One man’s roadtrip is an angel’s hell…
Title: One man’s roadtrip is an angel’s hell…(Or the one where Dean fangirls, Sam bitchfaces, and Cas gets a headache…)
Sequel to Surviving a Winchester hunt is no 'small' feat
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: some swearing, crack
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam
Word Count: ~3,700
Summary: Castiel irritably puts up with Sam and Dean's bickering as they search for a way to reverse the witch's spell affecting the angel...
A/N: this is a sequel to Surviving a Winchester hunt is no 'small' feat which should probably be read first so this makes more sense...
......................
Dean was asleep on the couch, limbs tangled in an untidy jumble in an attempt to fit onto the too small space without falling off. He muttered something about giant beetles, before he woke with a start.
He looked around the room for the sound he had heard. He saw Castiel sitting on top of several books that had fallen from the bookshelf, his brow creased with growing frustration. Dean could have sworn the angel was about to pout and cross his arms sulkily.
Castiel looked up at him scowling. “I am not cute.”
“Hey, I didn’t say a word?”
“You were thinking it,” Castiel replied indignantly as he stood, looking down at the books. Of course the one he wanted was on the bottom. He began tugging on the book that was considerably bigger than he was at present.
Dean tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, “hate to say it, but you kinda are.”
Castiel turned around to glare at him again, he may be tiny but the angel’s gaze was still more than a little unnerving. Dean gave in and picked up the book and Castiel, and placed them both on the table.
The spell that had transferred the effects of the witches curse from Sam and Dean to Castiel had unfortunately had some side effects. Castiel had been unable to use most of his powers in his miniaturised form. It had also been two days and the effects had yet to wear off, apparently the spell from both Sam and Dean had transferred to Castiel, effectively giving him a double dose.
They weren’t entirely sure how long it would take for the effects to dissipate, or even if they would. Castiel in his ever impatient manner wasn’t willing to wait. He had been pestering his three companions non-stop in an effort to speed up their research, trying to continue it himself in frustration when Sam had gotten sick of his hassling and wandered off to do something else, and Bobby and Dean had annoyingly given into sleep.
Somewhat placated by the fact that Dean was awake and looked like continuing to be helpful, Castiel looked up at him with solemn blue eyes. “What were you dreaming about?”
“Huh, I don’t know,” Dean replied absently as he tried to fully wake up.
“You were talking about giant beetles,” Castiel prompted.
“Oh yeah,” Dean said as the dream came back to him. “We were in the woods, and I was still tiny and being attacked by these great big vicious looking beetles, you came in and stomped on them and saved me,” he said, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Castiel still stood staring up at him, all blue eyed seriousness, his head tilted, as he noted Dean appeared to be more susceptible to replying honestly, without his usual barriers, when he was yet to wake fully. Something he would have to remember for future reference. Castiel was also somewhat relived that as far as dreams went, this one sounded considerably more sedate then Dean’s usual nightmares.
Castiel looked back to the book in front of him. He started to flip through the pages, skimming the ancient Latin text. After a few minutes he looked back up at Dean. “You could help,” he said, pointing to another pile of books on the table next to Dean’s elbow.
“I don’t read Latin.”
“Yes you do.”
“Well I don’t like reading Latin, it gives me a headache.”
“Read it anyway.”
“You know Sammy’s much better at this sort of thing.”
“Sam is not here.”
“I could go find him.”
“Or you could just read it yourself.”
“You know your bossy right?”
Castiel just glared at him, knowing Dean was baiting him, but getting annoyed anyway.
“You’re going to zap me off somewhere nasty when you get your powers back, like the national institute for geeks, if I don’t help aren’t you?”
“There’s an institute for geeks?” Castiel asked thoughtfully, as if deciding it would be suitable punishment for Dean’s obstinate nature.
“Never mind,” Dean said, deciding it was probably best not to give the angel ideas. He grabbed one of the books and started to flick through it.
Castiel went back to reading the Latin text. He found a reference to a spell he thought might be in the book Dean was reading. “Dean this mentions a spell of dissipation, have you found reference to it?”
His only response was an unintelligible mumble from Dean who had drifted off to sleep again.
Castiel looked over in frustration. Dean’s head was resting on the book. He walked over, standing in front of Dean’s nose with a look of mild annoyance. “Dean.” He stood still, waiting. “Dean,” he said again a few moments later, reaching out to poke Dean’s cheek with one hand, getting absolutely no response for the hunter.
He sat down on the edge of the book where it protruded from under Dean’s sleeping head, waiting for him to stir again, and wishing he still had his powers. They were so useful for situations like this.
