Title: "Man, I Feel Like a Woman!"
Prompt: Written for drabblewriter on livejournal: Supernatural, fallen!girl!Castiel + any, the first time she gets her period.
Note: Title borrowed from the Shania Twain song of the same title.
"Dean. I am bleeding."
The oldest Winchester is awake before the words actually sink on, and Castiel tilts his (her) head back to follow his trajectory.
There's something uncomfortable about how blue Claire Novak's eyes are, but she looks like any other little girl. Nighttime aside, this isn't a scene from a horror movie.
Dean falls back amongst the covers wearily, and scrubs a hand down his face. "Thanks for the update, Cas. Go fix it."
"I tried," Castiel shifts his (her) weight awkwardly. "It will not stop."
Dean forced one eye open again, and gave Castiel a second look. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Purple hoodie, and blue jeans. A smeared handprint of something dark on the angel's right thigh.
"Cas," Dean asked slowly, "Where are you bleeding from?"
Castiel actually twitches.
"Cas."
"There is an unpleasant sensation in my abdomen," Castiel chooses not to answer. "And Claire is of child-bearing age."
"Shut up," Dean clapped his hands over his ears, because Claire is twelve years old, and maybe that's child-bearing age in Bible Times or some really poor country, but not here and not now. The little girl is barely more than a baby by Dean's reckoning. "Just don't talk, okay?"
Castiel frowns.
"Sam. Sam!" Dean growls, because this is a horror movie-one of those emo Lifetime bonding moment movies, and why couldn't Castiel have woken Sam up instead?
"I'm up," Sam mumbles groggily. "What's wrong?"
"Cassie has become a woman," Dean flapped his hand in the pint-sized angel's direction, ignoring the dirty look sent his way. "Go deal with it and braid hair or something, please?"
Sam blinks at them slowly as his big college brain turns it around for a minute before comprehension sets in. "Oh."
Dean resists the urge to throw a pillow at Sam's nonplussed expression-it's a beautiful demonstration of his maturity how he's not killing Sam during this trying time-but now he's missed his chance. Sam is already reaching for his shoes.
"You got cramps, Cas?" Sam asked, working the laces one-handed. Castiel gave a solemn little nod, and Sam smiles, reaching across Dean to pat the angel on the head. "Alright, why don't you go take a shower, and I'll be right back."
Castiel promptly turned to obey, and Dean blanched at the sight of his (her) blood-stained rear.
Why did these things always have to happen at 4 AM in the morning?
Castiel is irritatedly ignoring Dean by the time Sam returns, and Dean's so relieved to see his brother that he stops haranguing Cas through the bathroom door.
Sam dumps the plastic bag out on the bed, and throws Castiel's duffel at Dean. "Find whatever Amelia packed for Cas to sleep in," his brother commands crisply, like it isn't nine kinds of crazy to go rooting through a bag that hasn't been opened since a grieving mother packed it.
Castiel apparently liked the purple hoodie as much as he had the trench coat.
"Dean."
Apparently, Sam didn't think it was weird at all, and shoulders Dean out of the way. His brother's hands are huge as Sam rifles through the little pieces of girly clothing until he finds whatever he's looking for.
Armed with his chosen tools of war, Sam advanced on the bathroom door. Dean privately thinks that Sam looks woefully unprepared. The oldest Winchester would have preferred a healthy shot of whiskey under the circumstances.
Sam emerged a minute later, and headed directly for the kitchenette. Dean continued to watch the bathroom door until Castiel slipped out, awkward in his (her) new clothing, and obviously uneasy. The falling angel runs long fingers over the unfamiliar pink cotton fabric of the tie-dye pajama pants.
For a moment Castiel actually looks like a teenage girl, and Dean gets the pronoun right for the first time.
She looks embarrassed.
"Alright, Cas," Sam pressed a glass of water and pills that Dean doesn't recognize on the angel. "Take one, and crawl into a bed. I'll have a hot water bottle in a minute."
Castiel gazes up at Sam, long blonde hair spilling over one shoulder. "I don't need to sleep."
Not yet, maybe, but it can't hurt, so Dean reached over to ruffle her hair. With a little cajoling, Castiel is soon settled under the covers of Dean's bed, and Dean has been relegated to sharing with his brother.
Castiel will pay for that indignity in the morning, but . . .
"That was a lot of blood," Dean muttered.
"Nah. It's just a couple milliliters, and not even a fraction of what the human body produces," Sam informs him sleepily.
Dean digests that quietly. "I don't even want to know how you know that."
"Jess," Sam whispered. "You should try relationships that last longer than a month, Dean. You'll learn all sorts of things."
Dean rolled his eyes, and checked over his shoulder to make sure that Castiel wasn't listening. If the angel wasn't actually asleep, than she was doing a decent imitation of it.
"There is one thing you forgot though, Sammy."
"What's that?"
"I'm kind of disappointed that you didn't actually braid her hair, Samantha."
The pillow impacting with Dean's face was totally proof of Sam's immaturity.