-Summary: It's the end of the world and they've got one last card to play. Castiel sends Dean back: back before everything. Now he has time to stop what's coming, but no friggin' clue how to do it. Time travel should really come with a manual. TIMELINE AU
-A/Ns: You all beautiful readers get this chapter a day early! In part because I'm off on a hike but mostly because I had a good two weeks where I got four chapters out. That deserves a little celebratory posting, I think :)
-Chapter Warnings: We meet Angela Anne Garrett, who's surprisingly chill about an angel all up in her head (then again, she'd take just about anyone showing up in her head at this point), Sam's talking green eyes and Bobby's getting out the books, while Dean's about to find out just how screwed he is.
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The Road So Far (This Time Around)
Season 2: Chapter 13
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Sam's hands were shaking again. His head was killing him from where he sat, almost doubled over on the couch between his mother-henning brother and a worried Bobby. He was never touching demon blood again, but he couldn't deny how much easier those visions had been when he was on it. Couldn't help but miss that unforeseen benefit, even as he hated himself for it. Honestly, though, Sam had forgotten how much his head hurt after a sober vision, at least before Azazel had blackmailed him with Layla Rourke's life all those months ago.
His hands were shaking again.
Sam took a deep breath, held it, and fisted his hands slowly in his lap. When they opened again, air flowing out of his lungs in a slow release, his fingers were far steadier and Sam chose not to think about how damn relieved he was.
"I'm alright," he finally muttered, having spent the last several minutes in a tense, jittery silence between the three of them. As far as his brother and Bobby knew, he'd been fine one minute, and keeled over having nothing short of a seizure on the floor. They'd both seen him having a vision at least once, so they'd both correctly guessed what was happening. To Sam's relief, they'd waited to hound him with questions until he could see straight again.
"What'd you see, Sammy?" Dean asked, trying and mostly failing to keep his voice even. The tension and terseness that was so Dean couldn't be contained, though. Neither could that strict, worried expression on his face.
"Seemed like a bad one," Bobby offered, nailing the parental, worried-but-casual tone a hell of a lot better than Dean.
So Sam told them. It hadn't been a bad one, at least not content wise. No one had died a horrible, bloody death that he was forced to bear witness too. There wasn't a desperate, ticking time bomb the brothers had to rush against in order to save some innocent's life. Still, his head rung like the worst of them, and he had a weird pit in the bottom of his stomach that told him whatever Azazel had been doing in that place, whoever that woman was, it wasn't good.
It was somehow worse that it had been his second vision of her. He remembered that place, the cavernous darkness and tombs. Remembered being in the bottom of a stone grave, Azazel reaching down to him. He remembered those angry green eyes amid pain and fever and confusion. Sam had had a vision in the middle of his withdrawal, lost in the other hallucinations and symptoms.
Dean's tightly pinched brow, low over his eyes in that sort of confusion that bordered on angry (standard Dean reaction to news he didn't understand and liked even less), was not doing Sam any favors in the comfort department, either. Nor was the way it deepened as Sam connected the dots between his two visions out loud.
"Do you think it was Ruby?" the younger Winchester asked, a little weakly. He cleared his throat and accepted the glass of water Bobby offered. "Or, um… Lilith?"
Dean shook his head, shoulders lifting and falling in anger at his own lack of knowledge. He crossed his arms over his chest only to pull them away to fall back at his sides again. His gaze roamed across Bobby's den, but he what he was seeing was a long string of apocalyptic memories. "I don't know. Ruby was Lilith's lackey. Doesn't make sense that Azazel was down in some ancient, wrecked city digging her up."
That place certainly didn't sound like the Hell he'd seen firsthand. But the pit was endless, with many different layers, or so he'd heard rumors of during his time down there (and what he'd read here and there suggested it was true). He supposed each of them could look different, though he'd only witnessed the one where they took new souls to break, and he doubted any corner of Hell was actually quiet like the place his brother had described. Sam said the city in his vision had been dead – literally.
"And Lilith?" Bobby asked, eyebrows up because Lucifer's First Born and Princess of Hell was the last thing they needed to be worrying about right now.
Again, the man from the future shrugged in frustration. It didn't sound right, but he honestly didn't know that much about Hell's bitch queen. Only that she'd been one hell of a big-bad, had wanted Sam's head on a spike as a red herring for what they really needed his brother for, and liked to dress up in little kids. "You said this chick had green eyes?"
