A New Earth: Chapter 3: In Which Castiel Learns Several New Things
Title: A New Earth: Chapter 3: In Which Castiel Learns Several New Things
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, Gabriel, Balthazar, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Zachariah, Henricksen
Rating: PG so far.
Genres: Humor, drama
Era: AU
Warnings: Language, gardening
Word Count: 2,300
Summary: Angels and hunters don't know each other. Apocalypse happens. Righteous humans given to angels on earth. Read a better summary here. In this chapter, the six are checked up on by an old "friend," Dean teaches Castiel, and Balthazar is annoying.
Notes: This one was almost half as long, but I decided to push through and end at a different point.
It took almost a full week for Dean and me to truly relax in one another's presence in the garage. In fact, it seemed to be taking me much longer than him. I appreciated his easy-going personality; while stubborn, he was more accepting of his situation than most others would have been, myself, included.
In between teaching me about cars and their engines, Dean casually talked about himself and his life. In his books, Chuck the Prophet had been mostly correct in his round-about-way: Dean was a simple man. No, not unintelligent, Dean was far from that. It was just that he appreciated everything he was given, no matter how insignificant it seemed to me. And if his life was taken away from him and he was, in return, given a torture-free captivity where he could be with family and work on cars, well that was more than fine with him.
Not that Dean could resist teasing me about it, sliding in a "master" every now and then, and then laughing at my bafflement.
"Hey, boss man, where's the flashlight?"
Embarrassed at being caught up in my contemplations, I readjusted my arm shining the light back to the stop under the car where Dean was working. "Sorry."
Dean only grunted, but I detected a hint of amusement in the noise.
I was lying on my stomach on the floor (on the floor!), stretched halfway under the automobile. Dean was on his back, lying on a wheeled board, called a dolly (a ridiculous name, in my opinion), all the way under. It was complicated work, changing the oil. Not that I was doing much, but Dean did insist that flashlight duty was important.
As if I could not recognize condescension.
It that uncomfortable position, I suddenly heard my name sharply called. Dean started, bumping his forehead on the underside of the car. Scooting out, I grabbed Dean's boot and yanked him out from underneath the car. "Are you all right, Dean?" I asked.
Dean blinked at me. "That was fast."
"He is an angel."
Ah yes. The voice. Zachariah.
Zachariah is an angel of the Lord, higher up than Balthazar and myself, and works in an administrative roll -- delivering commands and making sure everyone is on task. Also, for someone who is a holy and righteous servant, he is something of what Dean might call "a dick." Not that I ever would.
"Greetings, Zachariah." I rose, grabbing Dean's wrist and yanking him up. "This is Dean Winchester." Dean may have grunted; I am not certain. I nodded to a large, African American man standing slightly behind Zachariah.
Zachariah gave Dean half a glance, before motioning behind him, "This is my charge, Henricksen."
I smiled politely.
Dean said, a smirk in his voice, "We've met, haven't we Henricksen?"
Curious, I looked between the two: Dean appeared pleased, while Henricksen's frown deepened.
Explaining, Dean said, "Me and Sam have run into good old FBI agent Henricksen, here, a few times in the past."
Henricksen gave him a cold look. "You both were breaking laws, and I stand by my actions. Now knowing what I do all about your demon hunting... I still don't agree with your methods." He shook his head.
I wondered if Dean's temper would show itself, but he only grinned and slapped the man on the back, "Good old Henricksen."
Zachariah changed the subject was he led the way out of the garage. "Where are the others? I hear that the six of you have decided to stay in one location."
"That is correct. I believe the others are around back in the garden."
Zachariah did not respond, but began heading toward the back of the house. Bobby was kneeling in the dirt pulling weeds, Sam was sitting in the shade, reading, Gabriel was lounging drinking something with an excessive number of straws, and Balthazar was standing off to the side. He noticed us first.
His sharp eyes caught mine. I quickly raised my eyebrows once, implying that I did not know the reason for this visit. "Zachariah," he greeted, sitting down next to Sam.