Bobby came downstairs an hour later. Castiel was still sitting next to Dean’s cheek, with his patented surly look.
“I see Dean is reading by osmosis again.”
Castiel looked up at him confused. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Bobby sighed at the angel’s literalness. They both looked up at the sound of a car pulling up outside. A moment later Sam’s oversized form filled the doorway, he was carrying a bag of fast food.
Dean woke up at the smell of food wafting in the air, once again rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he looked up at Sam. “Is that pie I smell?”
Three sets of eyes rolled at Dean’s innate ability to sniff out pie even in his sleep.
Sam tossed the bag at Dean. “Any luck while I was out?” he asked. From the frustrated look on Castiel’s face and the shrug Bobby was giving he deduced that there wasn’t
“Nope. I heard back from Rufus and a few other contacts. They got nothing.” Bobby replied as he watched Dean rummage through the bag for his pie.
“I still think it will wear off.” Dean offered helpfully, as he shoved pie into his mouth, shrugging when Castiel glared at him for the hundredth time since the spell back fired.
“You don’t know that. And I don’t intend on waiting for that to happen. I have more important tasks to attend to.”
“Hmm, like what?” Dean asked curious.
Castiel shrugged. Heaven was mostly quiet and the only real task he had at the moment was his self appointed duty of watching out for Dean, and keeping him out of the all too often trouble he got himself into. The post apocalypse employment opportunities for an angel weren’t all that exciting it turned out. Not that he was about to let the others know that.
Being a pint sized source of amusement for the Winchesters wasn’t a position he wanted to hold for any longer than necessary. It had already been too long. 48 hours of smirks and jokes that went over his head, literally now, was more than enough.
“There must be something.” Castiel said as he looked around at the all books scattered around the room.
“I don’t know what.” Bobby replied when no one else seemed inclined to answer.
Seeing that no useful answer looked to be forthcoming from anyone, and getting nowhere with research himself he sighed. There was only one thing he could think of, and it was insane, which indicated he had been spending too much time with Dean. Castiel gave them all one final glare before turning and using Dean as a make shift ladder to clamber down off the table.
He stomped towards the door, as determined and badass as he could on tiny legs. “Fine. I’m going to find the witch. Maybe she will be more helpful reversing the spell.”
“Cas wait,” Sam said. “Cas, why would she reverse it?” he continued when Castiel failed to stop.
“I can be very convincing,” Castiel replied over his shoulder.
Sam turned to Dean looking for some help.
Dean just smirked back at him. “What he can be,” he said with a shrug. “Beside you got a better idea?” Dean’s smirk just broadened at the ‘you’ve gotta be kidding’ bitch face Sam was giving him. “Hey Cas, wait up,” he called tossing what was left of his pie onto the table as he rushed out the door after Castiel.
Dean picked Castiel up from where he was standing at the top of the steps, head tilted as he tried to figure out how to negotiate them, not to mention how to make his way back to the woods where they had met the witch. He looked up at Dean with a thankful look and a slight tilt to his lips at getting his way.
......................
Castiel sat in the middle of the back seat of the Impala. The drive back to the witch was taking far longer then he thought it should. Wishing yet again that he could use his powers, teleporting was so much more convenient. Not only was it quicker, he could avoid the near incessant bickering between Sam and Dean. He was sure they were unaware they were doing it most of the time.
Castiel’s eyes flicked back and forth between Sam and Dean as the brothers argued. At the moment the issue of contention was the volume of Dean’s music, or possibly his taste in music, Castiel wasn’t quite sure which, as Sam’s argument seemed to jump back and forth between the two.
“You do know they are still making music right?” Sam asked.
“And?” Dean replied.
“Just thought you might not be aware, seeing as you listen to the same five tapes over and over.”
“So, they’re classics.”
“They’re tapes.”
“I told you you’re not putting that douchey iPod back in here.”
“Why not? At least we could listen to something different every now and then. You could put Led Zeppelin on it you know.”
“Not happening while I’m alive and kicking.”
“Well you could at least turn it down.”
Sam reached over to turn the volume down, but Dean batted his hand away, and turned it up louder.
“You’re such a child.”
“Look who’s talking McWhinesalot.”
Sam sighed in exasperation and looked out the window. Castiel could see his reflection in the window. He was wearing what Castiel had heard Dean refer to as his bitch face, which was slightly misleading Castiel thought, as he had noticed that Sam had a variety of these looks, not just one. He had started to catalogue them in an effort to better understand the brothers.
This one looked a little like the ‘how do you argue with a two year old’ mixed with ‘I’m bigger now and wish I could just sit on you when I can’t win an argument’ one.
