Chapter 9 – Little Bluebird

Cas woke up the next morning on the Winchesters' living room floor. Balthazar slept a few feet away, sprawled out with one foot sticking out from under his blanket. Naomi had managed to convince her parents to let her stay with them for the night and was asleep on the couch, one hand dangling off the edge just a few inches from Balthazar's outstretched arm. It looked as though they had fallen asleep holding hands.

Cas sat up, rubbing his stiff neck, and noticed that Dean was curled up like a cat in the armchair at his feet, fast asleep. He must have sneaked down after they had all fallen asleep, either not wanting to be alone or not wanting to leave Cas' side.
Careful not to wake the others, Cas got up and slipped out of the living room. Bobby was already awake and sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. He looked up when Cas came in.
"You sleep okay?" he asked, setting down his mug.
Cas just shrugged and took a seat.
"You made the front page," Bobby said, sliding the newspaper across the table toward him.
Cas leaned forward to look. Sure enough, there was a full color photograph of him, Dean, Balthazar, and Naomi huddled together on his porch, accompanied by an article about his aunt and uncle's murder and Michael's prison break. Feeling slightly sick, Cas pushed the paper back toward Bobby.
"Look, Cas. You and Balthazar are legally adults now, so you can technically live wherever you want," said Bobby. "But I just want you to know that you're both more than welcome under my roof. Actually, I think it might be best for you to stay here, at least for a while, given all that's happened. But it's your choice."
"Thank you, Bobby. Really," said Cas quietly.

Cas and Balthazar did end up staying with the Winchesters and Bobby. They didn't have any spare rooms so Cas shared with Dean and Balthazar with Sam. The entire weekend after prom, Naomi was with them non-stop, except to go home at night. That first Monday, everyone stared at them.
"I spent three years at this high school with virtually no one ever looking at me. Now they won't stop," muttered Cas as they sat around their table at lunch.
"There's only three weeks until graduation," said Naomi bracingly. "We'll be away from them before you know it."

Naomi was right. The time leading up to graduation flew by. Pretty soon, there was only a week left. Cas, Balthazar, Bobby, and the Winchesters were sitting in the kitchen one night. The boys had all been swamped with end-of-semester homework and were taking a break to eat some brownies that Naomi had made for them.
"I'm gonna go back up and work on that English essay," Cas announced.
"Okay, I'll be up in a little bit," said Dean.
Cas put his last bite of brownie in his mouth and left the kitchen.

About ten minutes later, Dean trudged up the stairs. His bedroom door was open and the light was off, so he figured Cas had finished his essay and was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Yawning, he flicked on the light switch, then froze. Someone had handwritten a message on the wall in red paint:
"CAUGHT YOU, BLUEBIRD."
Dean's breath caught in his chest and his gaze fell slowly from the message to the bed directly beneath it. Lying in a pool of his own blood, a long gash across his throat, was Cas. His blue eyes were wide, his face pale and frozen in a look of terror. Dean stared, heart pounding furiously.
"Cas?" he whispered weakly.
He stumbled forward as though sleepwalking and fell to his knees beside the bed. Up close, Dean realized that the words on the wall weren't written in paint, but in Cas' blood. Dean struggled to catch his breath as his tears threatened to choke him. He grabbed Cas' hand and clung to it desperately as though just holding some part of him might bring him back, and just knelt by Cas' side, letting his tears flow freely.

Balthazar, Sam, and Bobby were still in the kitchen when Dean wandered in several minutes later, looking lost.
"Dean? I thought you went up – Dean, what's wrong?" said Bobby, standing up.
"Is that blood?" Balthazar asked.
Dean looked down at his trembling, bloodstained hands as though seeing them for the first time.
"Dean, what's going on?" said Bobby.
"It's... it's Cas..." Dean murmured, looking up at them again.
Looking panicked, Balthazar hurried past him and bolted up the stairs. Bobby and Sam followed quickly after him, Dean trailing behind in a grief-stricken daze. Up in Dean's room, Balthazar stood stone-like in the middle of the floor, staring at the scene with an unreadable expression. Bobby took one look and turned back, ushering Sam away.
"No, Sam, I don't want you to see this. Call the cops and wait downstairs," he said grimly.
Sam obeyed, hurrying past Dean as he joined Bobby in the doorway of his room.
"Dean, wash that blood off your hands and go back downstairs with your brother," said Bobby.
Dean didn't move.
"Come on, Dean," Bobby urged. "Dean, look at me! There's nothing you can do for him, and staying up here is only gonna make it worse for you. Now wash that blood off yours hands and go downstairs."
Dean swallowed hard as a single tear trickled down his cheek. Finally, he nodded and followed Sam downstairs. Bobby turned back into the room where Balthazar still stood frozen.
"Come on, Balthazar, go with Sam and Dean," he said.
Balthazar snapped out of it and stared at Bobby, who grabbed his arm and led him downstairs.

When the police arrived, Bobby refused to let them interrogate the boys, answering all their questions himself. Sam was curled up in one corner of the couch, crying silently. Dean sat in the other corner. His face was still wet from crying, but he seemed to have run out of tears. Balthazar sat in the armchair, hugging his knees to his chest and staring off into space. He hadn't shed a single tear, but there was a dead, far-off look in his eyes, as though when his best friend died, part of his soul had died with him.