Fic: Supernatural; The Kindness of Strangers; PG
Title: The Kindness of Strangers
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2753
Warnings: none really
Pairing/Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, assorted OCs
Spoilers: All of Season 4
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and I'm not getting any money from this. NOr do I own The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy, from which the prompt came, or A Streetcar Named Desire, from which I took the title.
Author's Note: Written for downfall35 on comment_fic, only it sort of explanded. The prompt was Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. This is what resulted. I don't think it's entirely what was meant, and it's definitely pre-slash rather than slash, but heh.
Summary: Post 4.22, Castiel has fallen (or been pushed) and finds his way across the country hitch-hiking.
When he hits ground zero, Castiel is suddenly overcome with the feeling of pain. It shivers through him, strikes him like lightning, burns his skin. He gasps with the sensation of it, twisting uncomfortably to bring one hand up to his back, to where he once had wings. They are gone, shredded and dissolved in the fall.
He never knew pain could be this immediate, this demanding. Every muscle in his body aches, but he smiles to feel it because he can feel it.
*
He fell in the middle of nowhere, by the side of a road cars barely drive down, but as he looks into the distance, he can see a speck of red against the horizon, slowly growing bigger.
Finally reaching him, the car pulls into the side of the road and a young woman sticks her head out.
“Hey… are you alright?” she asks.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he replies, and she pulls back into the car. She goes to start the car before pausing and looking at him again.
“Do you… where are you heading?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel admits. It is the first time he has had nowhere to go since he was created, he catalogues the feeling that runs through him as joy and the sensation that makes his heart beat a little too fast as anxiety.
“What a coincidence,” the girl says, smiling a little wryly. “We’re heading to the same place.” She sighs and looks up and down the road. “You got anything on you… water or food or anything?”
“No,” Castiel tells her. She seems troubled by something, but he can’t reach out to her any more, can’t tell what is the problem. After a moment of looking back and forth between him and the road, she swears under her breath.
“Got any friends you can call?”
“Yes…” he answers slowly, “but I don’t have a phone… or their number.” Phone numbers, another aspect of life that he will have to become accustomed to.
“Guess you’ve never read survival for dummies, huh?” she asks, before sighing and gesturing to the passenger side door. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this…”
“Doing what?” he asks.
“Get in, idiot,” she says. “Just as long as you’re not going to rape and kill me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah… well, maybe I’m a bigger idiot than you for believing you.” He opens the door and slides in, The seat is comfortable, although the pressure against his skin makes the pain increase. “But the state you’re in now you probably wouldn’t last another five minutes. Just call me the Good Samaritan.”
She twists the ignition and guns the engine before pulling out again.
“I’m Lisa,” she tells him. “So, what happened to you anyway? You look like you’ve been run over by a bus or something.”
Castiel contemplates telling her a lie, but he cannot think of anything convincing so instead he tells her the truth.
“I fell.”
Lisa laughs, a harsh breaking laugh.
“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before,” she tells him, “even told it myself a few times. But…” she trails off before shaking her head, “I don’t even want to know.” Her fingers tap against the steering wheel and her eyes don’t leave the road.
“Why am I even doing this?” she asks, half a minute later.
“Because you are a good person,” Castiel responds immediately, and Lisa laughs again, her voice cracking a little.
“Yeah, right.”
*
Lisa leaves him in a small town with an admonishment to get out of it while he can. It’s what she’s doing, she tells him. She’s going and she’s not looking back.
He wishes her luck, and watches as she pulls away again. She was right - she doesn’t look back.
She gave him some food and drink and he settles down beside the road to plan what he is going to do next. Find the Winchesters seems his best bet, but that is easier said than done. The simplest course of action would be to travel to Bobby Singer’s home and wait there for him, if he is welcome.
By the time the truck pulls up beside him, Castiel is no longer hungry and feels less overwhelmed by it all, although his body is still filled with pain.
He climbs up into the passenger seat, and this time, when he is asked where he is going, he has an answer.
*
“So, what’s your name?” the man asks, offering him a cigarette from the packet. Castiel waves them away.
Castiel doesn’t reply. A name, he needs a name. Angels are named for their purpose and their God. Uriel - the fire of God, Lucifer - the light bringer, Zechariah - God has remembered. Now he has no purpose and has fallen from God’s favour.
“Cas,” he says. It is the only thing he can think of on the spur of the moment. Perhaps he will keep it, perhaps he will find a new one. Either way it is his choice.
