A Heart That Hurts (Is A Heart That Works) - Chapter 5
On to the next chapter.
Chapter 5
They had stopped by a bookstore in Peoria to get Claire a few books to keep her occupied during the long drive, but otherwise hadn’t taken any breaks from driving, wanting to get as far away from Pontiac and the dead demons as possible.
An hour out from Peoria, Castiel glanced in the rearview mirror and caught sight of tears rolling down her round cheeks.
Castiel had no idea how to respond, and he turned his gaze to Dean in a silent question.
Dean looked up, seeing what Castiel had, and shook his head. “You hungry, Cas?”
“Not especially,” Castiel replied. Then, seeing the quick flash of disapproval on Dean’s face, he amended, “But I will be soon.”
“Claire?” Dean asked. “You up for something to eat?”
There was a sniff from the backseat. “I guess.”
“We’ll find a diner somewhere,” Dean promised. “One that serves pie.”
“Pie?” Claire sounded dubious, and Castiel raised an eyebrow, waiting to see Dean’s reaction. “Why pie?”
Dean threw a quick look over his shoulder at her. “That’s not the right question. The right question is ‘why not pie’?”
That startled a smile out of Claire, and Dean grinned. “I never met a pie I didn’t like, although some are better than others. You got a favorite?”
“Mom-” She stopped abruptly.
“It helps if you talk about them,” Dean said softly. “If you can remember the good things.”
Castiel sat, silent and still, feeling as though if he moved, he would break the moment.
“Mom used to make a peach pie that my dad really liked. It had cream cheese.”
“That sounds like a winner,” Dean replied.
Claire paused before she said, “I could probably make it.”
“We’ll have to give it a try.” Dean turned to Castiel. “What do you think, Cas?”
Castiel cleared his throat. “I think I’d like to try it. I’ve never had pie.”
“Do you-do you remember my dad?”
“I will always remember your father,” Castiel said quietly. “I will always be grateful to him. He loved you very much.”
Claire didn’t respond, and Castiel found it impossible to hazard a look into the backseat to see her face. He was too afraid of what he’d see.
~~~~~
Dean didn’t know that he’d ever been so happy to see Singer’s Salvage Yard. He was well aware that the tension in the car could have been higher during the rest of the drive, but it had been bad enough. Dean had been dealing with victims almost his entire life, but it was different when he already felt a connection.
“Is this where we’re staying?” Claire’s voice was carefully neutral, and Dean recognized the signs of good breeding when he heard it. She was trying not to sound dismayed, and Dean couldn’t blame her, not after seeing the Novaks’ house.
Poor kid. She had gone from solid middle class suburbia to something well below overnight.
“For right now,” Dean replied. “Just until we get our own place.”
“Okay.”
She sounded subdued, and Dean twisted to look at her as soon as he’d parked in front of Bobby’s house. “I know this is weird, but we’re going to keep you safe, and we’re the only ones who can. Everybody around here, me, Cas, Sam, Bobby-we all want to make sure you’re all right.”
Claire nodded silently, and Dean let it go. “Right. Let’s get inside.”
Castiel was as silent as Claire as they followed Dean inside the house, Castiel bringing up the rear in what Dean suspected was a depressed silence.
Bobby and Sam were talking in the kitchen when Dean walked through the house. “Hey, how did it go?” Sam greeted them, referring to Dean’s earlier phone call.
“We didn’t have any trouble on the drive back. Claire, you remember Sam, right? And that’s Bobby.”
“Hi.” Claire sounded reserved, but not sullen, which was definitely an improvement.
“You tired, Claire?” Dean asked. “Hungry?”
She shook her head. “Can I read my book?”
“Sure,” Dean replied. “Bobby, you want to show her where the study is?”
“Of course. Come on, Claire.”
Although she appeared hesitant, she followed Bobby willingly enough. Castiel sat down at the kitchen table next to Sam while Dean grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot. It was old, and it tasted a little burned, but Dean sipped at it anyway. “Okay, Sammy. What’s the deal with the house?” Dean asked
“We’ve got it if we want it. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, decent kitchen and a good sized backyard.”
“Garage?” Dean inquired, sitting down across from his brother.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, two stall. And I’ve got a job.”
Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Already?”
“Bobby knew somebody.” Sam’s dimples flashed in a quick, knowing grin. “Bartending.”
“That works,” Dean acknowledged. “I need to go see Ted tomorrow with the Impala.”
“Who is Ted?” Castiel asked, speaking for the first time.
