Pick Up the Phone (Supernatural)
Thursday night I had the bright idea to write a short episode tag. Two thousand words later and counting, it occurred to me that 'short' was possibly not the name of the game.
Title: Pick Up the Phone
Fandom: Supernatural
Warnings/Spoilers: no warnings; spoilers to 5.02, "Good God, Y'all".
Wordcount: 3,112
Summary: In which Dean spends a lot of time on the phone, Ellen doesn't believe in angels, and Cas isn't Sam.
Notes: Episode tag to "Good God, Y'all". I have no idea what kind of transmission the Impala has, and my foray onto the Internet hasn't yielded any results. So if I've fucked up by giving the Impala too many gears, or a manual transmission (though I can't see John driving an automatic), I'm very sorry. Burwell is a real town in Nebraska.
Pick Up the Phone
The motel room is fucking silent when it's just Dean, alone, the way it hasn't been since his dad fucked off to go hunt a yellow-eyed demon. The way it hasn't been since he first started hunting with Sam. But it's silent now, and Dean can't even bring himself to make noise, to play music, to turn on the TV and watch something mindless and possibly pornographic. He's a complete wreck, an utter whackjob, and he just let Sammy walk away into who-the-fuck-knows-where during the fucking End of Days itself. "It's Armageddon, Dean-o," he mutters, and then lets himself fall backward on the single bed, head thunking against the headboard.
"Fuck," he adds, for good measure.
It's too fucking quiet. Before he's really sure what he's doing, he's got his phone out. This is stupid, this is ridiculous, because who the fuck is he gonna call? Sam? Bobby? One just walked out on him, and the other's in a hospital ward feeling sorry for himself because he's never going walk again, thank you angels. Dean scans the list of numbers anyway, and then he calls Ellen, because she said to call and because she's not gonna take his crap, just like Sam or Bobby wouldn't have.
"When I said 'call me', I didn't mean right away," Ellen greets him, sharp and brisk, like she always is. "What's the problem, Dean?"
"It's, uh..." Dean didn't plan that far. He stares at the phone for a moment too long before figuring out that the only answer he has is way too embarrassing to actually say. "Wanted to make sure you and Jo got out okay." That was innocent enough.
"Right," says Ellen, dry. "We're fine, like we were when you saw us a few hours back this afternoon. How're you and Sam?"
He definitely doesn't want to talk about him and Sam. "I'm good. Sammy's good. We're good."
"Uh-huh. Can I talk to him?"
Dean laughs, just one reverse gasp into the receiver, a hiss and a twitch of his chest. "No can do. He's not here."
"Didn't think so." Ellen's voice doesn't get any softer or any kinder, which is the best fucking thing that's happened to Dean all day. "You two acting all distant like you were, and you calling me while you're probably holed up in some shitty motel, instead of talking to him... Yeah, he's not there."
Ellen is a fucking genius. Dean covers his eyes with a hand and sighs. "You got it."
"So you're on your own now. Tough. What the hell do you want me to do about it?"
Dean shrugs, then remembers she can't see him. "No idea. Nothing. Hell if I know why I called."
It's Ellen's turn to huff that single laugh that probably comes from stupid usual bad luck and not anything actually funny. "Not sure you're gonna be able to sleep on your own?" she offers. "What happened to a girl in every port?"
He wants to say, try explaining that to the angels, who haven't left him alone at night with enough regularity for Dean to do that anymore. But they won't now, because they won't be able to find him. Because Cas fixed it that way. He could go find a girl, bring her back here, leave next morning. He could, but he's not going to. "Guess I'm getting too old."
"That's bullshit, but I expected as much from you."
It takes a moment to figure out what he'll say next. "I don't need someone around I have to protect," he settles on, and it's not quite the truth but closer than anything else he can think of to say. "I can't afford the liability."
"And that's why Sam's gone?" Ellen doesn't sound surprised. Or convinced.
"It was his idea," Dean says.