“What about Cas? Listening to this crap over and over is probably giving him a headache.” Sam asked, deciding to change tact. Obviously noticing that Castiel could get Dean to do just about anything he wanted. If he could get the angel on his side, the argument would effectively be over.
Sam looked over his shoulder at Castiel expectantly, while Dean’s eyes flicked to the rear view mirror. Before Castiel had a chance to interject that it wasn’t the music giving him a headache, but their constant arguing, Dean answered for him.
“Cas loves my music. He’s got good taste, unlike some people.”
Sam gave Castiel one last pleading look, turning back to sit sulkily in silence when he realised Castiel didn’t look at all concerned by Dean’s choice of music or its volume.
Castiel closed his eyes, thankful for the momentary break in the argument. It didn’t last long. Dean started to sing along to the next song. Castiel opened his eyes in time to see Sam throw his hands in the air, and pull a bitch face that Castiel decided roughly translated to ‘what new idiocy is this’ or possible it was the one that meant ‘why do you insist on annoying me’.
“Dean!”
Dean ignored him, and continued to sing.
“Come on,” Sam continued, as he reached for the volume dial yet again.
Dean beat him to it again, swatting Sam’s hand away, as he continued to belt out the words to some song Castiel thought may be by something called ACDC. Even Castiel could tell Dean was wildly of key.
Sam let loose with a series of expletives concerning Dean’s mental maturity, Dean sung louder, while smirking at his brother and Castiel slouched back in the seat, muttering in Enochian, and wondering if the Winchesters were God’s way of punishing him for rebelling.
Somewhere between Sam and Dean’s argument on whether tofu really constituted food and their discussion on if a werewolf went to the moon would it constantly be in wolf form, Castiel came up with a plan to solve his current predicament.
He mulled over the necessary wording of the spell and made a few tweaks to it of his own, muttering in Enochian whenever one of the brothers made a particularly loud contribution to their ‘discussion’, and interrupted his train of thought.
Once he was done he considered telling the brothers that he had finalised a plan, to not only reverse the spell on him, but also take care of the witch, however they were in the middle of another argument on the merits of sex as stress relief. Castiel decided not to bother interrupting them. Instead he went back to cataloguing Sam’s bitch faces, and trying to keep up with Dean’s convoluted reasoning for why porn kept the world spinning.
......................
Dean parked the car as close the witch’s cabin as they could get. They would have to go the rest of the way on foot. The brother’s stocked up on weapons and ammo from the trunk. Castiel watched fascinated as Dean managed to hide numerous blades on his person, on top of the blades Castiel knew he kept on him at all times. Sam seemed to be in the mood for guns today, holstering two pistols and grabbing a shot gun for good measure.
Castiel pointed out several items for Dean to carry that he would need for the spell. Hoping the rest of what he needed would be found at the cabin.
“So, do you actually have a plan?’ Dean asked as he closed the trunk of the Impala.
“There’s always a plan,” Castiel replied.
“Right, like the plan to come up with a plan, better known as winging it?
Castiel shrugged. “Deciding to ‘wing it’ is still a plan. Maybe not a good plan.”
After four hours stuck in the Impala listening to Dean and Sam argue Castiel wasn’t in the mood for sharing. He kept his plan to himself.
Dean picked Castiel up, he didn’t have any spare pockets, so the angel perched on his shoulder instead, holding onto the collar of his jacket for balance.
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, resisting the urge to make some witty comment about an angel on Dean’s shoulder. Dean would probably get a kick out of it, and he wasn’t in the mood for indulging his brother’s whims. Instead he stomped off into the forest towards the cabin, doing his best to ignore Dean and the angel behind him.
......................
They had been walking for over an hour. Sam was still hacking his way through the underbrush ahead of him, clearly still trying to ignore him.
“So you plan on sticking around for longer now? I mean after we reverse this spell.” Dean asked Castiel.
“Why?’
“No reason. It’s just we make a good team. Well apart from the whole accidentally shrinking you thing.”
“If you continue to need me, I will assist you.”
“It’s not always about us needing you Cas.”
Sam rolled his eyes, again, wondering if Dean and Castiel were finally going to have a long overdue chick flick moment. He hoped they’d at least wait till after the hunt when he would be able to leave them to it. He may be the one always trying to get Dean to talk about things, but seeing the angel and his brother stare at each other, was sometimes like accidentally walking in on someone having sex. Sam swore the two of them at times forgot there were other people in the room, or in existence anywhere for that matter.
