Now he's done it. He's absolutely screwed this time. Maybe even more so than when he had accidentally healed that blind man on the side of the road when he was a fledgling (even though that was really bad, he thinks inviting two extremely dangerous hunters into his house ranks just a tiny bit higher).
Castiel could swear that he could hear one of the hunters snicker as he struggled with his keys. His hands were shaking like hell after all. Everytime he reaches out to place the key in the lock it feels like his hand spasms slightly and he drops it.
He's sure he looks pathetic.
The hunters continue their banter when Castiel finally, finally, gets the key to fit in the lock and shoves it open with a little more force than necessary.
He starts to make his way to his room when a throat clears behind him, followed by a door slamming shut. He has to will his feet to move so he can turn, be as polite as he can without giving away how nervous he is.
"Hey sugar, I know you're eager to get away from us strangers, but," Castiel's heart almost beats out of his chest when the joke mostly goes over his head. Dean doesn't seem to notice, either choosing to ignore it or totally oblivious. "Wouldn't you like to give us the tour before we try and touch something and wreck it?"
Castiel licks his lips, trying to calm himself. His pulse is out of control at the moment, and what he really wants to do is spread his wings and jump out the fourth story window. But for now, since he can't without being totally screwed for life, he needs to give these men a tour of his apartment. Totally domestic. Not like they're going to jump you, Castiel, His conscious tells him.
"Of course." He manages and quickly walks over to the small living area. It consists of one large couch and two armchairs, provided in case he actually got company some time. "This is the living room. You're welcome to spend your time in here, seeing as you'll be living here for now. But please, refrain from make out sessions if possible. Keep those in the bedroom so you won't scar me for life."
Dean snickers and comes up behind him, claps him on the shoulder. Castiel flinches.
"Awesome, dude. But what you really need is a tv so we won't have to resort to making out as our only source of entertainment." He jokes, and Castiel deems that little piece of advice fair. (Maybe it would make the place seem a little less dull too.)
"Hey, Dean, I just realized," Sam comes up next to Dean, his brow furrowed, seemingly bothered. "We don't know his name." He talks as if Castiel isn't standing right in front of them.
Dean scowls, which for a fleeting moment, a little voice in the back of his head supplies, adorable.
Castiel instantly flushes that thought down the river of never to be pondered upon.
"Yeah, man, sorry about that," Dean reaches out a hand for him to shake, and his expression makes him seem vaguely bothered. "I'm Dean Winchester. This is my brother-"
"Sam." Sam finishes for him.
Awkwardly, he reaches out and grasps the hunter's hand. He is met by a firm, confident grip that almost tips him off balance for a moment. Sam also shakes his hand, and Castiel notices that both hands are calloused and rough from supposedly many years of handling guns.
And the bodies of your dead brothers and sisters, the voice supplies. It's shushed abruptly by the part of him trying to get along with these hunters and not become prey.
"I am Castiel. Novak. Sorry." He knows that he was flushed out of the system years ago, but he's still wary when he introduces himself. Doesn't know if someone will recognize him or not after his service to the russian intelligence. He always knew this would happen sometime though. Someone discovering his secret.
"Great! Hey, Cas, you happen to have any beer by chance?" Dean asks out of the blue.
Castiel looks at him incredulously. He's only known this man for ten minutes and he has a nickname. Not to mention is already being asked for a drink.
"Sorry. Um. I don't." He says somewhat sheepishly.
While Dean looks kind of disappointed, Sam is smirking behind his back, seemingly amused at Dean's rejection. Castiel decides Sam doesn't seem so bad. So far. He hopes he'll never have to see the younger Winchester when he's hunting one of his kind. Or his older brother.
"Okay, um, well what do you do for a living, Castiel?" Sam asks, trying to keep the conversation going while Dean slumps into one of the armchairs.
"I work as a teacher at St. Peter's school for all grades. I teach the kindergarteners there." He explains. Sam nods his head, but his- along with Dean's- eyebrows go up in surprise. Castiel already knows what he's going to say before he does.