"That's not a no," Ellen retorts.
"He split because of his issues, not mine," Dean says. Time was he would've been angry, would've been shouting. He's just tired now. Ever since he came back to life, he's just been tired. Too fucking tired to argue with Sam, too fucking tired to deal with a bunch of angels who only seem to want to fuck with his head. Too tired to yell at Ellen, who's as right about everything as she could be without knowing the gory details. He doesn't need to be bothering her, anyway. She's got Jo to worry about. "Hey, sorry to bother you," Dean says. "You've probably got shit to do. I'll go."
"Sure. Take care of yourself. Don't be a stranger," is all Ellen says, and then the line clicks off.
--
His phone rings late the next afternoon, cutting into Led Zeppelin over the car stereo. It's dark and cloudy out, not raining but looking like it's about to start. There's wind pushing against the Impala to the passenger side, and a sign just ahead that says it's four and a half miles to the town of Burwell. Dean's not sure what he's going to find there, but a call's a call, and he's got to do something or he's gonna lose it completely. He turns off the stereo and picks up the phone as the first drop of rain hits the windshield.
"There's a man asking for you here," Ellen says, not bothering with hello or anything. "Or something man-shaped. Says his name's Castiel. Kinda scruffy-lookin'. You know him?"
Dean resists the urge to shut his eyes and rolls them instead. "Yeah, he's safe. He want to talk to me?"
"Just wants to know where you are."
"I'm four miles west of Burwell, Nebraska," Dean says. He turns on the wipers, as the drops begin to pick up frequency. "On Highway 91. He say why?"
Ellen doesn't answer for a moment. "No, he's -- not here anymore," she finally says. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"
It's not a question. "Cas is a friend," Dean explains, because honestly? He doesn't have a damn clue as to how to describe his relationship to Castiel. 'He used to order me around from the guys Up There, but now he's turned on them for me to help me stop Lucifer from rising, which failed anyway' would only earn him a long interrogation. "He's helping me out on a job."
"This have anything to do with the end of the world?"
On the side of the road Dean spots Castiel's coat, and Cas in it. He slows down, pulls over. "Yeah, it does," Dean says. "I gotta go. Talk to you later."
"Oh, you will," says Ellen, and it's less of a promise and more of a warning. Dean sighs when he's shut his phone.
He opens the passenger door, and Cas pulls off his wet coat and climbs in. He's not wearing the holy tax accountant suit anymore, having exchanged it for something a lot more suited to standing around in the rain or scouring the world looking for a missing higher power. "Toss it in the back," Dean says, waving his right hand at the coat, and Cas does as suggested, eyes never leaving Dean's.
He says, "Sam isn't with you."
Dean grips the steering wheel and stares at the nearest roadsign for a moment, and then he puts the Impala in gear and starts driving, and then he can think of something to say that isn't angry or biting or swearing. "He's taking a break from hunting," he says as the speedometer needle swings past forty and he shifts into fourth gear. "Needs some time to recover."
"I called him before I went to Ellen," Cas says. Dean shifts to fifth gear, brings up the clutch nice and gentle. "He didn't know where you are, and he refused to call you."
"That's his problem," Dean says, and goes to turn the stereo on. Cas grabs his wrist before he reaches it, stops him. Dean pulls his hand away instantly, and Cas either isn't strong enough to hold him still or lets him go. "What the hell, Cas?"
Cas looks annoyed when Dean glances over -- or at least, as annoyed as he ever looks. Maybe more so. He's showing more and more reaction these days, which is probably a good sign after whatever happened to him up in Heaven. But he's still a angel, current power levels notwithstanding, so Dean still can't read him too well at all. It would make sense for Cas to be annoyed. Actually, it makes sense for Cas to be completely pissed off, even if they wouldn't have had all the trouble they do now if Cas had just busted Dean out when he asked the first time. Even if there was no way Dean could have done things differently. But hell, betraying everyone you know? Dean can get that Cas could need a damn good reason to get there. Doing it for a lost cause? Yeah, Cas has the right to be pissed.