Hearing him, Gabriel looked up, then rose striding over, a large grin on his face. "Zach! Good to see you." Zachariah stiffly bowed his head in obligated respect. "What brings you to our humble abode?" He gestured around him; Sam and Bobby had gotten to their feet and stood Dean. Balthazar remained seated, not hiding his glare from Zachariah.
The situation was tense.
I knew from past experiences that Gabriel's usually unfailing charm did not work on Zachariah, and it did not in this instance. As the silence stretched on, Gabriel's smile dropped as he waited for Zachariah to explain himself.
Perversely, Zachariah always appeared to be more cheerful the tenser the situation. He gave us all a half smile, before saying, "I'm just dropping by to see how things are going with all six of you here. You can imagine my surprise when Michael told me that you all had decided to change your appointed living arrangements."
"It's not a problem for you, is it?" asked Gabriel.
"Of course not, just a little paperwork -- I just need to know where everyone is. These are dangerous times; can't be too careful."
"I thought we were safe here," stated Sam.
Zachariah's eyes shot to my charge's younger brother. "Sam, isn't it? Don't worry; you're quite safe here. Especially with three angels around."
His tone was not meant to reassure.
"Sam," greeted Henricksen. "You Winchester brothers have a knack for getting into trouble, don't you? Let's make sure that doesn't happen here, all right?"
Dean snorted, and muttered something about "police state."
"Well, all right, boys," said Zachariah, clapping his hands together. "It's been a real treat visiting, but we've got others to visit. We'll see you around." Somehow, the cheery words sounded more like a threat than a farewell. The pair left the yard, giving the house one last disparaging look as they walked around to the front.
"They're gone now, boss; you can relax." Dean patted me twice on the shoulder. I stepped away, realizing that I had been standing defensively between the humans and Zachariah. My job was protecting the humans, but certainly not from other angels. My feelings were just that -- feelings, and not to be taken too seriously. I was not one of them, after all.
As the pair of us walked back to the garage, I tried to explain, "Zachariah is a fellow angel, but he has always been more difficult to work with."
Dean huffed. "Yeah, Henricksen's a good guy, but he's a total square -- no room for 'alternative methods' or slip ups." He continued speaking, as he rolled himself back under the Buick, he voice muffled, "That Zachariah guy, though; he seems like a dick."
It was a few hours later, that same day that we heard shouting from across the yard. Dean shimmied himself out from underneath the vehicle and was right on my heels as we hurried out of the garage to see what was wrong. Seeing no signs of imminent danger, I slowed and allowed Dean to rush past me. Balthazar and Bobby were just in the middle of one of their daily arguments.
"The hell's going on?" asked Dean, looking at Bobby and Balthazar who were both gesturing wildly.
"Damn idjit keeps screwing around!" Bobby snapped. "Messin' with my garden, poking fun. Damn near squashed the corn sprouts with his fancy-pancy, sissified loafers!" He finished with an angry huff, crossing his arms over his chest.
Dean turned to Balthazar.
Balthazar only smirked and stared him down. He did not answer to a human.
Gabriel rolled over. After taking a long swig of his drink, which appeared just as full and cold, "Balthazar keeps 'accidentally' stomping on the plants with his sissy loafers. Bobby keeps calling him names, mostly 'idjit.' It's quite entertaining."
A great, heaving sigh seemed to be in order. What was supposed to do? If Gabriel refused to intervene, and no one would listen to my words of wisdom, what could be done? Instead, I watched Dean as he tried to diffuse the situation.
Patting Bobby on the shoulder, Dean advised the older man, "Just ignore the jerk-off. I always do."
He turned to Balthazar, "Man, I thought that Zachariah character was an ass, but you might be a contender for first place."
Balthazar only smiled; he had been called plenty worse.
Turning away, Dean asked, "Need any help, Bobby?"
Though there was still fire in his eyes, Bobby motioned to the garden, "Damn thing can always use more weeding."
