Chapter 5

Then:

"I would give anything to take it all back," Sam insists and just like that, all the work I'd put into convincing him that it was simply a mistake is flushed down the drain.

"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." I'm mentally begging Dean to just shut up. I know Sam needs to hear it, but at the same time, Dean's going about it all wrong, too. No wonder this show's so fucked up. "I'm just...I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"

Sam nods without hesitation.

"I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. I just don't think I can trust you."

Oh, ouch. That's a low blow, and it registers on Sam's face as hurt. Dean hovers indecisively for a moment before getting into the driver's seat. After a moment in which Sam blinks rapidly as if forcing back tears and glances at me briefly with a faint forced smile, he gets into the passenger seat. I slide into the backseat and we leave the hospital parking lot.

Now:

Two days living with the Winchesters and I'm already about to pull my hair out. Ever since the night in the parking lot, when Dean had told Sam he didn't trust him, all Sam has done is mope around and try to be cheerful for my sake. In turn, I end up trying to be cheerful for his sake. And Dean pretends to be oblivious to our little circle of angst while he mopes around, too, because he's the vessel of Michael.

Forget pulling my own hair out. I'm pulling their hair out. And maybe bashing their heads together until they see sense.

Bobby's due to be released from the hospital soon, and we go to see him the day before he's released to secure the paperwork. While Dean and Sam sort that out, no doubt completely ignoring each other in the process, I choose to keep Bobby company. He's not in much of a good mood, either, but hey, at least he has a reason: he's just been told for certain that he will never walk again and will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

He doesn't seem to be interested in my company, and tells me so flat out.

"Kid, not that I don't appreciate the thought, but I'm not exactly the nicest of guys on a good day. This ain't a good day."

I shrug back at him. "It's me or the Angst Brothers Extraordinaire. Take your pick."

Seeing my point, Bobby wrinkles his nose and concedes, "At least you're entertaining."

"I knew you guys kept me around for a reason." I grin and reluctantly, Bobby's lips twitch upwards as well.

"Shame you got dragged into this mess."

"Yeah, well. I figure I'm here for some reason or another." I shrug again. "I might as well see it through." Bobby nods, as if he's been in my position - which I suppose he has at some point - and turns back to the window. I get up to find Dean and Sam, but not before placing my hand on Bobby's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry about your legs."

Bobby looks up at me and while his expression is unreadable, his voice is gruff with emotion when he says quietly, "Thanks, Ariel." I nod in acknowledgment before leaving the room.

I find Dean and Sam in the hallway, studying some X-rays. "Dude, are those your ribs?" I ask, peering over Sam's arm at the black-and-white pictures, where strange squiggles are engraved into the bones.

"Yeah." Dean grins. "The doctors were baffled."

"I'll bet," I snort.

"Yeah, well, Cas carved Sam one, too. And apparently, you've got one, too." Dean frowns at me. "Care to explain that, Air?"

"Your guess is as good as my own," I tell him, raising my hands in surrender.

Sam's phone rings and he flips it open, holding it to his ear. "Hello?" His eyes widen. "Cas?"

"Speak of the Devil," Dean mutters.

"Angel," I correct him and smile innocently when he glares at me.

"Uh, St. Martin's Hospital, why? What are you - Cas?" Sam looks at his phone, bewildered, and then I catch sight of a tan trenchcoat among the white lab coats of the doctors in the hallway.

"Cell phone, Cas?" Dean raises an eyebrow when Castiel stops in front of us. "Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?"

"Since we're hidden from them," I realize and Castiel nods at me.

"Yes. I won't be able to simply-"

"Enough foreplay," Bobby calls gruffly from inside his hospital room, "Get over here and lay your damn hands on." When Castiel doesn't move, Bobby glances over his shoulder. "Get healing."

Castiel hesitates. "I can't."

Bobby turns his wheelchair around slowly, his voice dangerously low as he snarls, "Say again?"

"I am cut off from Heaven, and much of Heaven's power. Certain things I can do, certain things I can't." Castiel's expression is blank, but it's clear that he regrets the situation.