Still doesn't mean that Dean's gonna let him get away with everything.
"You just let him go?" Cas demands. "Your brother released Lucifer and began Armageddon. You allowed him to walk away?"
"He's not evil," Dean says, and he's not shouting, but it's a close call. "He wanted time to recover. I'm not gonna say no to the first healthy decision he's made since --"
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.
"Dean --" Cas begins, and he's obviously forcing himself to be reasonable, which puts them in the same damn boat. The solidarity helps, weirdly enough. Makes it feel less like trying to talk to a statue and more like talking to a really stubborn foreigner who doesn't get how things work here but expects you to understand him just the same. But that's human, that's easy, that's something Dean can figure out. "It's not just that," Cas says. "There are many who will be looking for him. I doubt they will have his best interests in mind."
"I though you said angels can't find him," Dean says, a sense of dread growing somewhere in his stomach.
Cas shakes his head. "They aren't the only ones who will go looking for him. And they can still look for him as humans do."
"Fuck," says Dean, and smacks a hand against the dashboard. "That's just fucking great."
There's no reply. Cas just stares out the windshield, and fiddles with Dean's pendant, now around his neck. Dean has to stifle to urge to grab it back; he wasn't lying when he said he felt naked without it. A God-detector. A fucking God-EMF. How the fuck Sammy got his hands on something like that, Dean has no idea. He'd say Cas was making it up, except Cas probably doesn't have an imagination in the first place, and he definitely doesn't like lying. So either there is a God, and Dean just happened to have something lying around that can find him -- or Cas is delusional, or misinformed, something to keep him from being effective. Why would God start taking an interest now, and not before? It makes more sense for it to have been Lucifer who saved them all -- the devil having himself a good time before he rips the world apart. And Cas would be too desperate for his questionably-father's approval to think about an alternative. It makes too much sense.
But Cas isn't gonna listen to that. He's already shown he won't, back at the hospital. He's counting on God to save him because he doesn't know what else to do, and yeah, Dean can see the appeal in that. Maybe if he were a little younger, a little less familiar with hell and all the shit of the world, he could find it in himself to believe too. But maybe not. Sammy was always the believer of the family.
A sign welcomes them to Burwell, population 1,100, and the next exit sign immediately after boasts food, shelter, and gas. Dean doesn't indicate, and turns off the highway onto an overpass and into town. "You sticking around?" he asks as they roll into town and Cas makes no sign of being about to vanish.
"I would have to find you again," says Cas. "This seems easier."
"I'm not getting a bigger room for you," Dean warns, but that's it. He and Cas aren't exactly friends, despite what he told Ellen, but he trusts Cas about as much as he trusts anyone these days, and Ellen wasn't completely wrong about him not wanting to be alone.
--
"So that 'later' you mentioned," Ellen says, when Dean picks up the phone. "Is now a good time?"
Dean blinks at the digital clock next to the bed. 12:30. He'd complain, but he wasn't actually sleeping. "Sure," he mumbles, and pulls himself up so he's sort of sitting, leaning against the headboard. He doesn't hit his head this time. "What do you want to know?"
"For a start, who is this Castiel guy, and why the hell did he need me to call you? You're obviously not trying to avoid him, so what's up?"
Looking around the room proves Cas had done his vanishing act sometime after Dean started pretending to be asleep. Dean yawns before answering. "He's a friend of mine. Sort of. We got into some trouble with some big-time guys and we're sort of... lying low for a while."
"Big time like the FBI or big time like the devil?" Ellen's voice is matter-of-fact.
Honesty is probably the best policy with Ellen. "Well, the devil too, but the big problem is the angels."
"The angels."
"Yeah."
"As in Bible angels."
"You got it."
"As in harps, wings, halos?"
"Haven't seen any harps, and most of these bastards definitely don't deserve halos, but yeah, pretty much."
