The Mockingbird and the Oriole
Title: The Mockingbird and the Oriole
Author: darth_firefly
Artist: usarechan
Fandom/Genre: AU, drama
Pairing(s): Mentions of Dean/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of character death, deaf!Dean
Summary:Castiel fully expected to die when he went into that warehouse in Van Nuys. He was ready to die. What he didn't expect was to land in the home of a Dean Winchester who had no idea who he was, who had never been to Hell, who wasn't a Winchester - and had never heard a single sound in his entire life. All that considered, the fact that this Dean had a seven year old daughter was hardly surprising at all. Oddly enough, the kid might be the LEAST of the surprises waiting for him in this other reality he now found himself in.
Adam had tried, unsuccessfully, to explain to his finance, Kelly, why Dean and Liesel couldn't come to their wedding. He didn't know how to make her understand that one, he didn't think that John and Dean should be in the same state, let alone the same room at the same time, and two, Dean would sooner pull his own eyes out than let John be near Liesel. He didn't think his dad posed any real danger to the girl, it was more the concept. Frankly, after Sam told him what their dad had done to Dean, Adam rather wished he could not invite his father instead - but his mother remained in the dark about the whole abuse thing and really, the brothers agreed that she was better off not knowing. Cowardly, sure - but as John had never laid a hand on him or Sam, it was highly unlikely his mom would believe them.
Adam ran his fingers through his hair as he came into the kitchen where Kelly was busy making another wedding related list. “Morning,” he said to her as he went over to the far counter to get himself a mug of coffee.
“Morning,” she replied, taking a sip from her own cup. “How did you sleep?”
“Not bad. I only have a few classes this morning, so I'm going to stop by the store on the way home so we'll have that out of the way for the week.” He sat down at the table, and after taking a drink of coffee, pulled an orange out of the fruit basket and started to peel it.
“Sounds great.” She marked her place and shut the notebook with a slap. “I've been thinking...”
“That's always dangerous,” he interjected.
“Hey!” This made Adam grin - indignation and anger always made Kelly's Southern accent go from light to deep.
“Sorry, but you pretty much walked into that one.” He split the orange open. “I'm sorry, you were saying?”
“Right. I was thinking about how you keep telling me we can't invite your brother Dean.” She took a sip of coffee. “It doesn't seem right; he is your brother, after all.”
“I know, Kelly - but trust me, it's a very bad idea. I want to invite him too, but the last time Dean and Dad were in the same place Dean nearly broke my father's nose. Inviting him will not turn out well for anyone.” He started to segment out the orange.
“I just think...”
“Look, Dean will understand. I'm going to have a talk with him and he's going to agree with me. It'll be fine.”
“He's family.” The end of that sentence implied to Adam just how little family there was on his father's side - all of his Winchester relations were in touch with Dean - and almost none of them talked to his Dad. Yet another point of contention to bring up. If it hadn't been for Dean, Adam and Sam wouldn't even know their Winchester cousins.
“I know that. He's my big brother and I love him, but putting him in the same room...” He took a drink of coffee.
“Your dad can't hurt him anymore, he knows that.” Kelly was starting to sound desperate.
“Dean doesn't want my dad near Liesel. If it was just him, alone, I can see it working - but Dean and Liesel are sort of a package deal. I mean if we were going full formal and not inviting kids, I can see how it might work, but we're not. I've already accepted the fact that he won't be there.” He picked up an orange segment and ate it.
“Well, hell Adam... I know he won't come, but what is the harm in at least sending an invitation to him?” She wrapped her hands around her mug, biting her bottom lip.
“You're forgetting Liesel will most likely see it - and she won't understand why they won't be going - and then she'll be disappointed, and she's got enough problems for a kid as it is.” He ate a few more pieces of the orange.
“Fine - could we possibly set the date for a time when we know they won't be able to come? At least then there's a reason she can see that they can't come to the wedding, rather than the real one.” She took a slow sip from her mug. “I just wish there was a way to make everyone happy.”