“Don’t smoke, huh? Got the right idea. These things’ll kill you. But we’ve all got to go some day, haven’t we?” The driver chuckles to himself before tucking the box back into his jacket.
“Don’t talk much, do you?” the man says again, “don’t worry about it. You look like you’ve had a shit day… I know the feeling.”
Castiel doubts that he does, but somewhere inside him something eases, loosening a little.
“It has been… tiring,” he admits, feeling a wave of exhaustion. The man laughs with a nod, as though he understands completely although they have never met. This is part of what it must be to be human, Castiel thinks, the sense of camaraderie.
“Tell me about it,” the man says. Castiel doesn’t, but he smiles anyway as the world flies past the window.
*
Two towns over and he is dropped off again, the man handing him a couple of bills when he slides out of the truck.
“What the hell,” the driver mutters with a grin, “you can’t take it with you.”
*
The next people to pick him up are a couple. The woman’s lips are pursed together and she refuses to look Castiel in the eye, while the man keeps up the conversation with an edge of forced jollity.
They pull over to a rest stop and when Castiel returns from relieving his bladder of the uncomfortable sensation of being full, he overhears the pair arguing.
“You can’t just pick people up off the side of the road,” the woman hisses at the man. “Just drive, Howard. Leave him here, someone else will take him the rest of the way.”
“We can’t just abandon the guy, Fi. I said we’d take him to South Dakota, so we’re taking him to South Dakota.”
“He could be anyone,” Fi says.
“The guy looks like someone beat him up and left him in the middle of nowhere. I think he’s been through enough.”
“And what about the people who did that to him?” the woman asks. “What if they come after us.”
“They won’t,” Castiel assures her, taking a step forward. When he speaks, Fiona jumps and blushes a furious red. “They are… done with me.”
He feels empty and alone all of a sudden, like he’s never felt before. It’s as though he’s in the middle of an ocean and the shore in the distance isn’t getting any closer.
“I… I’m sorry,” she mutters, “I didn’t mean. It’s just…”
“I understand,” Castiel assures her. “You’re afraid for your safety. You should leave me here. I will find my own way.”
“We couldn’t possibly…” Howard says, but there is a sense of relief in his tone.
“You’ve already done enough,” the former angel says. “Thank you.” Surprisingly, he finds he means it, gratitude swirling inside of him like a tangible thing, like he could reach inside himself and pull it out to examine it.
They do not need much more persuading, although Howard buys him a slice of pie and gives a rushed apology before they pull out onto the road again, leaving Castiel to sit on an upturned crate, staring out at the world.
Cars speed by, their lights coming on as the evening draws on and the sun disappears behind the horizon. It begins to get cold, and he can feel it in a way he’s never really felt before, seeping into him, deep under the surface, rather than the superficial way he has always acknowledged its existence before.
In the dark his human eyes can’t see as well, just the lights flashing past, white to red as they go by.
Night falls, and he yawns, looking up at the stars, remembering a time when he could count them, and catalogue them and knew all their names in every language.
They are more beautiful now.
His eyes are heavy, drooping, and he falls asleep.
*
He is shaken awake to hear the sound of hushed voices.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“That would be awesome.”
“Of course he’s not dead, you moron, he’s still breathing,”
“And that wouldn’t be cool…”
When Castiel opens his eyes, the glare of the sun is brilliant, and he has to squint away from it. Silhouetted in the early morning shine is a girl with bleach blonde hair and a heavily made up face, as though she’s trying to look older than she is.
Behind her are two guys and another girl, all of them are staring at him.
“He’s not dead,” one of the boys says, almost with regret, earning him an elbow from the girl standing next to him.
“Uh… dude, are you okay?” the other boy asks, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose.
“Did you sleep here last night?” the girl who woke him up asks.
Castiel pulls himself upright, wincing at the pain that still lingers from before and the new aches from sleeping on the ground.
“Yes.”
“Are you homeless or something?” One of the boys asks, though, now he’s not looking at them Castiel can’t tell which one. He considers the question for a second.
“Probably,” he has to admit.
“Bummer.” The boy replies.
“God, you’re an asshole, Rich,” the blonde girl says. “Look, sir. Can we give you a lift anywhere?”
“You can’t ask him to come with us, Amber!” hisses the other girl. “You don’t even know who he is.”
“We can’t just leave him here,” Amber replies. “Anyway, look at him - the guy can barely sit up, I doubt’ he’s going to go all psycho serial killer on us.”