Dean shrugged. “Friend of Bobby’s who’s a mechanic. He has his own shop.”
“And you’ll be working for him?” Castiel appeared puzzled. “I thought you were going to continue hunting.”
“Ted understands about this sort of thing. Like I said, he’s a friend of Bobby’s.”
“Bobby has many friends,” Castiel observed dryly.
Sam shrugged. “Bobby knows everybody. Anyway, the house is about half-furnished; I figure we can make up the difference with garage sales and thrift stores, maybe do some dumpster diving.”
“Dumpster diving?” Castiel sounded more than a little lost, looking from Sam to Dean as though they could anchor him somehow.
Dean shared a grin with Sam. “Yeah, when you go hunt up perfectly good stuff that other people have thrown away. I’ll take you when we go.”
“I also got Claire enrolled in school,” Sam added. “They should have faxed over her records today.”
Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Great. I guess that means I’ll drive her to school tomorrow when I go see Ted.”
“We’re going to need another vehicle,” Sam pointed out.
Dean shrugged. “We’ll get one. Bobby’ll probably have a loaner.”
Castiel shifted in his chair, and the movement drew Dean’s eyes. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Dean asked, puzzled.
“What can I do?” Castiel leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands hanging loosely between his knees. “I want to do something, Dean. I need a purpose.”
Dean winced at the faint desperation in Cas’ voice, and he tried to think of some reassurance he might offer. He supposed that he was so used to it just being him and Sam that he hadn’t given much thought to where Cas might fit. “We’ll get it figured out, I promise. Right now, though, maybe you could just get used to being human?”
Castiel nodded, rising from his seat abruptly. “Excuse me.”
Dean twisted in his chair to watch Cas leave the room, then turned to find Sam staring at him thoughtfully. “What?”
“The house is going to need wards,” Sam began slowly, his forearms resting on the table.
“And?”
“Maybe you should let Cas do it. He was an angel; he knows that kind of thing.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And maybe you should let him offer,” Sam suggested. “He needs to feel useful, Dean. I get that.”
Dean rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
“There’s something else,” Sam said slowly, his expression showing his reluctance. “I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Cas.”
“Yeah?” Dean rose to rinse his mug out in the sink.
Sam ran a hand through his hair, turning to face him. “It’s a three bedroom house.”
“So?”
“So, Claire should have her own room.”
“That goes without saying.” Dean concentrated on his dirty mug. “We can flip for the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Cas shouldn’t be in a room by himself.” Sam spoke in a rush. “With the nightmares… It’s not a good idea.”
Dean felt himself tense. “Oh, hell no. No way, Sammy.”
“We can’t risk him waking the neighbors-and Claire. She doesn’t need that kind of trauma.”
Dean knew Sam was right, but he felt as though he had to put up at least a token resistance. “No. Absolutely not. I am not sharing a room with Cas.”
“Then I can do it.” The readiness with which Sam offered told Dean just how important he thought it might be. “It wouldn’t be so bad. We can get a couple of extra-long twin beds maybe.”
Dean disliked the thought of Sam sharing a room with Castiel even more than he liked the idea of him sharing a room. Besides, he still remembered how it felt to wake up with Cas’ arm flung across his chest, and Cas hadn’t had nightmares that night.
“I’ll do it,” he said with a show of reluctance, sitting back down at the table. It wouldn’t do for Sam to think he’d given in too easily. “He’s my responsibility, anyway.”
“He doesn’t have to be your burden to bear alone, Dean,” Sam said softly. “I’m here, too, remember?”
Dean felt his back go up inexplicably at that. “Cas isn’t a burden,” he snapped. Seeing the expression on Sam’s face, he amended, “Sorry, but he’s a friend. He’s…”
“I get it.” Sam’s expression was entirely too knowing for Dean’s liking. He hated to think that his brother had sensed how he felt about Castiel-Dean wasn’t even sure he knew how he felt about Cas. “I’m just saying that I’m here if you need me.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to have to teach him how to drive,” Sam said gently. “Technically, he has a driver’s license, but if we have to leave him alone with Claire, he’s going to need to know.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed heavily, thinking of all the things Castiel would need to know.
Sam hesitated before he added, “And how to defend himself and Claire.”
“I know. He did okay in Illinois, but he admitted that was a lucky shot.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, thinking about all the things that Castiel would have to learn.
It was no longer about making Castiel more human; it was about getting him up to speed so he could succeed in the world he was now a part of.