“I don't think that's possible.” He pulled a napkin from the basket on the table and rubbed his fingers with it. “I'm going to talk with Dean tonight, and I know he'll understand. When we have a party down here for all the people who can't attend the wedding because of their complications or our budget, we'll definitely invite the two of them.” He took a breath. “I'm starting to get why Sam says when he gets married, he's going to elope.”
“Well, Sam is a lot closer to Dean than you are.” Kelly stole a segment of orange. “But I still wish they could come.”
“I know.” He picked up the last piece of the fruit. “I wish they could come too.”
**
Liesel was thrilled that her grandparents were moving to Austin. The idea of being able to see them at least every other a week was way, way better than twice a year. True, it'd only emphasize the fact that she was the only person in her family who wasn't deaf, but having family close would be wonderful. She envied her classmates who had grandparents who didn't live in another state because they saw them all the time. Somehow, in her mind, Grandma and Grandpa being in Austin equaled more time spent with family and less time of Mr. Jay watching her.
A loud bang from across the room snapped her from her thoughts and returned her focus to cleaning her desk - not that it needed it. Her desk was famous for being the one that was always clean.
The classroom was festooned with paper flowers, balloons and artwork and Liesel was doing her best not to let all of this get to her feelings. She knew her dad was going to be here and as much as she loved her dad, sometimes she felt it just wasn't the same. This was the first time there was a serious amount of work put into Mother's Day at school and all of this celebration just seemed to emphasize the fact that she didn't have her mom with her anymore.
Well, one thing Liesel knew she didn't want was a new mom. Liesel had heard it from a couple of kids and even a few adults - she'd actually been asked if she would want a new mommy. What the heck was a 'new mommy' anyway? She had a perfectly good mom who just happened to live in Heaven instead of in the house with her and Dad. And honestly, considering she had the best dad of all time, a new mommy was out of the question. Some people just needed to mind their own business. Moms weren't like the goldfish at the pet store - just because her mom was dead didn't mean she wanted a new one.
She went up to the front of the room and tossed the paper towel she had been using to clean off her desk into the trash can and picked up a place-mat from the pile on her teacher's desk. Several moms had already started filing into the classroom - and she watched as her classmates went up to greet them, some of them looking embarrassed as their moms hugged them. She straightened the second chair at her desk, watching the door - and that's when she heard it.
“I don't know what Liesel's waiting for.” Someone behind her said it - and it took all her resolve not to turn around and see who it was. It was a boy - either Jack Fitzgerald or Harper Wessling - the two of them sounded alike.
“She looks so stupid.” That was Kara Ferguson. A second later, that same girl raced past Liesel's desk to hug the woman who had just come in the door. “Hi, Mommy!”
Liesel kept her hand steady as she reached into her desk and pulled out the small package of tissues that she kept there. Why wasn't her dad here yet? Did he have to stay at work longer? She knew he had one surgery this morning, but that was it - he was supposed to be here! She rubbed her nose as Kara walked by her desk and she saw the girl stick her tongue out. Kara's mother smelled like the perfume counter of a department store - so sweet it was almost sickening. She coughed and blew her nose, then went to throw her tissue away. The room was full of chatter now; most of the moms were there. She had to bite her lip as she went back to her desk to keep herself from crying.
If there hadn't been a math test this morning, Liesel would have begged her dad to let her stay home from school. She saw a wooden box out of the corner of her eye and she looked up and instantly, she smiled.
“Sorry I'm a little late. Traffic.” Her father grinned at her. “I also had to stop by the bank and pick something up.” He set a hand on the box and then sat down in the empty chair. He took a good look at her face and then his expression changed. “You weren't crying, were you?”
“I was scared you weren't going to be here.” She looked ashamed of herself and rubbed her nose.
“I'm sorry.” He held out the package of tissues to her. “Or did someone say something nasty again?”