"They were glowing," Sam confirmed with a nod, wincing at the pain spiking through his temples. He couldn't get that single eye out of his head. Fierce, bitter, so angry, suffused with an unnatural green light. And all of that had been aimed straight at him through a curtain of black tangles.
"Lilith and Ruby are demons. They're true forms ain't pretty, and they possess different people when they're topside. They could look like anyone," Dean reasoned with a small shake of his head. "But Lilith's eyes are white. Ruby's black."
"So," Sam reasoned slowly, drawing the word out with a breathlessness that encompassed how they were all feeling. "She's something new."
Dean didn't have a clue, but she wasn't ringing any bells. And given how Time seemed to hate him, that was probably a bad sign.
Bobby started pulling out books on ancient languages and civilizations that had been sacked, Sam grabbing several for himself as the old hunter handed them over. Dean sighed, cast his half drank glass of whiskey a wistful look, and resigned himself to sobering up for research and the return of a tide-turning angel.
-o-o-o
Angela Garrett's mind, upon realizing it was in severe trauma and very near death, took the shape of her childhood swimming pool. It was a community pool just off a private beach, outdoors with palm trees and large-leaved bushes and, her favorite, Naupaka plants blossoming in the sand along the beach side.
She'd grown up with the legend behind the little white flowers with their weird, semi-circular blossoms that made them all look like they were missing half their bloom. Her mom always loved legends, especially creation stories, and those surrounding the Hawaiian Islands were no exception. She'd loved telling her children those old tales. Angela just loved falling asleep to her mother's voice, something even adulthood hadn't driven from her.
The legend of the Naupaka was about a Hawaiin princess of that name, who fell in love with a commoner she was forbidden to marry. When a temple priest in the mountains confirmed there was nothing he could do to change their fate, she pulled the white flower from her hair and ripped it in two, giving half of it to her lover.
'Go back to the beach,' she said, heartbroken, 'and I will stay here, in the mountains.'
That was why the flowers only bloomed in halves, and why the Naupaka that grew on the beach looked different then the same plant that bloomed in the mountains. Angela had always loved that story, both for the whimsical explanation of a biological quirk and for the tragic beauty of its star-crossed lovers. She'd always had a thing for those.
"They are quite beautiful."
Angela spun at the voice, surprise coating her features. The pool and community center had been empty all this time, nothing but the lapping of chlorinated water and the distant crashing of waves. Nothing like her actual memories, full of screaming and laughing children, vendors shouting food orders out the concession window, seagulls crying in the sky, traffic on the main street beyond the bushes and parking lot. That's how she knew this was all in her mind, a dream of some sort, where she was stuck and couldn't leave. Because it had been this way for days. Well, Angela could only guess that it had been days. Nothing changed here. The sun didn't set, didn't even move, so it wasn't like she had a way of tracking time. Really, it felt like weeks, but she doubted that was anything more than her boredom turning her dramatic.
"Who are you?" she asked of the stranger now standing a dozen feet away from her, staring at the Naupaka plants with intense concentration. He was dressed ridiculously for a summer day at the pool. Striped, cotton pajama bottoms and a t-shirt under a tan overcoat of all things. He was a laughable hallucination after all this time of loneliness and waves.
"My name is Castiel," he said, voice deep and raspy, eyes wide and blue as he turned to face her, though he didn't come any closer. "I am an Angel of the Lord."
She didn't bother calling bull, in part because at the same moment he said it, she could almost feel it was the truth. It wasn't something she saw, or at least, she didn't think it was, but suddenly there was an impression of wings, of swirling colors and bright, beautiful light, and she knew that sure, yeah, this was an angel dressed in fuzzy slippers and a beige coat.
"Are you here to take me to heaven?" Angela had never been particularly religious, but she was a believer. Faith more than the Church had taught her there was an afterlife, and if there was an angel visiting her right now, she guessed it had been right.
The angel shook his head. "It is a reaper's duty to ferry the souls of the deceased."
"Oh." Angela tried very hard not to let that little tidbit freak her out as much as it did, picturing a creepy figure wrapped in black and death, coming to collect her with a terrifying scythe. The angel titled his head to the side, looking remarkably like a bird observing something it didn't understand. She ignored the immediate 'cute' that came to mind. It probably wasn't okay to think of an angel as cute. "Then… why are you here?"
