A/N: Warning: This chapter is the one with the reference to a non-consensual incident. It is not described in detail but is spoken about.
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Steilacoom was a scenic town. Dean could see why someone would want to vacation or retire there. The view of Puget Sound was glorious in the June sun. To stretch their legs after their journey Cas and he had walked the Beach Park at sunset. They weren't on vacation but they had taken off their boots and socks and dipped their toes in the foam of the retreating tide. He had taken Castiel's hand in his, hoping that was enough to let his angel know that he wanted him to have that, to have the Pacific sunset with sand between their toes.
Their hotel didn't have a sea view but they were in town for a job and the Best Value Inn was a palace compared to some of the places Dean had stayed. Dean had collapsed on top of the comforter fully dressed after their stroll, which had come on top of eleven hours behind the wheel, and fourteen the day before. He had slept five hours in Burley Idaho somewhere in the middle. He was going to have to teach Castiel to drive, once he could steal some kind of learner-mobile that could take a few knocks.
That morning in Steilacoom, he had woken covered by a blanket and Castiel. Cas was doing his drooling in his sleep thing. Dean thought it was adorable if a bit gross. It proved Castiel's humanity. The sleeping alone would have done it, but there was something vulnerable about those damp spots on sheets and pillows that appealed to Dean's need to offer support and comfort to those he allowed himself to love. Dean tamped down his unease about how well Castiel was really coping with losing his grace. He filed away a note to keep a close eye on Castiel during the hunt.
Fiera Vista, Jackson Street, Mr. and Mrs. Franchitti's house, was three stories of original settlement home. Bay windows and arched roof with white shutters and wrap round porch. It looked innocuous. It also did not have a poltergeist. It had a haunting. Sam pulled up the reports on Thomas Giles, son of the man who had built the home and much of downtown Steilacoom. Over the cell, Sam informed them how Mr. Giles had died by his own hand in the front parlor after he had lost everything in the Panic of 1907. Castiel turned green when Sam explained how Mr. Giles had slit his own throat with an open razor and his housekeeper had slipped in the substantial pool of blood when she came to call him for evening meal. Castiel apologized for his unexpectedly squeamish stomach.
They had checked their facts during the day, visiting the museum and taking EMF readings in Daria's parents' home. Dean was satisfied that Thomas Giles was their target. After midnight they had begun their dig of the Giles family plot. They had salted and burned the dust and bone corpse before dawn. Dean had wrapped Castiel's blistered hands when they got back to their room and they had fallen onto the bed together in a heap of grave dirt encrusted clothes.
Breakfast at lunch hour in a diner by the sea was Dean's treat as a celebration. Dean had steak and eggs, moaning with pleasure at the perfect soft eggs and angus beef. Castiel had snagged them an outdoor table and seemed more impressed with the sun on his face than the quesadilla he had ordered.
Their final task was a double check of the house on Jackson. Dean retrieved the key from the obvious plant pot and made his way in for the walk through. He was already thinking of taking the more northerly I-90 back home, breaking their return in Yellowstone, and giving Castiel a night in the national park. Which is why he was slow to turn on the EMF, slow to see the shadow coalescing through the open parlor door, and too slow to stop Castiel from being flung bodily through the air.
Dean flung salt at the apparition. It broke up and then reformed, but once more left Dean unharmed. Castiel gave a terrible shrill noise of pain as his leg was lifted at an unnatural angle and he was dragged towards the parlor.
"Salt," Dean called, "Throw your salt."
But Castiel didn't hear him. He tried to find purchase with his fingernails in the carpet. Dean shot an iron round into the figure and this time it vanished. He dashed to Castiel, who was a mess of sobbing and holding his dislocated knee.
"Come on, Come on, Cas. We've gotta get out of here." Dean felt like the worst first aider in the world as he took his turn dragging the injured man. Outside on the porch he told Castiel to brace himself and straightened his leg. Castiel gave an animalistic roar. Dean grimaced at the pain he had to inflict but gave thanks to no one in particular that the knee popped back. He was going to have to ice that up. Castiel was going to have to travel in the back seat, with his leg held straight, at least for the first stage of their journey home. This was turning out to be a doozy. Pissed Tommy Giles was still at large and his ghost was frigging angry now.