Liesel was about to respond when Kara's voice reached her.
“What's wrong with her dad?”
Liesel clenched her hands into fists in an effort to control her temper. Her gaze shot over to the girl and her mother, only for an instant, but it was enough for her dad to see where the problem was.
Dean straightened his shoulders before replying. “You know what one of the best things about no one but us being able to speak ASL is?”
“Let me guess...” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “We don't have to worry about anyone eavesdropping?”
“That - and with no one but us knowing what we're talking about, we can talk about anything and make them think we're talking about something else.” Dean shifted in his seat and set his hand on the box on the desk. “You know what's in here, right?”
“Mom's medals from Sydney and Atlanta,” she replied, her smile finally becoming more pronounced. “I can't believe you went and got them out.”
“Well, I figured that if the fact that your mom spends her time with angels and saints isn't impressive to your classmates - five Olympic medals should be.” He wrinkled his nose and took one of the tissues from his daughter's desk. “I think some of the moms took baths in perfume before they came here. Is this a tea party or a black tie dinner?”
“What's a black tie dinner?” Liesel gave him a questioning look. “Have we ever been to one?”
“No - but I've seen a few in the movies.” He saw the teacher move to the front of the classroom. “You going to be my translator, Lis?”
“Uh huh.” She straightened up and turned her focus on her teacher, shutting out the giggles coming from behind her.
*
Dean didn't take the wooden box back to the bank that afternoon - he put it on the list of things to do tomorrow. He sat down on his bed, running his fingers along the carved design, remembering the story Ignacia had told him about it. Armand, Ignacia's father, had made it for his daughter when she was a little older than Liesel - and told her it was for her Olympic medals that he was certain she'd win. He lifted the lid and looked down at the five medals (two from Atlanta, three from Sydney), still gleaming, resting on top of a folded Romanian flag. Two bronze, two silver, and one gold - and a faint floral scent drifted up from deep in the box he knew that there were preserved petals from several bouquets she'd received along with the medals.
He rang his finger along the single gold - Romania's team gold medal from Sydney - the games she said, on the day they met (unofficially) she'd see him at. But he hadn't gone to Sydney - some stupid ass judge had scored him lower than he should have on an event and it'd cost him a trip to Australia - he'd been named the second alternate, and he sat at home and watched his fellow teammates get the chalk and sweat beat out of them by Japan - which he expected, and frankly, didn't mind. It was the Russians, whom the US had defeated with ease at Worlds the year before, taking second place and the
American Men not even placing in the medal round that got to him.
Dean ran his fingers through his hair, trying to will his thoughts away from darker places, but inevitably, just thinking about gymnastics was tossing fuel onto the fire of memories. The first time he'd ever seen Ignacia up close was after Individual Events at Worlds in '99; they'd both won the silver on the floor. To this day, he didn't know why he had held out his hand to help her onto the platform - but he did remember how small her hand looked in his - but they were similar in being covered in callouses and traces of chalk - hers from bars and his from rings. He even could remember the jolt in his chest when their fingers touched - and going back to Maryland had been hard. Ignacia was some impossible dream at that point; she lived in a world so far removed from his they might as well have been on different planets.
Then, somehow, they'd found each other two years later - in the West Branch of the Palo Alto public library. In the cookbooks - and the second his fingers brushed hers again when he handed her a book that had been on the top shelf, he'd known. He'd known that he could never let her go again. They overcame so much - a language barrier, a religion barrier (though Dean remained convinced that what had made Armand and Octavia Madgearu accept him as quickly as they did was the fact that he still went to church every week without his mother telling him), and everything should have been good - not perfect but at least good. The next seven years were just that.
And then Ignacia got sick - and things started falling apart. He'd been holding her hand when she slipped away from this Earth - they'd said good-bye in the same way they had met.