"So you're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?" Bobby snaps.

"I'm sorry," Castiel says quietly.

"Shove it up your ass." Scowling, Bobby turns away again.

"Least he's talking now," Dean mutters to Sam.

"I heard that." I grin at Bobby's sullen reply.

"I don't have much time," Castiel cuts in, turning back to Dean and Sam, "We need to talk."

"Okay." Dean shoves his hands into his pockets expectantly.

"Your plan to kill Lucifer-"

"Yeah, you wanna join in?"

Castiel gives Dean an unimpressed look. "No. It's foolish, it can't be done."

I bite back a laugh. "Jeez, Cas, I don't think you burst his bubble hard enough." There's possibly a "pop his cherry" joke to be made, but I restrain myself.

"But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the Apocalypse," Castiel continues as if I haven't even spoken.

"Who's that?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

"The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God."

"God?" we all echo at the same time, something that rarely happens outside of television. I vaguely muse that technically, we're in a television show anyway.

"God," Castiel confirms grimly. "I'm going to find God. He isn't in Heaven. He has to be somewhere."

Dean snorts. "Try New Mexico, I hear he's on a tortilla."

Castiel frowns and says without any hint of irony, "No, he's not on any flatbread."

I can see Sam biting the inside of his cheek to prevent any laughter at the angel's expense even as Dean rolls his eyes and says, "Listen, even if there is a God, he is either dead - and that's the generous theory - "

"He is out there, Dean," Castiel insists.

"-or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us." Dean crosses his arms, his expression bitter. "I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?"

"Enough," Castiel snaps, "This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win."

"It's a pipe dream, Cas." Something tells me Dean's getting back at Castiel for rejecting his "let's-kill-Satan" plan.

Castiel's expression darkens as he takes a threatening step towards Dean. "I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world-" Sam swallows at this and looks at the floor. "-and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself."

His blue eyes lock onto Dean's dark green ones and they maintain the gaze for a long time until I sing "Eye-seeex~!" teasingly. Flushing, Dean breaks their eye contact and takes a half-hearted swing at me while Sam snickers. Castiel blinks at me, bewildered.

"You didn't come here to tear us a new one," Bobby grumbles from his spot near the window. "What do you want?"

"An amulet," Castiel says simply, "Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him."

"Like a God-tracker?" I suggest and Castiel nods.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that," Bobby says with a shrug.

"You don't." Castiel looks at Dean and then at the golden amulet around his neck.

"What, this?" Dean plucks at the black cord holding the amulet, looking bewildered.

"May I borrow it?" Castiel asks.

"No," Dean says immediately.

"Dean." Castiel scowls. "Give it to me."

Finally, Dean gives in, taking off the necklace. "Don't lose it." He drops it onto Castiel's open palm and Castiel tucks it into his pocket. Dean shuffles uncomfortably. "Great, now I feel naked."

I bite back a laugh. "Well, Cas is right here..." Dean gives me an odd look while Sam snorts with amusement, catching my drift. Even Bobby's lips twitch upwards.

Castiel stares at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before giving up on me and stating solemnly, "I'll be in touch." He disappears in the next instant with a rustle of feathers.

"When you find God, tell him to send a pair of legs!" Bobby calls.

I know it's wrong to laugh at that, but the glare I receive from Bobby is incredibly worth it as I laugh until my sides ache.

Bobby receives an odd call from Rufus Turner after that, filled with static and the sounds of gunfire.

"River Pass, Colorado?" he asks into the phone and static answers him.

"River Pass!" Rufus yells back, his voice muffled.

"Rufus? You there?"

"Bobby, it's-" Suddenly, gunfire erupts and the call cuts out.

"Well, that's not ominous at all," I break the tense silence with a deadpan joke even as Bobby looks at Dean and Sam. Even before he says a word, Dean cuts in.

"We're on it." He glances at Sam, who nods curtly once in agreement.

"Well, wait, what about me?" I demand and the Winchesters turn to me, raising their eyebrows in unison. I flush, embarrassed. "I mean...if you're gonna be on a case, I can't really tag along, can I?"