"Really? Well, we're just starting there as new employees. I'm a math teacher and Dean is a world history teacher." Castiel knows this isn't true. He knows that they've probably just acquired these jobs to go along with the hunt and make some extra cash. He still nods his head though and smiles politely.
"Well, if you're the new teachers my boss recently told me about, then I guess I'm the one giving you gentlemen a tour of the school."
"Wouldn't you know it? Cas here is already our best friend and we only just met him, Sammy." Dean smiles appreciatively and gives him a flirtatious wink. Which Castiel deliberately does not blush at.
Which totally means he does. And it's embarrassing because his face looks like a giant tomato.
Damn.
"Well, um, I-I should probably go get changed out of my work clothes," He stutters, and Dean smirks. Sam rolls his eyes. "You two may choose between either of the available rooms, if you wish. Obviously, mine is taken." Idiot. "Um, help yourself to the leftovers in the kitchen. A-And make yourself comfortable. Please."
"Don't get too excited, Cas, we need sleep for tomorrow." Dean is full blown smirking. Teasing him as Castiel shuffles to his bedroom, out of sight.
He barely catches Sam's "Seriously, Dean. Can you not flirt with someone for once? Just once?" and Dean's reply of "Sorry, Sammy. You only live once."
After that Castiel is slamming his bedroom door shut, and leaning against it, breathing heavily. He raises his hands in front of his face, discovers they're shaking. Everything blurs as he tries not to cry, making it hard to navigate to his desk.
He roughly opens one of his drawers, looking. Looking for something he should've thrown away years ago, but didn't have the heart to. He needed the reminder too much.
Finally, he pulls out a sleek, black flip phone. It was buried under a pile of stuff in the back of the drawer. Castiel makes a mental note to create a secret compartment for it now that he is rooming with two highly trained, CIA hunters.
He flips the small device open, scrolling through his contacts.
He doesn't know who to call. Nobody would support him if he did. Everyone hates him already and he doesn't need to beg to make them hate him more. Obviously, he can't call headquarters. They would take his calling them as a plea to get back in.
And that is the last thing he wants to do.
That eliminates about 500 people off his list, so now he needs to think of someone who doesn't hate him.
About 600 more taken off.
He thinks about calling Gabriel, but that would just cause further controversy between him and the other head angels. He can't risk the possibility of his older brother being cast out because of him.
Even though Gabriel already insists he's been trying for years to get out like Castiel did.
If you cross off all his siblings that he doesn't even know, then that only leaves one person. Well, one angel.
Quickly, he clicks on the number, and presses it to his ear. It's a long shot, but he has to try.
"Who is this?" The voice comes along the line after one ring. It's feminine, serious. It reveals no emotions, like all angels are trained to do. And she's speaking Enochian. Just hearing it makes him relax and tense up all at once.
"Anna." He tries. He can't risk speaking in his native tongue here. The hunters would come barging in to kill him and eventually go after the others with the information they got from the phone.
A pause from the end of the line. Maybe trying to figure out who would have her number and know her name. He deleted his number out of the system years ago anyways.
"Castiel." Her tone supplies that she isn't amused. That she's about to hang up.
"Please don't hang up on me, Anna," He says. "You're the only one I can turn to."
His voice breaks a little on that last bit.
Silence. Some slight rustling. It might be her clearing some papers off her desk.
The thought brings back the fond, yet painful, memory of Anna. Sitting at her desk, red hair flying everywhere and scrambling to find the right document while a superior stands over her shoulder. Naomi was a scolding presence without even saying anything. Just the way she regarded Anna reminded Castiel of a hawk seeking out it's prey from high above the ground.
Of course, Castiel had turned out to be Naomi's superior in the end of everything. Before he had turned.
Anna was left sitting at her desk, writing reports of missions.
But still, she was the only one left who didn't completely hate Castiel.