Sam was gazing at him with that wide, earnest expression he usually reserved for victims they were interviewing. “You know I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Dean.”
“I know.” Dean was repeating himself. “It’s just another job, Sam. Just another hunt. We have a goal, and we figure out how to reach it. That’s all.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”
~~~~~
Castiel awoke to the sound of birdsong, and his sore muscles protested as he shifted on his pallet. He rubbed his eyes and slowly levered himself up to a sitting position, seeing the empty couch and second pallet next to him; Dean and Sam were already awake. Sunlight illuminated their discarded blankets, and Castiel spent a moment just watching the dust motes floating in the streams of light.
Heaving himself up off the floor slowly, Castiel made his way to the kitchen. There was still coffee in the pot, and he poured himself a mug.
“I see you finally dragged yourself out of bed.”
The voice startled Castiel enough so that his hand jerked, sloshing coffee out of the mug, onto the floor. He turned to see Sam watching him with an amused smile. “I’m sorry,” Castiel said quickly. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam said gently. “Here. Sit down.”
Sam steered him to a seat at the kitchen table and began to mop up Castiel’s mess; Castiel thought that the Winchesters were perpetually cleaning up his messes.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Really, forget it.” Sam smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”
Castiel shrugged. “Fine. Where’s Dean?”
“He took Claire to school, then was going to stop by Ted’s. I have no idea when he’ll be back.”
Castiel realized that he was facing a day alone, with nothing to do. The prospect was depressing. “Oh. Of course.”
“Bobby said he was going to renew the wards around the property today,” Sam offered. “You could probably help him out.”
Castiel nodded, wanting to be of some kind of use. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Sam replied. “If you didn’t go with him, he’d probably ask me to help out, and I have some errands to run.”
“I want to help,” Castiel insisted.
Sam shrugged. “You asked for it.”
Castiel learned exactly what he’d asked for after lunch. Bobby made sure they both had plenty of water before they took a beat-up car on a slow circuit of the perimeter. Not too far from the entrance of the salvage yard, there was a “No Trespassing” sign posted, with a large boulder positioned near it. Castiel could only assume that it was a boundary marker, but as they got closer, he could see the faded paint.
“Have to renew the markers every so often,” Bobby grunted as he climbed out of the car and grabbed a can of paint from the backseat. “The paint fades.”
It didn’t take long for Castiel to realize that Bobby had brought him along as a courtesy, not because he needed help. Bobby went about repainting the wards without even a glance in Castiel’s direction, and Castiel hid a sigh.
At least Dean talked to him.
Bobby was putting the finishing touches on his ward when Castiel really looked at it for the first time and realized that it was incomplete. For a moment, he hesitated to say anything, not wanting to anger Bobby, but Castiel remembered that Dean and Claire and Sam’s safety might depend on a strong ward, and he cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, but I can make it stronger.”
Bobby looked at him, his narrowed eyes shaded under his battered trucker’s hat. “All right.” He held out the paintbrush.
Castiel stared at the lines and figures for a moment, then began to improve upon the original design. He worked quickly and confidently; this much, at least, had not changed. Castiel had always been one of the best at constructing Devil’s Traps and other sigils.
When he’d finished, Castiel turned to Bobby, who was staring at the newly constructed ward. He finally nodded. “That’s good work,” he said slowly. “I guess that means you’ll be doing the rest. Hop in.”
By the time they’d made it around the perimeter, Castiel was tired, his t-shirt sweat-soaked and dusty. He gratefully downed the glass of water Bobby offered him, then collapsed on the couch.
Castiel closed his eyes-just for a moment. He had every intention of offering his assistance to Bobby for the remainder of the afternoon, but he wanted to pause and catch his breath.
~~~~~
Dean knew the way to the middle school; he’d gone there himself for a few months when Dad had left them with Bobby on a long term hunt. Sam had done the same for a while.
Claire had been silent the entire drive, and Dean had let her be. He wasn’t going to force her to talk to him, and he had no idea what to say.
When they parked in front of the school, Dean said, “I’ll go in with you.”
“Okay.” She kept her eyes on the backpack at her feet, and Dean thought he could detect a thread of anxiety.
“Hey,” Dean said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be the new kid.”
Claire raised her eyes to his, clearly not believing him. “How would you know?”
“We moved around a lot,” Dean replied. “In fact, I went to this very school for a few months.”
Claire’s nose scrunched up. “Just a few months.”