Castiel had been sitting in his room, half engrossed in a book, when Dean's emotions brushed against his Grace. He set the book down and went to the doorway of the master bedroom. He already knew that Liesel was asleep, and therefore, couldn't hear the broken, uneven, and rough sound of her father crying. He didn't even hesitate in going across the room, sitting down next to the man and pulling him into a tight embrace.
He felt Dean grasp the front of his shirt, his whole body shaking with sobs. Castiel rubbed his back in slow, comforting circles, letting the man have his tears. There wasn't any way to make the pain go away - the angel knew that. He rested his head against Dean's, making small, soothing noises that even though he knew the man couldn't hear him, seemed right. He flexed his shoulders and let his wings, now almost completely healed, come out and he wrapped those around Dean as well. He paid no attention to the few feathers that fluttered to the ground around them. His Grace could feel the man's soul awash in grief he had been keeping back - as if a year's worth of repressing the emotion had broken free and was threatening to consume him.
Dean tightened his grip on Castiel's shirt, hating himself for crying, hating himself for appearing so weak, hating himself for the fact that he had been so utterly helpless when Ignacia had died. That just broke other things in his mind - his fear he wasn't a good enough father, his worry he wouldn't be able to protect Liesel - it was just one thing after another.
The angel pressed a very light kiss on the top of the man's head, wondering how he could know two different Deans - but both had so much pain built up inside of them - and only one was willing to admit it. Finally, the man's grasp relaxed, and the rest of his body followed suit.
Dean had cried himself to sleep.
Castiel let out a breath and gently laid him down on top of the covers, on the side of the bed that he knew was his normal side to sleep on and covered him with a thin knitted blanket from the foot of the bed. Once Dean was sleeping comfortably, he picked up the wooden box, shut it, and set it on the bedside table. He was about to leave the room again when he heard Dean whimper in his sleep.
The angel sat back down on the bed, keeping one hand on the man's forehead. He might not be able to remove the overwhelming feelings of loss and grief from Dean, but one thing he could do right now was keep nightmares at bay. He leaned back against the headboard, smiling faintly when he heard rain start to patter against the windows and roof.
**
Gabriel had left Castiel and the Coulters, knowing that the three of them would be perfectly fine and safe while he was gone. There were wards on both his and Dean's house, the hospital where Dean worked, and on Liesel's school - not that he worried about any demons slipping out of Hell any time soon - and as for regular run-of-the-mill monsters - his friends among the pagans were keeping them under control in return for staying off hunters' radar. He had it on good authority that several members of the Norse pantheon had an affinity for skin-walker meat these days. The animals he'd been taking care of were all healed and had been released back into the wild, save for the stray cat, which he'd found a home for with an old woman whose family all lived overseas.
He stretched his arms over his head and came into the kitchen of the loft apartment. “Smells like you've taken a cooking class or two.”
“Shut it,” the woman behind the stove said, poking at the bacon in the skillet. “I'm a pretty decent cook.”
“I know, I'm just giving you a hard time.” He came over, gave her a light kiss on the top of the head and slid into a stool. “So what have you been up to?”
“You mean other than the scheduled school visits and running the tamer parts of your information empire?” She chuckled and blushed faintly. “Okay, so I have taken a couple of cooking lessons here and there...” She looked up and pursed her lips. “Isn't this the part of this recurring conversation when you ask me to move to Austin, I refuse, and then we bicker over if we should have blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?”
Gabriel smirked. “Well, Bela - I thought I'd stop asking a few times, see if that helps convince you.”
The woman shook her head. “It'd never work. Plus, aren't I supposed to be some sort of sainted author of religious young adult novels for girls?”
“You think all those teens would purchase those books if my picture was on the back cover?” He got up and went to the pantry.
Bela put a few slices of bacon onto a waiting plate. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Well, I already know what you're going to say, so...” He got out the pancake mix and went over to the fridge. “Why don't you want to move to Austin?”