"I have….work to do on Earth," Castiel answered, his struggle with word choice suggesting he wasn't confident that was the right one. "I am unable to appear before most humans in my true form, including those that I must work alongside."
"Oh," she said again, and mentally kicked herself for sounding like a numb idiot. She was usually more loquacious than this, really. God, Mark would be making fun of her so much right now. He'd double down when he realized that she was fighting back the urge to ask whether the slippers were part of that true form or not.
"How…uh, how can I help? I mean, what does that have to do with me?" And now she was being rude. Angela kicked herself again, and the angel redid that little head tilt. It occurred to her, rather suddenly, that if he was in her head, he could probably hear her when she did that.
"I need a vessel," Castiel continued, not mentioning it if he could, indeed, hear her thoughts, for which she wasn't sure if she was thankful or just paranoid. "A human form so that I can operate on Earth."
Angela stopped paying attention to that head tilt or telepathy contemplation and instead blinked, mind adding two plus two and getting what the heck. "Me?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Darn it. (Full sentences, girl!) Angela took a deep breath, commanding her brain to start thinking in more than single syllables. "Um, how does that…uh, work, exactly?"
"You would need to grant me permission to enter your body, where I would assume control of your actions until my work is complete." The angel said it so matter-of-factly, like they were talking about putting together an IKEA bookshelf (not that those were ever actually matter-of-fact either). Angela kind of couldn't decide if it was the blandness of having been here for weeks or the angel's tone that had her feeling just as calm about it, too. "After that, your body will be returned to its current state."
"Will I be awake?" she asked before Castiel had quite finished his previous sentence. She spared another half a second to chastise herself again for being rude, though the angel didn't seem to take notice or care, which was good, because she wasn't quite sure she cared either. Truth was, she didn't plan to ask whether or not he could heal her. Give back her life. She may believe in God and Heaven, but she didn't believe in random miracles. Besides, she got the sense that if Castiel was here to do that, he would have done it already. But if he was here to get her out, one way or another, that was something she had plenty of questions about.
"It is the practice of most of my kind to put the soul we are sharing a vessel with into a slumber, so we do not disturb-"
"Could you not?" At Castiel's surprised look, Angela cleared her throat awkwardly. Darn, she really was being rude. She gestured around her, to what so many would see as a paradise, until they were trapped in it for days. "I've been praying to die forweeks now. I gave up praying to wake up, honestly. At this point, I just want to be not here. Not alone, in this place that never changes!"
She took another deep breath, trying to reign in the anger and futile frustration that had been building for days.
"If you're going to use my body, I get to see the world again, right? I can live a vicariously through you. At least a little longer." Angela smiled as she said it, trying to take some of the bitter sting out of the words. She really wasn't trying to chase off the angel asking to borrow her body, which she apparently wasn't even using right now. "That's what's happening, isn't it? I'm dying?"
"Yes," Castiel confirmed, though he was slow to do so, almost hesitant, she thought. He seemed to think for another moment, not so much to give her time to process what she already knew (though it was still a whammy to hear it) but because he was thinking over her request. "I believe it can be arranged to leave you awake. It may not be entirely pleasant, however."
"Anything would be better than this," she replied, this time unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
There was another moment of hesitation before Castiel opened his mouth and all but blurted out, kind of ungraciously for a supposed angel, "Your kin is in the hospital."
She blinked at that, hope suddenly flaring in her chest so strongly that she swore the world around them got brighter. "My parents? Mark?"
It was immediately clear on his face, by the way those ocean blue eyes widened and the swirling colors she'd gotten an impression of darkened, that he'd made a drastic mistake. The hope sank like the Titanic, taking that brightness, and the lives of her family, with it. Like clouds passing in front of the sun, the world grew a bit colder and got a lot greyer.
"No," Castiel answered roughly, an apology clear in his rather expressionless face, which seemed to be a thing for the angel of the Lord. "Your immediate family and fiancé were killed in the car crash that put you here."
Despite the fact that she'd thought of nothing else for days on end – been certain for days on end – her eyes still watered and stung. Her heart hurt so much, she clutched at her chest even as she nodded, because she'd known. She didn't know how she knew, but she had. She's spent days sitting on the edge of the pool, feet in the sun-soaked water, listening to the waves crash, waiting for death so she could see them again.