“We moved around a lot,” Dean repeated with a smile. “I’m just saying-if you have any problems, if somebody bothers you, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
“You’ll beat them up?” Claire asked with a small smile.
Dean shrugged. “If I need to.”
“What if-what if someone comes after me, like they came after my mom?” Dean heard the tremor in her voice and saw her lip tremble.
He wished he could tell her not to worry, that no one would mess with her while she was at school, but that was a lie. Dean didn’t want to lie, not when they’d probably be living together, and he’d have to deal with her disappointment when she discovered the truth.
Dean sighed. “Stay away from strangers, and try not to go off by yourself. Do you remember how to tell if someone’s a demon?”
Claire nodded. “You say christo.”
“Exactly.”
Her expression turned fierce. “I want to learn how to kill them.”
Dean froze for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “I’ll teach you how to defend yourself.”
She seemed to accept the compromise. “Okay.”
“Well, okay, then. Let’s get you to school before you’re late, huh?”
Dean walked Claire inside, making a beeline for the office. “Excuse me,” he said to the secretary, giving her his best smile. “This is Claire Novak. She’s starting today.”
The secretary smiled back, her cheeks turning pink. “And you are?”
“Dean Winchester. I’m her uncle.”
“Well, Mr. Winchester, it’s nice to meet you,” the secretary replied. “I’ll have a student assistant take Claire to her first class.” She smiled at him. “And maybe you could give me your phone number? Just in case of an emergency, of course.”
At one point, Dean would have happily exchanged phone numbers, but he had a newly-human angel and a traumatized kid to deal with.
Dean glanced down at Claire, whose bitch face would beat out Sam’s; she was clearly not impressed by the flirting. “Ah, I think you’ve already got an emergency contact number, but thanks for being so thorough.” He looked back at Claire. “I’ll be back to pick you up when school’s out, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Have a great day, kiddo.”
Dean felt a pang leaving her, knowing how tough this was. Still, she had to go to school, and he had to see Ted.
It turned out that Ted was short-handed, and after Ted had admired the Impala and checked out the engine, he offered Dean a job on the spot. By the time three o’clock had rolled around, Dean had finished up a Chevy Cobalt, his shirt streaked with grease.
Dean stuck his head into Ted’s office. “I have to pick up my niece from school. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Ted replied, getting heavily to his feet. He was a short, balding man, but still relatively trim for someone pushing sixty. “Thanks for your help, Dean.”
Dean shrugged. “Hey, good help is hard to find, right?”
“You said it.” Ted came around the desk. “Bobby said you were renting a place for a while.”
“Sure are.”
“I hope you can stick around.”
“Me, too,” Dean replied, a little surprised to find that he meant it.
Claire was waiting outside the school with a crowd of other kids, although she wasn’t talking to anyone. She climbed into the passenger seat without a word.
“How did the day go?” Dean asked finally.
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“We’ll probably be in the new place in a few days.”
“Okay.”
“You can probably paint your room if you want.” Claire looked out the window without responding. “Maybe orange?”
Claire’s head swung around. “Orange?”
Dean shrugged. “You got a better idea? And don’t say pink. I don’t care what you say, I’m not living in a house with pink walls.”
That startled a giggle out of Claire, and Dean glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe yellow?” she suggested.
“I could probably deal with yellow,” he acknowledged. “You gonna be okay?”
Claire went back to staring out the window. “I don’t know.”
“You know, my mom died when I was four,” Dean began. “And I still miss her.”
“What about your dad?” Claire asked.
“He died a few years ago.”
“So, you’re like me.”
“Yeah, but I have Sam,” Dean replied. “And you’ve got me, Sam, and Cas.”
“I remember him, you know.”
Dean frowned. “Remember who?”
“Castiel.” Claire sniffed, blinking rapidly. “I remember how it felt to have him inside me. I said he could, because I wanted to save my dad, and I couldn’t.”
“You mad at him? It’s okay if you are, you know.”
She just shrugged, and by then they were pulling up in front of Bobby’s house. Dean changed the subject. “Sam can help you with your homework if you need.”
Claire shook her head. “It’s mostly reading.”
“Okay, then.”
Dean let her go ahead of him into the house. He was going to follow Claire into the kitchen, but he caught a glimpse of Cas sleeping on the couch and took a detour.
“Oh, hell, Cas,” Dean muttered, staring at Castiel’s sleeping figure. Cas’ face, neck, and arms were bright red; Dean remembered a few times when he or Sam had been that sunburned.
Dean sighed, then shook his head, feeling a fond exasperation and making a mental note to talk to Cas about sun block.