"The floorboards," Castiel hissed, "The blood. It's an old house, heritage home."
"Original blood soaked floorboards." Dean slapped his hand to his forehead. Why hadn't he thought of them? Now Cas was injured. He ran to the Impala and got a box of rock salt, two iron bars, a pliers and an iron crowbar. "Sorry man, I know you are injured but I need your help."
"I want to help." Castiel intoned with determination, "I can move."
"OK, so I'm going in. I'm gonna salt the parlor. Next I need you in there with me. You got the iron to swing. You don't have to stand. You use the pliers on any nails we can access. I'll crow bar the boards up. We push them out the open window, and then will have a bonfire in the garden."
Plan B was a charm. It was implemented in a house full of crashing furniture, breaking mirrors, and with a skeletal bleeding ghost in the doorway but it worked. Castiel's hands were bleeding. His grave digging blisters burst but he keep working with the pliers and his iron bar to help Dean lift the boards. While Dean burned them with plenty of gasoline, Castiel fought off the specter with the expertise of an Angel Blade wielder.
In the Impala, breaking the urban speed limit to avoid the Lakewood fire service and Tacoma PD, Dean looked back to see Castiel staring at his shredded palms. The skin was hanging from his fingers. "Let's get out of town and onto I-90. I'll get us a motel and some ice for your knee."
"Thank you Dean." Castiel's voice was low.
Dean was wondering how Cas was coping with being hurt. A few burst blisters and wrenched knee were nothing. Hell, Sam would have probably gotten himself choked by the fugly, but Castiel was used to being an invincible angel.
"How you doing Cas? How you feeling?" Dean hated asking how someone was feeling, but he needed to know.
"My hands are stinging and my leg aches. I am thirsty and exhausted."
Dean tossed back a bottle of water, "Yeah. Happy though? That we got the creep?"
"It went wrong. I should have thought of the floorboards. I should have been more aware when we entered the house. I froze when its freezing grip pulled me down. I didn't defend myself. I would have died, if you weren't there. You saved my life Dean."
"Listen Cas dude, in a hunt we save each other's lives all the time. That's what I've got your back means." Dean glanced at Castiel through the rear view mirror to check that he was listening, "I could say you saved my life by swinging for Giles while I lit the pyre. I could also tell you that I'm the hunter with thirty years experience, and I should have thought of the blood on the floor, but no regrets Cas. We are out. We are alive. We ganked it, and we are going home."
Dean clicked on his music and hummed along to Nothing Else Matters while Castiel tapped the beat on his uninjured leg.
They pulled over once to get ice and Dean strapped Castiel's leg. He sprayed his hands with antiseptic but didn't wrap them.
Making an executive decision Dean pulled into the Comfort Inn in Kennewick. It was early evening but he wouldn't drive on with his injured partner bundled in the back. He settled Castiel into their queen room and brought back sinful double bacon cheese burgers.
Castiel looked brighter after three burgers. Dean persuaded him that the hotel's hot tub was a good idea for his leg. The warm water and few long drawn out kisses in the tub soothed both their spirits and their muscles. Dean clicked his back when he got out first and retrieved a couple of soft fluffy hotel towels. Paying that few extra bucks for pleasant beds and laundry softener was worth it sometimes. Dean wanted to leave Castiel when he went into Pasco to hustle some pool, but he tagged along. Castiel stayed out of the way, sipping a long soda and writing the hunt up in the journal Sam had given him.
Richer by $300, and buzzing from the free tequila a very buxom barmaid had given him in hope, Dean walked back to the Impala with Castiel making slow progress beside him. The knee was not as good after a couple of hours on a bar stool.
"You should have stayed in bed." Dean told him.
"Would you have found it arousing to return and have me laid out for your pleasure?"
"I could show you how arousing." Dean teased.
Castiel was gone. Dean blinked. The guy had a gimp leg, and no angel air miles, where had he gone?
The only possible place was a slender alley between the bar and the hardware store. Dean turned and ducked into the alley. Castiel was bent over a homeless man with a terrier nipping at his pant legs.
"Inias. Inias wake up." Castiel pleaded.
That was Inias? The guy was filthy, bearded, clad in rags of his angel suit, and had a red dog lead tied around his wrist. Dean sighed, shoulders dropping at the sight of one of the least dick-ish angels brought so low.
