Supernatural fic: Human Conditioning
Title: Human Conditioning
Spoilers: Seasons 1-5, especially the early episodes of season 5
Cross Posted: Red/Second SFF
Summary/time line: This is a kind of reshuffling of 5.01, 5.02, and 5.03. In Human Conditioning Castiel has recognized Dean's amulet and begun his crusade in earnest against the backdrop of Bobby's recent paralysis and Castiel's fading powers (which are going more quickly than in the series).
* * *
Castiel had not understood humans' inclination for sleep. He respected Dean's requests for sleep but with impatience. As benevolent spirits, angels did not require sleep. Indeed, Heaven did not include sleep in any way except in the realm of reenactment of people's fondest memories. One member of Heaven was famous for the fact that all his fondest memories were dreams and, thus, he spent all his time asleep twitching and mumbling contently.
However, now, as Castiel walked alongside a collection of tired humans trudging to their homes after a day of work he felt he sympathized. Jimmy's body-his eyelids, his head, his arms, his shoulders, his feet-felt heavy.
Castiel felt nearly dormant inside Jimmy. His wings felt far away. His Grace felt far away. Heaven felt far away. He felt dim; glittery instead of radiant.
Jimmy's body was walking on autopilot, on human instinct, so when Jimmy's feet slowed unexpectedly to a stop Castiel straightened from his slump. He was trying to coax Jimmy's legs into motion again when he noticed Jimmy's body was being acted upon.
Jimmy's head was filling, his nose burning, face bunching, and his lungs seizing from application of an unknown outside force. The experience was like the wind rearranging Jimmy's hair, but terrifying because it was unforeseen.
Castiel needed Dean.
Castiel fumbled his cell phone open and pressed Dean's number, which he had memorized, into the number pad. The line was ringing.
However, Castiel did not think Jimmy would last. Jimmy's nerve endings were shrieking with determined stimulation. Jimmy was going to explode with Castiel inside him. It was all over.
“Huuuhh-hk-gkSSSCH'huu!”
“Hey, Cas.”
Castiel gazed at his phone on the pavement where he had dropped it when...whatever that was happened. Dean was on the line. He was hearing Dean when he thought he would not hear him again. Castiel was still alive. He lifted Jimmy's hand. Moved Jimmy's leg. Everything still seemed to be working. In fact, Castiel felt a curious sense of euphoria.
“Cas? Are you okay?”
“Dean?” Castiel said, picking up his phone.
“Cas?” Dean replied.
“Dean,” Cas repeated.
“Cas, you called me, remember?”
* * *
“Oh,” Castiel said, “I had an exp-ehh...” Castiel felt Jimmy's nose twinge. Felt his control waver and bend to the will of the outside force tampering with Jimmy's body. The panic welled up again.
“Something ihh-is happe-ehh-ning to m-m-eeh.” And then it was happening. The explosion. The “hhuehh-ng'gktSSSH'Uu!” that made fellow pedestrians give Castiel a wider berth.
“God bless you, Cas,” Dean said.
Castiel blinked to clear his head. “Thank you, Dean.”
He wasn't sure why Dean was suddenly so receptive to the idea of God helping him. And then Castiel thought he did. Perhaps Dean knew his secret. Perhaps Dean knew that Castiel was wasting away, losing his powers, and, thus, his use. Perhaps Dean knew that one of the driving reasons behind Castiel's crusade for God was because Castiel was hoping to recover his slipping powers.
“Cas, you still there?”
Castiel cleared his throat. “Yes. Thank you again, Dean. How did you find out?”
“Find out what?” Dean asked.
“About my powers.”
“What about your powers?”
Castiel felt a shiver of doubt crawl up his spine. “Forget I said anything.”
“Sam and I were wondering if you could come and take a look at Bobby,” Dean said. “The sooner we get him walking the better. The man has fallen into some pothole of Hell on earth.” Dean's voice tightened on the word “Hell.”
Castiel had felt himself involuntarily brighten as Dean talked, but he felt reluctant to meet Dean. Castiel was busy. And tired.
Dean felt Castiel's reluctance. “Cas, come on. What more important things have you got to do?”
“I am looking for God, Dean,” Castiel said tiredly. “I have got a possible lead to meet.”
