Day 54: Breakfast

[arc_wrench]

For once, HK was working very hard to hide a giddy facial expression as he met his nurse at the door. He'd already hidden his scalpels in his clothing. The wonderful, sharp implements of doom would be needed today. “Statement: Despite my reticence towards all processed meat and plant products, I am experiencing intolerable levels of hunger,” he

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[allroadslead]

Considering who he'd spent all night with, Sam wasn't sure he wanted to call it a good night, but it honestly did rank higher than some of the other nights he had. Compared to the zombies or being torn apart by invisible hell hounds or the insanity of the portals, it wasn't the worst that could've happened.

While the mornings were often so routine it hurt-he'd been here three weeks; not once had he seen the schedule diverge-today was different. He'd never paid much attention to his nurse until now. She was distracted. Huh. He watched her for a second or two before venturing an innocently curious, "Is everything okay?"

She glanced up, as if startled, before offering a hasty, "Yes, yes, absolutely," and hustling him out the door.

Okay, then. He'd take that as a, "No."

Which was pretty much confirmed as soon as he set foot in the hall. Those guys definitely hadn't been around before. What was this, a check-up? Was that what was going on? He'd operated for so long under the assumption that this was a confined dimension-a sizable one, but confined nonetheless-that the sudden addition of these people threw him for a loop. Everything had seemed so artificial: the nurses, the whole place. He'd started to think of everyone as being in on what was going on. All part of the game or whatever insane crap this was.

Except these nurses were obviously not happy with the visit. He guessed it could be another part of it, but...

He frowned. God, why was he even surprised anymore? Of course. As soon as he thought he had even the slightest grasp of the situation, something came along and crushed it with a frigging sledgehammer.

Well. All right, maybe that was a kinda dramatic way of putting it. But seriously now.

He sighed and gathered his food like always. His gaze landed on where Dean was sitting with Jo. Jo. She'd nearly slipped his mind. He looked away guiltily. He hadn't meant to go so long without checking up on her. It was good to see she was still doing okay, though. He'd talk to her later, too. Which...would be sort of, uh. You know. The last time he'd seen her, it hadn't been his greatest moment.

He left them alone and instead began looking for the person on his mind before the rest of the morning had distracted him. Castiel. There he was. It was about time he followed up on the guy's claims. Especially after that night with the Trickster. The shadow had talked about heaven and name-dropped a couple of angels. Castiel called himself an angel. Not that hard to do the math in terms of where he should turn next for information. He should've investigated this sooner, in fact. His fault for letting himself get sidetracked by the situation with Dean.

Taking a breath, he walked over. If Castiel was an angel, what exactly did one say to him? It'd been easier when he'd outright scoffed at the idea. This was just weird to think about. A part of him had never stopped believing, despite his disillusions, but he'd never figured-and here, of all places. He had no idea what to think.

"Um." He cleared his throat. "Can we talk?"

...Yeah, that was definitely one of the greetings they taught you at Sunday school.

[poorexample]

Even if Castiel had been busy considering the implications of this military presence, he was not so distracted as to miss a very tall, very familiar human heading his way. Seeing how he'd spent at least a portion of his night with Dean, it was only natural that he'd end up running into Sam soon after. At this point, he preferred speaking with them separately, seeing how their first joint conversation here had not gone well.

It was surprising that Sam was approaching him instead of the other way around, but there were certain things that the younger brother had said that had stood out on that first day. He'd recognized him, but not as himself -- which had worried Castiel, but it had slipped his mind due to everything else that had cropped up.

Either way, maybe he shouldn't have been so shocked. Sam had always proved himself to be proactive, willing to take risks that Dean had shied away from. Both of them had been right in different instances, but it was one way in which the two siblings stood apart from each other.

Still, he didn't know if Sam wished to speak about that recognition or something else -- or, as was more probable, they had a lot to cover in general. Castiel sat up in his seat, ignoring his plate of food for the moment as he nodded to the human.