Everything came in impressions here, wherever here was. Impressions of light and swirling colors and wings. Impressions of people and laughter and happier times. Impressions of speed and pain andmetal on metal. Impressions of being truly alone.
Castiel tilted his head again, this time with a slight chin turn that made it look like he was listening to something. And then he was in front of her, one arm reaching out to rest awkwardly on her shoulder in some parody of comfort that he clearly didn't understand. She almost laughed at that terrified look on his face, but it came out as a sob and Angela leaned into the first physical contact she'd had in so long that it hurt. She buried her face in that stupid, out-of-place trench coat and cried.
A second arm joined the first in the most awkward hug possibly in the history of humanity, but Angela didn't care. Awkward or not, it was comfort and she needed it, even if she wished she didn't. It was the hesitant, slightly-too-hard pat on the back that finally had her pulling away, choking on a small laugh, heavy with phlegm and emotion.
"Thanks," she whispered, wiping at her eyes. The angel nodded, those blues eyes still wide, causing her to laugh a little again, even if it was a sad, pathetic little sound. "I figured they were… I figured."
She looked around helplessly at the pool she couldn't leave, that she'd spent so much of her childhood at, with her parents teaching her to swim, or lying in the sun, or playing in the pool. Her dad had taught her to do front flips off that diving board on days when the pool was less busy and the life guards less likely to yell at them. Her mom had caved to her and her brother's whining and bought ice cream from the concession stand almost every trip.
"You'll see them again," the angel spoke, his voice no less gravely nor firm, but somehow still soft. Comforting, as that hug had intended to be. "They are in heaven, at rest now."
"They're happy?" She didn't know why she needed to hear him say it, but she did.
He nodded, blue eyes intense and almost glowing in the grey light. "In my Father's halls, each soul resides in a paradise of their fondest memories. Your loved ones are happy. They are with you, and you are with them."
The angel looked troubled saying it, though Angela couldn't fathom why. She gave up on the mess that was her tear-streaked face and folded her hands across her stomach loosely in a loose self-hug. "So, what 'kin' is here, then? I don't have anyone else."
"I believe they are…distant." There was that head tilt again, lesser this time, and Angela wondered if Castiel did that every time he fumbled with words, or possibly emotions, or if it was just because he was clearly uncomfortable now that he'd brought up her loss. "The only relatives the hospital were able to contact were your great aunt and several removed cousins."
There was another awkward pause as that troubled look worsened. When he spoke, he looked reluctant to do so, though his words reflected none of his obvious indecision. "They are discussing terminating your life support."
Angela blinked, surprise coloring the world around her once again. "What, right now?"
Castiel started to nod, stopping halfway through the gesture to tilt his head, listening to something she couldn't hear. She looked around the empty pool and grey, clouded skies above, but there was nothing. The angel resumed his nod. "Yes. I believe they will make a decision shortly."
She couldn't help but suck in a breath, which rattled out of her in a nervous little laugh. Ridiculous. She had prayed for weeks for the isolation, the nothingness, to end. Whatever way that had to happen, she promised herself (and the God she'd been praying to) that she'd be fine with. Anything to get out of this limbo.
Now, it seemed those prayers were going to be answered, and she was terrified.
So, Angela did what she'd always done when she was afraid. She thought about something else, and she did it in a big hurry. Her brain latched on to the first thing waving a big yellow 'distraction' flag.
"Why would you tell me that?" Her brow pinched together in confusion, the words out of her mouth before she'd really thought about them. But yeah, no, this was a great distraction. Because Castiel needed her help to operate on earth, and she was getting the feeling it wouldn't work out so well for him if they pulled the plug before that happened.
She kind of got the feeling that was what that troubled look was all about.
"You deserve the choice," Castiel confirmed, a look flittering across his face, colors running just underneath his skin in a way she could never look straight at but could sort of see if she only looked at him sideways. Angela would have sworn those colors were shades of regret. Though, of what, she didn't know. "If you agree to be my vessel, it may be some time before you join your family in Heaven. If you wish the wait to be over now, I will not interfere, and you will be taken to my Father's Kingdom once your body passes."
"But…" Angela was still working double time to ignore that whole death thing looming just underneath this conversation. Heaven sounded nice, of course, but it was still death. "You need a, what did you call it? A vessel."
"I will find another." That look was back, stronger, and Angela almost called bull aloud before she realized that was probably blasphemy or something in front of an angel.
