Update - this was gonna go to 30 chapters, but looking back through my notes, I've realised that the story will most likely run dry by then. The likely ending length will be like 15 chaps, and then I'll either go on to a sequel (if you really want it) or something else entirely.
I don't own it
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Chapter 6 - Family.
As it turned out, Dean couldn't catch a squirrel, however he could catch a pigeon. He swaggered triumphantly back to camp with the juicy bird slung over his shoulder and found Sam mashing up some blackberries in one of the old pots. Cas stood up as Dean returned, and started to walk towards the forest.
"Now that you're back I'm going to go pick some nettles. I didn't want to leave Sam alone," he explained to Dean, but Dean rebutted him quickly.
"No way. No. You're not going out there on your own. And anyway, what the hell do you want nettles for?"
Cas sighed with irritation, "I'm a grown man Dean, I'm just as capable as you of going into the forest alone. In fact, I took care of myself for years before you came along and have done a damn good job of looking after myself AND you two since we started travelling together." Cas huffed and cleared his throat before continuing. "And for your information, nettle stew is nutritious and has quite a pleasant flavour. So you can just sit here and prepare the pigeon while I go and pick the nettles, understood?" Dean was about to respond, despite the fact that Cas' tone clearly demonstrated the rhetorical nature of the question, but Cas turned on his heals and strode confidently towards the treeline and out of sight.
Sam chuckled and Dean turned round to face him.
"What's so funny?" Dean demanded.
Sam snorted. "Dude," he chortled, "you're so whipped."
Dean's face reddened. "No," he hissed, "I'm not."
With that he stalked into the forest, Sam laughing so hard behind him that he fell off the log that he was using as a makeshift seat and onto the ground.
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Cas froze, his ears perking at the rustling that came from the bushes beside him. He drew his knife and turned to face the source of the noise - he heard Dean before he saw him.
"Stupid bitch, thinks he's so funny!" the man was muttering petulantly, "You're whipped!" he mimicked sarcastically, "I'll show him who's fucking- Cas! I'm glad I found you!" he said quickly, walking straight up to the other man, who was sheathing his knife. "I know what you said, but I came to help because... I wanted to learn? Yeah! I wanted to learn the nettle thing!" Dean's enthusiasm was endearing, even if it was a little played, and a small smile played on Cas' lips.
Cas chuckled and shook his head in humoured disbelief. Only Dean could be this annoying yet not get on Cas' nerves.
"I'm almost done," he explained, "I just need maybe... one more handful?" ventured Cas, trying to figure it out in his head. Dean however, determined to help, reached out his hand and grabbed a fistful of nettles.
"Let's just go th- MOTHER OF GOD!" He sprang back, waving his hand like a maniac to shake the leaves off. Castiel jumped into action. The fact that the man who showed off his many scars for fun was having this hysterical a reaction to nettles was funny, but laughter could wait. Well, most of it anyway.
Chortling, Cas grabbed Dean's wrist and dragged him closer, snatching up some nearby dock leaves with his other hand.
"Keep still!" he warned, mashing the dock leaves into a pulp quickly in his fist and spreading them onto Dean's palm. Dean stopped squirming and sighed in relief. Castiel got lost for a second just staring at Dean's face as he relaxed and the tension melted from his features. His heartbeat became irregular for no apparent reason, and he looked away with flushed cheeks, ducking his head. Grabbing the bucket and snagging a fistful of dock leaves, he made a gesture with his head in the direction of the camp. He didn't trust his voice, his throat suddenly felt tight. He wondered if he was coming down with something.
Dean gave a disapproving look to the green gunk on his hand before following Cas, his arm held in an odd way so as to prevent the sludge from sliding off his palm. When they returned to camp, Sam had managed to get the fire going and was boiling the saucepan of water they had collected earlier. He made eye contact with Dean and smirked at him.
"Bitch," muttered Dean, his amusement badly hidden by the stern tone.
"Jerk," replied Sam smugly, taking the bucket of nettles from Cas and dumping them in the pot. Dean sat down on the log next to Sam and waited for Cas to settle on his.
"How the hell did you manage to pick all of those nettles anyway? Did you receive nettle immunity as a Christmas bonus or something?" Dean inquired scathingly.