“Come see Bobby and then see your lead,” Dean replied, organizing Castiel's time as if it was his own, but then he added, “please, Cas. I'm really worried about Bobby. He won't speak.” Dean paused. “I don't know what we'd do without him.”
Still Castiel withheld his agreement. Dean made it sound simple. “Dean, I cannot.” Castiel frowned. “I am tired.”
“Tired?” Dean said. “Get yourself a cup of coffee and then zap your angel butt over to the hospital.”
“Dean,” Castiel began patiently, “I am not sure I have the energy to 'zap my butt over.' I am currently walking to see a possible lead to God.”
“Where are you?” Dean asked after a moment of silence.
“I am on my way to see a lead, Dean,” Castiel repeated. “The lead lives on route to the hospital. It should not take long to talk to him. I will see you and Bobby after.”
“What street are you on?”
Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge of Jimmy's nose. “Dunne Street.” And then a fierce, involuntary, internal pinch flared Jimmy's nose and Jimmy's head bobbed forward. “H'hup-nkSSCH'uu!” Pedestrians skittered away from proximity with Castiel.
“Cas, are you okay? I've never heard an angel sneeze before.”
Castiel paused. “What is a sneeze?”
Dean chuckled. “A sneeze is a burst of air through your mouth and nose. You sneezed a minute ago, which, by the way, God bless you.”
“Clearly a sneeze is difficult to explain without experiencing the phenomenon,” Castiel replied. “Why do you keep saying 'God bless you?'”
“It's what people say after someone sneezes. It's good manners.” Castiel hears a rustle of fabric. “Cas, sit tight. Sam and I are coming to get you, okay.”
* * *
Castiel was puzzling how to “sit tight” while he waited for Dean and Sam when Jimmy's pocket buzzed. Castiel thumbed the mute cellphone open and held it to his ear with a flat and precise “hello Bobby.”
“Hello, angel boy.” Bobby's voice growled down the phone line. “I was wondering when you might find a moment to fix my legs?”
“I...I am...” Castiel closed Jimmy's eyes. “Not right now.”
“Well, why the hell not?” Bobby asked. “I'm in the hospital. In a wheelchair. Never to walk again, they say. But I need my legs! And I certainly would enjoy being free of this catheter sooner rather than later. So what the hell is keeping you from zapping yourself into my room to fix my goddamn legs?”
Castiel sighed. “I wish I could. I really do. But...my powers are currently...shakey.”
“You're on the fritz?!” Bobby exclaimed. “Sonofabitch, I want my legs. The Apocalypse is coming. I need my legs.”
“I am truly sorry,” Castiel said.
“I'm sorry too,” Bobby growled, “for wasting my words on you. Sounds like you, your fellow weasels with wings, and the Man Upstairs are all a bunch of idjits. The damn world is falling apart, the Apocalypse is coming, and you, our angel partner, can't do anything to help. I'd say it was nice knowing you.”
The phone line went dead.
Castiel sat heavily on a bus stop bench. “Hmk-SSCCH'u!” People walking by startled and scattered away from Castiel.
* * *
The rumble of the Impala found Castiel twenty minutes later.
“What, no comment about how slow my girl was?” Dean said, as he swung open his car door.
Castiel stood. “I am tired. I suppose your car is better than walking to the hospital. I have been walking for thirty two hours now.”
Dean's eyes widened. “No wonder you're tired, Cas.”
“I am sorry, Dean. I was too tired to zap my butt places,” Castiel said, “which has put me behind schedule to see my leads. I can see why humans enjoy their cars.”
“People certainly don't walk for thirty two hours,” Dean agreed. “Your feet must be killing you.”
Castiel looked down at his feet. “Jimmy's feet are sore, but I am certain they are not lethal.”
Dean snorted and smirked. “It's a saying people use.”
“H-huh-hup-k'hkSSSCHh'uu!”
“Woah!” Dean said, holding his arms up like a shield. “I don't want a second shower today, Cas. Cover your nose when you sneeze.”
“I am sorry, Dean.”
“I guess it's okay. You probably didn't know. God ble...”
“Hn-nkSCHH'u!”
