Graphics for In Secret Places by Brinchestiel (pt. 2)
Friday morning brought a new addition to Principal Mills’s study hall. A girl with flaming hair and too many layers for the stifling heat of the office was sitting at Jody’s desk. Castiel and Dean eyed her warily.
On the other side of the fence, lay a large expanse of overgrown land. Castiel couldn’t tell what it was past the tangled vines and the tall grass that spread and poked its fingers between the gaps in the fence. He pulled apart the opening, careful of the sharp ends of the wire and crouched through. There was a hush about the place,like it was waiting. He might have been its first visitor in years.
Inspecting closer, he noticed the remnants of an old allotment; rotting planter boxes sat barely visible through the brambles and garbage that littered the ground. There was a pile of charred wood in the far corner covered in dead leaves, the forgotten remains of a shed perhaps. A breeze whispered soft through the branches of the trees that overlooked from the street. Castiel kicked a can of cheap beer against the fence, listening to it rattle and wobble with the impact.
Castiel ran a hand through his hair, sighed heavily. Dean watched as the tension in his body drained and Castiel sank to the sidewalk. Dean glanced back into the allotment; the sleeping bag was gone. Even if Dean had wanted to leave, to return to Missouri’s with a lie on the tip of his tongue, Dean wasn’t sure, looking at this situation, that he really could. Castiel looked small, vulnerable. He’d freeze without something covering him.
And of course… return of the text messages!
“Castiel,” she murmured quietly, “can we talk, my office?” Brief confusion, a flicker of panic, swept across Castiel’s sharp features, but he relaxed his face back into his usual blank stare just as quickly, and he followed her across the hall. “How’re you holding up?” she asked, carefully closing the door behind her, choosing to lean against her desk.
Charlie was right on cue, and they all piled into her bright yellow Gremlin. Missouri gave Sam her library card and waved them off at the door.
Castiel considered Dean’s profile again, now hunched over his notes, his hands holding the pen in a clunky iron grip, his tongue poking out in concentration, like a child. But Castiel knew from their study sessions that Dean’s writing was actually quite neat, and that a lot of his ideas were mature and well-executed. Dean was strange like that. Full of contradictions. He looked to be all brawn, but there was plenty of brain in there. Softness, too.
“Only a tot,” Bobby smiled, placing his hand around half-way up his thigh, “yay high I’d say. I was the only one your daddy trusted with his baby. He brought it up here to me, brought you boys with him. Couldn’t keep your little hands off the tools. John was excited, too. Told me he’d teach you everythin’. Did he?” Dean shrugged, “Sorta. I know how to fix the Impala, at least.” “You gotta learn modern beasts, too but they’re basically the same concept. Wanna help me out?”
“What’s going on?” Crowley grumbled, lighting a cigarette, not bothering to keep the smoke away from Castiel’s face. It stung his eyes. If it wasn’t Crowley, that could only mean…
Missouri left Castiel soon after, making her way to Bobby’s, armed with her basketful of herbs. His eyes were tired but Bobby looked in better spirits when he opened the door. She followed him to the kitchen, picking her way through a deluge of Roadhouse wrappers to find a kettle on the stove. She bustled around as though the room was her own, sprinkling herbs into her strainer, rubbing them between her life-worn palms.
Part One || Part Two || Part Three