Being spoken about as though he wasn’t there never used to bother him, but now he feels uncomfortable, and pulls himself to his feet as well as he can, trying to ignore Amber’s helping hands as they balance him. The sting he feels he recognises - pride, a sin.
“I am…” Amber’s hand brushes against a spot on his side and pain floods through him. The word ‘fine’ is swallowed up by a hiss of agony, and he reminds himself that humility is a virtue and pride must be overcome. “I would appreciate your help,” he admits.
“What happened to you, dude?” one of the young men inquires - not Rich, the other one, Castiel’s ears are becoming more used to the nuances of normal hearing.
“I…” he considers telling them he fell, but after Lisa’s response, he doubts that they will believe him. “I lost my home… and my family, and I need to find my…” he searches for the word that he can use before finally settling on one that doesn’t quite cover it, but fits as well as any in this minuscule language. “My friends.” As soon as he uses the word, though, it feels right.
“There… happy now? So I’m going to help him. I don’t care about you lot.” Amber helps him to limp towards the car, and the others follow behind.
“Sorry…” Rich mutters, and the word is echoed by the other two.
*
Pete - the other guy - drives a lot like Dean, fast, but constantly aware of the rest of the world. He doesn’t have the same connection with the car that Dean does, but Castiel thinks that maybe that might come with time.
Amber’s asked him some questions about his friends, and in return the four of them have told him about themselves. Amber and Pete are brother and sister and Maggie - the other girl, lives next door. Rich owns the car, but drove yesterday, and the four of them are doing the ‘road trip thing’ before they have to start thinking about college.
Most of what they say means little to him, there are arguments about music and people he has never met, but there is a feeling of connectedness in the small vehicle that reminds him of heaven and also of another car.
Pete switches on the radio and music floods the car while the others yell that it’s too loud or moan that they hate the song. He doesn’t change it and, despite her protests, even Maggie is humming along with the chorus by the end.
When they drop him off in South Dakota after taking photographs of him with their phones, he feels alone again. Amber kisses him lightly on the cheek to strange whistles from Rich and a grimace from her brother, before running round to take her turn at the wheel.
The last thing he hears before they pull away is Maggie saying, a little wistfully, that she might miss him.
It feels a little strange when he realises that he is going to miss them too.
He pays for food with the remains of the money the truck driver gave him, and sets out to walk along the road again. He is close to his destination, and though his legs are still aching, and the novelty of the pain has worn off, he feels more hopeful than he has in a while.
After walking a couple of miles along the road, he hears an engine coming up behind him and he turns to face it, holding his thumb out in the way the truck driver told him to. He feels a little sad that he had not got the man’s name.
The car pulls up to a stop right next to him, and Castiel is about to speak when a familiar voice beats him to it.
“Cas?”
Sam Winchester sticks his head out of the passenger window, and Dean’s leaning over him to get a good look. It is not their car, but Castiel remembers that that was left behind with Bobby when Zachariah dragged Dean into the green room, which explains why he didn’t recognise them earlier.
Castiel feels like laughing when he sees their startled expressions, and Sam opens the door hurriedly.
“Cas, are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” He isn’t even lying. Dean is out of the car suddenly too, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him up and down.
“You made it…” the older Winchester breathes, like he can’t believe his eyes.
“Yes and no,” Castiel understands the amazement now, the astonishment that Castiel survived the wrath of heaven rising up against him. “I’m not as I was.”
“You’re not…” Dean says, reaching up to touch what must be bruise on his face.
“You fell…” Sam says, getting to the punch line more quickly than his brother. With trepidation, Castiel watches Dean’s eyes widen as he nods.
“Yes.”
“Dude… are you… okay? Did they… We’ll get your grace back, Cas.”
“I…” he takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky, blue where before there had been scattered stars. “I am not sure that I want it back.”
Neither of the brothers knows what to say to that, so they just bundle him into the car and drive off again, heading for Bobby’s. Dean keeps checking up on him in the rear view mirror, and every time their eyes catch Castiel feels that sense of belonging once more.
“Cas…” Dean says after a few minutes have gone by.
“Yes Dean,”
“You’ve got lipstick on your cheek.” After a second, Castiel lifts his hand up to wipe where Amber had kissed him earlier, and he can feel his face heat up. This, he supposes, is embarrassment. “What the hell have you been up to?”
Before replying, he pauses a moment, thinking of the best way to describe it all.
