Children of the Wild Ones

[reticentric]

Chapter Two

Since taking Jimmy Novak as a vessel Castiel hadn’t found a point in changing anything about him or his attire except for when it came to his health. When Jimmy’s body became another extension of his body-since Jimmy’s soul had department when Raphael smote him-the thought drifted even further from his mind. What was the point of new outfits or shaving when he could simply wave a hand and make everything perfect. As long as his vessel functioned he was fine. Yet sitting on Bobby Singer’s old couch in one of Dean’s t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, he found himself enjoying the novelty of something different. The fabric was freer than Jimmy’s suit; lighter. His arms and feet were bare to the elements though the only thing he felt was the warmth from the fireplace. It was interesting and utterly unimportant to the circumstances he was being made aware of.

Apparently Dean had absorbed Michael’s grace and all that encompassed which were basically infinite possibilities.

It was a harrowing truth and not just because Dean could be irrational and stubborn to a fault, but because he could still remember his fear and his anger at the thought of Dean saying yes. At the thought of losing him to Michael’s overwhelming presence and then having to watch him destroy a world Dean continued to believe in. Of course it had been more than that though at the time he wasn’t sure he fully understood his emotions because they were still so new to him. He assumed it was because of the mission, and the success of the mission. Destroying Lucifer without anyone having to say yes, thereby preventing as many senseless causalities as they could. But in reality he knew he just didn’t wanna lose Dean.

Now he was happy to have a second chance to see him again and talk to him again; to tell his friend that he’d been wrong. The other angels and even his own Father might let him down but Dean would always come through. His drive and determination to save a bunch of strangers was unparalleled except for perhaps by his brother. It was no wonder he was the Righteous Man.

And now somehow Archistrategos; commander of the Heavenly Host.

Dean tapped his shoulder. “Hey, you okay? You’re gonna burn a hole into the wall the way you’re staring at it.”

Castiel blinked at him. “I’m alright. I was just thinking about our last conversation before you and Sam went to rescue your half brother. I am grateful that those were not my last words to you.”

Dean arched a brow. “Don’t worry about it. Just uh, help us figure out what this whole Michael deal is about.” Pause. “By the way, what’s up with your angel mojo? You unable to heal now?”

Castiel lowered his gaze to his hands. Being inside of a human used to feel cramped and disorienting but now it was almost second nature to him. “In essence, yes.”

His friend sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Care to elaborate on that?”

Castiel plucked at his shirt; something he recognized as a somewhat nervous gesture. “From what you have told me about my condition when you found me, I would say that my batteries were drained. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ended up in a hospital in the first place.”

Dean’s expression was alarmed. “You mean you’re human? Shit.”

“Technically.” He paused. “I am sorry if my current state means that I will be of no further use to you.”

“What? No. I meant shit as in I’m sorry, man. That’s rough.” Dean frowned. “You’re still plenty of use to us. We don’t toss friends away because they’re human. Hell Bobby is old as dirt and we still keep his around.”

“I heard that!” Bobby griped from the kitchen.

“Hey Cas, what do you mean technically?” Sam inquired gently.

Castiel rested back to the sofa, his wings shifting restlessly with the urge to manifest. “It’s hard to explain.”

Folding his arms over his chest in a sign Castiel knew to mean Dean wasn’t about to let this drop, he said, “Go slow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

The angel resisted the urge to smile. “After banishing the other angels and myself I am pretty sure that I used my last remaining strength to do so. However at this moment I am still an angel.” He gazed at intensely at Dean. “Because of you.”

Dean shifted on his feet. “What did I do?”

Castiel replied rather bluntly, “You grace shared with me. It is extremely rare among angels-only the most powerful are able to do so. The Archangels of course and a few lower level angels.” A beat. “You felt that I was weak when you healed me and sought to make me strong again. Thank you.”

Smoothing a hand wearily across his face, Dean cleared his throat. “Okay. Um you’re welcome? God this is so weird. So I juiced you up and now you’re an angel again? Does that mean I’m gonna have to keep doing?”

Theoretically, perhaps. “If I over exert myself to the point of exhaustion. Being cut off from Heaven means that I can’t simply tap that as an unlimited source of power. However I would not expect you to continue to do so,” he said honestly.