I had not realized that the tension from our surprise visit earlier today still hung in the air, but finally it dissipated.
Dean knelt in the garden, minding Bobby's caution about only pulling out the damn weeds and minding the good ones.
I watched for a few moments, then knelt as well beside Dean. If I could help with cars, I could help here as well.
Looking at my black slacks sunk in the damp dirt, Dean commented, "You're gonna get dirty."
"They will wash."
I followed Dean's movements as he pulled up plants, forming a messy pile. "You wanna help?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Yes, please."
He gave me a look, then questioned, "Do you know what weeds are."
"Plants that have grown in the wrong place."
"What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. Nobody would care if they were growing in a random field or something, but we don't want them here."
"I understand."
"Follow the lines and you'll see what type of plant is supposed to be growing there by the cute, little signs Bobby's put up."
"Bite me," muttered Bobby.
"This row is tomatoes. Or it will be. They're these little guys here -- two little leaves. Don't pull these ones out. But these long ones (grass), and these and those -- they've gotta go."
I nodded and noticed that the good plants seemed the weakest, without any sharp thorns or tough stalks that the weeds had. I got to work. It was not difficult; the planted sprouts were all the smallest. Despite how dirty the whole job was, I found that grabbing the weeds by the base and slowly pulling all the roots out and then carefully shaking the dirt back into the hole was a rewarding experience.
Once I got the hang of it, my mind could focus on other things than the task at hand. Unobserved, I watched the others around me. Bobby yanked each weed out like it had personally offended him, yet gently brushed loose clumps of dirty away from any of the plants. Dean worked slower, seeming to enjoy being outside in the warm sun. His hands firmly pulled the weeds out as he smiled peacefully to himself. Balthazar was simply standing there, watching all of us. I wondered why he did not just join Gabriel behind us in his lounging; both of them enjoyed the more pleasurable things that humankind had to offer.
We moved through the rows, both Dean and Bobby quicker than me. The tranquility was broken only by an occasional, "Knock it off, Gabriel" from Sam. When we finished weeding, Bobby allowed me to use the watering can to give the plants a drink. "Won't be needing this much longer, once I get the tools to put a drip system in," he grumped towards Balthazar, who ignored him.
"Are we finished?" I asked handing Bobby the watering can.
"All done," said Dean. He looked me over, "Man, Cas, you got filthy. How'd you get dirt in your hair?"
I ran a hand through my hair, hardly feeling it, brushing the dirt out. "Cas." That was new. I did not enjoy his other nicknames, but this one seemed a bit better. I found I did not mind.
"It's all over your face," Dean said, roughly rubbing the back of his hand across my cheek several times. He chuckled. "You need a washcloth." He stepped back, "Actually, I guess you don't. You can just magic it away."
"I cannot do magic." But I shook my clothes and the dirt disappeared.
"Sure, whatever." He turned to Sam, "Hey, go turn on the stove. I left something in the garage, then I'll come help with dinner. We can teach Cas how to chop vegetables."
I frowned as he ran off. Did he think I was some sort of child who had to be shown how to accomplish every single task? I frowned. In the human sense, I suppose I was.
Balthazar interrupted my contemplations, "You just going to stand out here, or are you coming in?"
I responded by turning and walking towards the house. Now that we were in private, I could speak to him about his behavior. "Balthazar, I understand that it is difficult for you, but less antagonism toward the humans, Bobby especially, would make our time here easier."
"But he's so much fun to torment; even more than you are," Balthazar drawled back at me. I shook my head. Balthazar pulled the door open for me, before walking in first. He looked back over his shoulder, "Don't tell a soul, but I might actually be becoming fond of these little mud monkeys. Disgusting, isn't it?"
My heart felt lighter as I followed him indoors. Of course, Balthazar immediately began harassing Bobby, who gave it right back. Gabriel hovered around Sam, getting in the way, and demanding three different kinds of dessert. When Dean came back inside, he shoved a knife into my hand, and tried to teach me, but I started chopping away. After all, I am an angel and have some skill with a blade. I believe he may have been impressed.
