open to prompts for shorter things so send me a message if you think of anything.