Ellen's quiet for a moment. "Dean, you been drinking? Because last time I checked, angels don't exist."
"Apparently they do," says Dean.
"And you and this Castiel got on their bad side how, exactly?"
Dean winces. "Angels kidnapped me, but then Cas busted me out to stop Lucifer from rising and jump-starting the apocalypse."
"Right," says Ellen, slow like she thinks Dean's going to have trouble understanding. "Dean, listen to a former bartender and put down the bottle."
"Okay, I know it sounds crazy. The point is, Cas has been helping me, but we're keeping a low profile, and he knows he can trust you. He's not gonna hurt me or anything." Dean yawns again, wider than before. "Anyway, I'm a big boy, Ellen, I can watch out for myself."
"You're on your own," Ellen retorts, after a while. "You're not used to that. It's not the same. If you can trust Castiel, you should get him to stick around. I don't think you'll do so well on your own."
"I'm fine, Ellen."
"Think about it anyway," Ellen says. "And explain this angel thing to me when you're not half-asleep. Night, Dean."
"Night," says Dean, as the line beeps the call over.
--
Cas is there in the morning, standing by the window, looking out at the Burwell rain. Dean sits up and rubs his forehead. "Aren't you trying to find God or something?" he asks, and his voice is hoarse from sleep and comes out more of a rasp.
"You move around regularly," Cas says, not bothering to turn around and look at him. "I don't know where to start looking after the obvious places, and this way I can watch over you as well."
Dean doesn't punch the bedsheets, mostly because it would look really stupid. "What the hell is it with you and Ellen? I'm fine. I'm not gonna fall apart without my baby brother."
Wrong thing to say, apparently; Cas turns around, and he's angry again. "I betrayed Heaven for you," he says, almost like he's growling or snarling or some other unlikely dangerous animal sound. "I don't know what your part in all of this will be, but I am not going to let you jeapardise it for your pride. If we fail in this, I have nothing. Do you understand?" He takes a step forward, and Dean swings his legs out of the bed and onto the floor out of instinct alone. "It doesn't matter who wins," Cas says, quieter but just as intense. "I have nothing."
Yeah, Dean's feeling pretty damn shitty about that.
"Stick around then," he says, and he makes it offhand, like it's no big deal. Truth is, he's not okay with this, with Cas riding shotgun and wearing his pendant like he's absorbing bits of both of them. Like he's trying to be more human and basing his concept of humanity off of Dean and a bit of Sam. But more than that, more not okay, is the fact that Dean... doesn't want him to leave. Because yeah, Ellen's sort of right, he isn't used to working alone, and he doesn't want to start. Cas isn't Sam, and it's sort of scary to try to think of them as the same, but he's better than no one and probably better than a lot of other people who could be in his shoes right about now.
And Dean trusts him, weirdly enough.
"You should have my number, though," he says. "In case you need to find me again for some reason."
Cas looks kind of baffled, like he was expecting more of a fight. It takes the bite off angry and intense, takes him back to the Cas who pointed out loopholes in prophecy and sat on park benches and questioned God. He deflates a little, too, and looks away from Dean, down at his hands like he's not sure what to do with them now that he doesn't have to clench them into fists.
"You have a phrase..." he says, and trails off.
Dean takes a wild guess. "Thank you?"
"Yes," says Cas.
--
"An angel of the Lord?" Ellen asks again, just as skeptical the second time.
"Yeah."
"You're driving around with an angel."
"Yep."
"Who betrayed the other angels to get you back to Earth to stop Lucifer from rising."
"Uh-huh."
"Which didn't work."
"Nope."
"And now you're on the run from Heaven and Hell, on some fool's chance attempt to stop the apocalypse before they get fighting and kill everyone."
"Basically."
Ellen laughs, improbably. "You Winchesters," she says. "Why the hell does this shit only happen to you?"
"Beats me," says Dean.
"You keep in touch," Ellen orders. "No way am I finding out from the rumour mill you got taken back Up There and saddled with some archangel. You keep me up-to-date, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dean says, and he smiles a bit in spite of everything else.