"What do you want? You have two minutes." She tells him, voice clearly torn between keeping her job and helping a friend.
"Some hunters have moved into my apartment."
He can hear her choke slightly on something. Can hear coughing and sputtering on the other line; no doubt it's disturbing people around her.
"W-What?"
"I accidentally invited some hunters to stay with me for the time being," He explains. "I didn't know what I had gotten into until I saw the older one's face."
A sigh. She's clearly wondering how he got himself into these things.
"So you recognized them? Yes?"
Castiel nods. Then remembers she can't see him.
"Yes."
"Do you know their names?"
He hesitates before telling her. This isn't going to be a good reaction, he can tell.
"Sam and Dean Winchester."
"What?!" She yells, and Castiel has to pull the phone away from his ear to prevent hearing loss. Even in Enochian, it hurts when someone yells into the receiver. "Cas! Those guys are at the top of the hit list! If the intelligence finds them then…"
"I know," Why didn't you think of this before, idiot? "They'll find me too. That's why I called you."
"I really don't know what to do, Cas. Do they have jobs somewhere? Maybe…"
"No."
"No?"
"No. I won't let the intelligence take them in right now. I want to scope them out a little more. See if I can escape without it being noticed I was here." He pauses. "By either government."
She sighs. Frustrated, then.
"I can give you time." Anna seems perplexed. Even more than usual. Castiel can picture her hair, the color of her victims' blood, hanging off the back of that white chair. A stark contrast in shades, while it reflects her personality perfectly. Focused and calm, yet determined and deadly in the eyes of the enemy. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Gabe or something? I would think he'd love to help out his little brother."
Castiel can sense the sarcasm hanging off that last little snippet of sentence, and snorts.
"No, I don't think I want to be responsible for Gabriel being discovered. Let alone being put as number one on the CIA's hit list." He can't help imagining Gabriel having a field day with the slaughtering Sam and Dean though.
"Okay, but I'm doubtful that you can handle this yourself."
He takes a deep breath, releases it. No need to get angry.
"What? Are you worried about me?"
"No," Is the immediate response.
"Then I imagine I'll be fine. After all, I was the top agent in the field, wasn't I?"
A snicker.
"Yes, Castiel. You were," She says, somewhat resentful yet teasing. "But you also had the biggest stick up your ass anyone had ever seen. I can't believe you gave that up for the humans. Seriously."
"Truthfully, I don't remember why I left," he confesses. "I felt something pulling me though."
"It could've been the rope that was attached to the stick, you know. Hmm…," she says thoughtfully.
"Yeah, like Gabriel or Michael would've wanted me to leave. I was the best they had. Still am."
"I heard rumors that Gabriel tried holding onto the rope so he could escape too...Maybe he's what pulled the stick out…Maybe that's why you acted so differently lately…"
"You're of no help currently, so I'm hanging up."
"I'll talk to you later then. Maybe I'll get the privilege of being the first to see that big gaping hole in your ass that everyone's been talking about." She then starts to cackle horrendously at her jokes, and that's when Castiel abruptly hangs up.
He sighs. Getting out of the chair he had been sitting in and making his way over to his closet. He slides out of his favorite tan trenchcoat, hangs it up, and unbuttons his white dress shirt, favoring a faded old Led Zeppelin t-shirt instead. He takes his black work pants off, which leaves him in nothing but briefs.
The cool air welcomes his legs, glad to be free of their restraints, and guides him over to the mirror mounted on his wall.
Tipping his head both directions, he checks himself for any stray hairs he might have missed while shaving that morning. When he finds nothing, he ruffles his hair to make it look like he doesn't he have so much hair gel.
Castiel climbs into his bed, relaxing at how nice the covers over his body are. Settling in, he quickly falls asleep.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. All rights are Erin Kripke's. Sorry if get some stuff wrong about the intelligence, or anything else, but you can always tell me in a review and I'll fix it! Thank you!