Chapter 5
They had stopped by a bookstore in Peoria to get Claire a few books to keep her occupied during the long drive, but otherwise hadn’t taken any breaks from driving, wanting to get as far away from Pontiac and the dead demons as possible.
An hour out from Peoria, Castiel glanced in the rearview mirror and caught sight of tears rolling down her round cheeks.
Castiel had no idea how to respond, and he turned his gaze to Dean in a silent question.
Dean looked up, seeing what Castiel had, and shook his head. “You hungry, Cas?”
“Not especially,” Castiel replied. Then, seeing the quick flash of disapproval on Dean’s face, he amended, “But I will be soon.”
“Claire?” Dean asked. “You up for something to eat?”
There was a sniff from the backseat. “I guess.”
“We’ll find a diner somewhere,” Dean promised. “One that serves pie.”
“Pie?” Claire sounded dubious, and Castiel raised an eyebrow, waiting to see Dean’s reaction. “Why pie?”
Dean threw a quick look over his shoulder at her. “That’s not the right question. The right question is ‘why not pie’?”
That startled a smile out of Claire, and Dean grinned. “I never met a pie I didn’t like, although some are better than others. You got a favorite?”
“Mom-” She stopped abruptly.
“It helps if you talk about them,” Dean said softly. “If you can remember the good things.”
Castiel sat, silent and still, feeling as though if he moved, he would break the moment.
“Mom used to make a peach pie that my dad really liked. It had cream cheese.”
“That sounds like a winner,” Dean replied.
Claire paused before she said, “I could probably make it.”
“We’ll have to give it a try.” Dean turned to Castiel. “What do you think, Cas?”
Castiel cleared his throat. “I think I’d like to try it. I’ve never had pie.”
“Do you-do you remember my dad?”
“I will always remember your father,” Castiel said quietly. “I will always be grateful to him. He loved you very much.”
Claire didn’t respond, and Castiel found it impossible to hazard a look into the backseat to see her face. He was too afraid of what he’d see.
~~~~~
Dean didn’t know that he’d ever been so happy to see Singer’s Salvage Yard. He was well aware that the tension in the car could have been higher during the rest of the drive, but it had been bad enough. Dean had been dealing with victims almost his entire life, but it was different when he already felt a connection.
“Is this where we’re staying?” Claire’s voice was carefully neutral, and Dean recognized the signs of good breeding when he heard it. She was trying not to sound dismayed, and Dean couldn’t blame her, not after seeing the Novaks’ house.
Poor kid. She had gone from solid middle class suburbia to something well below overnight.
“For right now,” Dean replied. “Just until we get our own place.”
“Okay.”
She sounded subdued, and Dean twisted to look at her as soon as he’d parked in front of Bobby’s house. “I know this is weird, but we’re going to keep you safe, and we’re the only ones who can. Everybody around here, me, Cas, Sam, Bobby-we all want to make sure you’re all right.”
Claire nodded silently, and Dean let it go. “Right. Let’s get inside.”
Castiel was as silent as Claire as they followed Dean inside the house, Castiel bringing up the rear in what Dean suspected was a depressed silence.
Bobby and Sam were talking in the kitchen when Dean walked through the house. “Hey, how did it go?” Sam greeted them, referring to Dean’s earlier phone call.
“We didn’t have any trouble on the drive back. Claire, you remember Sam, right? And that’s Bobby.”
“Hi.” Claire sounded reserved, but not sullen, which was definitely an improvement.
“You tired, Claire?” Dean asked. “Hungry?”
She shook her head. “Can I read my book?”
“Sure,” Dean replied. “Bobby, you want to show her where the study is?”
“Of course. Come on, Claire.”
Although she appeared hesitant, she followed Bobby willingly enough. Castiel sat down at the kitchen table next to Sam while Dean grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot. It was old, and it tasted a little burned, but Dean sipped at it anyway. “Okay, Sammy. What’s the deal with the house?” Dean asked
“We’ve got it if we want it. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, decent kitchen and a good sized backyard.”
“Garage?” Dean inquired, sitting down across from his brother.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, two stall. And I’ve got a job.”
Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Already?”
“Bobby knew somebody.” Sam’s dimples flashed in a quick, knowing grin. “Bartending.”
“That works,” Dean acknowledged. “I need to go see Ted tomorrow with the Impala.”
“Who is Ted?” Castiel asked, speaking for the first time.