“God bless you, Cas.” Dean peered more closely at Castiel. “You actually look really tired.”
“I am sorry. I told you that earlier,” Castiel replied, faintly puzzled. “Have you damaged your head?”
Castiel scrolled through a list of possible reasons for memory loss in humans and asked what he thought was most likely: “Have you been drinking?”
Dean smirked. “You know me too well, Cas.”
“Why are you driving then?”
Dean's smirk fell away. “I haven't been drinking, Cas. Although God knows I've wanted to. Bobby is really a handful right now.”
“I wish God would rectify the situation for you Dean,” Castiel replied.
Dean squinted at him. “I know you do, Cas, but that's why we have you. Bobby's condition isn't special aside from how he came to be handicapped. God isn't going to respond to a common ripple in his pond.”
“Maybe God is currently cut off from the world,” Castiel protested, “maybe he does not know how bad the world is, or what is coming.”
“The world's been a crappy place long before this, Cas. Some people might even say it's been worse.”
Castiel felt himself-and Jimmy-drooping under the combined weight of Dean's words and Bobby's lingering words. Then suddenly the weight was more than just tiredness and world weariness. The heaviness of Jimmy's body grew. Jimmy's limbs felt like they had gained ten pounds each. Castiel felt confused. Then he felt a little scared when the world started blurring and tilting. Jimmy's head started ringing and Jimmy's stomach felt like it was asking for entrance to Jimmy's throat.
Castiel sat heavily on the pavement. His world felt both narrowed and widened. Heaven felt closer even as he felt so alone and trapped within his vessel's body.
That is Castiel felt alone until Dean's hand grasped Castiel's shoulder-as Castiel had done Dean's shoulder when he raised Dean from perdition-and Dean asked Castiel if he was okay. When Castiel did not respond immediately Dean raised Castiel into the Impala with a curse.
* * *
Castiel's first thought when he fluttered Jimmy's eyes open was that now he thought he fully understood why humans liked their sleep. For a while, Castiel had soared beyond earth, beyond Heaven, and had experienced things he had not experienced in actuality. Sleep and its dreams were an escape-a holiday-from life.
Castiel's second thought on waking was that he wished he had not. Life's uncertainties and responsibilities were still there. As was Jimmy's malfunctioning body of which Jimmy's head had developed an uncomfortable degree of tightness while Castiel had slept.
Castiel struggled upright on the Impala's backseat. However, sitting up did not help the situation.
“De-eeh-ean?” Castiel called.
No response was forthcoming, so Castiel asked, “Sam?”
Still no answer. “De-eeh-heeh'ept-gnSHHH'uu!”
“Castiel?”
Castiel stifled the moan rising in his throat from the additional pressure the sneeze had created.
“Sam?” Castiel asked the dark blur of hair in the front seat. “Hu'uuh-mgkSCCH'Uu!”
“Bless you,” Sam replied. “Are you okay? Dean stopped to get some food.”
“Dean likes to eat,” Castiel agreed. He felt awkward around Sam, the star child of Azazel, demon blood junkie, and freer of Lucifer.
“He stopped for you, actually,” Sam said and turned so he is looking at Castiel clearly between the seats. “Dean swears by tomato rice soup to cure a cold.”
Castiel wrinkled his forehead. “I am not cold.”
“We think Jimmy has picked up a bacteria or virus called a cold.”
“I do not remember instructing Jimmy's body to pick up anything called a bacteria or virus.”
“Bacteria and viruses are too small for the human eye to see,” Sam explained. “Humans pick them up inadvertently.”
“Ha-aah-ukSSSHh'u!”
Sam's mouth twitched. “Bless you. Sneezing is one way bacteria and viruses are spread.”
Castiel sighed. “Maybe I should leave,” he suggested. “I seem to be doing a lot of sneezing.”
“It's common to sneeze a lot from a cold,” Sam said, stilling Castiel's arm reaching for the door. “I think you should stay, and I'm pretty sure Dean would agree. He picked you up in the Impala, after all.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “Dean did pick me up. To take me to Bobby.”
“No,” Sam said, “because he was worried about you. You're so into your mission to find God. Then you said you couldn't zap yourself anywhere because you were too tired. So Dean came. To help you. To drive you to where you were going. And then, yeah, maybe after that he would have taken you to Bobby.”