Sam pushed the thought away as he had reached the edge of a clearing, the witch’s cabin in clear view in front of him. He signalled his brother to be quiet, interrupting their conversation. Dean crouched down beside him looking around the clearing and surveying their options. They could see the witch kneeling at some sort of alter.
“What now?” Dean asked.
“I need to get inside. Can you distract her?” Castiel replied.
“So you do have a plan?” Dean asked as he placed Castiel down on the log in front of him.
“Yes Dean. I have a plan.”
“You want to share?”
“Not particularly.”
Castiel looked up at Dean. He didn’t look to be in any hurry to proceed with out further explanation.
“You and Sam distract her while I go inside. I need a spell component that she will have.”
“I thought you couldn’t find any spells to reverse it?’ Sam interjected.
“I didn’t.”
Both brothers looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain, but before he was able to the witch spotted them. They could hear her start to chant. Not waiting to be struck with yet another of her spells, the brothers charged out of the undergrowth towards her, hoping to interrupt the incantation, or at least provide the distraction Castiel wanted.
Knowing that if he could get to the cabin and complete the spell, this fight would be considerably easier, Castiel sprinted to the open door of the cabin without stopping to see how the brothers fared. He was dragging the items that Dean had been carrying for him. All he needed was one more ingredient.
He looked around the inside of the cabin. It was just a single room, a small kitchen an unmade bed, and yes a nightstand with a hairbrush sitting on it. Castiel managed to scramble onto the bed using the edge of a blanket that was hanging down to the floor, and from there onto the nightstand. He felt a rush of relief when he saw that there were indeed strands of the witch’s hair on the brush, maybe his plan would actually work after all.
Wasting no time he started the incantation, the words tripping easily of his tongue. It was the same spell that Bobby had given him that had transferred the miniaturisation spell from the brothers to him. He had tweaked it a bit, so that by adding the witch’s hair, the effect would transfer back to her, returning him to normal at the same time. It was also permanent.
He dropped the hair into the bowl, as he spoke the last words a cloud of blue smoke surrounded him. He sneezed.
Dean and Sam were both immobilised by some spell the witch had cast. They were struggling against it, and Dean thought he might be just about to break free, when suddenly the witch was surrounded by blue smoke. When it cleared the troublesome witch was gone. Or at first he thought she was, until he looked down and saw a furious six inch tall version of her.
He looked up as he felt the spell holding him dissipate. Castiel walked out of the cabin, full sized and completely nonchalant, as if this sort of thing happened every day, which granted it sort of did.
Castiel looked down at the witch, she was glaring up at him with such fury that may have been impressive if it weren’t aimed at the angel, who simple ignored it and waved his hand, teleporting her away.
“I sent her somewhere where she won’t bother anyone again,” Castiel said as he looked back up at Dean.
Relieved to have his companion back to normal and the witch taken care of, Dean slapped Castiel on the shoulder affectionately. “That was one hell of a plan.”
Castiel mimicked an unabashed shrug he had seem Dean do a thousand times. “I’m an angel of the lord,” he said smugly, as if it was obvious that he would prevail.
“I believe I would enjoy accompanying you on your next hunt, even if you don’t need me,” Castiel said, continuing their discussion from before the attack as if it hadn’t been interrupted.
Dean’s lips curved in goofy smile. “Awesome.”
Sam groaned at his idiot brother and the equally obtuse angel. “Great so it’s a date then. You like him, he likes you. Can we go now?” Sam asked hoping his brother was finished fangirling over the angel.
Sam was met with two confused ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ looks. Sam gave them an ‘it’s so fucking obvious’ one in return, before turning and starting the long walk back to the Impala.
“It’s not a date,” Dean called after him, turning to Castiel for back up.
After two days being stuck as a six inch tall impotent angel, not to mention the even longer four hours listening to the brothers bicker on the journey here, Castiel had no intention of subjugating himself to further brotherly taunting. He teleported away, leaving the Winchesters to the long hike back through the cold, wet forest. Being an angel had some perks after all.
“Cas? Oh come on.” Dean moaned. He really didn’t feel like trekking back through the forest, not now that Castiel had his powers returned and could zap them back there. “Cas?” he called again.
He looked around but there was no sign of the angel, and Sam was almost out of sight amongst the tress. It was cold, his boots was soaked, and the sun was about to set.
“Cas, we’re talking about this when I get back.” he grumbled under his breath as he trudged after Sam.
The next thing he knew he was standing next to the Impala beside his perplexed brother. His boots were even dry. He couldn’t help feeling smug when he looked down to see Sam’s were still sodden.
“Thanks Cas,” Dean said with a smile.