Chapter 4
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, Gabriel, Balthazar, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Zachariah, Henricksen
Rating: PG so far.
Genres: Humor, drama
Era: AU
Warnings: Language, gardening
Word Count: 2,300
Summary: Angels and hunters don't know each other. Apocalypse happens. Righteous humans given to angels on earth. Read a better summary here. In this chapter, the six are checked up on by an old "friend," Dean teaches Castiel, and Balthazar is annoying.
Notes: This one was almost half as long, but I decided to push through and end at a different point.
It took almost a full week for Dean and me to truly relax in one another's presence in the garage. In fact, it seemed to be taking me much longer than him. I appreciated his easy-going personality; while stubborn, he was more accepting of his situation than most others would have been, myself, included.
In between teaching me about cars and their engines, Dean casually talked about himself and his life. In his books, Chuck the Prophet had been mostly correct in his round-about-way: Dean was a simple man. No, not unintelligent, Dean was far from that. It was just that he appreciated everything he was given, no matter how insignificant it seemed to me. And if his life was taken away from him and he was, in return, given a torture-free captivity where he could be with family and work on cars, well that was more than fine with him.
Not that Dean could resist teasing me about it, sliding in a "master" every now and then, and then laughing at my bafflement.
"Hey, boss man, where's the flashlight?"
Embarrassed at being caught up in my contemplations, I readjusted my arm shining the light back to the stop under the car where Dean was working. "Sorry."
Dean only grunted, but I detected a hint of amusement in the noise.
I was lying on my stomach on the floor (on the floor!), stretched halfway under the automobile. Dean was on his back, lying on a wheeled board, called a dolly (a ridiculous name, in my opinion), all the way under. It was complicated work, changing the oil. Not that I was doing much, but Dean did insist that flashlight duty was important.
As if I could not recognize condescension.
It that uncomfortable position, I suddenly heard my name sharply called. Dean started, bumping his forehead on the underside of the car. Scooting out, I grabbed Dean's boot and yanked him out from underneath the car. "Are you all right, Dean?" I asked.
Dean blinked at me. "That was fast."
"He is an angel."
Ah yes. The voice. Zachariah.
Zachariah is an angel of the Lord, higher up than Balthazar and myself, and works in an administrative roll -- delivering commands and making sure everyone is on task. Also, for someone who is a holy and righteous servant, he is something of what Dean might call "a dick." Not that I ever would.
"Greetings, Zachariah." I rose, grabbing Dean's wrist and yanking him up. "This is Dean Winchester." Dean may have grunted; I am not certain. I nodded to a large, African American man standing slightly behind Zachariah.
Zachariah gave Dean half a glance, before motioning behind him, "This is my charge, Henricksen."
I smiled politely.
Dean said, a smirk in his voice, "We've met, haven't we Henricksen?"
Curious, I looked between the two: Dean appeared pleased, while Henricksen's frown deepened.
Explaining, Dean said, "Me and Sam have run into good old FBI agent Henricksen, here, a few times in the past."
Henricksen gave him a cold look. "You both were breaking laws, and I stand by my actions. Now knowing what I do all about your demon hunting... I still don't agree with your methods." He shook his head.
I wondered if Dean's temper would show itself, but he only grinned and slapped the man on the back, "Good old Henricksen."
Zachariah changed the subject was he led the way out of the garage. "Where are the others? I hear that the six of you have decided to stay in one location."
"That is correct. I believe the others are around back in the garden."
Zachariah did not respond, but began heading toward the back of the house. Bobby was kneeling in the dirt pulling weeds, Sam was sitting in the shade, reading, Gabriel was lounging drinking something with an excessive number of straws, and Balthazar was standing off to the side. He noticed us first.
His sharp eyes caught mine. I quickly raised my eyebrows once, implying that I did not know the reason for this visit. "Zachariah," he greeted, sitting down next to Sam.