"What work is it you have to do on Earth?" At this point, it was a heads or tails toss up whether she was just putting off the inevitable and distracting herself from having to make a choice that was robbing her of breath, or if she was curious about what would bring an angel to Earth. Given the stiff way this one talked, that wasn't a super common occurrence.
Castiel hesitated again, and Angela suddenly realized she shouldn't have asked. He didn't want to tell her, which was a weird thing to see after he all but gave her a way out of this.
"I have to avert the Apocalypse."
Could you choke on air when you weren't even awake? Angela did a darn good job of trying to answer that question. "The- the apocal- you're joking right? Oh my god, you're not joking. Holy…"
She cut herself off, taking several deep breaths through the hand she slapped over her running mouth. Nothing in those intense blue eyes suggested he was joking and she wondered what she'd done in a past life to get herself stuck in these kinds of situations.
"So, you're literally asking me to help you save the world?"
"I…suppose I am." He was back to that regretful look. "Failure is a very real possibility. In the case of your body perishing in my service, your soul will be guided to Heaven."
"Wow." It was all she could say. Maybe not a huge step up from 'oh,' but she didn't have anything else in her to say. This was… just wow. So, rock, meet hard place, and both ended in death. Well, honestly, that made her decision so much easier. "Okay, so what do you need from me?"
The angel just stared, and she realized he hadn't been expecting that answer.
"Would you rather not be united with your family?"
It was almost cute to see how baffled he was, and the way he clearly wanted to kick himself for asking. That troubled look was making so much sense now that Angela almost laughed. It was tempting to remark on why he kept giving her outs in the first place if he didn't think she'd say yes, but she held back. It would be cruel, she figured, and he seemed off balance enough already.
"Honestly?" Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she chewed on the soft tissue as some of her humor died, replaced with the somber reality around her. She glanced at the pool, at the community center and the palm trees, at the Naupaka flowers delicately moving in the breeze. Angela tried to focus on the good times that happened here, the echoes of laughter and happy screams. But all of that was tainted now by how long she'd been stuck here: miserable, alone, afraid, and angry. She didn't want to stay anymore, but she wasn't ready for what came next, either. Even if she'd thought she was.
"I'm scared." She let out a little laugh, despising how weak and nervous it sounded, but this was death they were talking about. The great unknown, even if she was standing in front of a man who had all the answers. Uncertainty was healthy, she told herself. It was human.
"Death is nothing to fear."
Angela smiled up at him, but shook her head. "That's good, cuz it sounds like it's coming either way. At least this way I get to see a little more of the world first, right? And help you save it, I guess."
That got a more real laugh out of her. God, she was going to save the world. What a story she'd have for Mark when she saw him again.
"Are you sure?"
Having enough with the angel apparently trying to talk her out of a decision he clearly didn't want to talk her out of (and yeah, she'd picked up on that), she leveled him with a look. "I can't believe I'm about to use a line this cheesy, but Heaven can wait. It doesn't sound like you can."
Castiel's shoulders sagged minutely, just a centimeter of tension gone from his solid, brick wall of a stance, and Angela knew she'd made the right choice.
"So how do we get this show on the road?"
"You say yes."
She quirked an eyebrow at him. That sounded ridiculously easy. Probably a good thing it was an angel asking her to do this and not something more deceitful, because if a single word was all it took to steal someone's body away from them, that seemed way too easy to misuse.
"Then, yes."
-o-o-o-
Castiel sat upright, pulling wires and tubes tight with the movement. High pitch noises began screaming from the machines lining the wall around the bed, and the angel waved them into silence with a hint of annoyance. The new location in the hospital room was disorienting, as was the weakness of this new vessel, being kept alive by grace alone.
Jimmy stumbling into the mattress, bracing himself on locked elbows as he gasped and struggled to right himself, was far more grounding. The human was justifiably unbalanced at the sudden return of control, and Castiel touched two fingers to the man's temple to insure no residual damage remained from the brief angelic occupancy.
Jimmy jerked away instinctually, then leveled apologetic blue eyes at the angel, who had taken no offense to the reaction.
"Castiel?" His tone was hesitant, as though he wasn't sure just who he was talking to.