Castiel was nowhere in sight, but Dean could have sworn he felt the angel smile in return.
......................
comments are love...
Sequel to Surviving a Winchester hunt is no 'small' feat
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: some swearing, crack
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam
Word Count: ~3,700
Summary: Castiel irritably puts up with Sam and Dean's bickering as they search for a way to reverse the witch's spell affecting the angel...
A/N: this is a sequel to Surviving a Winchester hunt is no 'small' feat which should probably be read first so this makes more sense...
......................
Dean was asleep on the couch, limbs tangled in an untidy jumble in an attempt to fit onto the too small space without falling off. He muttered something about giant beetles, before he woke with a start.
He looked around the room for the sound he had heard. He saw Castiel sitting on top of several books that had fallen from the bookshelf, his brow creased with growing frustration. Dean could have sworn the angel was about to pout and cross his arms sulkily.
Castiel looked up at him scowling. “I am not cute.”
“Hey, I didn’t say a word?”
“You were thinking it,” Castiel replied indignantly as he stood, looking down at the books. Of course the one he wanted was on the bottom. He began tugging on the book that was considerably bigger than he was at present.
Dean tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, “hate to say it, but you kinda are.”
Castiel turned around to glare at him again, he may be tiny but the angel’s gaze was still more than a little unnerving. Dean gave in and picked up the book and Castiel, and placed them both on the table.
The spell that had transferred the effects of the witches curse from Sam and Dean to Castiel had unfortunately had some side effects. Castiel had been unable to use most of his powers in his miniaturised form. It had also been two days and the effects had yet to wear off, apparently the spell from both Sam and Dean had transferred to Castiel, effectively giving him a double dose.
They weren’t entirely sure how long it would take for the effects to dissipate, or even if they would. Castiel in his ever impatient manner wasn’t willing to wait. He had been pestering his three companions non-stop in an effort to speed up their research, trying to continue it himself in frustration when Sam had gotten sick of his hassling and wandered off to do something else, and Bobby and Dean had annoyingly given into sleep.
Somewhat placated by the fact that Dean was awake and looked like continuing to be helpful, Castiel looked up at him with solemn blue eyes. “What were you dreaming about?”
“Huh, I don’t know,” Dean replied absently as he tried to fully wake up.
“You were talking about giant beetles,” Castiel prompted.
“Oh yeah,” Dean said as the dream came back to him. “We were in the woods, and I was still tiny and being attacked by these great big vicious looking beetles, you came in and stomped on them and saved me,” he said, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Castiel still stood staring up at him, all blue eyed seriousness, his head tilted, as he noted Dean appeared to be more susceptible to replying honestly, without his usual barriers, when he was yet to wake fully. Something he would have to remember for future reference. Castiel was also somewhat relived that as far as dreams went, this one sounded considerably more sedate then Dean’s usual nightmares.
Castiel looked back to the book in front of him. He started to flip through the pages, skimming the ancient Latin text. After a few minutes he looked back up at Dean. “You could help,” he said, pointing to another pile of books on the table next to Dean’s elbow.
“I don’t read Latin.”
“Yes you do.”
“Well I don’t like reading Latin, it gives me a headache.”
“Read it anyway.”
“You know Sammy’s much better at this sort of thing.”
“Sam is not here.”
“I could go find him.”
“Or you could just read it yourself.”
“You know your bossy right?”
Castiel just glared at him, knowing Dean was baiting him, but getting annoyed anyway.
“You’re going to zap me off somewhere nasty when you get your powers back, like the national institute for geeks, if I don’t help aren’t you?”
“There’s an institute for geeks?” Castiel asked thoughtfully, as if deciding it would be suitable punishment for Dean’s obstinate nature.
“Never mind,” Dean said, deciding it was probably best not to give the angel ideas. He grabbed one of the books and started to flick through it.
Castiel went back to reading the Latin text. He found a reference to a spell he thought might be in the book Dean was reading. “Dean this mentions a spell of dissipation, have you found reference to it?”
His only response was an unintelligible mumble from Dean who had drifted off to sleep again.
Castiel looked over in frustration. Dean’s head was resting on the book. He walked over, standing in front of Dean’s nose with a look of mild annoyance. “Dean.” He stood still, waiting. “Dean,” he said again a few moments later, reaching out to poke Dean’s cheek with one hand, getting absolutely no response for the hunter.
He sat down on the edge of the book where it protruded from under Dean’s sleeping head, waiting for him to stir again, and wishing he still had his powers. They were so useful for situations like this.
Bobby came downstairs an hour later. Castiel was still sitting next to Dean’s cheek, with his patented surly look.