Dean shrugged. “Friend of Bobby’s who’s a mechanic. He has his own shop.”
“And you’ll be working for him?” Castiel appeared puzzled. “I thought you were going to continue hunting.”
“Ted understands about this sort of thing. Like I said, he’s a friend of Bobby’s.”
“Bobby has many friends,” Castiel observed dryly.
Sam shrugged. “Bobby knows everybody. Anyway, the house is about half-furnished; I figure we can make up the difference with garage sales and thrift stores, maybe do some dumpster diving.”
“Dumpster diving?” Castiel sounded more than a little lost, looking from Sam to Dean as though they could anchor him somehow.
Dean shared a grin with Sam. “Yeah, when you go hunt up perfectly good stuff that other people have thrown away. I’ll take you when we go.”
“I also got Claire enrolled in school,” Sam added. “They should have faxed over her records today.”
Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Great. I guess that means I’ll drive her to school tomorrow when I go see Ted.”
“We’re going to need another vehicle,” Sam pointed out.
Dean shrugged. “We’ll get one. Bobby’ll probably have a loaner.”
Castiel shifted in his chair, and the movement drew Dean’s eyes. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Dean asked, puzzled.
“What can I do?” Castiel leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands hanging loosely between his knees. “I want to do something, Dean. I need a purpose.”
Dean winced at the faint desperation in Cas’ voice, and he tried to think of some reassurance he might offer. He supposed that he was so used to it just being him and Sam that he hadn’t given much thought to where Cas might fit. “We’ll get it figured out, I promise. Right now, though, maybe you could just get used to being human?”
Castiel nodded, rising from his seat abruptly. “Excuse me.”
Dean twisted in his chair to watch Cas leave the room, then turned to find Sam staring at him thoughtfully. “What?”
“The house is going to need wards,” Sam began slowly, his forearms resting on the table.
“And?”
“Maybe you should let Cas do it. He was an angel; he knows that kind of thing.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And maybe you should let him offer,” Sam suggested. “He needs to feel useful, Dean. I get that.”
Dean rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
“There’s something else,” Sam said slowly, his expression showing his reluctance. “I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Cas.”
“Yeah?” Dean rose to rinse his mug out in the sink.
Sam ran a hand through his hair, turning to face him. “It’s a three bedroom house.”
“So?”
“So, Claire should have her own room.”
“That goes without saying.” Dean concentrated on his dirty mug. “We can flip for the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Cas shouldn’t be in a room by himself.” Sam spoke in a rush. “With the nightmares… It’s not a good idea.”
Dean felt himself tense. “Oh, hell no. No way, Sammy.”
“We can’t risk him waking the neighbors-and Claire. She doesn’t need that kind of trauma.”
Dean knew Sam was right, but he felt as though he had to put up at least a token resistance. “No. Absolutely not. I am not sharing a room with Cas.”
“Then I can do it.” The readiness with which Sam offered told Dean just how important he thought it might be. “It wouldn’t be so bad. We can get a couple of extra-long twin beds maybe.”
Dean disliked the thought of Sam sharing a room with Castiel even more than he liked the idea of him sharing a room. Besides, he still remembered how it felt to wake up with Cas’ arm flung across his chest, and Cas hadn’t had nightmares that night.
“I’ll do it,” he said with a show of reluctance, sitting back down at the table. It wouldn’t do for Sam to think he’d given in too easily. “He’s my responsibility, anyway.”
“He doesn’t have to be your burden to bear alone, Dean,” Sam said softly. “I’m here, too, remember?”
Dean felt his back go up inexplicably at that. “Cas isn’t a burden,” he snapped. Seeing the expression on Sam’s face, he amended, “Sorry, but he’s a friend. He’s…”
“I get it.” Sam’s expression was entirely too knowing for Dean’s liking. He hated to think that his brother had sensed how he felt about Castiel-Dean wasn’t even sure he knew how he felt about Cas. “I’m just saying that I’m here if you need me.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to have to teach him how to drive,” Sam said gently. “Technically, he has a driver’s license, but if we have to leave him alone with Claire, he’s going to need to know.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed heavily, thinking of all the things Castiel would need to know.
Sam hesitated before he added, “And how to defend himself and Claire.”
“I know. He did okay in Illinois, but he admitted that was a lucky shot.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, thinking about all the things that Castiel would have to learn.
It was no longer about making Castiel more human; it was about getting him up to speed so he could succeed in the world he was now a part of.
Sam was gazing at him with that wide, earnest expression he usually reserved for victims they were interviewing. “You know I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Dean.”