For a moment Dean simply looked at him and Castiel noticed that his eyes were an even more brilliant green now. Humans wouldn’t be able to detect it but he could. His soul had always shone bright no matter what obstacles he faced, but now there were tiny wisps of silvery incandescent light mingling with the colored iris. It was un-nerving and beautiful and also familiar because there was a gentleness there that was all Dean.

As much as Castiel felt his brothers and sisters were horribly wrong for trying to purge the earth before its time, he still missed them and Heaven. Being able to feel the warmth of Michael’s grace within Dean-knowing that it wasn’t taking him over-gave him back a tiny piece of his home.

Sam scrubbing the legs of his chair against the hardwood floor made Dean snap back to attention. “I’d do it. Recharge you or whatever.”

His brother snickered lowly. “We could hook jumper cables to your ears.”

Dean snorted. “Shut up, bitch. Anyway do you have any idea what’s going on? Where is Michael? Should I be worried that one day I could go get a beer and suddenly he’s driving me around?”

There was a slight tremor in his voice that belied his somewhat aloof nature. It made Castiel want to put his fears at rest but unfortunately he didn’t have all the answers. Not this time. “I can tell you that there is no sign of Michael inside you besides tendrils of his grace. Getting you to say yes was Zachariah’s primary goal. I seriously doubt Michael would wait even a second to control you if he could. It’s been almost two weeks since Van Nuys, has it not?”

Tiredly Dean sat down beside him. “Something like that. I just-I don’t understand any of this. I mean did like running out of the beautiful room while he was coming down somehow give me his mojo? Is he stuck up in Heaven without powers? And if so how come he hasn’t sent other angels down here to kick my ass? Even with the scribbles on my ribs it’s not like they’d have to cast a wide net. We always come back here eventually.”

All good questions deserving of answers. “I don’t know, Dean. I suggest research but I do not know where to tell you to begin.”

Dean stifled a yawn. “I figured it would be that. Hey why am I yawning if I’m an angel now? For that matter why do I still wanna eat and drink?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “I would not go as far as to say you’re an actual angel. You do have Michael’s grace but your mind is still very much human. You’re hungry because you think you should be. Hunger is a natural human response after all.”

Sam pulled a book off the shelf. “So if he started like, thinking he didn’t need food or sleep eventually he wouldn’t? That will never happen. Dean’s love affair with food is the stuff of legend. He loves it like he loves his car.”

Dean didn’t deny anything. “If it means giving up pie and Biggerson’s, I’m out. But learning how to heal without all the drama would be nice.”

“Would you like me to attempt to teach you some things?” Castiel asked. “We could also test your strength. Knowing your limits-if there are any-would be best especially since I am sure you plan to continue hunting.”

“Ya know that sounds like a good idea.” Dean grinned and fetched a pair of boots for him out of his duffle. “We can go out back and screw with shit while Sam and Bobby find out why Michael flew the coop.”

“Just how I wanted to spend my day.” Bobby trudged through with a coffee mug. “Don’t you two idgits mess up my yard. I got everything how I like it.”

“Yeah.” Dean stood up and motioned for Castiel to follow. “A big old disorganized mess.”

Outside behind Bobby’s fading and paint peeling blue house was a mess of old cars and car parts scattered around and even piled on top of each other. Castiel could smell pools of gasoline and motor oil as dry leaves crunched under his feet. The rusted bodies of the old junkers always reminded him of skeletons with secrets hidden in their bones of warped steel and metal. He used to could touch the Impala and know her entire life history; feel Sam and Dean’s memories in her leather. Now he wondered if he could still do that. If he could touch any of these old cars and just know everything about them and the people who owned them.

He realized things would be tricky now because of his waning powers…that he wouldn’t be as proficient as he used to be. But that wouldn’t stop him from doing his best whenever he was asked. He was willing to give up everything to see Lucifer destroyed and thankfully that had come to pass with Gabriel’s help. Thankfully those he cared about were still intact, yet if things had gone differently and there was a sacrifice on his side to be made, he would have made it.

Yes the world wasn’t always a wonderful place and humans could be horrible towards each other, but he’d also seen the good in people while on his quest to find God. He was glad they wouldn’t have to suffer because of Lucifer’s misplaced wrath.

Looking up at the cloudy sky, Dean sniffed and gave his left upper arm a squeeze, right over the handprint. “What’s first, Obie Wan?”