“It's too hot down there for me.” She laid a few more slices of bacon into the pan as he started mixing up the batter. “Why can't you move up here?” She turned and looked at him. “Or is you being in Austin part of some other super-secret angel work?”
“I like it down there - as for my job - that's going to change shortly.” He went back to the cupboard. “Chocolate chip, right?”
Bela whipped her head around to look at him. “You bring fresh blueberries with you and now you don't want them in pancakes?”
He opened the package and measured out a cup before adding it to the mixture. “The berries are for later.” Gabriel shrugged. “So Austin is out - and I am not a fan of being up here in New York - so what do you say we both compromise and go renovate an antebellum home in Kentucky?” He came over and joined her at the stove.
She snickered in response as she set a few more pieces of cooked bacon on the plate. “Can I have a pony?”
Gabriel looked her over. “You're a little tall for a pony, so would you mind if you got a horse instead?”
Bela gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” He beamed. “You can have a few horses if you like - and I'm going to have a pack of retired greyhounds.” He looked the stove over. “I'll finish up breakfast - I think you have a book to read.”
She chuckled and went over to the table. “This is the final one about the Jewish girl, right?”
“Uh huh - the series our esteemed publishers at Simon & Schuster keep badgering us to let Hollywood take and make a film or two out of.” He started to heat up another pan. “And I keep refusing, of course.”
“What, have them make a movie in time to compete with The Lost Hero and The Last Sacrifice next year on Memorial Day weekend? No thank you.” Bela took a drink of coffee. “Now, put the first one up against the next Tom Cruise flick, and we might have something.”
“Point taken.” He shrugged. “I don't keep up on all the teen lit like you do. Is there a series with vampires that sparkle?”
She snorted into her mug. “Yeah, there is. It's some four-parter called Twilight. I met the author once - she said she couldn't understand why her books weren't popular. I didn't have the heart to tell her that having a werewolf soul-bond with a newborn in the last book was downright disgusting.” She shook her head. “Obviously, she never read Tuck Everlasting.” She looked up. “It's like published fanfic.”
“I can think of worse stories.” He poured some of the batter into the pan. “And I've read a lot of them.”
“So out of curiosity, what is the worst book you've ever read?” She picked up the manuscript.
“The jury is still out on that.” He flipped the pancake in the air. “You haven't been having nightmares again, have you?”
“No, I think they've finally stopped.” She tucked one leg under her as she scanned the start of the story. “Gabe... if you're up here, who's watching the kid?”
“A friend.” He smiled. “A friend I thought I'd lost forever... and while he's not exactly the same, he's got potential.”
“You know, I still don't know what's more confusing, you angels or the game of cricket - and that's saying something considering the fact that I'm British.”
Gabriel pulled a few more pieces of bacon from the pan and tossed the first batch of pancakes onto a plate. “I'm going with cricket, because I was there the day dirt was invented, and I don't get that game. Curling, on the other hand...”
“I know, I know...” She grinned. “You going to save injured wild animals in Kentucky?”
“Constantly. I plan to have a barn just for them.” He went back to cooking breakfast.
**
The Monday after Mother's Day was the first time Castiel was left alone in Dean's house. With the man at work and Liesel at school - and Gabriel who knew where - he found that he wasn't sure what to do in his solitude. He had already looked through most of the photograph albums, he had found books of little interest on the shelves - he only read fifty pages of The Hunger Games before he decided the subject was far too appalling to continue. Films were also out of the question - he knew how to work the DVD player, thanks to Gabriel, but without the archangel there to explain parts he didn't understand, he didn't feel up to the task.
So here he was, sitting in the kitchen, looking over another one of the cookbooks. Cooking seemed to be one of the things he was picking up with only a few problems. He frowned as he flipped through a book entitled West Meets East that had notations in the margin that were written in Romanian. He had just found an index card shoved in the middle of the book with a recipe for mock apple pie (also written in Romanian) when he heard a rustle of wings and his head rose as he felt a presence he hadn't since before he stormed the gates of Hell. “Michael.”