"She's right," Sam points out quietly, "She can't shoot a gun - can you?" He looks at me and I shake my head. "Which means she can't defend herself if we take her." Dean rolls his eyes at me, as if it's my fault I'm an inconvenience. Well, technically, it is my fault, but details.

"Leave the kid with me," Bobby suggests, "I'll need some help getting 'round the house, anyway, and I can train up the kid for a bit while you two are on the road."

"You sure?" I turn to Bobby, surprised when he nods.

"Sure, I'm sure." He quirks a smile and I can't help but smile back. "You boys go ahead to River Pass. Ariel and I can head back to my place."

"Okay. Later, Bobby." Dean heads out the door first, clapping my shoulder as he walks past, and Sam nods a goodbye to Bobby before smiling faintly at me as he leaves.

"Don't kill each other!" I call after their retreating backs and as they round the corner, I grimace at Bobby. "They're so gonna kill each other."

He snorts. "Don't I know it. C'mon, kid. Let's get me outta this hell-hole."

Within the hour, we're on the road with me behind the wheel of a spare car from the junkyard Sam and Dean had brought earlier. Bobby's quiet in the passenger seat, his new wheelchair folded in the back of the car.

I drum my fingers against the wheel as I drive; it's about two hours from the hospital to Bobby's home in Sioux Falls and I can't stand driving for long periods of time. Too bad there's no other option since Bobby can't take over.

"Favorite color," Bobby says suddenly, glancing at me, and I start, my grasp on the wheel tightening for a moment.

"Huh?"

"Figure if we're stuck together for a couple of hours, I might as well get to know the strange kid from another reality." Bobby grins at my surprise. "Favorite color?"

"Toss-up between blue and silver." I shrug slightly.

"Favorite T.V. sh - oh, wait, never mind."

I laugh, knowing that I would have had to answer Supernatural. "Yeah, good call." The half-hearted interrogation goes on back and forth between the two of us - favorite books, favorite movies, favorite music genres, and so on - until we pull up the driveway to Singer's Salvage Yard. In that time, I learn that Bobby's favorite color is green and that he and Sam both like Harry Potter just as much as I do, which to be fair is quite a lot.

It's a little complicated figuring out how to get Bobby up the three steps to the house, but we figure it out by having him lift himself up with his arms off the wheelchair while I wheel it up carefully, and having him settle down in it again when we complete each step. It takes a good five extra minutes, but we finally get him through the screen door and into the house.

The living room is just as I remember it from the show, dark and dusty and cluttered with piles of old books. Still, the house looks lived-in and has a warmth to it, and I wonder if all the hunters who come by Bobby's house feel the same way I do now: as if they're finally coming home after a long time. Between the two of us, we manage to set up the house for a handicapped person by the time the sun sets. Under Bobby's instruction, I make up a bed for him downstairs on the couch near the window and remove any furniture that would obstruct the wheelchair's path throughout the first floor of the house.

Finally, after we settle into the house and Bobby sends me off to unpack my backpack in the guest bedroom upstairs, I sit down on the bed and begin unpacking my bag. My cellphone and purse go on the nightstand and my textbooks go into the drawer while my backpack, now emptied, lies on the floor at the foot of the bed. The clothes Sam had gotten for me go into the closet. When I make my way downstairs at last, I hear Castiel's familiar gruff voice speaking quietly to Bobby, but they stop talking when I enter the kitchen.

I stop in my tracks. "Jeez, guys. Don't stop on my account. If you're talking about me, you might as well insult me to my face."

"We were not speaking ill of you," Castiel says with a frown. I shrug and sit down on one of the chairs at the table.

"So then what were you talking about?"

"Feathers thinks you might be able to help him on his God-quest," Bobby explains.

"Me?" My eyebrows shoot up. "Why would I-?"

"Hell if I know," Bobby cuts me off.

"You possess some knowledge of angels, whether conscious or not," Castiel adds, "This may aid me on my search." His stony expression softens slightly, easing my nerves. "You aren't obligated to help me, if that's what you're afraid of."