“I see Dean is reading by osmosis again.”
Castiel looked up at him confused. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Bobby sighed at the angel’s literalness. They both looked up at the sound of a car pulling up outside. A moment later Sam’s oversized form filled the doorway, he was carrying a bag of fast food.
Dean woke up at the smell of food wafting in the air, once again rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he looked up at Sam. “Is that pie I smell?”
Three sets of eyes rolled at Dean’s innate ability to sniff out pie even in his sleep.
Sam tossed the bag at Dean. “Any luck while I was out?” he asked. From the frustrated look on Castiel’s face and the shrug Bobby was giving he deduced that there wasn’t
“Nope. I heard back from Rufus and a few other contacts. They got nothing.” Bobby replied as he watched Dean rummage through the bag for his pie.
“I still think it will wear off.” Dean offered helpfully, as he shoved pie into his mouth, shrugging when Castiel glared at him for the hundredth time since the spell back fired.
“You don’t know that. And I don’t intend on waiting for that to happen. I have more important tasks to attend to.”
“Hmm, like what?” Dean asked curious.
Castiel shrugged. Heaven was mostly quiet and the only real task he had at the moment was his self appointed duty of watching out for Dean, and keeping him out of the all too often trouble he got himself into. The post apocalypse employment opportunities for an angel weren’t all that exciting it turned out. Not that he was about to let the others know that.
Being a pint sized source of amusement for the Winchesters wasn’t a position he wanted to hold for any longer than necessary. It had already been too long. 48 hours of smirks and jokes that went over his head, literally now, was more than enough.
“There must be something.” Castiel said as he looked around at the all books scattered around the room.
“I don’t know what.” Bobby replied when no one else seemed inclined to answer.
Seeing that no useful answer looked to be forthcoming from anyone, and getting nowhere with research himself he sighed. There was only one thing he could think of, and it was insane, which indicated he had been spending too much time with Dean. Castiel gave them all one final glare before turning and using Dean as a make shift ladder to clamber down off the table.
He stomped towards the door, as determined and badass as he could on tiny legs. “Fine. I’m going to find the witch. Maybe she will be more helpful reversing the spell.”
“Cas wait,” Sam said. “Cas, why would she reverse it?” he continued when Castiel failed to stop.
“I can be very convincing,” Castiel replied over his shoulder.
Sam turned to Dean looking for some help.
Dean just smirked back at him. “What he can be,” he said with a shrug. “Beside you got a better idea?” Dean’s smirk just broadened at the ‘you’ve gotta be kidding’ bitch face Sam was giving him. “Hey Cas, wait up,” he called tossing what was left of his pie onto the table as he rushed out the door after Castiel.
Dean picked Castiel up from where he was standing at the top of the steps, head tilted as he tried to figure out how to negotiate them, not to mention how to make his way back to the woods where they had met the witch. He looked up at Dean with a thankful look and a slight tilt to his lips at getting his way.
......................
Castiel sat in the middle of the back seat of the Impala. The drive back to the witch was taking far longer then he thought it should. Wishing yet again that he could use his powers, teleporting was so much more convenient. Not only was it quicker, he could avoid the near incessant bickering between Sam and Dean. He was sure they were unaware they were doing it most of the time.
Castiel’s eyes flicked back and forth between Sam and Dean as the brothers argued. At the moment the issue of contention was the volume of Dean’s music, or possibly his taste in music, Castiel wasn’t quite sure which, as Sam’s argument seemed to jump back and forth between the two.
“You do know they are still making music right?” Sam asked.
“And?” Dean replied.
“Just thought you might not be aware, seeing as you listen to the same five tapes over and over.”
“So, they’re classics.”
“They’re tapes.”
“I told you you’re not putting that douchey iPod back in here.”
“Why not? At least we could listen to something different every now and then. You could put Led Zeppelin on it you know.”
“Not happening while I’m alive and kicking.”
“Well you could at least turn it down.”
Sam reached over to turn the volume down, but Dean batted his hand away, and turned it up louder.
“You’re such a child.”
“Look who’s talking McWhinesalot.”
Sam sighed in exasperation and looked out the window. Castiel could see his reflection in the window. He was wearing what Castiel had heard Dean refer to as his bitch face, which was slightly misleading Castiel thought, as he had noticed that Sam had a variety of these looks, not just one. He had started to catalogue them in an effort to better understand the brothers.
This one looked a little like the ‘how do you argue with a two year old’ mixed with ‘I’m bigger now and wish I could just sit on you when I can’t win an argument’ one.