“And here I was trying to sneak up on you,” the archangel replied, and a moment later, a young boy around ten years of age with shaggy black hair came in from the dining room. He was barefooted and scruffily dressed, but Michael's Grace shone as bright as a thousand suns. “I should spend more time with fledglings, less with warriors.”
Castiel swallowed hard. “Why...” He frowned and tilted his head, “Forgive me for asking, but I was told that archangels of your caliber could only inhabit true vessels.”
“If this was the Apocalypse, yes. But as we're not there...” He went over to the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and came over to the island. “Rules are different.”
“I don't under...” Michael held up a hand and he fell silent.
“There's a lot we don't tell your rank, Castiel.” He opened the bottle and took a drink. “As to where I got the vessel - well, if you'd been watching or listening to the news, you would have heard about the massive earthquake in Thailand that happened a little while ago.” Michael shrugged. “The young boy who used to be in this body is already in Heaven playing baseball with his friends. But I didn't come over here to discuss such matters.”
“Why are you here?” He frowned. “Am I...in some form of trouble?”
“You obviously have mistaken me for the Michael in your world, Castiel.” He sighed and rocked on his heels. “I suppose Gabriel had already told you that it is far too risky for us to return you to your home, correct?”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “Though what I am going to do here, I do not know.”
“Oh, I'm sure you can think of something.” Michael shrugged. “Though I suggest you stay out of teaching. Other angels have tried it, frustration gets to them all in the end. You seem to have a natural curiosity for cooking.”
Castiel straightened his shoulders, not sure if he should feel offended or not. “I'm only doing this because Gabriel is not here and Dean often comes home too tired to cook.”
“See, that right there? The fact that you're going to cook because you know Dean will be too tired to do it proves you give a damn. That is exactly what I was expecting.” Michael tapped his fingers on the counter, taking another drink of water. “Dean thinks he's only known Gabriel a couple of years - but I put my brother on the task of watching him off and on for a while now. That's how Dean was able to be in plain sight for about three months and not get found.” He shrugged. “Not to mention...”
“Azazel never really gave two craps about him.” Castiel interjected.
“Exactly!” Michael smiled. “I understand that the Dean in your world shot the bastard.”
“Yes. With the Colt.” He felt his shoulders fall. “And then I made an error in the weapon's power that cost two women their lives.”
“You received false information, Castiel.” He shook his head. “I know that is little consolation, but it is the truth.”
He hung his head. “I feel like I should have known. I should have known it would not be so easy.”
“Nothing's easy.” Michael sighed. “I didn't come down here to discuss things that can't be changed. I came down to ask you if you want the job that Gabriel's been doing.”
“I don't think I'm one for saving wounded animals, Michael.” Castiel looked up, frowning. “Or are you referring to his job protecting Dean?”
“Not so much protecting as being the one thing he needs - something to keep him grounded. See, Zach and Daniel serve different functions in their jobs. Daniel's a sounding board who doesn't want the role of best friend or brother and Zachariah is an authority figure who encourages Sam to succeed. Gabriel's not going to stop being the best friend - any more than Ignacia's going to cease to be his soul-mate. What I'm asking you to do, Castiel - is to be the brother Dean didn't get to have.”
“He has brothers. Sam and Adam are his brothers,” he said flatly.
“And the Winchesters have divided loyalties -except with each other. The Dean and Sam in your world share a bond similar to the one that they have. The same bond that frustrated you so in your world shuts Dean out in this one.” He took another drink of water. “It's a lot to take in, I know...”
“I can do that.” He said it without thinking and found the truth in his words as he spoke. As connected to the Dean he pulled from Hell he was, the one here - seemed to need him more. It was in that moment he realized that Dean without Sam wasn't complete - despite the whole range of family he knew the man had, a brother was the one thing he didn't have. “Though I don't think it can be an instant sort of connection.”