Title: Pick Up the Phone
Fandom: Supernatural
Warnings/Spoilers: no warnings; spoilers to 5.02, "Good God, Y'all".
Wordcount: 3,112
Summary: In which Dean spends a lot of time on the phone, Ellen doesn't believe in angels, and Cas isn't Sam.
Notes: Episode tag to "Good God, Y'all". I have no idea what kind of transmission the Impala has, and my foray onto the Internet hasn't yielded any results. So if I've fucked up by giving the Impala too many gears, or a manual transmission (though I can't see John driving an automatic), I'm very sorry. Burwell is a real town in Nebraska.
Pick Up the Phone
The motel room is fucking silent when it's just Dean, alone, the way it hasn't been since his dad fucked off to go hunt a yellow-eyed demon. The way it hasn't been since he first started hunting with Sam. But it's silent now, and Dean can't even bring himself to make noise, to play music, to turn on the TV and watch something mindless and possibly pornographic. He's a complete wreck, an utter whackjob, and he just let Sammy walk away into who-the-fuck-knows-where during the fucking End of Days itself. "It's Armageddon, Dean-o," he mutters, and then lets himself fall backward on the single bed, head thunking against the headboard.
"Fuck," he adds, for good measure.
It's too fucking quiet. Before he's really sure what he's doing, he's got his phone out. This is stupid, this is ridiculous, because who the fuck is he gonna call? Sam? Bobby? One just walked out on him, and the other's in a hospital ward feeling sorry for himself because he's never going walk again, thank you angels. Dean scans the list of numbers anyway, and then he calls Ellen, because she said to call and because she's not gonna take his crap, just like Sam or Bobby wouldn't have.
"When I said 'call me', I didn't mean right away," Ellen greets him, sharp and brisk, like she always is. "What's the problem, Dean?"
"It's, uh..." Dean didn't plan that far. He stares at the phone for a moment too long before figuring out that the only answer he has is way too embarrassing to actually say. "Wanted to make sure you and Jo got out okay." That was innocent enough.
"Right," says Ellen, dry. "We're fine, like we were when you saw us a few hours back this afternoon. How're you and Sam?"
He definitely doesn't want to talk about him and Sam. "I'm good. Sammy's good. We're good."
"Uh-huh. Can I talk to him?"
Dean laughs, just one reverse gasp into the receiver, a hiss and a twitch of his chest. "No can do. He's not here."
"Didn't think so." Ellen's voice doesn't get any softer or any kinder, which is the best fucking thing that's happened to Dean all day. "You two acting all distant like you were, and you calling me while you're probably holed up in some shitty motel, instead of talking to him... Yeah, he's not there."
Ellen is a fucking genius. Dean covers his eyes with a hand and sighs. "You got it."
"So you're on your own now. Tough. What the hell do you want me to do about it?"
Dean shrugs, then remembers she can't see him. "No idea. Nothing. Hell if I know why I called."
It's Ellen's turn to huff that single laugh that probably comes from stupid usual bad luck and not anything actually funny. "Not sure you're gonna be able to sleep on your own?" she offers. "What happened to a girl in every port?"
He wants to say, try explaining that to the angels, who haven't left him alone at night with enough regularity for Dean to do that anymore. But they won't now, because they won't be able to find him. Because Cas fixed it that way. He could go find a girl, bring her back here, leave next morning. He could, but he's not going to. "Guess I'm getting too old."
"That's bullshit, but I expected as much from you."
It takes a moment to figure out what he'll say next. "I don't need someone around I have to protect," he settles on, and it's not quite the truth but closer than anything else he can think of to say. "I can't afford the liability."
"And that's why Sam's gone?" Ellen doesn't sound surprised. Or convinced.
"It was his idea," Dean says.
"That's not a no," Ellen retorts.