"I'm not scared," I lie and ignore the pitying look Castiel gives me. I can't ignore his pitying words, though.

"You are, and you have reason to be. But the choice is yours, Ariel." He says my name strangely, pronouncing the -el part with more emphasis rather than the first syllable. Must be an angel thing; Zachariah had said it the same way.

I look at Bobby, who simply shrugs as if to say "You're on your own," before returning my gaze to Castiel and nodding tentatively. I'm scared shitless, but if there's anything I can do to keep the Apocalypse from happening, more power to us, right? I turn back to Bobby. "Will you be okay here?"

"Sure." Bobby nods quickly. "I'll be fine, kid." He smiles and I nod before giving him a quick hug, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and squeezing lightly. He freezes for a moment before returning the embrace briefly and patting me on the back once. "All right, enough of this mushy stuff." He nudges me and I smile as I step back. In the next instant, Castiel's hand is on my shoulder and with a sound of rustling feathers, we're both no longer in Bobby's kitchen.

It's a strange feeling to be transported by an angel and I won't lie by saying that it's comfortable. It's not. It's weird and invasive and it makes my stomach twist almost painfully until my feet touch solid ground only seconds later. I stumble slightly and Castiel's hand, still on my shoulder, steadies me.

"Will you need a moment?" he offers after a moment of awkward silence as I struggle to regain my bearings. "Dean needed to sit after his first flight, too."

"That was flying?" I ask weakly as I sink onto a nearby bench. Castiel sits down beside me, nodding.

"I suspect your idea of flying and mine are different."

"Yeah, no kidding." I grin at last. "Does that mean you've got wings?"

Castiel shuffles uncomfortably. "Yes. I do not reveal them outside of Heaven." I can't help but stare at the back of his trenchcoat, trying to imagine the cool shadowy wings I had seen in the first episode of the fourth season bursting out of the tan material. "You cannot see them by squinting, Ariel."

"Oh." I flush when I realize he's watching me stare at him. "Sorry." He studies me for a few more moments before his lips turn upwards slightly at the corners, the first smile I've seen from him so far.

"You aren't like the Winchesters."

I snort and reply, "Nah, 'cause I'm a special little snowflake," using the term for people who feel entitled to things because of their problems. Because that's me in a nutshell: entitled to hang out with Castiel and the Winchesters and Bobby Singer because I've been shoved into this world from my own.

Castiel blinks at me, silent for a moment, before suddenly letting out a quiet but genuine chuckle, much to my surprise. "Oh, I see. It is because of the old saying. 'No two snowflakes are alike.'" He looks so pleased that he's figured it out on his own that I don't bother correcting him.

"Yeah, that's...exactly it, Cas." I bite back a laugh as I look around, finally taking in my surroundings. "Where are we?"

"A park."

Well, no shit, Sherlock, since there's a playground right in front of us. "No, I mean, why are we here? You expect to find God on the see-saw?"

Castiel gives me a startlingly accurate impression of Sam's bitchface. "It seems you are much more like Dean than I had realized."

I mock-gasp. "How dare you?! I'm far more adorable!"

Castiel's lips quirk once more in a faint smile as he gets to his feet, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area. "I sensed something powerful here," he answers at last in response to my question, "I believed..." He hesitates before shaking his head. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

I get up and look around, too, and catch a flash of gold briefly out of the corner of my eye. When I follow the flash, I see nothing except a young brunette woman pushing a baby carriage on the path and a man with a lollipop in his mouth leaning against a nearby tree. The latter strikes me as vaguely familiar and I frown in his direction, but all he does is raise an eyebrow at me expectantly, as if to say "What are you waiting for, kiddo?" The inner voice that says that sounds familiar, too, sarcastic and snarky.

"What about him?" I ask, looking back at Castiel to get his attention.

"Who are you referring to?" Castiel looks over my shoulder, bewildered.

"That guy, leaning on the tree, he-" I turn back around and the man is gone.