“I am an angel,” Castiel said. “People only tend to think about us when they want action. Currently I am weak and ineffective. I am unable to provide what you, Bobby, and Dean desire me to. Therefore, I am unneeded.”
“That's not true,” Sam said quickly. “Dean certainly cares about you. You took him out of Hell.”
“That was my duty.”
“It's a job Dean and I are both really grateful you did,” Sam replied. “Without you Dean wouldn't be here. Without you I might have fallen entirely prey to Ruby. Without you, Castiel, there would be more evil in the world.”
“No,” Castiel insisted, “The angels are determined to have the Apocalypse, and while their intentions for the Apocalypse, to beat Lucifer soundly, are good much could go wrong with their plan. There could be more evil in the world because of what my brothers, sisters, and I have encouraged and done.”
Castiel paused and then added, “good and evil are a matter of perspective, and often what is evil to one person is good to another. Or one can see some good to come from an evil doing. When one wants something bad enough there is almost always some good to be seen in that doing.”
* * *
Sam opened his mouth to disagree, but Dean opened the Impala's door at the same time and Sam closed his mouth.
“Hey Sam,” Dean said, “Is...”
“Hh'h-hpkSSSH'hu!”
“I guess that answers my question.” Dean looked over the back of his seat. “God bless you, Cas. You're not looking much better. The improvement is that you aren't passed out.”
Dean handed Castiel a large Styrofoam bowl of soup. “Try some of that tomato soup. It's not as good as tomato rice, but the best things in life are usually more hard to come by.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
Dean winced. “Sounds like the tomato soup has come a bit too late.”
Castiel took several bites. He couldn't taste much of anything but he found himself saying, “It's really good, Dean. Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Jimmy's head felt better after finishing the tomato soup, but after Castiel sneezed heavily-“Hh'uhkSCCCH'Uu!”-Sam offered Castiel a thin paper square.
“Bless you. You might want one of these,” Sam suggested.
Castiel accepted the paper square.
“Your nose is running,” Sam said.
Castiel put Jimmy's hand to his nose. The growing familiar shape was still intact although Castiel thought Jimmy's nose felt damp.
“I mean your nose is leaking,” Sam clarified. “People usually produce excess nasal fluid when they are sick. People use these-” Sam held up another thin paper square “-tissues to get rid of the fluid.”
“The soup made your nose run,” Dean explained. “It will take away some of the pressure you're probably feeling in your head.”
Castiel pressed the tissue to Jimmy's nose. “Thank you again for the soup, Dean,” Castiel repeated. He wasn't sure he thought much about the tissue, but Jimmy's head did feel less painfully full.
“No need for more thanks,” Dean said, as he steered the Impala back onto the road. “I don't want to hear you whining and snoring all the way to Florida.”
Castiel looked up. “Florida?” he asked.
“Yup,” Dean said, “Sam and I thought you might enjoy a warmer setting. Maybe you'll even take your trench coat off.”
“There's also a high number of elderly people who have gone missing in the past month from their nursing homes in West Palm Beach,” Sam added.
“You are taking me with you?” Castiel asked.
“Yup, you're stuck with us.” Dean grinned into the rear view mirror.
“I cannot really help you,” Castiel warned.
“That's all right, Cas. You're clearly exhausted. You need a break. And who knows, maybe you'll see God there rubbing sunscreen on his chest.”
“It is...it is more than that, Dean.” Castiel forced the words out of Jimmy's mouth. “I am cut off from Heaven now, so I am losing my powers.”
“So you're not just tired and sick then?” Dean asked.
“No.” Castiel waited for the Impala to pull over, for Dean to kick him out.
But Dean keeps the Impala steady on the road. “That's okay, Cas,” Dean replied. “You can...”
“Hh'ehkSCCHh'uu!”
“God bless you, Cas.” Dean continued, “you can stick with Sam and I.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said. “I can pay my way.”
“Don't worry about that for now.”
“Thank...”
“No more 'thank you's are needed, Cas,” Dean growled.