"He split because of his issues, not mine," Dean says. Time was he would've been angry, would've been shouting. He's just tired now. Ever since he came back to life, he's just been tired. Too fucking tired to argue with Sam, too fucking tired to deal with a bunch of angels who only seem to want to fuck with his head. Too tired to yell at Ellen, who's as right about everything as she could be without knowing the gory details. He doesn't need to be bothering her, anyway. She's got Jo to worry about. "Hey, sorry to bother you," Dean says. "You've probably got shit to do. I'll go."
"Sure. Take care of yourself. Don't be a stranger," is all Ellen says, and then the line clicks off.
--
His phone rings late the next afternoon, cutting into Led Zeppelin over the car stereo. It's dark and cloudy out, not raining but looking like it's about to start. There's wind pushing against the Impala to the passenger side, and a sign just ahead that says it's four and a half miles to the town of Burwell. Dean's not sure what he's going to find there, but a call's a call, and he's got to do something or he's gonna lose it completely. He turns off the stereo and picks up the phone as the first drop of rain hits the windshield.
"There's a man asking for you here," Ellen says, not bothering with hello or anything. "Or something man-shaped. Says his name's Castiel. Kinda scruffy-lookin'. You know him?"
Dean resists the urge to shut his eyes and rolls them instead. "Yeah, he's safe. He want to talk to me?"
"Just wants to know where you are."
"I'm four miles west of Burwell, Nebraska," Dean says. He turns on the wipers, as the drops begin to pick up frequency. "On Highway 91. He say why?"
Ellen doesn't answer for a moment. "No, he's -- not here anymore," she finally says. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"
It's not a question. "Cas is a friend," Dean explains, because honestly? He doesn't have a damn clue as to how to describe his relationship to Castiel. 'He used to order me around from the guys Up There, but now he's turned on them for me to help me stop Lucifer from rising, which failed anyway' would only earn him a long interrogation. "He's helping me out on a job."
"This have anything to do with the end of the world?"
On the side of the road Dean spots Castiel's coat, and Cas in it. He slows down, pulls over. "Yeah, it does," Dean says. "I gotta go. Talk to you later."
"Oh, you will," says Ellen, and it's less of a promise and more of a warning. Dean sighs when he's shut his phone.
He opens the passenger door, and Cas pulls off his wet coat and climbs in. He's not wearing the holy tax accountant suit anymore, having exchanged it for something a lot more suited to standing around in the rain or scouring the world looking for a missing higher power. "Toss it in the back," Dean says, waving his right hand at the coat, and Cas does as suggested, eyes never leaving Dean's.
He says, "Sam isn't with you."
Dean grips the steering wheel and stares at the nearest roadsign for a moment, and then he puts the Impala in gear and starts driving, and then he can think of something to say that isn't angry or biting or swearing. "He's taking a break from hunting," he says as the speedometer needle swings past forty and he shifts into fourth gear. "Needs some time to recover."
"I called him before I went to Ellen," Cas says. Dean shifts to fifth gear, brings up the clutch nice and gentle. "He didn't know where you are, and he refused to call you."
"That's his problem," Dean says, and goes to turn the stereo on. Cas grabs his wrist before he reaches it, stops him. Dean pulls his hand away instantly, and Cas either isn't strong enough to hold him still or lets him go. "What the hell, Cas?"
Cas looks annoyed when Dean glances over -- or at least, as annoyed as he ever looks. Maybe more so. He's showing more and more reaction these days, which is probably a good sign after whatever happened to him up in Heaven. But he's still a angel, current power levels notwithstanding, so Dean still can't read him too well at all. It would make sense for Cas to be annoyed. Actually, it makes sense for Cas to be completely pissed off, even if they wouldn't have had all the trouble they do now if Cas had just busted Dean out when he asked the first time. Even if there was no way Dean could have done things differently. But hell, betraying everyone you know? Dean can get that Cas could need a damn good reason to get there. Doing it for a lost cause? Yeah, Cas has the right to be pissed.