“I know.” Dean was repeating himself. “It’s just another job, Sam. Just another hunt. We have a goal, and we figure out how to reach it. That’s all.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”
~~~~~
Castiel awoke to the sound of birdsong, and his sore muscles protested as he shifted on his pallet. He rubbed his eyes and slowly levered himself up to a sitting position, seeing the empty couch and second pallet next to him; Dean and Sam were already awake. Sunlight illuminated their discarded blankets, and Castiel spent a moment just watching the dust motes floating in the streams of light.
Heaving himself up off the floor slowly, Castiel made his way to the kitchen. There was still coffee in the pot, and he poured himself a mug.
“I see you finally dragged yourself out of bed.”
The voice startled Castiel enough so that his hand jerked, sloshing coffee out of the mug, onto the floor. He turned to see Sam watching him with an amused smile. “I’m sorry,” Castiel said quickly. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam said gently. “Here. Sit down.”
Sam steered him to a seat at the kitchen table and began to mop up Castiel’s mess; Castiel thought that the Winchesters were perpetually cleaning up his messes.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Really, forget it.” Sam smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”
Castiel shrugged. “Fine. Where’s Dean?”
“He took Claire to school, then was going to stop by Ted’s. I have no idea when he’ll be back.”
Castiel realized that he was facing a day alone, with nothing to do. The prospect was depressing. “Oh. Of course.”
“Bobby said he was going to renew the wards around the property today,” Sam offered. “You could probably help him out.”
Castiel nodded, wanting to be of some kind of use. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Sam replied. “If you didn’t go with him, he’d probably ask me to help out, and I have some errands to run.”
“I want to help,” Castiel insisted.
Sam shrugged. “You asked for it.”
Castiel learned exactly what he’d asked for after lunch. Bobby made sure they both had plenty of water before they took a beat-up car on a slow circuit of the perimeter. Not too far from the entrance of the salvage yard, there was a “No Trespassing” sign posted, with a large boulder positioned near it. Castiel could only assume that it was a boundary marker, but as they got closer, he could see the faded paint.
“Have to renew the markers every so often,” Bobby grunted as he climbed out of the car and grabbed a can of paint from the backseat. “The paint fades.”
It didn’t take long for Castiel to realize that Bobby had brought him along as a courtesy, not because he needed help. Bobby went about repainting the wards without even a glance in Castiel’s direction, and Castiel hid a sigh.
At least Dean talked to him.
Bobby was putting the finishing touches on his ward when Castiel really looked at it for the first time and realized that it was incomplete. For a moment, he hesitated to say anything, not wanting to anger Bobby, but Castiel remembered that Dean and Claire and Sam’s safety might depend on a strong ward, and he cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, but I can make it stronger.”
Bobby looked at him, his narrowed eyes shaded under his battered trucker’s hat. “All right.” He held out the paintbrush.
Castiel stared at the lines and figures for a moment, then began to improve upon the original design. He worked quickly and confidently; this much, at least, had not changed. Castiel had always been one of the best at constructing Devil’s Traps and other sigils.
When he’d finished, Castiel turned to Bobby, who was staring at the newly constructed ward. He finally nodded. “That’s good work,” he said slowly. “I guess that means you’ll be doing the rest. Hop in.”
By the time they’d made it around the perimeter, Castiel was tired, his t-shirt sweat-soaked and dusty. He gratefully downed the glass of water Bobby offered him, then collapsed on the couch.
Castiel closed his eyes-just for a moment. He had every intention of offering his assistance to Bobby for the remainder of the afternoon, but he wanted to pause and catch his breath.
~~~~~
Dean knew the way to the middle school; he’d gone there himself for a few months when Dad had left them with Bobby on a long term hunt. Sam had done the same for a while.
Claire had been silent the entire drive, and Dean had let her be. He wasn’t going to force her to talk to him, and he had no idea what to say.
When they parked in front of the school, Dean said, “I’ll go in with you.”
“Okay.” She kept her eyes on the backpack at her feet, and Dean thought he could detect a thread of anxiety.
“Hey,” Dean said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be the new kid.”
Claire raised her eyes to his, clearly not believing him. “How would you know?”
“We moved around a lot,” Dean replied. “In fact, I went to this very school for a few months.”
Claire’s nose scrunched up. “Just a few months.”
“We moved around a lot,” Dean repeated with a smile. “I’m just saying-if you have any problems, if somebody bothers you, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
“You’ll beat them up?” Claire asked with a small smile.
