Mechanically Inclined
Castiel cannot recall ever spending so much time in so small an area before.
He has spent longer stints on Earth, certainly. But never in one place for very long. Continents, oceans, mountains, deserts - all had been crossed over as quickly as thought, sometimes many trips a day. Winging back and forth between the Garrison and world over which they watched. It had never felt confining.
Not like Milliways is becoming.
It has been some weeks since Castiel had made the decision to adapt his orders on the fly (quite literally) and bring Dean to Milliways before returning him to Earth. He still does not believe that it was a bad plan. Judging by what he has seen and reports he has been given, Dean had been even more in need of this time than Castiel had realized.
It just hadn’t occurred to him that this time here would stretch so long. Or rather, that it would feel so long.
Milliways is, at the end of the day, a small place. And unlike all of his former visits, Castiel cannot leave at will this time. Not until Dean is ready to be taken back. Castiel attempts to imagine leaving alone, confronting his superiors empty-handed, and trying to explain, “I just hid him away at the End of the Universe for safekeeping until his mind has healed. I’ll go back and see if he’s ready tomorrow.”
It is not a fantasy that ends well.
So, in Milliways he stays.
And by now he thinks he has mapped every square foot of it. He has been wary of spending too much time in the bar proper, not wanting to draw comment with a near constant presence. But he has explored corners. He has rambled the upstairs halls. Ensconced himself in the library. Wandered though the kitchens. Visited the barn. The lake. The ball field. He has stood on the mountain at the edge of the universe’s end.
He wonders if this is what humans mean when they speak of being “stir crazy.”
He has discovered corners of Milliways he did not know existed. Like the brothel. The bowling alley. And the garage.
Castiel has seen cars, of course. Knows their function. Knows that some human beings invest a great deal of emotion into them, though he does not understand why. Dean Winchester is far from alone in that arena. Castiel wanders idly among the machines in the garage, trying to get some inkling of why these devices are capable of holding such fascination.
He never does come up with what he considers a satisfactory answer, not even when he raises the hood of one car, trying to see if what lies beneath the metal shell is any more illuminating.
It isn’t, but Castiel finds himself fascinated by the interconnecting wires and tubes and gears and parts that he doesn’t even know names for.
What happens next is probably inevitable.
He has time on his hands. A brief circuit of the garage yields a chest of tools. And there is no one around to suggest that perhaps the cars should remain unmolested. Castiel randomly chooses a car on the fringes of the garage and goes to work.
Anyone watching throughout the night would witness an automobile being methodically taken apart, pieces examined with interest as they are liberated from the whole, and arranged neatly on the concrete.
And then put back together again.
Castiel cannot say that he understands humanity’s affinity for automobiles any better. But the exercise is still satisfactory, much in the way that the ship in the bottle had been.
If it weren’t for that one left over piece.
He has spent longer stints on Earth, certainly. But never in one place for very long. Continents, oceans, mountains, deserts - all had been crossed over as quickly as thought, sometimes many trips a day. Winging back and forth between the Garrison and world over which they watched. It had never felt confining.
Not like Milliways is becoming.
It has been some weeks since Castiel had made the decision to adapt his orders on the fly (quite literally) and bring Dean to Milliways before returning him to Earth. He still does not believe that it was a bad plan. Judging by what he has seen and reports he has been given, Dean had been even more in need of this time than Castiel had realized.
It just hadn’t occurred to him that this time here would stretch so long. Or rather, that it would feel so long.
Milliways is, at the end of the day, a small place. And unlike all of his former visits, Castiel cannot leave at will this time. Not until Dean is ready to be taken back. Castiel attempts to imagine leaving alone, confronting his superiors empty-handed, and trying to explain, “I just hid him away at the End of the Universe for safekeeping until his mind has healed. I’ll go back and see if he’s ready tomorrow.”
It is not a fantasy that ends well.
So, in Milliways he stays.
And by now he thinks he has mapped every square foot of it. He has been wary of spending too much time in the bar proper, not wanting to draw comment with a near constant presence. But he has explored corners. He has rambled the upstairs halls. Ensconced himself in the library. Wandered though the kitchens. Visited the barn. The lake. The ball field. He has stood on the mountain at the edge of the universe’s end.
He wonders if this is what humans mean when they speak of being “stir crazy.”
He has discovered corners of Milliways he did not know existed. Like the brothel. The bowling alley. And the garage.
Castiel has seen cars, of course. Knows their function. Knows that some human beings invest a great deal of emotion into them, though he does not understand why. Dean Winchester is far from alone in that arena. Castiel wanders idly among the machines in the garage, trying to get some inkling of why these devices are capable of holding such fascination.
He never does come up with what he considers a satisfactory answer, not even when he raises the hood of one car, trying to see if what lies beneath the metal shell is any more illuminating.
It isn’t, but Castiel finds himself fascinated by the interconnecting wires and tubes and gears and parts that he doesn’t even know names for.
What happens next is probably inevitable.
He has time on his hands. A brief circuit of the garage yields a chest of tools. And there is no one around to suggest that perhaps the cars should remain unmolested. Castiel randomly chooses a car on the fringes of the garage and goes to work.
Anyone watching throughout the night would witness an automobile being methodically taken apart, pieces examined with interest as they are liberated from the whole, and arranged neatly on the concrete.
And then put back together again.
Castiel cannot say that he understands humanity’s affinity for automobiles any better. But the exercise is still satisfactory, much in the way that the ship in the bottle had been.
If it weren’t for that one left over piece.