“I know that.” Michael finished the water. “Your Grace is still around half full - perhaps a little over. In order to sever the link between you and your world early, you're going to have to go to holy ground. There's a church that's going to be torn down in Kansas City. I suggest you go there - just in case there's any aftershocks.”
“I'll do my best not to bring the building down.” His smile faltered. “I will worry about the friends I am leaving behind.”
“That's understandable.” He went and tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin. “Do you have any questions?”
The angel straightened his shoulders, frowning. “Yes. Who is this Chuck Norris I keep being told the Castiel in this world was like, and do I want to be like him as well?”
**
John signed the check for the payment for the damages his trip to Lawrence had cost him and then sealed the envelope. He had thought long and hard about what Mary had said to him. It was hard to cut Dean off completely from memory when the boy - funny that he still saw him as that despite the fact that Dean was an adult - was present in both Adam and Sam's lives. Although he had already learned from Adam that Dean was not going to be at or a part of the wedding - he felt it was better that way for everyone.
John naturally agreed.
Deep down, he never had expected any sort of reunion with Dean to go well. The damage had been too great, and John knew he had only himself to blame. He took out his keys and unlocked the small strong box he kept in his desk. He had told both Adam and Sam it was where the important papers were kept. The truth was, the important papers were in another box - at the bank. All those years ago, when he had gone to see if he could find Dean, the caseworker had made it plain to him - they had known about the abuse and they wouldn't tell him a damn thing - only that he was safe. He lifted the lid of the box and took a breath.
The first thing in the box was a copy of Sports Illustrated dated July 1995 - and one of the headlines read 'One Year Until Atlanta: Gymnastics Outlook.' - the first time he'd seen the name 'Dean Coulter' in print - before Sam even found his brother. John had known - he'd just had to hear about a deaf boy named Dean with incredible accuracy and aim, and he'd known. The phenom who got cheated out of two Olympic berths not for scoring, he was certain - but because some asshole didn't want a deaf guy representing the United States.
When really, a deaf kid showing up at the Olympics and kicking everyone's asses would have been the perfect way to show the world that anyone can achieve in this country.
He set the magazine aside and looked down at the photographs that were underneath. He had purposely avoided watching that National Championship eleven years ago because he had known he couldn't stand it - couldn't keep a clear mind while he watched the son he'd deemed worthless prove him wrong. John had known long ago that if Dean did something with himself, none of the credit lay with him - unless it was letting him go and into that life, but even that had been a gamble. The CPS was full of tragic endings - and a deaf nine year old could have been one of them.
The photocopied newspaper clippings from bigger city sports pages he'd gotten at the library, the achievements of Dean Coulter, wunderkind of the gymnastics world - the one who'd bowed out after winning the National title - choosing to go out on top instead of waiting for something to force him out. The edition of Sports Illustrated when the American Men won the silver medal at Worlds - the magazine when he'd seen Dean smile in triumph at Nationals - and even some silly article from People magazine on the 'match made by gymnastics' that was quite a stretch in talking about Dean and that tiny woman he'd married, Ignacia. Of course, one look at the woman's face, and he had a feeling she was just as tough and tenacious as Mary Campbell had been.
Part of him was screaming to just throw all of this out and forget - and the other part of him was begging not to let go.
He shut the box, relocked it, and went out into the garage, where he opened the trunk of the Impala and then placed the box in the secret compartment that, once upon a time, held an arsenal. He put the box inside, closed the compartment and trunk and went back into the house - he'd find a way to not think about the box.
Eventually.
*
“I can't believe you've had a girlfriend long enough to go on vacation with them,” Adam said over the top of his menu, grinning as his brother flushed.
“Say it a little louder, Adam; I don't think the people at the Thai place across the street heard you.” Sam took a drink of water, relieved that neither Kelly nor Becca were at the table at the moment. “This is all new to me, okay?”