Castiel acquiesced and found himself slipping into sleep again. He is lulled by Jimmy's full, warm belly, Dean and Sam talking in the front, and the rumble of the Impala on the tarmac.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-5, especially the early episodes of season 5
Cross Posted: Red/Second SFF
Summary/time line: This is a kind of reshuffling of 5.01, 5.02, and 5.03. In Human Conditioning Castiel has recognized Dean's amulet and begun his crusade in earnest against the backdrop of Bobby's recent paralysis and Castiel's fading powers (which are going more quickly than in the series).
* * *
Castiel had not understood humans' inclination for sleep. He respected Dean's requests for sleep but with impatience. As benevolent spirits, angels did not require sleep. Indeed, Heaven did not include sleep in any way except in the realm of reenactment of people's fondest memories. One member of Heaven was famous for the fact that all his fondest memories were dreams and, thus, he spent all his time asleep twitching and mumbling contently.
However, now, as Castiel walked alongside a collection of tired humans trudging to their homes after a day of work he felt he sympathized. Jimmy's body-his eyelids, his head, his arms, his shoulders, his feet-felt heavy.
Castiel felt nearly dormant inside Jimmy. His wings felt far away. His Grace felt far away. Heaven felt far away. He felt dim; glittery instead of radiant.
Jimmy's body was walking on autopilot, on human instinct, so when Jimmy's feet slowed unexpectedly to a stop Castiel straightened from his slump. He was trying to coax Jimmy's legs into motion again when he noticed Jimmy's body was being acted upon.
Jimmy's head was filling, his nose burning, face bunching, and his lungs seizing from application of an unknown outside force. The experience was like the wind rearranging Jimmy's hair, but terrifying because it was unforeseen.
Castiel needed Dean.
Castiel fumbled his cell phone open and pressed Dean's number, which he had memorized, into the number pad. The line was ringing.
However, Castiel did not think Jimmy would last. Jimmy's nerve endings were shrieking with determined stimulation. Jimmy was going to explode with Castiel inside him. It was all over.
“Huuuhh-hk-gkSSSCH'huu!”
“Hey, Cas.”
Castiel gazed at his phone on the pavement where he had dropped it when...whatever that was happened. Dean was on the line. He was hearing Dean when he thought he would not hear him again. Castiel was still alive. He lifted Jimmy's hand. Moved Jimmy's leg. Everything still seemed to be working. In fact, Castiel felt a curious sense of euphoria.
“Cas? Are you okay?”
“Dean?” Castiel said, picking up his phone.
“Cas?” Dean replied.
“Dean,” Cas repeated.
“Cas, you called me, remember?”
* * *
“Oh,” Castiel said, “I had an exp-ehh...” Castiel felt Jimmy's nose twinge. Felt his control waver and bend to the will of the outside force tampering with Jimmy's body. The panic welled up again.
“Something ihh-is happe-ehh-ning to m-m-eeh.” And then it was happening. The explosion. The “hhuehh-ng'gktSSSH'Uu!” that made fellow pedestrians give Castiel a wider berth.
“God bless you, Cas,” Dean said.
Castiel blinked to clear his head. “Thank you, Dean.”
He wasn't sure why Dean was suddenly so receptive to the idea of God helping him. And then Castiel thought he did. Perhaps Dean knew his secret. Perhaps Dean knew that Castiel was wasting away, losing his powers, and, thus, his use. Perhaps Dean knew that one of the driving reasons behind Castiel's crusade for God was because Castiel was hoping to recover his slipping powers.
“Cas, you still there?”
Castiel cleared his throat. “Yes. Thank you again, Dean. How did you find out?”
“Find out what?” Dean asked.
“About my powers.”
“What about your powers?”
Castiel felt a shiver of doubt crawl up his spine. “Forget I said anything.”
“Sam and I were wondering if you could come and take a look at Bobby,” Dean said. “The sooner we get him walking the better. The man has fallen into some pothole of Hell on earth.” Dean's voice tightened on the word “Hell.”
Castiel had felt himself involuntarily brighten as Dean talked, but he felt reluctant to meet Dean. Castiel was busy. And tired.
Dean felt Castiel's reluctance. “Cas, come on. What more important things have you got to do?”
“I am looking for God, Dean,” Castiel said tiredly. “I have got a possible lead to meet.”
