Because I feel like, as secondary characters and the Winchesters' designated "fix-it" men, Bobby and Cas probably have a decent bond. One that isn't really explored often. So here's my attempt. Be prepared though... there's some serious Cas!Wump! in this chapter...
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The poor bastard.
If there's a silver lining anywhere in this, it's that Dean wasn't around when Cas woke up. It took three days and Sam's best cajoling to get Dean off of my property. (And even then, I still had to brandish my sawed-off to get him to start that damned car of his.) After two weeks of no change, Sam and I both thought that it would be best to get Dean out and hunting again- better than him pacing my halls and jumping at every creak with a sickeningly hopeful look in his eyes.
I knew deep down that if Cas came to, it wouldn't be puppies and rainbows. It was bad enough that he had subjected himself to millions of miniature nuclear reactors, but then having them (assumedly) ripped from him… Hell, I still don't get how he or his vessel showed up in my junkyard still breathing.
But it does make sense that he would choose to come here. Y'see Cas and I had a sort of understanding- spanning back to when he had first been cut off from heaven. During the entire year that his angel powers were circling the drain, he'd have good days and bad ones. On the good ones, he stuck around Dean and Sam mostly- or else off to find his long absent God. But on the bad ones… on those he would show up on my door, too winded and weak to do anything other than collapse into a chair and wait until he healed.
Dean and Sam don't really know about those days, Cas never wanted me to call them. The first time, he came to me so beat up that he had been forced to hitchhike to my house (lucky for him, those big blue eyes of his gains him sympathy pretty much anywhere.) To say I was surprised, well… perhaps the better term was furious. After leaving me in that damned wheelchair he dared to show up on my doorstep? If I remember correctly, I called him a useless bastard and told him to go get Dean or Sam to play nurse.
The look he had given me still makes me shiver. "Sam and Dean…" He had started, his voice dragging like rocks over a bed of glass. "I cannot find them… and… besides…" His knees buckled and I pointed to a chair next to him- one that he sank into gratefully. "They have enough to deal with."
I sighed, the angel had a point. Going to them would mean that he'd probably putting himself in danger as the idjits were always tangled up in something. So I tossed him a few bandages that I knew he wouldn't use and wheeled my bitter ass out of the room. Of course I started feeling like a jackass, so I returned in a half-hour to find him browsing through my bookcase with a curious look in his eyes.
We stayed up that night, and it was then that Cas was introduced to the wonders of late-night TV. He watched for hours, with a book of Nordic gods nestled in his lap. It was almost… normal, until I remembered that I was watching "I Dream of Jeannie" with a celestial being that was older than the human race.
This set-up became more and more regular as his powers weaned. His 'visits' were never long; maybe 5 or 6 hours. But I had really began to grow fond of the disheveled angel, with his clothes in varying states of disarray. I learned about his observations on humanity, and the physical world. I learned that he prefers a landscape covered in snow. And I learned about the human girls who kept trying to adjust his tie, and make the collar of his coat lie flat and give him their numbers when he was just looking for information. I remember laughing at the confusion in his expression as he told me that he had rejected them by explaining that he was a warrior of God.
And that makes this so much harder. Because now he is relying on me once again, and I don't know if I can patch him up this time. He's screaming- I've never seen him scream like that and now I wish I hadn't. His body's convulsing so much that I can't tie him down. He tried to be God and now his body is paying the price.
And so is my house. The bedroom I had him in is totaled. I nearly cut my foot on the broken glass that littered the floor as I tried to pull him out. The windows, the lights, hell even pieces of the wall have been obliterated. I ended up sticking him in the panic room, although in this case it's more to protect me from him than the other way around.
I think his voice is finally growing hoarse, giving out, but the attacks keep coming. Thank God that Dean isn't here. He seemed so desperate to believe that Cas would make some miraculous recovery… I don't think I'd have the heart to see his expression as he watched his angel die.
Some silver-lining.
... I'm so sorry guys... please keep reading... Bobby's kind of a pessimist...