"Jimmy," she returned with a slight nod, doing a quick assessment of her new vessel, as grace filled out every limb and organ, repairing what it could and restoring life to the rest. Castiel pulled the hospital sheets off her new form and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. They were stiff from disuse, but the angel knew that would lessen with time and her grace. She stood, ignoring the arm Jimmy offered her, as she did not require assistance.
"Stay here," Castiel ordered and, with a short flap of her wings, was gone from the room.
Jimmy barely had time to take a deep breath and revel in controlling his own lungs again when she returned. He jumped, staggering away from Castiel out of sheer primal reaction of something not being there and then suddenly being there. He clutched at his chest and the tried to calm the pounding of his heart. Boy, he hadn't missed feeling that sensation.
"What did you-"
"I altered the memories of the doctor and Angela's kin. They will think they successfully disconnected her from life support and passed her body on to the appropriate recipients." Her voice was deep, with a raspy quality that Jimmy was starting to think was entirely Castiel. He'd heard his own voice in his ears while the angel possessed him, and he'd known it had been much deeper than what came naturally to him. Jimmy knew the normal cadence of Angela's voice wasn't so deep either, having heard it for himself while inside her head (and thank goodness the angel had brought him in, since he'd – was it she, now? – certainly needed some guidance on offering the grieving woman comfort and reassurance).
In fact, overall it was very odd to see the angel that had visited him just hours ago, who had worn his body, and was now standing, somehow still intimidating, as someone completely different and yet entirely the same. Angela was several inches shorter than Jimmy, with atrophied muscles and dark circles under her eyes that, even now, were clearing up. They shimmered with a barely visible light just beneath her skin that Jimmy knew must be grace. She wore nothing but a hospital gown, and still the human felt cowed by the commanding presence that was entirely Castiel.
Jimmy opened his mouth to suggest finding her some new clothes, because intimidating or not, Jimmy had spent enough time in a hospital after his appendectomy to know that her rear end was very much not covered right now. But the angel leaned into his personal space, cutting him off before he even got started.
"I will return you to your family now."
Before Jimmy could manage a step back, two fingertips were pressed to his forehead and they were suddenly back in his home in Pontiac, Illinois. The house was quiet and the darkness of the first level suggested his family was still asleep. Amelia hadn't noticed his absence from their bed yet, and he was so overwhelmingly grateful that his knees grew weak.
Castiel gave a single nod, waves of thick, brown hair shifting in juxtaposition to the solemn movement, and Jimmy found himself moving before he could think better of it. He wrapped his hand around that slim, malnourished wrist before Castiel could take flight. He could almost feel the phantom wings spreading wide, that ghostly flicker of tightness in his back that was no longer there. Jimmy tightened his grip without meaning to.
Fiercely blue eyes – so close to the ones he saw in the mirror every morning – were now locked on his from a completely foreign face, and Jimmy swallowed heavily in the weight of that gaze. Even know, he knew why he had said yes to this incredible, beautiful, powerful thing that had asked for his help. He understood why Angela said yes, too.
"Thank you." He hoped his gratitude, his honest-to-God sincerity, came through. He really could not mean it more. "I know finding someone else… it wasn't easy."
Actually, it had been shockingly easy, Castiel thought, which was why she was now entirely certain God had a hand in it. A sign of His approval, His support to continue on this path, no matter the obstacles. The improbability of their recent success suggested no other solution. However, it was not relevant to the current conversation, or to Jimmy's point.
"You are welcome," she said instead, dipping her head in acknowledgement of his gratitude. He was a good man, and she was glad to be able to give him this. "Live a good life, James Novak."
Then she was gone, and Jimmy sank to the floor in the middle of his foyer and broke down, sobbing into his hands. He stayed there on his knees, uncertain his legs would support him or his lungs would withstand anything more than breathing through the relief and terror and joy. He thanked God for His endless mercy and grace, and prayed He would watch over the angel who now charged into a war that Jimmy, thankfully, had no more part in.
Claire's worried voice broke through his fervent, tearful prayers, and Jimmy's head shot up to find his beautiful baby girl at the top of the stairs. He smiled up at her, the most wondrous thing he was sure he would ever see. He shrugged off his coat carelessly, giddy with his blessed return, leaving behind the tan fabric as he climbed the stairs of his home and scooped Claire into his arms. He would calm his young daughter's fears, then he would wake his wife just to feel her in his arms, and he would never again wish for anything more in his life than this.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
When Castiel returned, it was with a sound so strikingly akin to wingbeats that Sam expected to see giant, feathered appendages behind the angel. However, there were no wings when he spun towards the sudden fourth presence in the Bobby's den. A figure not there a blink ago, now standing just to the side of the desk, causing Bobby, who had his feet propped up, to nearly tumbled out of his chair.
