Chapter Four

Camp Chitaqua, with its rundown cabins and overgrown woods, had once been known as Singer's Salvage Yard. When the hunters first heard about the Croatoan virus, they'd all flocked there. It was instinct. None of them had planned to meet. Everyone expected Bobby's help, though. They all knew him. They were familiar with his overflowing bookcases, his association with the Winchesters, everything. Knowing Bobby, they assumed he'd know exactly what to do.

He was in a wheelchair, and that should have been their first warning. When Bobby felt useless, he became useless. "I can't help ya," he'd told them when they came to his front door, wide eyed and hopeful. "I can't help any of ya. Go find the damn cure yourselves. I've got enough problems to worry about."

Castiel felt sorry for the man. He'd grown to like him over the years. Why, he wasn't quite sure. It wasn't as if Bobby was a father figure to him, not the way he was for Sam and Dean. But there was something about the man that seemed worth protecting, and as soon as Dean told him about the virus, he went to the salvage yard.

"Bobby," he'd said. He remembered the exact way it happened. He remembered a dark sky and ruined cars. Broken bottles littering the ground. South Dakota was cold that time of year, and although Cas wasn't supposed to feel the bitterness, he clutched his trenchcoat closer to his body. "Bobby, please come outside."

He heard creaking wheels, first, and then Bobby was in the doorway of his home, staring at the angel with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell do you want?"

Cas had stepped closer to the front porch. "There's a virus."

"Tell me something I don't know, idjit."

"I want to be here to help you."

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

The angel stiffened. "With you being in your current condition, I assumed you might need my assistance. I am willing to do anything necessary or unnecessary, as long as it pleases you."

"Which one of those boys put you up to this? Was it Dean?"

"No." Cas blinked. "It was my decision and mine alone. When I heard about the virus, I knew you wouldn't be able to defend yourself and I -"

The door slammed shut behind Bobby's retreating figure. Cas wasn't sure why. He remained standing there for a while, waiting for the hunter to reappear, but he never did. Eventually, he headed over to one of the rusted cars and climbed inside. He spent the night lying on the seat, searching for threats outside the window. The only one that came was a note in a bottle. Bobby had thrown it out the window of his house. He had impeccable aim. The bottle crashed into the car and hit Cas on the head. The note inside promised that if he did not leave the yard within ten minutes, Bobby would light the car on fire with holy oil.

Castiel chose to venture inside the house, instead. He knew that Bobby could never burn down his home.

Just like that, they were stuck together. Cas learned that Sam and Dean were on their way to help out, but they were on the other side of the country, so for about a week, it was just Cas and Bobby, sharing the old house.

Bobby hated it at first. He refused to speak to the angel. Left to his own company, Cas wandered around the house quietly and waited for something bad to happen. Without some problem going on, he felt useless. He wanted the Croats to appear outside the window, rabid and angry and wild. He wanted to step up to them and press his hand to their foreheads and kill them within seconds.

They didn't come, though. Not until later, when Bobby had gone off into the scrapyard to repair a car. He'd given up on completely ignoring Cas, as he was always around. So they'd exchange a few words, let each other know what was going on, and then they'd separate. The method worked well.

Castiel still watched over the hunter, though, which proved useful when the Croats attacked. He saw the man get pulled out of his wheelchair, shoved to the ground. Bobby swore, craning his neck as he tried to stray away from his attackers.

"Bobby!"

And just like that, Castiel was at his side, fighting back the Croats. One of them bit him. He didn't notice. He didn't notice how they scratched at his arms, pulled him towards them. His trenchcoat was getting torn apart. Strands of hair were tugged from his head. He ignored it all. He just kept killing.

When the Croats were dead, their eyes burned away and hands lying uselessly at their sides, Cas lifted Bobby back into his chair and rolled him into the house. They didn't speak to each other. They sat in the living room with guns in their laps.

Later, the scattered old cars would be used as shields, barriers. Hidden cameras would be crammed into the branches of trees. Bobby adopted a stray dog and taught it how to fight back against threats.

This was the beginning of Camp Chitaqua.

No one really knew how that name came to be. They didn't particularly care, though. Most hunters just called it "the camp." Sam, well, he called it South Carolina.

"But we're in South Dakota," Castiel protested.

"Sam used to think this was South Carolina," Dean explained, smirking at the sight of his brother's flushed face.