"Inias?" Castiel tried again crouching down.
"I've lost the garrison. I've lost my wings." Inias cried out in distress. "I can't go home. They took my shoes."
Dean looked down. Inias's feet were in dirt blackened socks. The piebald Jack Russell had pooped next to his foot.
"Inias? It is me." Castiel put out his skin torn palm and cupped the other former angel's cheek.
"Cassie?"
"Yes brother."
"Did we all fall? All of us? Were we cast out? I didn't disobey. I didn't."
"All of us, yes. Metatron did it. It was revenge of some sort on Father or the Archangels."
"But why? We never did anything to His Voice. We fought Raphael." Inias reached up to take hold of Castiel's brown outer shirt.
"I don't have answers."
Dean coughed, "What happened to you man?"
"I fell. I guess Cassie did too. I fell on a car parked by the Colombia river. I watched our brothers and sisters fall, and then I was aware of three men watching me. They came closer and I tried to ask them for help. My back was… you know the way our wings burned out on the way down… but they didn't listen. I reached for my blade, I reached for my grace, but they were too strong. They took everything from me, my vessel's wallet, my shoes," Inias swallowed hard, "my dignity."
"It is not undignified to be overpowered by monsters." Castiel objected.
Dean raised a hand to Castiel's back. "I don't think that is what Inias means."
"My virginity." Inias mumbled.
"You were raped." Castiel gasped in shock. "Inny, have you seen a doctor? Are you healed?"
"No doctor. I found this alley. I found the cardboard here and Doggie found me. I have begged at the corner. A bag lady from West Pasco has shared her cat food with Doggie. Two Salvation Army women bring me soup. They gave me shoes, but two teenagers stole them as a dare yesterday."
"Dean?"
"Shit Cas. I have a no-dog rule."
"Dean!"
"Freaking hell."
"Thank you Dean."
"Come on Inias."
Inias had looked back and forth between them during their exchange. He gathered up the slack on Doggie's lead and asked "Where are we going?"
Dean huffed about his upholstery but Castiel promised to clean it. He moaned about using some of his winnings to pay a supplement for an extra fold out cot and a dog. However he did go back to Tri-Cities 24-hour Biggersons while Castiel showered Doggie and Inias napped after his shower, in Castiel's sleep pants, in a clean bed.
Inias was a freaking vegetarian. So armed with a green patty and fries for the fussy ex-angel and another round of double bacon cheeseburgers, and a plain hamburger for the pup, Dean returned to the room.
"What are we going to do with him?" Dean asked wrapped around Castiel's naked body, ignoring that he was never going to be able to sleep with a dog in the room.
"Take him to Sam's doctor. Bring him home?"
"I don't know Cas. I'm not saying no, but are you sure about bringing him home?"
"I don't know either. I couldn't leave him."
"I know. We will talk with him tomorrow."
Inias and Doggie were not at all enamored with traveling by Impala. Inias fidgeted and, like a whining child, wanted to know if they were there yet. Doggie howled and had to be allowed out to piss repeatedly. Dean determined that if Sam ever went behind his back and got a dog, he would never ever be allowed to bring it in the Impala.
They broke their journey at a dog friendly, Dean called it Dog Stinky, motel outside Brigham City Utah. Castiel and Inias went all buddy buddy on him in the adjoining diner. Then Dean realized Castiel was protecting Inias. He took the outer seat. He stood between him and a couple of truckers when Inias shrank back.
"So," Dean asked, "Was Castiel your superior in the garrison?"
"For a time. Anael was our superior. I answered to many angels. Castiel trained me in combat. I was there, with Rachel, and Hester, and Uriel and Zuriel, and Aminiel."
"Where?" Dean asked mouth full of a buffalo wing.
"At the seventh level Aminiel and I took out Zandrake."
Dean choked. Castiel jumped up and cracked a blow across his back. The piece of chicken flew out of his mouth hitting the new wal-mart jersey top that a stunned Inias was wearing.
"Inias, you cannot, you do not mention that to Dean."
"I apologize Dean. I would not like someone to talk about when Lardoriel fell on the sixth level. I understand."
"Zand… Zand…." Dean was trying to breathe, but all he could feel was the hot sulphuric breath of Alastair's hell hound on his face, the drip of the black vile saliva on his cheek, the tearing of the claws… Dean ran. He left the two angels in the diner and dived into his car, which smelled of freaking dog.