Forget wings, Sam thought. He was too busy staring at the entirely foreign and very different person now in the room with them.
"C-Castiel? Is that you?" he managed through his surprise, which was more than Bobby or Dean accomplished. That might be because Bobby was too busy clinging to the desk, getting all four legs of the chair back on the floor (all the while swearing like sailor) to care much about what poor schmuck the angel had returned in. But Dean certainly wasn't saying much, standing there staring – slack-jawed and wide eyed – at the very female (and definitely not an old geezer) currently watching Bobby with a familiar head tilt and vague concern.
"Yes," the angel replied, turning back to the brothers once she determined the grumbling older hunter was not in need of her assistance.
And it was very, very much her assistance.
Castiel's new vessel was tall for a woman, maybe five eight or nine. She was slim but fit, with dark skin tinted a reddish-brown, the same striking blue eyes as Jimmy, and dark, wavy hair. Sam identified her as likely mixed race, probably Polynesian and Caucasian. She was older than him, for sure. Possibly older than Dean too. Late twenties certainly, early thirties maybe. All of which was secondhand observation, natural to a hunter, and which each man in the room had noticed and filed away in their information-trained minds without really thinking about it.
Sam's active mind was busy with that part where the new human in the room with them was dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. Bobby was pretty busy noticing that too, partly because he had a damn more revealing angle, to which he was very purposefully turning the other cheek, keeping his eyes on anything but the angel's bare ass half a foot from him.
Dean wasn't thinking at all. His brain hadn't rebooted after most gorgeous woman ever.
Okay, so maybe she wasn't the most gorgeous woman Dean had ever seen. That honor went to Vera Ellen; the all-American beauty with a German sweetheart face and the grace of a goddess. God, Dean must have watched White Christmas every year it was on TV (even stole a VHS tape once from a Blockbuster when it hadn't been). Every December the 25th, holed up in some dingy motel, with Sammy in his lap and Dad god-knows-where, they'd put on the movie. Vera Ellen was his Christmas mom, each holiday that had passed without his own. She was an angel, in every sense of the word.
And boy, could that woman dance. Something Dean would never, ever, under pain of death, admit to falling head over heels in love with. Or ever watching in the first place.
But Castiel's new vessel certainly wasn't the ugly, wrinkled, sagging, male, grandpa Dean had been expecting. Or, unknown to him until just this moment, apparently hoping for. God, her eyes alone. The same damn Novak blue that apparently ran in that friggin' family. Bluer than frickin' blue, which was just ridiculous. They'd been powerful in a good ole, family man like Jimmy. But in this woman, whoever she was, with her sun-darkened skin and stupidly fist-able hair… it just wasn't fair.
And it wasn't like she was lacking in the other departments, either. That floral-print hospital gown sure didn't show off much, but Dean could tell she was athletically built, trim and fit rather than curvy, muscles filling out and flexing in a way that looked like she'd just worked out (Dean wasn't thinking about that, he wasn't). His idle brain wondered if this lady trained, or if she was just one of the yoga, health-nut, naturally fit, freak types (okay, so he was totally thinking about that).
Maybe both. Body like that, Dean bet she was pretty damn flexible.
And, oh god, he was killing that line of thought right the fuck now. Cuz this was Cas he was thinking about, darn it.
Holy shit. Holy shit!
This was Cas. This wasn't just some random, hot stranger he was appreciating. This was Cas. Cas. Fucking Castiel, Angel of the Lord, Warrior Badass Extreme, Nerdy Angel Tax Accountant Cas! In a drop dead gorgeous female vessel. In a drop dead gorgeous, fuckable, vessel.
Hot damn shit fuck.
He was a terrible person.
He was a friggin screwed, terrible person, was what he was.
Sam was crossing the room with a blanket he'd pulled off the couch, and Dean was able to stop staring at Cas long enough to realize what his brother was doing. He held the fabric out for the angel, making a gesture with quiet words that Dean could only hazard at. Castiel didn't seem to understand the need for it, but allowed the knitted throw to be draped across his shoulders to cover his backside.