Hearing him, Gabriel looked up, then rose striding over, a large grin on his face. "Zach! Good to see you." Zachariah stiffly bowed his head in obligated respect. "What brings you to our humble abode?" He gestured around him; Sam and Bobby had gotten to their feet and stood Dean. Balthazar remained seated, not hiding his glare from Zachariah.
The situation was tense.
I knew from past experiences that Gabriel's usually unfailing charm did not work on Zachariah, and it did not in this instance. As the silence stretched on, Gabriel's smile dropped as he waited for Zachariah to explain himself.
Perversely, Zachariah always appeared to be more cheerful the tenser the situation. He gave us all a half smile, before saying, "I'm just dropping by to see how things are going with all six of you here. You can imagine my surprise when Michael told me that you all had decided to change your appointed living arrangements."
"It's not a problem for you, is it?" asked Gabriel.
"Of course not, just a little paperwork -- I just need to know where everyone is. These are dangerous times; can't be too careful."
"I thought we were safe here," stated Sam.
Zachariah's eyes shot to my charge's younger brother. "Sam, isn't it? Don't worry; you're quite safe here. Especially with three angels around."
His tone was not meant to reassure.
"Sam," greeted Henricksen. "You Winchester brothers have a knack for getting into trouble, don't you? Let's make sure that doesn't happen here, all right?"
Dean snorted, and muttered something about "police state."
"Well, all right, boys," said Zachariah, clapping his hands together. "It's been a real treat visiting, but we've got others to visit. We'll see you around." Somehow, the cheery words sounded more like a threat than a farewell. The pair left the yard, giving the house one last disparaging look as they walked around to the front.
"They're gone now, boss; you can relax." Dean patted me twice on the shoulder. I stepped away, realizing that I had been standing defensively between the humans and Zachariah. My job was protecting the humans, but certainly not from other angels. My feelings were just that -- feelings, and not to be taken too seriously. I was not one of them, after all.
As the pair of us walked back to the garage, I tried to explain, "Zachariah is a fellow angel, but he has always been more difficult to work with."
Dean huffed. "Yeah, Henricksen's a good guy, but he's a total square -- no room for 'alternative methods' or slip ups." He continued speaking, as he rolled himself back under the Buick, he voice muffled, "That Zachariah guy, though; he seems like a dick."
It was a few hours later, that same day that we heard shouting from across the yard. Dean shimmied himself out from underneath the vehicle and was right on my heels as we hurried out of the garage to see what was wrong. Seeing no signs of imminent danger, I slowed and allowed Dean to rush past me. Balthazar and Bobby were just in the middle of one of their daily arguments.
"The hell's going on?" asked Dean, looking at Bobby and Balthazar who were both gesturing wildly.
"Damn idjit keeps screwing around!" Bobby snapped. "Messin' with my garden, poking fun. Damn near squashed the corn sprouts with his fancy-pancy, sissified loafers!" He finished with an angry huff, crossing his arms over his chest.
Dean turned to Balthazar.
Balthazar only smirked and stared him down. He did not answer to a human.
Gabriel rolled over. After taking a long swig of his drink, which appeared just as full and cold, "Balthazar keeps 'accidentally' stomping on the plants with his sissy loafers. Bobby keeps calling him names, mostly 'idjit.' It's quite entertaining."
A great, heaving sigh seemed to be in order. What was supposed to do? If Gabriel refused to intervene, and no one would listen to my words of wisdom, what could be done? Instead, I watched Dean as he tried to diffuse the situation.
Patting Bobby on the shoulder, Dean advised the older man, "Just ignore the jerk-off. I always do."
He turned to Balthazar, "Man, I thought that Zachariah character was an ass, but you might be a contender for first place."
Balthazar only smiled; he had been called plenty worse.
Turning away, Dean asked, "Need any help, Bobby?"
Though there was still fire in his eyes, Bobby motioned to the garden, "Damn thing can always use more weeding."
I had not realized that the tension from our surprise visit earlier today still hung in the air, but finally it dissipated.