“Come see Bobby and then see your lead,” Dean replied, organizing Castiel's time as if it was his own, but then he added, “please, Cas. I'm really worried about Bobby. He won't speak.” Dean paused. “I don't know what we'd do without him.”
Still Castiel withheld his agreement. Dean made it sound simple. “Dean, I cannot.” Castiel frowned. “I am tired.”
“Tired?” Dean said. “Get yourself a cup of coffee and then zap your angel butt over to the hospital.”
“Dean,” Castiel began patiently, “I am not sure I have the energy to 'zap my butt over.' I am currently walking to see a possible lead to God.”
“Where are you?” Dean asked after a moment of silence.
“I am on my way to see a lead, Dean,” Castiel repeated. “The lead lives on route to the hospital. It should not take long to talk to him. I will see you and Bobby after.”
“What street are you on?”
Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge of Jimmy's nose. “Dunne Street.” And then a fierce, involuntary, internal pinch flared Jimmy's nose and Jimmy's head bobbed forward. “H'hup-nkSSCH'uu!” Pedestrians skittered away from proximity with Castiel.
“Cas, are you okay? I've never heard an angel sneeze before.”
Castiel paused. “What is a sneeze?”
Dean chuckled. “A sneeze is a burst of air through your mouth and nose. You sneezed a minute ago, which, by the way, God bless you.”
“Clearly a sneeze is difficult to explain without experiencing the phenomenon,” Castiel replied. “Why do you keep saying 'God bless you?'”
“It's what people say after someone sneezes. It's good manners.” Castiel hears a rustle of fabric. “Cas, sit tight. Sam and I are coming to get you, okay.”
* * *
Castiel was puzzling how to “sit tight” while he waited for Dean and Sam when Jimmy's pocket buzzed. Castiel thumbed the mute cellphone open and held it to his ear with a flat and precise “hello Bobby.”
“Hello, angel boy.” Bobby's voice growled down the phone line. “I was wondering when you might find a moment to fix my legs?”
“I...I am...” Castiel closed Jimmy's eyes. “Not right now.”
“Well, why the hell not?” Bobby asked. “I'm in the hospital. In a wheelchair. Never to walk again, they say. But I need my legs! And I certainly would enjoy being free of this catheter sooner rather than later. So what the hell is keeping you from zapping yourself into my room to fix my goddamn legs?”
Castiel sighed. “I wish I could. I really do. But...my powers are currently...shakey.”
“You're on the fritz?!” Bobby exclaimed. “Sonofabitch, I want my legs. The Apocalypse is coming. I need my legs.”
“I am truly sorry,” Castiel said.
“I'm sorry too,” Bobby growled, “for wasting my words on you. Sounds like you, your fellow weasels with wings, and the Man Upstairs are all a bunch of idjits. The damn world is falling apart, the Apocalypse is coming, and you, our angel partner, can't do anything to help. I'd say it was nice knowing you.”
The phone line went dead.
Castiel sat heavily on a bus stop bench. “Hmk-SSCCH'u!” People walking by startled and scattered away from Castiel.
* * *
The rumble of the Impala found Castiel twenty minutes later.
“What, no comment about how slow my girl was?” Dean said, as he swung open his car door.
Castiel stood. “I am tired. I suppose your car is better than walking to the hospital. I have been walking for thirty two hours now.”
Dean's eyes widened. “No wonder you're tired, Cas.”
“I am sorry, Dean. I was too tired to zap my butt places,” Castiel said, “which has put me behind schedule to see my leads. I can see why humans enjoy their cars.”
“People certainly don't walk for thirty two hours,” Dean agreed. “Your feet must be killing you.”
Castiel looked down at his feet. “Jimmy's feet are sore, but I am certain they are not lethal.”
Dean snorted and smirked. “It's a saying people use.”
“H-huh-hup-k'hkSSSCHh'uu!”
“Woah!” Dean said, holding his arms up like a shield. “I don't want a second shower today, Cas. Cover your nose when you sneeze.”
“I am sorry, Dean.”
“I guess it's okay. You probably didn't know. God ble...”
“Hn-nkSCHH'u!”
“God bless you, Cas.” Dean peered more closely at Castiel. “You actually look really tired.”