Castiel was knocking on the window. "Let me in, Dean, please. I'll send him away. We can give him some dollars and he can stay in Utah. Please Dean."
Dean had gotten his freak out under control. He was embarrassed now. He yanked the door open. "Goddammit Castiel. Don't any of your angels have any notion of boundaries, fucking limits? I don't need hell slammed in my face. I just fucking don't. We are not dropping him like a piece of garbage just cause I can't hold my shit together after all these years. Get your frigging garrison brother and tell him to keep his freaking Doggie away from me."
Castiel tried to put a hand on Dean's shoulder but he was shrugged off. Dean stayed in the Impala, breathing heavily through his nose, steadying his nerves, and telling himself he was dumb to panic over a stupid dead hellhound that had used him as a chew toy.
By the time Castiel reappeared leaning on Inias's arm, Dean was full of regret for being so hard on his partner. It wasn't Castiel fault. None of it was, from Dean going to Hell, to Metatron, to the bastards who had raped Inias.
Contrite and humble he dropped a few sodas out of the vending machine and knocked on the bedroom door. Inias opened it and began to apologize. Castiel had Doggie by his collar at the table.
"I'm good." Dean stopped Inias's tirade of sorries. "I'm dumb. I know Doggie isn't Zandr… isn't a hellhound. I know now that you were part of Team Save Dean Winchester, so I guess Thanks Man, have a soda."
Inias laughed and freaking hugged Dean. What had Castiel taught him during their meal?
Turned out that Inias had been given a crash course in humanity Castiel style. Home truths like the importance of pie, family and getting inked up, combined with thinking before you speak, shaving, and not angering Winchesters.
Castiel had called Charlie, Sam and Paul while Inias had eaten seconds.
"You didn't tell them I was sulking in the car?" Dean asked the most vital question.
"No Dean, you were not sulking, you were recovering from a shock and your location remained obscure." Castiel perfected his eye roll. "In our haste to leave Steilacoom we had not informed Miss Bradbury of our success."
"Oh" Dean nodded slowly appreciating Castiel's thinking.
"Charlie is assisting Sam in creating an identity for Inias. Sam had a nosebleed."
Dean dropped his can to the table.
"Wait. He is fine. He just thought we were closer to the bunker and didn't want you to freak out about his toilet paper plugged nostrils."
"Okay. You could have led with Sam is fine, but OK. Why'd you call Paul?"
"I told Paul we were on our way back from a job and we had a sanctuary seeker in need of assistance."
"You did?" Dean looked at Inias who was impassive.
"Paul called Father Moran, who called in a favor with the Cathedral center in Salina. They will take Inias and Doggie."
"Inias, I was a prick. You don't have to go into a shelter." Dean steeled himself, "Doggie too."
"Dean, I appreciate it. But Castiel and I have just watched the news from the conference in Washington." Inias pointed at the news channel on the TV, "These shelters are assisting our brethren to become human. I will go. Castiel explained that it is not far from your home."
"I said I would check with you if we could visit Inias, and maybe if he left Doggie with a friend, he might be able to visit us."
Dean promised to make sure they visited. He caught Castiel's side face in a kiss. "Thank you." He whispered, "I was being a shit. You're alright Cas."
"I think you are alright too, Dean." Castiel twisted his head round to find Dean's lips.
"I think I'll take Doggie for a walk." Inias said gathering the Jack Russell and exiting the room.
"See Dean. I did teach him some propriety."
"Yeah?" Dean pulled Castiel towards the bed.
"Yes. I explained that when two lovers wish to engage in sex, then the third person should leave the room."
"Lovers, huh?"
"Those who love one another." Castiel said pulling Dean's outer shirt off his shoulders.
"Good description." Dean smirked.
"Love you Dean." Castiel nipped his jaw, "Even when you are all stubbly under my lips and your skin is Chevy smelling."
"I'll buy you chap stick." Dean promised.
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A/N:
Metallica: Nothing Else Matters "...Never opened myself this way, Life is ours, we live it our way, All these words I don't just say, And nothing else matters Trust I seek and I find in you, Every day for us something new, Open mind for a different view, And nothing else matters..."