“What about Cas? Listening to this crap over and over is probably giving him a headache.” Sam asked, deciding to change tact. Obviously noticing that Castiel could get Dean to do just about anything he wanted. If he could get the angel on his side, the argument would effectively be over.
Sam looked over his shoulder at Castiel expectantly, while Dean’s eyes flicked to the rear view mirror. Before Castiel had a chance to interject that it wasn’t the music giving him a headache, but their constant arguing, Dean answered for him.
“Cas loves my music. He’s got good taste, unlike some people.”
Sam gave Castiel one last pleading look, turning back to sit sulkily in silence when he realised Castiel didn’t look at all concerned by Dean’s choice of music or its volume.
Castiel closed his eyes, thankful for the momentary break in the argument. It didn’t last long. Dean started to sing along to the next song. Castiel opened his eyes in time to see Sam throw his hands in the air, and pull a bitch face that Castiel decided roughly translated to ‘what new idiocy is this’ or possible it was the one that meant ‘why do you insist on annoying me’.
“Dean!”
Dean ignored him, and continued to sing.
“Come on,” Sam continued, as he reached for the volume dial yet again.
Dean beat him to it again, swatting Sam’s hand away, as he continued to belt out the words to some song Castiel thought may be by something called ACDC. Even Castiel could tell Dean was wildly of key.
Sam let loose with a series of expletives concerning Dean’s mental maturity, Dean sung louder, while smirking at his brother and Castiel slouched back in the seat, muttering in Enochian, and wondering if the Winchesters were God’s way of punishing him for rebelling.
Somewhere between Sam and Dean’s argument on whether tofu really constituted food and their discussion on if a werewolf went to the moon would it constantly be in wolf form, Castiel came up with a plan to solve his current predicament.
He mulled over the necessary wording of the spell and made a few tweaks to it of his own, muttering in Enochian whenever one of the brothers made a particularly loud contribution to their ‘discussion’, and interrupted his train of thought.
Once he was done he considered telling the brothers that he had finalised a plan, to not only reverse the spell on him, but also take care of the witch, however they were in the middle of another argument on the merits of sex as stress relief. Castiel decided not to bother interrupting them. Instead he went back to cataloguing Sam’s bitch faces, and trying to keep up with Dean’s convoluted reasoning for why porn kept the world spinning.
......................
Dean parked the car as close the witch’s cabin as they could get. They would have to go the rest of the way on foot. The brother’s stocked up on weapons and ammo from the trunk. Castiel watched fascinated as Dean managed to hide numerous blades on his person, on top of the blades Castiel knew he kept on him at all times. Sam seemed to be in the mood for guns today, holstering two pistols and grabbing a shot gun for good measure.
Castiel pointed out several items for Dean to carry that he would need for the spell. Hoping the rest of what he needed would be found at the cabin.
“So, do you actually have a plan?’ Dean asked as he closed the trunk of the Impala.
“There’s always a plan,” Castiel replied.
“Right, like the plan to come up with a plan, better known as winging it?
Castiel shrugged. “Deciding to ‘wing it’ is still a plan. Maybe not a good plan.”
After four hours stuck in the Impala listening to Dean and Sam argue Castiel wasn’t in the mood for sharing. He kept his plan to himself.
Dean picked Castiel up, he didn’t have any spare pockets, so the angel perched on his shoulder instead, holding onto the collar of his jacket for balance.
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, resisting the urge to make some witty comment about an angel on Dean’s shoulder. Dean would probably get a kick out of it, and he wasn’t in the mood for indulging his brother’s whims. Instead he stomped off into the forest towards the cabin, doing his best to ignore Dean and the angel behind him.
......................
They had been walking for over an hour. Sam was still hacking his way through the underbrush ahead of him, clearly still trying to ignore him.
“So you plan on sticking around for longer now? I mean after we reverse this spell.” Dean asked Castiel.
“Why?’
“No reason. It’s just we make a good team. Well apart from the whole accidentally shrinking you thing.”
“If you continue to need me, I will assist you.”
“It’s not always about us needing you Cas.”
Sam rolled his eyes, again, wondering if Dean and Castiel were finally going to have a long overdue chick flick moment. He hoped they’d at least wait till after the hunt when he would be able to leave them to it. He may be the one always trying to get Dean to talk about things, but seeing the angel and his brother stare at each other, was sometimes like accidentally walking in on someone having sex. Sam swore the two of them at times forgot there were other people in the room, or in existence anywhere for that matter.
Sam pushed the thought away as he had reached the edge of a clearing, the witch’s cabin in clear view in front of him. He signalled his brother to be quiet, interrupting their conversation. Dean crouched down beside him looking around the clearing and surveying their options. They could see the witch kneeling at some sort of alter.