'Her, Dean. HER backside. Her very naked, exposed backside.'
Dean's eyes were suddenly skyward as he thought of something – anything – other than this woman's naked body. God, he was going to Hell. Again.
Bobby let out a relieved noise as the angel gripped the ends of the blanket and seemed at least on board with the plan, if not understanding why it was necessary. The hunter rolled his eyes as he straightened back up in his desk chair and once more had free reign of looking wherever the hell he wanted in his own house. Now that he could, the angel was the obvious candidate for observation.
"What'd you do, rob the coma ward?" the old hunter groused. Castiel turned at the question, brow pinching as she tried to parse the intent of the man's question. Bobby gestured to the angel's getup with his chin, and she looked down at herself curiously, pulling at the flowered fabric beneath the blanket.
"Yes." The answer was blunt, and left Bobby blinking. Castiel looked back up, releasing the meager clothing she was wearing and locking eyes with Dean, who could only gulp and try to remember how to breathe and, oh god, go back to thinking about nothing. "This body was comatose, mortally damaged in a car crash that killed the rest of her family. Her mind was intact, but her body had become a prison. She agreed to serve as my vessel."
Dean was too busy thinking absolutely nothing, while simultaneously trying to look away from those eyes – and shit, shit, shit, they really were the same damn blue eyes and are you fucking kidding me? – to form actual words. Not that he wasn't trying. He really, really was. It's just, despite popular belief, mouth movement required actual thought, and he was trying oh-so-hard not to be thinking anything right then.
While Dean failed to figure out the complexities of human language and words, Castiel frowned and continued, voice a little tighter, "She has no surviving next of kin, or any family left to leave behind. Is she acceptable to your terms?"
'Hell yes!' Little Dean shouted at the same time his bigger head rebuked, 'fuck no, Cas, I told you to find some old geezer!' and what came out of all of that was, "Your eyes are still blue."
What? No, shit, wait, that's not what he meant to say. Sam and Bobby were sending him weird looks now, and he racked his brain for actual words so he could try again.
Castiel tilted her head to the side and, damn it, it was like looking in a friggin' female mirror verse. "This vessel is of the same bloodline as Jimmy Novak. A distant cousin. It was quite fortunate, as vessels are rare and your restrictions were…limiting."
There was definitely a hint of annoyance in there (more than a hint, actually, but this Castiel didn't have the balls to be outright with it. Yet.) and the beginning of a warning tone Dean knew well, even coming from a different mouth. Knowing Castiel well enough to hear the 'I am a Warrior of God, I do not serve you,'and know there was little he could do in the face of it but be cowed, Dean simply nodded. Maybe a little too enthusiastically, looking back on it.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's good- fine. It's fine." And now he was just gushing words like a blushing teenage virgin asked out on her first date. Awesome. "Of course it's fine. Thanks, Cas. I- uh, I appreciate it."
He sort of choked on the word, other parts of him trying to speak up about all the other things he was currently appreciating, but he clamped down on those with such vicious discipline that even Sister Marybeth, a teacher at the Catholic school Pastor Jim sent him and Sammy to the spring John left them in his care, would have been proud. That sanctimonious bitch.
There was another pause. Sam was still watching him with a look. Bobby was just rolling his eyes like it was an Olympic sport. Then Castiel nodded and they, thank fuck, moved on.
Dean let out the biggest breath of his life, though he had to do it subtly, lest Cas – or, god forbid, Sammy – notice. The conversation continued without him, while Dean spent far too long thinking of ghouls and Hell and dead puppies and autopsies, until his upstairs head was the one back in control and he could rejoin the discussion as an actual decent human being.
God, he was so screwed.
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-A/Ns: That's about as in depth as we'll get for Miss Angela Garrett, other than the how-to-act-like-a-human input she'll have for Cas, since she's a mostly awake vessel (and the absolutely guaranteed 'nice butt' remark she'll have about Dean) That's about as bad as we'll get on Dean's hots for Angela, as well. He'll struggle for a while, but nothing's going to be as bad as first-meeting-in-a-thin-mostly-naked-hospital-gown.
-Up Next: It's time to get planning. Dean's got his angel on board and a time-advisor, now it's time to put him- er, *her* - to use, at least before she returns to Heaven. Wait, whut? Cas can't return to Heaven! (although it might do Dean's blood pressure some good)