“I am sorry. I told you that earlier,” Castiel replied, faintly puzzled. “Have you damaged your head?”
Castiel scrolled through a list of possible reasons for memory loss in humans and asked what he thought was most likely: “Have you been drinking?”
Dean smirked. “You know me too well, Cas.”
“Why are you driving then?”
Dean's smirk fell away. “I haven't been drinking, Cas. Although God knows I've wanted to. Bobby is really a handful right now.”
“I wish God would rectify the situation for you Dean,” Castiel replied.
Dean squinted at him. “I know you do, Cas, but that's why we have you. Bobby's condition isn't special aside from how he came to be handicapped. God isn't going to respond to a common ripple in his pond.”
“Maybe God is currently cut off from the world,” Castiel protested, “maybe he does not know how bad the world is, or what is coming.”
“The world's been a crappy place long before this, Cas. Some people might even say it's been worse.”
Castiel felt himself-and Jimmy-drooping under the combined weight of Dean's words and Bobby's lingering words. Then suddenly the weight was more than just tiredness and world weariness. The heaviness of Jimmy's body grew. Jimmy's limbs felt like they had gained ten pounds each. Castiel felt confused. Then he felt a little scared when the world started blurring and tilting. Jimmy's head started ringing and Jimmy's stomach felt like it was asking for entrance to Jimmy's throat.
Castiel sat heavily on the pavement. His world felt both narrowed and widened. Heaven felt closer even as he felt so alone and trapped within his vessel's body.
That is Castiel felt alone until Dean's hand grasped Castiel's shoulder-as Castiel had done Dean's shoulder when he raised Dean from perdition-and Dean asked Castiel if he was okay. When Castiel did not respond immediately Dean raised Castiel into the Impala with a curse.
* * *
Castiel's first thought when he fluttered Jimmy's eyes open was that now he thought he fully understood why humans liked their sleep. For a while, Castiel had soared beyond earth, beyond Heaven, and had experienced things he had not experienced in actuality. Sleep and its dreams were an escape-a holiday-from life.
Castiel's second thought on waking was that he wished he had not. Life's uncertainties and responsibilities were still there. As was Jimmy's malfunctioning body of which Jimmy's head had developed an uncomfortable degree of tightness while Castiel had slept.
Castiel struggled upright on the Impala's backseat. However, sitting up did not help the situation.
“De-eeh-ean?” Castiel called.
No response was forthcoming, so Castiel asked, “Sam?”
Still no answer. “De-eeh-heeh'ept-gnSHHH'uu!”
“Castiel?”
Castiel stifled the moan rising in his throat from the additional pressure the sneeze had created.
“Sam?” Castiel asked the dark blur of hair in the front seat. “Hu'uuh-mgkSCCH'Uu!”
“Bless you,” Sam replied. “Are you okay? Dean stopped to get some food.”
“Dean likes to eat,” Castiel agreed. He felt awkward around Sam, the star child of Azazel, demon blood junkie, and freer of Lucifer.
“He stopped for you, actually,” Sam said and turned so he is looking at Castiel clearly between the seats. “Dean swears by tomato rice soup to cure a cold.”
Castiel wrinkled his forehead. “I am not cold.”
“We think Jimmy has picked up a bacteria or virus called a cold.”
“I do not remember instructing Jimmy's body to pick up anything called a bacteria or virus.”
“Bacteria and viruses are too small for the human eye to see,” Sam explained. “Humans pick them up inadvertently.”
“Ha-aah-ukSSSHh'u!”
Sam's mouth twitched. “Bless you. Sneezing is one way bacteria and viruses are spread.”
Castiel sighed. “Maybe I should leave,” he suggested. “I seem to be doing a lot of sneezing.”
“It's common to sneeze a lot from a cold,” Sam said, stilling Castiel's arm reaching for the door. “I think you should stay, and I'm pretty sure Dean would agree. He picked you up in the Impala, after all.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “Dean did pick me up. To take me to Bobby.”
“No,” Sam said, “because he was worried about you. You're so into your mission to find God. Then you said you couldn't zap yourself anywhere because you were too tired. So Dean came. To help you. To drive you to where you were going. And then, yeah, maybe after that he would have taken you to Bobby.”