Still doesn't mean that Dean's gonna let him get away with everything.
"You just let him go?" Cas demands. "Your brother released Lucifer and began Armageddon. You allowed him to walk away?"
"He's not evil," Dean says, and he's not shouting, but it's a close call. "He wanted time to recover. I'm not gonna say no to the first healthy decision he's made since --"
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.
"Dean --" Cas begins, and he's obviously forcing himself to be reasonable, which puts them in the same damn boat. The solidarity helps, weirdly enough. Makes it feel less like trying to talk to a statue and more like talking to a really stubborn foreigner who doesn't get how things work here but expects you to understand him just the same. But that's human, that's easy, that's something Dean can figure out. "It's not just that," Cas says. "There are many who will be looking for him. I doubt they will have his best interests in mind."
"I though you said angels can't find him," Dean says, a sense of dread growing somewhere in his stomach.
Cas shakes his head. "They aren't the only ones who will go looking for him. And they can still look for him as humans do."
"Fuck," says Dean, and smacks a hand against the dashboard. "That's just fucking great."
There's no reply. Cas just stares out the windshield, and fiddles with Dean's pendant, now around his neck. Dean has to stifle to urge to grab it back; he wasn't lying when he said he felt naked without it. A God-detector. A fucking God-EMF. How the fuck Sammy got his hands on something like that, Dean has no idea. He'd say Cas was making it up, except Cas probably doesn't have an imagination in the first place, and he definitely doesn't like lying. So either there is a God, and Dean just happened to have something lying around that can find him -- or Cas is delusional, or misinformed, something to keep him from being effective. Why would God start taking an interest now, and not before? It makes more sense for it to have been Lucifer who saved them all -- the devil having himself a good time before he rips the world apart. And Cas would be too desperate for his questionably-father's approval to think about an alternative. It makes too much sense.
But Cas isn't gonna listen to that. He's already shown he won't, back at the hospital. He's counting on God to save him because he doesn't know what else to do, and yeah, Dean can see the appeal in that. Maybe if he were a little younger, a little less familiar with hell and all the shit of the world, he could find it in himself to believe too. But maybe not. Sammy was always the believer of the family.
A sign welcomes them to Burwell, population 1,100, and the next exit sign immediately after boasts food, shelter, and gas. Dean doesn't indicate, and turns off the highway onto an overpass and into town. "You sticking around?" he asks as they roll into town and Cas makes no sign of being about to vanish.
"I would have to find you again," says Cas. "This seems easier."
"I'm not getting a bigger room for you," Dean warns, but that's it. He and Cas aren't exactly friends, despite what he told Ellen, but he trusts Cas about as much as he trusts anyone these days, and Ellen wasn't completely wrong about him not wanting to be alone.
--
"So that 'later' you mentioned," Ellen says, when Dean picks up the phone. "Is now a good time?"
Dean blinks at the digital clock next to the bed. 12:30. He'd complain, but he wasn't actually sleeping. "Sure," he mumbles, and pulls himself up so he's sort of sitting, leaning against the headboard. He doesn't hit his head this time. "What do you want to know?"
"For a start, who is this Castiel guy, and why the hell did he need me to call you? You're obviously not trying to avoid him, so what's up?"
Looking around the room proves Cas had done his vanishing act sometime after Dean started pretending to be asleep. Dean yawns before answering. "He's a friend of mine. Sort of. We got into some trouble with some big-time guys and we're sort of... lying low for a while."
"Big time like the FBI or big time like the devil?" Ellen's voice is matter-of-fact.
Honesty is probably the best policy with Ellen. "Well, the devil too, but the big problem is the angels."
"The angels."
"Yeah."
"As in Bible angels."
"You got it."
"As in harps, wings, halos?"
"Haven't seen any harps, and most of these bastards definitely don't deserve halos, but yeah, pretty much."
Ellen's quiet for a moment. "Dean, you been drinking? Because last time I checked, angels don't exist."
"Apparently they do," says Dean.