"Go ahead," he said, figuring that he would let Sam start. Seeing how Sam was the one who knew less and needed more answers, it only made sense to go about it that way. Castiel could only hope that this would go well and he'd be able to get through to him somehow; Sam was less stubborn than Dean, if more distant. There was a chance for success.

[allroadslead]

Sam hesitated. He nudged out the chair with his leg and sat down. He had to admit that Castiel didn't ring any of the usual bells, not the way demons or even the Trickster did. Was it because they'd met before? There was something different, that was for sure. He couldn't put his finger on it.

Of course, there'd been something different about Madison, too, and look how that turned out.

Anyway, Castiel wasn't hostile or anything right now, so whatever suspicions Sam maintained, he didn't feel right acting any way other than the conventional standard of distantly polite.

"Right, so. A couple of days ago, I saw you talking to someone I recognized," he began. "I know him as the Trickster." He paused before asking bluntly, "What is he, really? I mean, is he...?"

Could he take Castiel's word on this? Under most circumstances, not without verifying it, but honestly, the shadows were verification enough. It fit, didn't it? The way the Trickster had reacted was pretty strong evidence. He remembered the guy being a decent actor, but not that good. Somehow, he didn't think he was being fooled that night.

The thing was, would Castiel tell him anything in the first place. He supposed he'd find out soon enough. If what he suspected was true, it changed everything. He was already trying to think of what the hell he was even going to tell Dean.

Well. He'd come out with the demon blood thing. Everything else should be easy compared to that.

[poorexample]

Of all the things Castiel had predicted that Sam would bring up, somehow "The Trickster" hadn't one of them. He really should have expected as much, since as far as the Winchesters knew at this point, Gabriel was some sort of unstoppable, malicious force; that did describe him adequately well, considering how he'd been behaving, but...

This was the sort of thing that would be hard to explain when Sam and Dean would not even take his own word at face value, but perhaps this would actually help them to trust him. If he let them know what Gabriel truly was, surely they would have to trust him first. They "knew" Gabriel better than they knew him, but they also had had worse experiences with him, seeing how his brother had decided to play God in his own way.

He wasn't sure how the arch-angel could call him immature or inexperienced when he was the one who'd decided to flee Heaven and act like he was capable of so much more than their Father.

On the other hand, that Father had turned out to be absent, so Castiel wasn't entirely certain why he still held all of that against his brother. Maybe it was resentment for having let himself stay fooled for so long. On the other hand, hadn't they all to an extent? It had just been inconceivable, to imagine that God was essentially gone. Not dead, but uninterested -- which made it worse.

Castiel closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. He'd been sidetracked. "He is not a demi-god," he said first and foremost. "He only masquerades as one. It's why your initial attempt to kill him failed." Granted, demi-gods were not beings who died easily, but the Winchesters' method had been flawless, from what Castiel knew of the event.

"He is an arch-angel, more highly ranked than I am, but he left Heaven centuries ago," he continued. "If you want the reasoning behind that choice, it would be more beneficial to speak to him directly." Gabriel always gave roundabout answers, but Castiel still didn't want to say too much on his brother's behalf -- even though Gabriel likely deserved whatever tricks were played on him. That simply wasn't Castiel's way.

[allroadslead]

The more Sam watched Castiel, the more his curiosity grew. He looked just like Michael, but he was different-Michael had been pretty straightforward, nothing about him that seemed, well. Off was the only word he could come up with, however inadequate. Human?

Maybe that was the word he was looking for.

And what had been the point of bringing in Michael? Did the stuff he'd been told have anything to do with Castiel, or were the two only related insofar as they looked alike? He remembered the Trickster's shadow had brought up the name Michael, too. That couldn't be a coincidence.

Sam frowned, but his thoughts were chased away as soon as Castiel confirmed what he realized now he'd known ever since that night. Despite that, though, he couldn't help but furrow his brows in disbelief. Shit.