“I took the long way round.”
-
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2753
Warnings: none really
Pairing/Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, assorted OCs
Spoilers: All of Season 4
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and I'm not getting any money from this. NOr do I own The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy, from which the prompt came, or A Streetcar Named Desire, from which I took the title.
Author's Note: Written for downfall35 on comment_fic, only it sort of explanded. The prompt was Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. This is what resulted. I don't think it's entirely what was meant, and it's definitely pre-slash rather than slash, but heh.
Summary: Post 4.22, Castiel has fallen (or been pushed) and finds his way across the country hitch-hiking.
When he hits ground zero, Castiel is suddenly overcome with the feeling of pain. It shivers through him, strikes him like lightning, burns his skin. He gasps with the sensation of it, twisting uncomfortably to bring one hand up to his back, to where he once had wings. They are gone, shredded and dissolved in the fall.
He never knew pain could be this immediate, this demanding. Every muscle in his body aches, but he smiles to feel it because he can feel it.
*
He fell in the middle of nowhere, by the side of a road cars barely drive down, but as he looks into the distance, he can see a speck of red against the horizon, slowly growing bigger.
Finally reaching him, the car pulls into the side of the road and a young woman sticks her head out.
“Hey… are you alright?” she asks.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he replies, and she pulls back into the car. She goes to start the car before pausing and looking at him again.
“Do you… where are you heading?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel admits. It is the first time he has had nowhere to go since he was created, he catalogues the feeling that runs through him as joy and the sensation that makes his heart beat a little too fast as anxiety.
“What a coincidence,” the girl says, smiling a little wryly. “We’re heading to the same place.” She sighs and looks up and down the road. “You got anything on you… water or food or anything?”
“No,” Castiel tells her. She seems troubled by something, but he can’t reach out to her any more, can’t tell what is the problem. After a moment of looking back and forth between him and the road, she swears under her breath.
“Got any friends you can call?”
“Yes…” he answers slowly, “but I don’t have a phone… or their number.” Phone numbers, another aspect of life that he will have to become accustomed to.
“Guess you’ve never read survival for dummies, huh?” she asks, before sighing and gesturing to the passenger side door. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this…”
“Doing what?” he asks.
“Get in, idiot,” she says. “Just as long as you’re not going to rape and kill me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah… well, maybe I’m a bigger idiot than you for believing you.” He opens the door and slides in, The seat is comfortable, although the pressure against his skin makes the pain increase. “But the state you’re in now you probably wouldn’t last another five minutes. Just call me the Good Samaritan.”
She twists the ignition and guns the engine before pulling out again.
“I’m Lisa,” she tells him. “So, what happened to you anyway? You look like you’ve been run over by a bus or something.”
Castiel contemplates telling her a lie, but he cannot think of anything convincing so instead he tells her the truth.
“I fell.”
Lisa laughs, a harsh breaking laugh.
“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before,” she tells him, “even told it myself a few times. But…” she trails off before shaking her head, “I don’t even want to know.” Her fingers tap against the steering wheel and her eyes don’t leave the road.
“Why am I even doing this?” she asks, half a minute later.
“Because you are a good person,” Castiel responds immediately, and Lisa laughs again, her voice cracking a little.
“Yeah, right.”
*
Lisa leaves him in a small town with an admonishment to get out of it while he can. It’s what she’s doing, she tells him. She’s going and she’s not looking back.
He wishes her luck, and watches as she pulls away again. She was right - she doesn’t look back.
She gave him some food and drink and he settles down beside the road to plan what he is going to do next. Find the Winchesters seems his best bet, but that is easier said than done. The simplest course of action would be to travel to Bobby Singer’s home and wait there for him, if he is welcome.
By the time the truck pulls up beside him, Castiel is no longer hungry and feels less overwhelmed by it all, although his body is still filled with pain.
He climbs up into the passenger seat, and this time, when he is asked where he is going, he has an answer.
*
“So, what’s your name?” the man asks, offering him a cigarette from the packet. Castiel waves them away.
Castiel doesn’t reply. A name, he needs a name. Angels are named for their purpose and their God. Uriel - the fire of God, Lucifer - the light bringer, Zechariah - God has remembered. Now he has no purpose and has fallen from God’s favour.
“Cas,” he says. It is the only thing he can think of on the spur of the moment. Perhaps he will keep it, perhaps he will find a new one. Either way it is his choice.