"And you and this Castiel got on their bad side how, exactly?"
Dean winces. "Angels kidnapped me, but then Cas busted me out to stop Lucifer from rising and jump-starting the apocalypse."
"Right," says Ellen, slow like she thinks Dean's going to have trouble understanding. "Dean, listen to a former bartender and put down the bottle."
"Okay, I know it sounds crazy. The point is, Cas has been helping me, but we're keeping a low profile, and he knows he can trust you. He's not gonna hurt me or anything." Dean yawns again, wider than before. "Anyway, I'm a big boy, Ellen, I can watch out for myself."
"You're on your own," Ellen retorts, after a while. "You're not used to that. It's not the same. If you can trust Castiel, you should get him to stick around. I don't think you'll do so well on your own."
"I'm fine, Ellen."
"Think about it anyway," Ellen says. "And explain this angel thing to me when you're not half-asleep. Night, Dean."
"Night," says Dean, as the line beeps the call over.
--
Cas is there in the morning, standing by the window, looking out at the Burwell rain. Dean sits up and rubs his forehead. "Aren't you trying to find God or something?" he asks, and his voice is hoarse from sleep and comes out more of a rasp.
"You move around regularly," Cas says, not bothering to turn around and look at him. "I don't know where to start looking after the obvious places, and this way I can watch over you as well."
Dean doesn't punch the bedsheets, mostly because it would look really stupid. "What the hell is it with you and Ellen? I'm fine. I'm not gonna fall apart without my baby brother."
Wrong thing to say, apparently; Cas turns around, and he's angry again. "I betrayed Heaven for you," he says, almost like he's growling or snarling or some other unlikely dangerous animal sound. "I don't know what your part in all of this will be, but I am not going to let you jeapardise it for your pride. If we fail in this, I have nothing. Do you understand?" He takes a step forward, and Dean swings his legs out of the bed and onto the floor out of instinct alone. "It doesn't matter who wins," Cas says, quieter but just as intense. "I have nothing."
Yeah, Dean's feeling pretty damn shitty about that.
"Stick around then," he says, and he makes it offhand, like it's no big deal. Truth is, he's not okay with this, with Cas riding shotgun and wearing his pendant like he's absorbing bits of both of them. Like he's trying to be more human and basing his concept of humanity off of Dean and a bit of Sam. But more than that, more not okay, is the fact that Dean... doesn't want him to leave. Because yeah, Ellen's sort of right, he isn't used to working alone, and he doesn't want to start. Cas isn't Sam, and it's sort of scary to try to think of them as the same, but he's better than no one and probably better than a lot of other people who could be in his shoes right about now.
And Dean trusts him, weirdly enough.
"You should have my number, though," he says. "In case you need to find me again for some reason."
Cas looks kind of baffled, like he was expecting more of a fight. It takes the bite off angry and intense, takes him back to the Cas who pointed out loopholes in prophecy and sat on park benches and questioned God. He deflates a little, too, and looks away from Dean, down at his hands like he's not sure what to do with them now that he doesn't have to clench them into fists.
"You have a phrase..." he says, and trails off.
Dean takes a wild guess. "Thank you?"
"Yes," says Cas.
--
"An angel of the Lord?" Ellen asks again, just as skeptical the second time.
"Yeah."
"You're driving around with an angel."
"Yep."
"Who betrayed the other angels to get you back to Earth to stop Lucifer from rising."
"Uh-huh."
"Which didn't work."
"Nope."
"And now you're on the run from Heaven and Hell, on some fool's chance attempt to stop the apocalypse before they get fighting and kill everyone."
"Basically."
Ellen laughs, improbably. "You Winchesters," she says. "Why the hell does this shit only happen to you?"
"Beats me," says Dean.
"You keep in touch," Ellen orders. "No way am I finding out from the rumour mill you got taken back Up There and saddled with some archangel. You keep me up-to-date, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dean says, and he smiles a bit in spite of everything else.