Cas raised an eyebrow, before resting his hands in his lap and explaining over the bubbling saucepan, bubbling in the embers. "You have to pinch the leaves hard in order to crush the parts which contain the chemical." His tone was patient, as if Dean should have already know all this and he just hadn't caught on yet.
"Is your hand okay enough for you to do the pigeon while I cook?" he inquired, genuine concern now evident in his tone and body language. Sam gave the two a knowing look, as a smile crept across his face - like he had just discovered the secret of the century. Dean grinned cheekily, snatching up the pigeon and the knife beside it.
"That," he said, "I can do." Sadly (or luckily depending on your point of view) Dean's messy (yet undeniably effective) assault of the pigeon carcass lasted only 5 minutes before an appalled Cas practically wrenched it for his grasp and set about cleaning and cutting the bird with surgical precision.
When Cas had finished making dinner, he made the other two sat on their logs around the fire and gave everyone a very generous helping. Not that at this point it was a contributing factor in what Dean ate or not, but the meal was delicious. Cas' eyes fixed on Dean's lips as the young man moaned in pleasure into the steaming bowl of food. Cas, suddenly very interested in his own bowl, didn't look up again until everyone was done and Dean spoke up.
"Buddy, if I had known you could cook like that, I would have kidnapped you when we first met you!" Sighing with contentment, Dean settled into one of the piles of rags by the fire. "I'm going to try and get some sleep, you should too, Sammy." Dean continued over Sam's squawk of indigence, "You don't mind taking the first watch do you Cas?" Cas, shaking his head, settling himself more comfortably by the fire.
"Don't worry, I'll watch over you," he said under his breath, peacefulness and a sense of familial protectiveness settling in his bones as he watched the shadows of his sleeping friends, cast by the fire, dance a strange, silent dance under the blanket of stars that shone through the dense darkness of the night sky.
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The following morning rose as crisp and sharp as a green apple. There was a warm, spring lilt in the air, and Sam, Dean and Cas crunched through the last of the melting snow on the ground as they talked casually and laughed. The sky was a pastel-blue that shone through Castiel's eyes as he grinned across at Dean.
"You really thought that you could eat all of the squirrel? Every part?" Castiel mock-facepalmed. "How did you survive without me?" he asked in an amused voice, half-joking.
"I've done fine!" Dean said indignantly, "haven't I Sammy?"
Sam snorted. "You didn't really seem to be 'doing fine' before you met Cas, Dean, let's face it. And you've only been here what, 8 months?"
"Seven months," Dean muttered, "but I'm sorry I'm not as 'experienced' as you two!"
Cas burst out laughing. "You seem to get indignant easily, Dean," he laughed, "I didn't know Sam could get to you that easily!"
As the trio traipsed down the cold road, breath misting in cobwebs in front of their faces and the warm breath of early spring brushing across the air, Meg watched from a few hundred feet away. Her eyes narrowed. This was going to be
interesting.
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As the days lengthened and the nights crept back, spring blooming across the fields as the trio moved further and further south, Dean became more and more intrigued by Castiel's small, grubby, but highly preserved notebook. Its home was Cas's left coat pocket, and he took it out every night before he fell asleep to make a small, uniform mark on the very back page. There was a cracked, near-empty biro tucked snugly between the spine and the pages, and every few weeks, Cas would check the marks, determine that it was the appropriate time, and fill in a single page of the book - nothing more, nothing less.
Each page Dean had caught a glimpse of was identical - neat, small print on tracing paper-thin pages, what he guessed was some kind of title at the top of the page, a few lines of information and a few paragraphs of writing. The notebook was perfectly neat and orderly, every page the same down to the word margins, and Castiel held the book like it was the most valuable thing he had ever had. Maybe, Dean thought sometimes, it was.
Meanwhile, Sam hadn't had another fit since that night in the cabin. Dean allowed himself to hope - to have a tiny, imperceptible hope that maybe, just maybe, Sammy was getting better. Maybe the disease was fading, maybe everything was going to be okay from here on out.
Little did Dean know, this was only the beginning.
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Hope you like it!
Hint- remember Meg. She does something big.