“Don’t smoke, huh? Got the right idea. These things’ll kill you. But we’ve all got to go some day, haven’t we?” The driver chuckles to himself before tucking the box back into his jacket.
“Don’t talk much, do you?” the man says again, “don’t worry about it. You look like you’ve had a shit day… I know the feeling.”
Castiel doubts that he does, but somewhere inside him something eases, loosening a little.
“It has been… tiring,” he admits, feeling a wave of exhaustion. The man laughs with a nod, as though he understands completely although they have never met. This is part of what it must be to be human, Castiel thinks, the sense of camaraderie.
“Tell me about it,” the man says. Castiel doesn’t, but he smiles anyway as the world flies past the window.
*
Two towns over and he is dropped off again, the man handing him a couple of bills when he slides out of the truck.
“What the hell,” the driver mutters with a grin, “you can’t take it with you.”
*
The next people to pick him up are a couple. The woman’s lips are pursed together and she refuses to look Castiel in the eye, while the man keeps up the conversation with an edge of forced jollity.
They pull over to a rest stop and when Castiel returns from relieving his bladder of the uncomfortable sensation of being full, he overhears the pair arguing.
“You can’t just pick people up off the side of the road,” the woman hisses at the man. “Just drive, Howard. Leave him here, someone else will take him the rest of the way.”
“We can’t just abandon the guy, Fi. I said we’d take him to South Dakota, so we’re taking him to South Dakota.”
“He could be anyone,” Fi says.
“The guy looks like someone beat him up and left him in the middle of nowhere. I think he’s been through enough.”
“And what about the people who did that to him?” the woman asks. “What if they come after us.”
“They won’t,” Castiel assures her, taking a step forward. When he speaks, Fiona jumps and blushes a furious red. “They are… done with me.”
He feels empty and alone all of a sudden, like he’s never felt before. It’s as though he’s in the middle of an ocean and the shore in the distance isn’t getting any closer.
“I… I’m sorry,” she mutters, “I didn’t mean. It’s just…”
“I understand,” Castiel assures her. “You’re afraid for your safety. You should leave me here. I will find my own way.”
“We couldn’t possibly…” Howard says, but there is a sense of relief in his tone.
“You’ve already done enough,” the former angel says. “Thank you.” Surprisingly, he finds he means it, gratitude swirling inside of him like a tangible thing, like he could reach inside himself and pull it out to examine it.
They do not need much more persuading, although Howard buys him a slice of pie and gives a rushed apology before they pull out onto the road again, leaving Castiel to sit on an upturned crate, staring out at the world.
Cars speed by, their lights coming on as the evening draws on and the sun disappears behind the horizon. It begins to get cold, and he can feel it in a way he’s never really felt before, seeping into him, deep under the surface, rather than the superficial way he has always acknowledged its existence before.
In the dark his human eyes can’t see as well, just the lights flashing past, white to red as they go by.
Night falls, and he yawns, looking up at the stars, remembering a time when he could count them, and catalogue them and knew all their names in every language.
They are more beautiful now.
His eyes are heavy, drooping, and he falls asleep.
*
He is shaken awake to hear the sound of hushed voices.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“That would be awesome.”
“Of course he’s not dead, you moron, he’s still breathing,”
“And that wouldn’t be cool…”
When Castiel opens his eyes, the glare of the sun is brilliant, and he has to squint away from it. Silhouetted in the early morning shine is a girl with bleach blonde hair and a heavily made up face, as though she’s trying to look older than she is.
Behind her are two guys and another girl, all of them are staring at him.
“He’s not dead,” one of the boys says, almost with regret, earning him an elbow from the girl standing next to him.
“Uh… dude, are you okay?” the other boy asks, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose.
“Did you sleep here last night?” the girl who woke him up asks.
Castiel pulls himself upright, wincing at the pain that still lingers from before and the new aches from sleeping on the ground.
“Yes.”
“Are you homeless or something?” One of the boys asks, though, now he’s not looking at them Castiel can’t tell which one. He considers the question for a second.
“Probably,” he has to admit.
“Bummer.” The boy replies.
“God, you’re an asshole, Rich,” the blonde girl says. “Look, sir. Can we give you a lift anywhere?”
“You can’t ask him to come with us, Amber!” hisses the other girl. “You don’t even know who he is.”
“We can’t just leave him here,” Amber replies. “Anyway, look at him - the guy can barely sit up, I doubt’ he’s going to go all psycho serial killer on us.”