Dean knelt in the garden, minding Bobby's caution about only pulling out the damn weeds and minding the good ones.
I watched for a few moments, then knelt as well beside Dean. If I could help with cars, I could help here as well.
Looking at my black slacks sunk in the damp dirt, Dean commented, "You're gonna get dirty."
"They will wash."
I followed Dean's movements as he pulled up plants, forming a messy pile. "You wanna help?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Yes, please."
He gave me a look, then questioned, "Do you know what weeds are."
"Plants that have grown in the wrong place."
"What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. Nobody would care if they were growing in a random field or something, but we don't want them here."
"I understand."
"Follow the lines and you'll see what type of plant is supposed to be growing there by the cute, little signs Bobby's put up."
"Bite me," muttered Bobby.
"This row is tomatoes. Or it will be. They're these little guys here -- two little leaves. Don't pull these ones out. But these long ones (grass), and these and those -- they've gotta go."
I nodded and noticed that the good plants seemed the weakest, without any sharp thorns or tough stalks that the weeds had. I got to work. It was not difficult; the planted sprouts were all the smallest. Despite how dirty the whole job was, I found that grabbing the weeds by the base and slowly pulling all the roots out and then carefully shaking the dirt back into the hole was a rewarding experience.
Once I got the hang of it, my mind could focus on other things than the task at hand. Unobserved, I watched the others around me. Bobby yanked each weed out like it had personally offended him, yet gently brushed loose clumps of dirty away from any of the plants. Dean worked slower, seeming to enjoy being outside in the warm sun. His hands firmly pulled the weeds out as he smiled peacefully to himself. Balthazar was simply standing there, watching all of us. I wondered why he did not just join Gabriel behind us in his lounging; both of them enjoyed the more pleasurable things that humankind had to offer.
We moved through the rows, both Dean and Bobby quicker than me. The tranquility was broken only by an occasional, "Knock it off, Gabriel" from Sam. When we finished weeding, Bobby allowed me to use the watering can to give the plants a drink. "Won't be needing this much longer, once I get the tools to put a drip system in," he grumped towards Balthazar, who ignored him.
"Are we finished?" I asked handing Bobby the watering can.
"All done," said Dean. He looked me over, "Man, Cas, you got filthy. How'd you get dirt in your hair?"
I ran a hand through my hair, hardly feeling it, brushing the dirt out. "Cas." That was new. I did not enjoy his other nicknames, but this one seemed a bit better. I found I did not mind.
"It's all over your face," Dean said, roughly rubbing the back of his hand across my cheek several times. He chuckled. "You need a washcloth." He stepped back, "Actually, I guess you don't. You can just magic it away."
"I cannot do magic." But I shook my clothes and the dirt disappeared.
"Sure, whatever." He turned to Sam, "Hey, go turn on the stove. I left something in the garage, then I'll come help with dinner. We can teach Cas how to chop vegetables."
I frowned as he ran off. Did he think I was some sort of child who had to be shown how to accomplish every single task? I frowned. In the human sense, I suppose I was.
Balthazar interrupted my contemplations, "You just going to stand out here, or are you coming in?"
I responded by turning and walking towards the house. Now that we were in private, I could speak to him about his behavior. "Balthazar, I understand that it is difficult for you, but less antagonism toward the humans, Bobby especially, would make our time here easier."
"But he's so much fun to torment; even more than you are," Balthazar drawled back at me. I shook my head. Balthazar pulled the door open for me, before walking in first. He looked back over his shoulder, "Don't tell a soul, but I might actually be becoming fond of these little mud monkeys. Disgusting, isn't it?"
My heart felt lighter as I followed him indoors. Of course, Balthazar immediately began harassing Bobby, who gave it right back. Gabriel hovered around Sam, getting in the way, and demanding three different kinds of dessert. When Dean came back inside, he shoved a knife into my hand, and tried to teach me, but I started chopping away. After all, I am an angel and have some skill with a blade. I believe he may have been impressed.
Chapter 4