AN: Thank you for the reviews/favourites/follows. I really appreciate it :)
3 DAYS AFTER THE ANGELS FELL
"Coma?!"
"Means the body's mending is all."
"Mending? He hasn't eaten in days!"
"Which is why I set up the drips."
"But I thought you fixed him!"
"Aye, I did - the bleeding...he's still got infections up to the wazoo. It ain't exactly science now, is it though?"
"Are you sure it's not the...well, other thing?"
Rory was silent.
"Because no one else has heard of this happening before. How come you're the only one?"
Rory countered this." How come no one since the days of Samuel Colt has ever heard of a way to kill a demon?"
Dean had to admit defeat on that one.
_?_?_
"How's Moose doing?" Crowley asked, straining his neck to see Dean walk into the room. "He on the mend? He's getting better, right? I mean, it's been a few days. I assume you've got him tucked up in an oversized bed. Sleep's always good," the semi-demon? Semi-human? Crowley rambled.
"Let's talk about you. How you feeling?"
"Hungry, tired...I couldn't trouble you for a shower, could I? I'm really starting to smell...though you look like crap. Have you slept at all? Taken a shower? Maybe I'm not the one who smells." He paused to sniff the air around him. "Nope, definitely me."
"Crowley," Dean growled.
"Listen, I'm worried about what's going on down there." Dean made a face eyes flicking to Crowley's waist. It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes. Sam was definitely the brains of the outfit. "I didn't mean there, numpty; I meant about the homeland. After all, I was their leader…plus, they might take the fact that it's empty upstairs as a sign to party."
"Fantastic."
"And, well, I...I feel sad."
"Sad?"
"Yeah, you know sad...upset...melancholy. It's written all over your face. Sam's not doing so well, is he?"
"Aside from the coma? Nope, he's not doing too well. "
"Sarcasm? Really Dean? I'll let it slide because you're tense. Off you pop."
"Huh?"
"Go Squirrel; go to your Moose and look after the poor unconscious sod."
_?_?_
Dean exited the room, slightly put off from Crowley's genial demeanour. Straight laced demons were easy to understand - they cared for nothing other than themselves and that made his job rather easy. This...change, muddying of waters, blending of black and white into grey confused him. Crowley was a demon, but he was this much closer to being, well, human… Shaking his head at the thought, he looked up only to see Kevin steer towards him. "I still can't believe you made Garth bring him here!"
"Kevin-"Dammit.
"He killed my girlfriend and my mom. Now I have to share a roof with him! "
He was too tired for this. Plastering a smart-ass smirk on his face, he continued his path, taking the stairs two at a time and listening to Kevin still behind him. "Technically you share a floor with him...he's in a dungeon; that's partially under your room and next to the shooting range. Anyways, he's cured...sort of."
Kevin's voice went up an octave as he grabbed Dean's jacket at the elbow. "Sort of? What happens if he isn't and he goes back to being all 'I'm Crowley the King of Hell. Cross me and I'll snap your neck with the click of my fingers', because if he does we're all screwed."
Yes...we are most definitely screwed." He's gonna stay in the dungeon and anytime we move him, he'll be blindfolded just like he was when Garth brought him here." The grip on his jacket loosened, allowing him to walk away from the prophet. "Now stop panicking and translate the angel tablet. Faster you solve it, the sooner we can get Crowley out from under us...literally."
_?_?_
On reflection, he should have taken the offer to stay with much more enthusiasm than what he'd originally granted it. After formal introductions had been completed, with a slight misstep on his part, ('Peter Bartholomew.' 'I'm Cas-I mean James Novak.') He had been led to a small house just to the left of the church grounds. On the outside, vines of ivy wrapped around the small door frame, two little potted plants bracketing both sides. The brick work seemed quite old and, impulsively, his fingers brushed the damaged façade. Peter had shaken his head, ushering him inside, already handing him extra towels and a blanket before moving down a short passage into the unused room. Within minutes, fresh linen made up the bed and the smell of dust had vanished. Within the first day, he had received a bag of personal items and a care package from the woman who owned the small convenience store that was opposite the park bench where he had first attempted to sleep. He was living...for the most part.