“I am an angel,” Castiel said. “People only tend to think about us when they want action. Currently I am weak and ineffective. I am unable to provide what you, Bobby, and Dean desire me to. Therefore, I am unneeded.”
“That's not true,” Sam said quickly. “Dean certainly cares about you. You took him out of Hell.”
“That was my duty.”
“It's a job Dean and I are both really grateful you did,” Sam replied. “Without you Dean wouldn't be here. Without you I might have fallen entirely prey to Ruby. Without you, Castiel, there would be more evil in the world.”
“No,” Castiel insisted, “The angels are determined to have the Apocalypse, and while their intentions for the Apocalypse, to beat Lucifer soundly, are good much could go wrong with their plan. There could be more evil in the world because of what my brothers, sisters, and I have encouraged and done.”
Castiel paused and then added, “good and evil are a matter of perspective, and often what is evil to one person is good to another. Or one can see some good to come from an evil doing. When one wants something bad enough there is almost always some good to be seen in that doing.”
* * *
Sam opened his mouth to disagree, but Dean opened the Impala's door at the same time and Sam closed his mouth.
“Hey Sam,” Dean said, “Is...”
“Hh'h-hpkSSSH'hu!”
“I guess that answers my question.” Dean looked over the back of his seat. “God bless you, Cas. You're not looking much better. The improvement is that you aren't passed out.”
Dean handed Castiel a large Styrofoam bowl of soup. “Try some of that tomato soup. It's not as good as tomato rice, but the best things in life are usually more hard to come by.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
Dean winced. “Sounds like the tomato soup has come a bit too late.”
Castiel took several bites. He couldn't taste much of anything but he found himself saying, “It's really good, Dean. Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Jimmy's head felt better after finishing the tomato soup, but after Castiel sneezed heavily-“Hh'uhkSCCCH'Uu!”-Sam offered Castiel a thin paper square.
“Bless you. You might want one of these,” Sam suggested.
Castiel accepted the paper square.
“Your nose is running,” Sam said.
Castiel put Jimmy's hand to his nose. The growing familiar shape was still intact although Castiel thought Jimmy's nose felt damp.
“I mean your nose is leaking,” Sam clarified. “People usually produce excess nasal fluid when they are sick. People use these-” Sam held up another thin paper square “-tissues to get rid of the fluid.”
“The soup made your nose run,” Dean explained. “It will take away some of the pressure you're probably feeling in your head.”
Castiel pressed the tissue to Jimmy's nose. “Thank you again for the soup, Dean,” Castiel repeated. He wasn't sure he thought much about the tissue, but Jimmy's head did feel less painfully full.
“No need for more thanks,” Dean said, as he steered the Impala back onto the road. “I don't want to hear you whining and snoring all the way to Florida.”
Castiel looked up. “Florida?” he asked.
“Yup,” Dean said, “Sam and I thought you might enjoy a warmer setting. Maybe you'll even take your trench coat off.”
“There's also a high number of elderly people who have gone missing in the past month from their nursing homes in West Palm Beach,” Sam added.
“You are taking me with you?” Castiel asked.
“Yup, you're stuck with us.” Dean grinned into the rear view mirror.
“I cannot really help you,” Castiel warned.
“That's all right, Cas. You're clearly exhausted. You need a break. And who knows, maybe you'll see God there rubbing sunscreen on his chest.”
“It is...it is more than that, Dean.” Castiel forced the words out of Jimmy's mouth. “I am cut off from Heaven now, so I am losing my powers.”
“So you're not just tired and sick then?” Dean asked.
“No.” Castiel waited for the Impala to pull over, for Dean to kick him out.
But Dean keeps the Impala steady on the road. “That's okay, Cas,” Dean replied. “You can...”
“Hh'ehkSCCHh'uu!”
“God bless you, Cas.” Dean continued, “you can stick with Sam and I.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said. “I can pay my way.”
“Don't worry about that for now.”
“Thank...”
“No more 'thank you's are needed, Cas,” Dean growled.
Castiel acquiesced and found himself slipping into sleep again. He is lulled by Jimmy's full, warm belly, Dean and Sam talking in the front, and the rumble of the Impala on the tarmac.