Sam shrugged, running his hand through his hair. "Well, excuse me for being tired the first time we came here. I wasn't exactly paying attention. They both have South in the name, anyways."

"South Dakota is barely even south, Sam."

"It's south to North Dakota. South Carolina is south to North Carolina."

Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head. "Come on. South Carolina doesn't even get paranormal activity. It's like it was made of salt or something."

Cas spoke up, then. "Well, it is near the ocean."

Both brothers whipped around to face him. "Shut up, Cas."

Cas later saw that he wasn't the only one annoyed with their banter. Although the brothers had a perfect understanding of each other, the rest of the world was left to figure it out on their own. Several groups of hunters searching for their camp had ended up in South Carolina rather than their true destination. When they finally arrived at Chitaqua, they were not pleased. Cas hid in the cars with Jo Harvelle, who easily found the camp, and watched the boys deal with the frustrated hunters.

Jo was good company because, unlike many of the other hunters, she actually seemed to enjoy hunting. She explained to Cas that her father was the one who inspired her to start, but she was never forced into the life. She just thought it was admirable and wanted to help people.

"I'm prepared for this," she told him once, tapping her feet on the dashboard of a '65 El Camino. "I'm here to help others, not to run away. Not to seek shelter. I don't think the people here are cowards or anything, don't get me wrong. But I think we should all be putting in some effort to survive."

Cas nodded, impressed. He remembered hearing about her first hunt with the Winchesters. It had not ended well, and yet, Jo had kept at it. He figured she was one of the more sensible hunters around, and it certainly wouldn't hurt to confide in her. "Do you ever regret it?"

Jo continued tapping her feet. "No. I could never regret helping others."

"Even if it puts you in a difficult position?"

"Even if it puts me in a difficult position."

They seemed sane compared to the rest of the hunters, at least.

Many hunters had come from across the country, losing companions as they fought their way towards camp. More than anything, they each wanted a long rest with a rifle hidden under their pillow. Too many nights had been spent on the run, hoping for safety.

When they finally reached the camp, most of them spent a while fighting with the Winchesters, angry with the name confusion and the time they spent on their own, unprotected. If the fights went too far, Jo and Cas ventured out of the cars and attempted to calm each of the angry parties. Eventually, they'd all relax and sit on the porch, sharing whatever information they had.

At this point in time, most hunters knew the difference between South Carolina and South Dakota. They knew that wendigos were currently the most common threat besides Croatoan, as the virus tended to turn people into cannibals. They knew that the new national anthem was American Pie because it didn't really matter anymore and anyways, everyone liked irony.

There was no news on angels, though. Not until two weeks after the destruction of the Impala.

It came from a middle aged man in a cowboy hat, who'd been traveling with his teenage daughter. They were originally from Kansas, like the Winchesters. Like so many others, they went off to South Carolina in search of the camp. They stayed there longer than most, though, because they'd never seen the ocean before and they wanted to enjoy it for a while.

"We were spending every day on the beach," the man explained, "and one of those days, these people in suits pop up in the middle of the water and they just stared at us. Said they were angels, there to help us. Didn't look like they wanted to help, if you ask me. But they knew about the Winchesters and we realized that we both mixed up the place – South Dakota, South Carolina, what's the damn difference? – and we came here. The angels might've followed us, I don't know. But I'd be careful if I were you. They'll probably be here soon enough."

Cas hung on to the man's every word. These were his siblings, his brethren. His celestial family was coming to find his human family. He knew that soon, they'd be leaving. They were always meant to go. Earth wasn't a permanent place for most angels, not unless they fell.

He wasn't sure what he'd do when they arrived, really.

Part of him longed to return to heaven with them. He missed Balthazar, Anna, Rachel, and the other members of his garrison. Even Uriel would've been nice to see, though Cas remembered his death all too well.

He wondered what they might say to him, if they'd be angry with his absence or if they'd be happy to find him. Surely they knew he was living with the Winchesters. They probably weren't aware that he'd burned a car, of course, or that he was hit by an old drunk on a regular basis. But everyone knew about his relations with the Winchesters, his newfound compassion for them. And they'd do whatever it took to tear him away from them.

Cas decided to wait for the angels on the porch of Bobby's house, where he could see everyone arrive and see everyone leave. He wanted to know why they came and left. He knew why he'd return to Heaven. He wasn't sure why he'd leave the Winchesters to do it.