"Ariel?" Castiel asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. He sounds like he thinks I've gone insane, and I find it a little ironic that the supernatural creature, an angel, thinks I'm nuts.

"He was right there," I say stupidly, "Right against that tree. And he looked like he knew me."

"I believe you." Castiel obviously doesn't, but when I face him once more, his expression is pensive. I wrack my memory for any episodes I had seen with the mystery man in it, but already, my memory of his face is getting fuzzy. I smack my fist against the back of the wooden bench in frustration.

"I guess we should look somewhere else," I suggest, but Castiel still looks withdrawn, his eyebrows furrowed at the tree the stranger had been leaning on.

"Maybe." His head tilts suddenly and he looks as if he's tuning into some kind of internal radio.

"Angel news?" I ask, wondering what else it can be, and Castiel shakes his head.

"The Winchesters are calling. Dean is giving me their location." He concentrates as he places his hand on my shoulder and we're off again.

I stumble again, this time catching the edge of a wooden picnic table to steady myself.

"Never gets old, does it?" Dean snorts as he shifts over on the bench, allowing me to sit down. I scowl at him before seeing the blood-spattered ring in his hand.

"What's with the one ring to rule them all?"

Dean gives Sam a triumphant look - to which the younger Winchester simply rolls his eyes goodnaturedly - before answering, "It's from War. The Horseman." He looks up at Castiel. "We were hoping you knew what to do with it."

Castiel takes the ring from Dean, turning it over in his hand a few times before handing it back. "As long as War does not get his hands on it again, it's harmless. It might be best to keep it safe."

"Wouldn't it make sense to destroy it?" Sam suggests even as Dean pockets the ring and Castiel shakes his head.

"It can be reforged from the ashes it creates when destroyed. No, we are better off keeping it with us for security." Sam nods and Castiel gives me a slightly-apologetic look. "Would you be terribly insulted if I continued my search without you?"

"Nope, go right ahead," I tell him with a wry laugh, "I'm probably gonna be more of a burden, anyway."

"Your insight was helpful," Castiel insists, probably to avoid hurting my feelings, before looking back at Dean and Sam. "I'll be in touch." They barely have time to nod before he disappears. Once he does, Sam gets up and grabs his duffel bag from the Impala, shouldering it.

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on?" I glance between Dean's blank expression and Sam's sorrowful one. "Why're you two looking like someone died?"

"It's nothing," Sam reassures me quietly, "We're going our own ways for a little while."

"What? Why?" I can't wrap my head around it; Dean and Sam have always been together, never hunting apart unless they're separated by death.

"I'm just taking a step back from hunting." Sam looks up at Dean suddenly. "She could come with me."

"Sam-" Dean begins wearily, getting up from the table.

"Dean, if she's with you or Bobby, she's gonna be stuck in the middle of this mess. With me...I dunno. She could get a break from the craziness."

"I don't even know how to hunt," I add, "I'm only going to get in your way." After vacillating for a few moments, Dean finally nods and Sam squeezes my shoulder.

"C'mon, Air." He hesitates before meeting Dean's eyes. "Take care of yourself, Dean."

"You, too, Sammy." Dean stays where he is and watches us walk towards the abandoned car beside the Impala. Within a few moments, Sam had hotwired it - I realize soon after he begins that there's no point in scolding him, even though I feel horribly guilty - and we get inside. I wave to Dean from the passenger seat and he simply lifts his hand in return.

Sam's expression is drawn and exhausted, but I jump into the tale of how Castiel and I had attempted to search for God and ended up making fun of each other instead, and soon Sam's laughing harder than he had in all the time I've known him.

I know the past few chapters have been essentially episode-recaps, and I tried to break away from that for this chapter, especially since I didn't want Ariel jumping straight into hunting where she WILL be killed because she's just a kid with no experience outside of the show.

Also, I like the idea of her and stoic, serious Castiel just bantering against each other. I hope you all realized who the mystery man was. If you didn't, I will be very disappointed. Still, all will be revealed soon.

Review or I'll send mopey!Sam complete with puppy eyes after you. He will cute-attack you into submission.