For a moment, his mind blanked. Seriously, he wasn't even-

But they were long past the whole maybe it's not true deal. Way, way long past. If he came up with anymore excuses as to why he shouldn't buy it, that would be exactly what they were: excuses.

He blinked once, trying not to look so obviously shocked. He took a moment to think through his words before he spoke up next.

"Gabriel. That's his name, right?" He paused. "What else can you tell me? I mean, about-the angels, or...uh. Yourself, I guess."

Oh God, this was crazy. Everything he said just sounded stupid when you factored in the idea that he was talking to a damn angel. He knew he should just get over it-that was what Dean or Ruby would tell him, anyway-but, look, it was kind of hard, okay? He needed at least another couple of minutes here.

The urge to rub his temple grew. He resisted.

[poorexample]

Generally, Sam was better at hiding his inner feelings than Dean, which might explain why Castiel had had an easier time getting to know the older brother. In this case, however, Sam's reaction was clearly etched on his face. It was, in fact, a good thing; he might actually be getting through to him.

Though were was something about all of this that stood out, and that was the question of how Sam had come to this conclusion in the first place. Gabriel would have never spilled his true identity to the Winchesters willingly. He'd been bothered enough by being found out in the first place, so why would he squander a chance to once again hide who he was?

Then again, Gabriel might have realized that he would eventually tell them either way, and had decided to come clean because of that. That still didn't seem entirely correct as far as Castiel was concerned, but...

"Yes, that's his name," he said first, because that, at least, was a simple question to answer. What Sam wanted from him next was so immense that he didn't know where to start. Still, perhaps it would be easiest if he went off of his own experience, from the beginning.

He let out a small breath, glancing at the table between them as he realized just how difficult it was going to be to transmit the information in an efficient manner. In any case, having Sam alone meant that he could take advantage of the fact that he came from a time further along than Dean's, at the least.

"As you know," he eventually spoke up, "your brother died and went to Hell. However, his life did not end there. It became clear to Heaven that Dean was necessary to stop Lilith and the other demons from bringing about the Apocalypse, and so I was ordered to extract him from Hell. This is something that only an angel is capable of." As it turned out, that plan had all been a cover for what the higher-ranked angels had truly been aiming for, but he didn't want to make the explanation overly complicated. He would get to it later, assuming that he could tell the entire story in the small amount of time that they were allotted.

[allroadslead]

Sam had expected Castiel to ask him how he'd learned about the Trickster-or Gabriel, he guessed it was now-but it seemed Castiel wasn't interested in that. He couldn't decide if it made the angel more suspicious or less so. Was Castiel just not interested in the hows and whys? It seemed that way, unless Gabriel had spoken to him about the shadows which could've happened. He had no way of predicting these two, after all, not even the Trickster anymore. Whatever he thought he knew, it'd been chucked out the window as of thirty seconds ago.

Square one it was, then.

He started to ask how an angel could ever leave Heaven-but what Castiel said next snapped his mouth shut again. If he'd been staring before, he was more than staring now. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Did he-he did just say that, right? That Dean came back from hell, rescued by an angel? Normally, Sam would've analyzed the piece of information, but his brain had apparently short-circuited. What the hell was he supposed to think? Dean was dead. He'd been dead for nearly half a year, and there was nothing Sam could do about it. His brother was here, yeah, but that was different. Dragging a version of his brother from two years ago was not the same thing as someone sitting across from him telling him that Dean had been pulled out of hell, just like that. As if he'd gotten stuck in an elevator for a few hours instead of, say, rotting downstairs in a place even demons were afraid of.

Of course, it was in the midst of his mental crisis that a commotion broke out and he had just enough time to duck a flying...he had no idea. Something. He couldn't decide if the distraction was a relief or some goddamn awful timing.

Probably both.

"Oh, you're kidding me."