“What now?” Dean asked.
“I need to get inside. Can you distract her?” Castiel replied.
“So you do have a plan?” Dean asked as he placed Castiel down on the log in front of him.
“Yes Dean. I have a plan.”
“You want to share?”
“Not particularly.”
Castiel looked up at Dean. He didn’t look to be in any hurry to proceed with out further explanation.
“You and Sam distract her while I go inside. I need a spell component that she will have.”
“I thought you couldn’t find any spells to reverse it?’ Sam interjected.
“I didn’t.”
Both brothers looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain, but before he was able to the witch spotted them. They could hear her start to chant. Not waiting to be struck with yet another of her spells, the brothers charged out of the undergrowth towards her, hoping to interrupt the incantation, or at least provide the distraction Castiel wanted.
Knowing that if he could get to the cabin and complete the spell, this fight would be considerably easier, Castiel sprinted to the open door of the cabin without stopping to see how the brothers fared. He was dragging the items that Dean had been carrying for him. All he needed was one more ingredient.
He looked around the inside of the cabin. It was just a single room, a small kitchen an unmade bed, and yes a nightstand with a hairbrush sitting on it. Castiel managed to scramble onto the bed using the edge of a blanket that was hanging down to the floor, and from there onto the nightstand. He felt a rush of relief when he saw that there were indeed strands of the witch’s hair on the brush, maybe his plan would actually work after all.
Wasting no time he started the incantation, the words tripping easily of his tongue. It was the same spell that Bobby had given him that had transferred the miniaturisation spell from the brothers to him. He had tweaked it a bit, so that by adding the witch’s hair, the effect would transfer back to her, returning him to normal at the same time. It was also permanent.
He dropped the hair into the bowl, as he spoke the last words a cloud of blue smoke surrounded him. He sneezed.
Dean and Sam were both immobilised by some spell the witch had cast. They were struggling against it, and Dean thought he might be just about to break free, when suddenly the witch was surrounded by blue smoke. When it cleared the troublesome witch was gone. Or at first he thought she was, until he looked down and saw a furious six inch tall version of her.
He looked up as he felt the spell holding him dissipate. Castiel walked out of the cabin, full sized and completely nonchalant, as if this sort of thing happened every day, which granted it sort of did.
Castiel looked down at the witch, she was glaring up at him with such fury that may have been impressive if it weren’t aimed at the angel, who simple ignored it and waved his hand, teleporting her away.
“I sent her somewhere where she won’t bother anyone again,” Castiel said as he looked back up at Dean.
Relieved to have his companion back to normal and the witch taken care of, Dean slapped Castiel on the shoulder affectionately. “That was one hell of a plan.”
Castiel mimicked an unabashed shrug he had seem Dean do a thousand times. “I’m an angel of the lord,” he said smugly, as if it was obvious that he would prevail.
“I believe I would enjoy accompanying you on your next hunt, even if you don’t need me,” Castiel said, continuing their discussion from before the attack as if it hadn’t been interrupted.
Dean’s lips curved in goofy smile. “Awesome.”
Sam groaned at his idiot brother and the equally obtuse angel. “Great so it’s a date then. You like him, he likes you. Can we go now?” Sam asked hoping his brother was finished fangirling over the angel.
Sam was met with two confused ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ looks. Sam gave them an ‘it’s so fucking obvious’ one in return, before turning and starting the long walk back to the Impala.
“It’s not a date,” Dean called after him, turning to Castiel for back up.
After two days being stuck as a six inch tall impotent angel, not to mention the even longer four hours listening to the brothers bicker on the journey here, Castiel had no intention of subjugating himself to further brotherly taunting. He teleported away, leaving the Winchesters to the long hike back through the cold, wet forest. Being an angel had some perks after all.
“Cas? Oh come on.” Dean moaned. He really didn’t feel like trekking back through the forest, not now that Castiel had his powers returned and could zap them back there. “Cas?” he called again.
He looked around but there was no sign of the angel, and Sam was almost out of sight amongst the tress. It was cold, his boots was soaked, and the sun was about to set.
“Cas, we’re talking about this when I get back.” he grumbled under his breath as he trudged after Sam.
The next thing he knew he was standing next to the Impala beside his perplexed brother. His boots were even dry. He couldn’t help feeling smug when he looked down to see Sam’s were still sodden.
“Thanks Cas,” Dean said with a smile.
Castiel was nowhere in sight, but Dean could have sworn he felt the angel smile in return.
......................
comments are love...