Castiel recognized the pop culture reference but as usual he didn’t understand it. Perhaps one day he would ask Dean to explain them all to him. “Michael was the most powerful Archangel in all of Heaven. You’ve seen what Gabriel can do-how he can create entire realities out of nothing. Now imagine that tenfold. I fear there is nothing you can’t do now, Dean. Or be able to learn to do.”

Dean wet his lips. “Freaky. Let’s hope learnin’ shit doesn’t set anything off.”

“You’re worried using your new abilities will…conjure Michael to you?”

“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”

“No. With Lucifer dead Michael’s war can’t begin. I haven’t been to Heaven since before I rebelled but I would imagine if he is truly gone, then Raphael now rules in his place. Honestly I think he would approve of these turn of events. He could be the new God.”

“That’s a terrifying thought. What about all those souls up there?”

“Raphael has never had any interest in the souls. He will probably turn his attention to earning the allegiances of Michael’s followers and punishing those that refuse.”

“Guess learning to burn angels outta their meat suits’ might come in handy if he tries to start any shit.”

“Perhaps. That is still well above your comprehension level however.”

Huffing out a little laugh, Dean shook out his limbs. “Alright. Enough talk. Teach me how to do something cool.”

Trying to decide the best place to start, Castiel went with feats of strength. He spied a large grass covered tractor tire lying on its side and walked over to it, lifting it until it was sitting up. Then he gave it a shove and sent it rolling towards a stacked pile of crushed cars like a bowling ball, watching as it crashed into them and sent them tipping over with a loud metal groan.

The hunter next to him let out a loud whistle. “You must be one hell of a bowler.” He cracked his knuckles. “Okay. I can do that. No problem.” He waltzed over to the second tire and bent down, slipping his hands under it. He pulled up with a grunt but nothing happened except for his feet sliding in the dirt and an uncomfortable popping sound.

Castiel’s face was passive but he did feel a little amusement. “Dean, do not hurt yourself. I am unable to heal you.”

Dean glared at him. “Shut up, Cas. I can do this. I’ve got Archangel grace running through my veins.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. But it is my understanding that you were in a state of tumultuous emotion when you healed me and Bobby…”

Dean exhaled. “I was angry. Gabriel was being a dick-as usual-and I just wanted it. I wanted Bobby to walk again…and I wanted you to wake up.” His brows narrowed broodingly. “After all the bullshit we’d been through I needed our luck to keep going. Heh guess that’s why this isn’t working. I don’t need to move this.”

“No, but you want it. Dormant powers linked to emotions can be dangerous, Dean. As we saw with the anti-Christ.” Castiel indicated to the tire. “It would be beneficial for you to learn some control so that you don’t accidentally hurt an innocent you’re trying to save. Try picturing someone trapped under the tire, about to be crushed to death.”

“You do got a way with words, don’t cha?” Dean muttered. Quietly he focused on the tire, his fingers twitching by his sides, his breathing slow and careful.

An odd electric current filled the air and Castiel could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Goosebumps broke out onto his skin and he shivered, taking a step back before he realized what he had done. He was about to suggest that they stop when once again Dean bent at the knees and slid his hands between the tire and the ground. He steadied his boots and jerked upwards hard with a low sound, sending the wheel at least thirty to forty feet into the air. It soared like a tumbling discus off into the distance before slamming down with a roaring thump that made a smoking crater.

Dean pumped his fist. “Woo! Did you see that! That was awesome! I only meant to lift it up but damn. Good thing Bobby owns a few acres.”

Castiel swallowed thickly. “Very good.”

“What’s wrong?” Because of course Dean would notice his slight uneasiness. “Freak you out?”

“Not at the act itself but the energy you built up to do it. I’ve only experienced such a few times before.” Pause. “Most notably when Raphael killed me.”

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know I’d never do that to you, Cas. We can stop this if you want. I’ll figure shit out somehow.”

One of the hunter’s most shining traits was his selflessness and the way he always wanted to help other people even to the detriment of his own well-being. It made Castiel want to always be there for him, to offer support. “I am not afraid of you and I want to help you with this. I’m…thankful that I can aid you in this process.”

Dean smiled. “I don’t think I’d trust anyone else to help me. It was you or wing it.”

Warmth bloomed in the angel’s chest; he was never quite sure why he enjoyed Dean’s compliments or why he seemed to look up to him the way he did. It was something he should think on when he had more time. “Speaking of wings, I’m sure you have your own now.”