Dean shrugged. “If I need to.”
“What if-what if someone comes after me, like they came after my mom?” Dean heard the tremor in her voice and saw her lip tremble.
He wished he could tell her not to worry, that no one would mess with her while she was at school, but that was a lie. Dean didn’t want to lie, not when they’d probably be living together, and he’d have to deal with her disappointment when she discovered the truth.
Dean sighed. “Stay away from strangers, and try not to go off by yourself. Do you remember how to tell if someone’s a demon?”
Claire nodded. “You say christo.”
“Exactly.”
Her expression turned fierce. “I want to learn how to kill them.”
Dean froze for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “I’ll teach you how to defend yourself.”
She seemed to accept the compromise. “Okay.”
“Well, okay, then. Let’s get you to school before you’re late, huh?”
Dean walked Claire inside, making a beeline for the office. “Excuse me,” he said to the secretary, giving her his best smile. “This is Claire Novak. She’s starting today.”
The secretary smiled back, her cheeks turning pink. “And you are?”
“Dean Winchester. I’m her uncle.”
“Well, Mr. Winchester, it’s nice to meet you,” the secretary replied. “I’ll have a student assistant take Claire to her first class.” She smiled at him. “And maybe you could give me your phone number? Just in case of an emergency, of course.”
At one point, Dean would have happily exchanged phone numbers, but he had a newly-human angel and a traumatized kid to deal with.
Dean glanced down at Claire, whose bitch face would beat out Sam’s; she was clearly not impressed by the flirting. “Ah, I think you’ve already got an emergency contact number, but thanks for being so thorough.” He looked back at Claire. “I’ll be back to pick you up when school’s out, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Have a great day, kiddo.”
Dean felt a pang leaving her, knowing how tough this was. Still, she had to go to school, and he had to see Ted.
It turned out that Ted was short-handed, and after Ted had admired the Impala and checked out the engine, he offered Dean a job on the spot. By the time three o’clock had rolled around, Dean had finished up a Chevy Cobalt, his shirt streaked with grease.
Dean stuck his head into Ted’s office. “I have to pick up my niece from school. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Ted replied, getting heavily to his feet. He was a short, balding man, but still relatively trim for someone pushing sixty. “Thanks for your help, Dean.”
Dean shrugged. “Hey, good help is hard to find, right?”
“You said it.” Ted came around the desk. “Bobby said you were renting a place for a while.”
“Sure are.”
“I hope you can stick around.”
“Me, too,” Dean replied, a little surprised to find that he meant it.
Claire was waiting outside the school with a crowd of other kids, although she wasn’t talking to anyone. She climbed into the passenger seat without a word.
“How did the day go?” Dean asked finally.
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“We’ll probably be in the new place in a few days.”
“Okay.”
“You can probably paint your room if you want.” Claire looked out the window without responding. “Maybe orange?”
Claire’s head swung around. “Orange?”
Dean shrugged. “You got a better idea? And don’t say pink. I don’t care what you say, I’m not living in a house with pink walls.”
That startled a giggle out of Claire, and Dean glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe yellow?” she suggested.
“I could probably deal with yellow,” he acknowledged. “You gonna be okay?”
Claire went back to staring out the window. “I don’t know.”
“You know, my mom died when I was four,” Dean began. “And I still miss her.”
“What about your dad?” Claire asked.
“He died a few years ago.”
“So, you’re like me.”
“Yeah, but I have Sam,” Dean replied. “And you’ve got me, Sam, and Cas.”
“I remember him, you know.”
Dean frowned. “Remember who?”
“Castiel.” Claire sniffed, blinking rapidly. “I remember how it felt to have him inside me. I said he could, because I wanted to save my dad, and I couldn’t.”
“You mad at him? It’s okay if you are, you know.”
She just shrugged, and by then they were pulling up in front of Bobby’s house. Dean changed the subject. “Sam can help you with your homework if you need.”
Claire shook her head. “It’s mostly reading.”
“Okay, then.”
Dean let her go ahead of him into the house. He was going to follow Claire into the kitchen, but he caught a glimpse of Cas sleeping on the couch and took a detour.
“Oh, hell, Cas,” Dean muttered, staring at Castiel’s sleeping figure. Cas’ face, neck, and arms were bright red; Dean remembered a few times when he or Sam had been that sunburned.
Dean sighed, then shook his head, feeling a fond exasperation and making a mental note to talk to Cas about sun block.