"What happened to you?" Peter asked, eyes tracking his movements, paying particular interest to the gauze wrapped around his hand and the stark white bandage under his jaw.
Placing the laundry bag containing his suit on the floor he looked away, scratching his hair. "I got hit by a car. In the car's defence, I was disoriented and wandered onto the road." His stomach growled. Three days a human and he kept forgetting to eat. Peter stared at him. "The car is fine..." he trailed off, unable to think of anything to say and reached into his pocket "...look, I brought you your change."
As he deposited the quarters quietly onto the table, amusement highlighted Peter's smile. "Well, thank you." A brief pause followed before Peter's eyes widened. "Oh, I found this in the church yesterday. It rang once, but it's not my place to answer your phone."
Discomfort swept through him. Ringing? Aside from the Winchesters who would ring him? Cautiously picking the phone out of the man's outstretched hand; he nodded once before taking his bag and walked to his room.
Bag deposited next to the bed and phone placed gently onto his bed covers, Castiel stood staring.
If Dean was calling him, did this mean that the gates of Hell had been closed? Maybe the call was one of joy, and Sam - oh, Sam. If the gates are closed then Sam…he dropped to the end of the bed, hand holding his head in despair and fighting off a sudden onset of nausea. He forced himself to ignore the tiny voice in the back of his mind that suggested that it wasn't Dean who was making the calls.
Sam's calling because Dean's dead...
Fingers danced blindly across the covers in search of the device. Sending a quick prayer, he held the phone to his ear waiting for the messages to begin.
…10 new messages
-beep-
Castiel, are you there? We saw what happened. Please tell me that you're alright.
End of message.
Relief flooded his veins. Dean was alright.
…9 new messages
-beep-
Castiel. If you have mojo, get your feathery butt to me right now.
End of message.
…8 new messages
-beep-
Cas. I need you to get here. Sam's in a really bad way. I don't know what I'm meant to do.
End of message.
How odd, his prayers had been answered.
…7 new messages
-beep-
Cas. Where the hell are you?
End of message
…6 new messages
-beep-
Fucking Sam and his fucking tech brain. Did he teach you about disabling your GPS? Castiel, you call me right now or so help me God I am going to kill you when I find you. And believe me, I will find a way to find you.
End of message
…5 new messages
-beep-
Sam's got a chunk of demon in him...did you hear that?
Castiel closed his eyes allowing the slurring, broken tone in Dean's voice to roll over him.
My brothers got a demon all up inside him again.
Dean hiccupped.
But he's not possessed...nope, because that would be too fucking normal. Oh and I forgot to mention that he's in a coma.
Hey, Cas, when you coming back home? I need you…remember that man…
Ending with Dean presumably passed out, the message lasted for another forty minutes.
End of message
…4 new messages
-beep-
Hey Cas, listen if you get this message...uh...
Resignation.
Nevermind.
End of message.
…3 new messages
-beep-
Fuck you. Are you hiding?
End of message
…2 new messages
-beep-
Hey, unless you lost your phone and I'm going to assume you haven't...um…I met with some hunters who've been going around tracking down the angels who fell...and none of them remember a thing...like anything. So, if you fell then you probably don't remember anything either. Shit, I really hope that isn't true. But, well, I'm Dean Winchester...we 're friends. And yeah, there's some things that you should know about yourself that I can help you with. If you tell me where you are, I can pick you up and then we'll get this mess sorted out. Okay. Uh, bye Cas...oh, your name is Castiel...just, so...you know.
End of message
…1 new messages
-beep-
This is Dean...sorry to call - it just, helps a bit with everything that's happening. Listen, Cas, I know that you have no idea what's going on but, if you are getting these messages I need you to call Garth. Sam's not getting better...I have to try something...anything; I don't care what. And if I do find a way, then I need to know that he'll be okay because I don't know whether I will be. This isn't your responsibility and it's alright if you don', but...please."
End of final message.
AN: Here we go. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter :) If you like, drop a review, I really appreciate them, and if you have any questions I'm happy to answer them :)