[poorexample]

All things considered, Sam's reaction wasn't that out of the ordinary. He was still at a point where he believed that his brother's death would be permanent; as far as Castiel had been informed, he had more or less given up on him returning, at least for a time. It was hard to believe that Sam would have let it lie even if Dean hadn't been returned to him by other means, but the point was that it made sense that that piece of information had been enough to leave him almost speechless.

Castiel was certain he had not stuttered during his explanation, so the fact that Sam was requesting that he repeat what he'd said was likely rhetorical, a sign of disbelief rather than an actual request. Still, he didn't know if there was a way for him to rephrase what he'd just related in a way that would be easier for Sam to wrap his head around.

The Winchesters had been just as baffled by the idea of angels when they'd met in the proper timeline, so Castiel was just going to have to suffer through this once more.

Just as he had been preparing to continue with the story, not having any better idea of how to proceed, they were interrupted. Mainly by the yells of other patients, far beyond the normal level of volume he was used to, and then the throwing of food. For a time, all Castiel could do was watch. This was something beyond his understanding, something that everyone seemed to fall into the pattern of quickly enough but that he merely failed to grasp.

Something very human. Something so human he had no idea what it was.

Even Sam seemed to recognize it, and Castiel looked to him after he forced himself to stop being awed. "Sam," he said, too perplexed to stop himself from speaking to the other as if he was the Sam that he knew, "why is everyone throwing morsels of food at each other?"

[allroadslead]

Of all the days. Seriously.

Though, why was he even surprised? Most of the patients he'd come across were good people, but there were still a couple hundred or so of them around and few of those had to have had the mentality of twelve-year-olds. Statistics and everything.

Man, he hoped Dean wasn't gonna get caught up this crap. Not that he thought Dean would do it deliberately; his brother wasn't an idiot (well, not when it came to this stuff, at least; when it came to edible food options, that was another story), but Dean also had this tendency to get involved even when he didn't mean to.

In spite of the chaos, Sam had time to turn a look on Castiel, caught off guard by both the question and its phrasing. Well. He guessed it'd make sense for...an angel to, uh. Not know about these things. Even if Gabriel seemed familiar enough with human behavior which was interesting...

He shook it off. He wasn't going to analyze that right now. It wasn't the time.

"They're having a food fight," he said. Castiel sounded so confused, it was hard not to answer simply, and he was still a bit incredulous that this was going on. He remembered in high school, his instinct had always been to duck and cover. He'd been a pretty small kid, so it was easy. Ten years later, the situation was sort of different, but it wasn't like there were a whole lot of options. If they didn't get out of the way, they ran the risk of being tossed in with the whole crowd who'd started this. Sam was all for bringing the place down, but chucking bacon wasn't exactly Step 1 in the Revolution Handbook.

He glanced briefly at the exit. Maybe if there'd only been the nurses as usual, but with the soldiers? No, too much could go wrong. If he was going to get anything done, he needed to not be drugged up to his eyeballs.

He pushed his chair back, emptied his tray to use it as a potential shield, and gestured beneath the table. "C'mon." Behind him, a cup splattered against the wall.

It occurred to him that he'd just invited an angel to hide under a table and was seized by a sudden irrational horror of, What the hell am I even doing? before it was replaced by the thought of, Was taking cover even necessary? He had a crazy flash of an image of Castiel deflecting projectile food by some kind of holy force field surrounding him, which was just embarrassing. He felt immediately awkward, and quickly shoved the ridiculous concept out of his mind.

Under the table it was.

[poorexample]

As he waited for Sam to answer his question, Castiel continued to watch, having to sidestep at one point to make certain that a piece of sandwich didn't hit him in the chest. He didn't think the objective was to get hit by the projectile food, but he couldn't be certain. Either way, he would rather not participate in something that was likely to lead to retaliation from the staff.