Being spoken about as though he wasn’t there never used to bother him, but now he feels uncomfortable, and pulls himself to his feet as well as he can, trying to ignore Amber’s helping hands as they balance him. The sting he feels he recognises - pride, a sin.
“I am…” Amber’s hand brushes against a spot on his side and pain floods through him. The word ‘fine’ is swallowed up by a hiss of agony, and he reminds himself that humility is a virtue and pride must be overcome. “I would appreciate your help,” he admits.
“What happened to you, dude?” one of the young men inquires - not Rich, the other one, Castiel’s ears are becoming more used to the nuances of normal hearing.
“I…” he considers telling them he fell, but after Lisa’s response, he doubts that they will believe him. “I lost my home… and my family, and I need to find my…” he searches for the word that he can use before finally settling on one that doesn’t quite cover it, but fits as well as any in this minuscule language. “My friends.” As soon as he uses the word, though, it feels right.
“There… happy now? So I’m going to help him. I don’t care about you lot.” Amber helps him to limp towards the car, and the others follow behind.
“Sorry…” Rich mutters, and the word is echoed by the other two.
*
Pete - the other guy - drives a lot like Dean, fast, but constantly aware of the rest of the world. He doesn’t have the same connection with the car that Dean does, but Castiel thinks that maybe that might come with time.
Amber’s asked him some questions about his friends, and in return the four of them have told him about themselves. Amber and Pete are brother and sister and Maggie - the other girl, lives next door. Rich owns the car, but drove yesterday, and the four of them are doing the ‘road trip thing’ before they have to start thinking about college.
Most of what they say means little to him, there are arguments about music and people he has never met, but there is a feeling of connectedness in the small vehicle that reminds him of heaven and also of another car.
Pete switches on the radio and music floods the car while the others yell that it’s too loud or moan that they hate the song. He doesn’t change it and, despite her protests, even Maggie is humming along with the chorus by the end.
When they drop him off in South Dakota after taking photographs of him with their phones, he feels alone again. Amber kisses him lightly on the cheek to strange whistles from Rich and a grimace from her brother, before running round to take her turn at the wheel.
The last thing he hears before they pull away is Maggie saying, a little wistfully, that she might miss him.
It feels a little strange when he realises that he is going to miss them too.
He pays for food with the remains of the money the truck driver gave him, and sets out to walk along the road again. He is close to his destination, and though his legs are still aching, and the novelty of the pain has worn off, he feels more hopeful than he has in a while.
After walking a couple of miles along the road, he hears an engine coming up behind him and he turns to face it, holding his thumb out in the way the truck driver told him to. He feels a little sad that he had not got the man’s name.
The car pulls up to a stop right next to him, and Castiel is about to speak when a familiar voice beats him to it.
“Cas?”
Sam Winchester sticks his head out of the passenger window, and Dean’s leaning over him to get a good look. It is not their car, but Castiel remembers that that was left behind with Bobby when Zachariah dragged Dean into the green room, which explains why he didn’t recognise them earlier.
Castiel feels like laughing when he sees their startled expressions, and Sam opens the door hurriedly.
“Cas, are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” He isn’t even lying. Dean is out of the car suddenly too, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him up and down.
“You made it…” the older Winchester breathes, like he can’t believe his eyes.
“Yes and no,” Castiel understands the amazement now, the astonishment that Castiel survived the wrath of heaven rising up against him. “I’m not as I was.”
“You’re not…” Dean says, reaching up to touch what must be bruise on his face.
“You fell…” Sam says, getting to the punch line more quickly than his brother. With trepidation, Castiel watches Dean’s eyes widen as he nods.
“Yes.”
“Dude… are you… okay? Did they… We’ll get your grace back, Cas.”
“I…” he takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky, blue where before there had been scattered stars. “I am not sure that I want it back.”
Neither of the brothers knows what to say to that, so they just bundle him into the car and drive off again, heading for Bobby’s. Dean keeps checking up on him in the rear view mirror, and every time their eyes catch Castiel feels that sense of belonging once more.
“Cas…” Dean says after a few minutes have gone by.
“Yes Dean,”
“You’ve got lipstick on your cheek.” After a second, Castiel lifts his hand up to wipe where Amber had kissed him earlier, and he can feel his face heat up. This, he supposes, is embarrassment. “What the hell have you been up to?”
Before replying, he pauses a moment, thinking of the best way to describe it all.
“I took the long way round.”
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