Dean rolled his shoulders. “Guess that would explain the ache. Bitches must be heavy. How do I get them to come out?”

Castiel shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Just think it.”

Lines appeared in Dean’s forehead-a sign he was thinking or bearing down-yet nothing happened after five minutes went by. “Damn it. Why isn’t it working? And hey why can’t you see them?”

So many questions. “Angels generally can’t see each others’ wings in vessel form unless they want them to be seen. And I suppose yours do not want to manifest because you’re…shy?”

Dean huffed loudly, recognizing the teasing. “Are you saying I’m having wingtile dysfunction! Bullshit!” He punched the nearest object, hissing when his knuckles came back sliced opened. “Goddamn it!”

Noting his friend’s frustration, Castiel took his hand and watched the blood bubble to the surface. “You do not have to learn or be able to do everything all at once. There is time.”

Dean flexed his fingers. “Never felt like it before. ‘Sides I’d rather know what I’m capable of right off the bat.” The ripped flesh knitted itself back together but he didn’t pull away from Castiel’s touch. “That’s better than nothing though.”

Castiel nodded. “You will get better. You are a very fast leaner.” Realizing that he was now simply holding Dean’s hand, he gently released it before he got upset. “Tapping into your strength today was not a small thing either. I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself when it is obvious you’re an exceptional human being.”

Dean mumbled something before changing the subject. “Anyway…maybe we can try the wing thing later. I am kinda tired.” He snickered at some unheard joke.

Glancing around to make sure that no one was lurking about, the angel wet his lips slowly. “Would you like to see my wings?”

“They won’t burn my eyes outta my skull?” Even though it was a legitimate concern, it didn’t dampen the flare of excitement that flashed in big green eyes. His fascination with Castiel’s wings was not his best kept secret.

“I am fairly certain they won’t.” Castiel took great care in revealing them, ready to hide them immediately if Dean showed any distress. Thankfully there was no screaming or eyes aflame.

Castiel’s wings were white and large, extending far out to either side of him with a few feathers in disarray. It felt good to lightly flap them against the air and watch Dean’s eyes widen in captivation as they tracked their movements. He could remember all those months ago-years if one were being technical- how he had found Dean for the first time; covered in dark blood and bits of charred flesh with the bile and stench of Hell tainting his skin. His fist was through the chest cavity of a seizing soul, his emotions radiating a sort of pleased guilt that he could finally be the aggressor instead of the victim.

And then he had turned and saw Castiel and his wings, and his nearly black eyes had widened in awe, fear and acceptance. Obviously thinking that the angel was there to burn him out of existence and on some level wanting that because at least then it would be completely over. At least then he would feel no more pain-no more squishy organs between his fingers and no more deafening screams, so loud they made his ears bleed.

Broken and degraded, Dean had all but melted into his arms when he pulled him near, digging sticky fingers into his feathers. Yet the perversities of Hell had done nothing to dim the goodness within Dean’s soul and Castiel had folded his wings around his new charge’s shattered spirit and flew, shielding him with his Grace and healing every scar. The hunter hadn’t wanted to let go afterwards.

He attributes safety with my wings, Castiel realized, pleased. “Would you like to touch them?”

Dean was suddenly thrumming with nervous energy. “That wouldn’t be weird?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not for me. I think it would be pleasant. They haven’t been touched since I was dragged back to Heaven for re-indoctrination.” Which had not been pleasant at all.

Debating with himself for a minute before going for it, Dean crept closer like he expected something to bite him. He reached out slowly and skimmed his fingertips along soft feathers. “They feel…different than I thought they would. “ He didn’t elaborate how and instead dug in deeper. “Some of your feathers have streaks of silver. Is that like the angel equivalent of going gray?”

“They are what you would call badges of honor from the battles I have been in.” He said, amused. “Places where they’ve healed or been healed.”

“Cool.” Dean started to groom him next, arranging errant feathers back into place. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

The sensation of his warm calloused fingers was soothing and Castiel felt himself swaying into his space, his lashes fluttering closed. Human touch was something he was steadily getting used to-something he’d never thought of before-however if it remained like this he could see himself coming to want it more and more. Especially from Dean.

Especially to his wings.

“I do not have a lot of time to keep them organized.” Castiel admitted lowly. “I am just lucky that throughout my fighting they have never been permanently damaged. Trapped within that holy fire while Lucifer interrogated me, I was worried the circle would somehow shift and ignite them. Or perhaps Meg would simply douse me in holy oil.”