He turned to Sam when he spoke up, nodding while still not completely comprehending. A food fight; so they threw food instead of punches, then? And yet there were some patients who were definitely doing the latter, going straight for the nurses. Castiel observed as the soldiers did their job and fought back with a trained efficiency, the sort of thing that reminded him of his own drill sessions in Heaven.

Still, almost every patient he saw getting into a fight was eventually neutralized, which was proof enough of what they were up against.

It wasn't until Sam spoke to him again that Castiel drew his gaze away from the skirmish, noting what it was that the human wanted them to do: hide. The soldier in him didn't want to resort to such a cowardly method, but his own logic knew that he would do himself no good if he got involved. For now, the underside of the table would be the same as a trench where they would wait it out.

With no force fields to deflect the food, Castiel nodded to Sam and then started to crouch down to get under the table, though it wasn't long before he was back to watching from their hiding spot, fascinated. "With how efficiently they're behaving, this will likely be over before long," he remarked.

[allroadslead]

Okay. They were under the table. It was a sort of (read: very) tight squeeze, but not to the point where it became too weird and uncomfortable. At least they were out of the way, right? Anyway, he'd had worse. Sleeping in the backseat of the Impala, for one.

Sam peered out from beneath. "Let's hope so." The longer this took to end, the worse it would be for everyone. Whoever decided this was a good idea-well, it wasn't. There were a lot of people out there who had nothing to do with it, who could easily get hurt, including some kids. With any luck, they'd have the good sense to duck out of the way, as well.

Though man, those guys seriously were fast. He'd only ever seen the nurses and orderlies in action, and while they were pretty damn efficient, too, the contrast was marked. These guys weren't just walking around looking like soldiers for kicks.

Definitely The Eagle's entourage, then, if there'd ever been any doubt before. Whoever the hell The Eagle was. He'd have said he didn't want to know, but that would be a lie. He wanted to know. Besides, every bit of information counted. The institute getting tipped upside down for a new face wasn't good news, but it was better than being stuck in a rut forever.

The surprise of the commotion wearing off, Sam turned back to Castiel. Squeezed under a piece of furniture wasn't an ideal situation, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He paused, uncertain of how to pick up the threads of their interrupted conversation.

"Um...my brother..." The immensity of what Castiel had said crashed over him again, this time with the added white noise of a large mass of people kicking the crap out of each other. "I know you said-but I just, I mean-it's not possible."

Then again, neither were angels. But here they were, two days later, and Sam was no longer so disinclined to disbelieve him.

[poorexample]

If Castiel felt cramped in any way under the table, he didn't show it in the slightest. Perhaps it didn't bother him, or maybe he was just so distracted that it didn't register. Either way, he wasn't protesting much to the idea of hiding under a table with Sam Winchester. At this point in time, it was the wisest choice for them to make.

He'd also taken note of the way that the soldiers were performing, and he had to wonder where they came from. He didn't know much about Earth's military, except that each country had their own forces, not to mention hidden groups that did top secret missions on said country's behalf. Heaven's forces were also split up into smaller groups depending on what a particular angel's skill was, but... he didn't know how comparable the two things were.

In any case, these people had to have come from somewhere, and it was still unclear if they were working with Landel or if they were here to usurp him. More than that, would they be in a better or worse state if the latter happened? It was impossible to predict, but either way, this whole event could eventually shed some light on how he and Gabriel had been brought to this place.

Castiel would have been content to have spent the rest of the time watching what happened and waiting for it to all die down, but Sam seemed to have something else in mind. He glanced over to the human when he spoke up again, realizing that the importance of what they'd been talking of previously was not something that Sam could ignore, even in this situation.

"Sam," he said, turning slightly so that he could stare the man in the face, giving him his full attention, "this is not something I would speak of lightly. I'm not lying." And yet he knew he had no proof. He would just have to hope that somehow, Sam would come to believe him. And then maybe he would eventually speak with Dean about it, though Castiel was likely expecting too much in that case.