Dean growled at the mention of the demon. “I would have found her ass and made her eat her own hands if she had.” He scowled but his touch became even gentler. “Ya know Cas that means you gotta stop running off to do things on your own. I get you were the only one to see the Reapers but ya know, things coulda went a lot differently.”

Castiel’s right wing brushed the back of Dean’s legs. “I understand. From now on we will operate as a team.”

Dean smiled. “Right. Now turn around and let me have a real go at these bad boys.”

Castiel was more than happy to oblige.

~*~

The upstairs bedrooms in Bobby’s house were either filled with old junk that he just couldn’t part with or were so dusty they gave Dean the urge to go dust bunny hunting. Usually he rock-paper-scissor’d Sam for the couch but after all the shit he’d been through today alone, he just wanted to sleep in a real bed. So he’d beat the sheets and pillows free of as many cobwebs as he could before flopping onto a hard mattress with a deep groan. It was only somewhat better than the floor.

The room itself was bare except for an old dresser and a trunk pressed against the wall. There were no curtains at the window so the moonlight pooled in but he didn’t mind. It was kinda nice actually; the quiet. Usually he didn’t have time to pay attention to silent nights or sunny days or any of that kinda shit. The last time he’d caught a minute to himself without the fear of dying, losing himself or his loved ones he’d been dreaming about fishing. And even then Cas had shown up to interrupt. But this was nice. He could hear Sam’s sporadic snores from downstairs and for once knew he wouldn’t have to kick him awake from a nightmare.

Least he won’t be having anymore weird Lucifer dreams. Guess we’ll hang here a few more days before hitting the road again and looking for a case.

Unfortunately research had turned up nada on the missing Michael front but they weren’t going to give up of course. This wasn’t just something they could take at face value. Their lives didn’t work that way.

Staring up at the ceiling, he glanced to the door when the floorboards on the other side creaked. Out of habit his hand sneaked under his pillow to where his knife rested. “…Cas?”

The knob turned and a dishelved head of dark hair peeped in. “Did I wake you?”

God, you creeper. “No. C’mon on in.”

He did as requested, wandering over to poke at the dresser. “I think I could sleep but I do not know if I want to. Dreaming seems as if it would be unsettling.”

Dean grinned. “Nightmares yeah, but not the dirty ones.” It was weird seeing Castiel in his clothes. Actually it was weird seeing Castiel in anything other than his holy tax accountant suit. Made him wanna buy him a trench coat just because. “So the sleeping thing. You getting drained again?”

Castiel came over and perched on the edge of the bed. “No. I just…feel as if I could sleep if I told my body to sleep. For the last few months I searched for God so that we could defeat Lucifer. Now that he is dead I suppose God is not needed anymore, and I am unsure of what to do with myself. Returning to Heaven does not seem to be a valid option.”

Sitting up, Dean watched him carefully. “I thought-I mean I figured you’d stay with us. Hunt with me and Sam.”

The angel squinted at him. “I am terrible at interrogating people.”

That was very true, to an insanely amusing degree. “Yeah but you’d be a boss at research. And at smiting.” Though maybe he didn’t wanna stay with them. With him. Maybe he wanted to go out and heal babies or help the homeless. “You don’t gotta if you don’t wanna. You’re a free agent now. You can do whatever you want.”

Castiel nodded. “Then…I would very much like to stay with you.”

It was late so Dean wasn’t gonna dwell on why that settled the churning of his stomach. “Sweet. I’ll teach you to shoot and everything.” Yawning, he laid back down. “I’m about to pass out.”

“I’ll watch over you.”

“No. You’re not gonna sit there all night and watch me sleep. Either get in or go hover over Sam.”

“Very well.” Removing his boots, Castiel crawled under the covers but he appeared to remember the whole personal space rule, sticking to his side of the bed. “Do I have to sleep?”

Dean rolled over to stare at the side of his face. “You don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, Cas. That’s the beauty of free will.”

Castiel hummed happily. “Then I will just lie here quietly.”

Snickering Dean closed his eyes, feeling more content than he’d felt in a long time. His little brother was safe, Bobby could walk again and Cas was back where he belonged. The other shoe was gonna drop eventually but he’d deal with that tomorrow. For now he was just going to enjoy their little win.

Chapter Three