“Okay.” He folded the menu and set it on the table before reaching for another piece of bread from the basket. “I think she's a nice girl. She's a little more... serious than most of the, um... flighty girlfriends you've had.”
Sam took a drink from his soda and shook his head. “She's serious until you get her talking about Dr. Who. Then it's like being right back with Jessica and her whole Harry Potter thing.”
“Look who's talking Mister-Always-had-to-be-Goliath when we played Gargoyles.” Adam snickered as he saw the two women coming back from the bathroom. “Don't worry, I won't rat you out.”
“You better not. I've still got the photos Mom took of you dressed as Little Lord Fauntleroy for Halloween when you were five.” Sam turned his attention back to his menu.
“Did we miss anything?” Kelly slid back into her chair at the same time Becca did.
“Nothing important,” Sam replied and frowned. “Now the question is not what to have for dinner, but what can you have for dinner and still have room for dessert.”
“Just get the Shepherd’s Pie, and eat half of it,” Becca said, folding her hands over her menu. “And leave the calories for dessert - the Alfredo in this place has, like, two sticks of butter per serving.” She shuddered at the thought.
“Sounds like a plan.” He took a drink of water.
“Did you tell your brother the good news?” Kelly asked Adam as she picked up her own water glass.
“Not yet.” Adam grinned. “I've been offered a better scholarship - one that pays for almost everything.”
“Where?” Sam set his glass down.
“The University of Kentucky.” His smile widened. “So it looks like Kelly and I are going to be moving to Lexington.”
“Seriously?” A wide smile broke out on Sam's face. “That's awesome!” He shook his head. “When the hell did you get old enough to even start med school?”
“Oh, sometime after you took the LSAT and before you passed the bar,” Adam said with a retort.
**
The tiles were broken, and the once beautiful stained glass was half shattered and all of the windows were boarded up. Most of the pews had been either carted off when the church closed its doors or stolen - and the air smelled of earth, stale incense, spent wax, and dust. Castiel made his way up the center isle - here he could catch the trace memories of weddings and happy couples and over-scented flowers from funerals. A church was supposed to be a hub of a community - and those that called this place a hub had sought their community elsewhere. He stood in the center of the building, the early summer sunlight filtering though the boards causing dust motes to dance in the air, casting him half in shadow, half in light.
The angel sighed softly and took several more steps forward until he was in the exact center of the building and closed his eyes, concentrating. The whispers of the church fell away and he let Grace stretch outward, feeling his arms lift and his hands spread, bringing a small smile to his face. He must appear to be an overgrown fledgling who had just discovered how to hide his wings, leaving him greater movement in his arms. He let his eyes change to their true form - in entering this state, he'd made himself vulnerable to attack, but with his eyes blazing with holy fire, a mere glance would deter anyone or anything that tried to harm him.
As soon as his gaze shifted from the physical one to a higher plane, the world seemed to white out completely save for two strands, one thin, like gossamer, the other thicker, like rope - but starting to fray. He reached out with his Grace and touched the glowing one gently, fearing it would snap with the lightest touch. In his mouth, he tasted sweet tea, sour-dough bread, beef broth, and an underline of mint. He smiled and then turned his attention to the other cord, which seemed to have weakened slightly in his inattention. He set his Grace upon it and was assaulted by the smell of gun oil, the taste of stale coffee and leather. Castiel felt his eyes open a little wider and he could see the Dean he pulled from Hell.
He was in Bobby Singer's house - Sam, Adam, and the old hunter, who was walking no less, were in the library with Gabriel. The archangel seemed to be the only one who noticed his presence, and rather than say something to the rest of the assembly, looked straight at him and gave an ever so slight wave of the hand. It was safe to let go - the Winchesters would be fine - all three of them. Somehow, he knew the archangel would explain.
Castiel pulled back with his Grace and away from the scene and fashioned part of his Grace into a blade - and with one swift motion, severed the link that held him bound to that other world.
The reaction was swift and almost painful. One moment he'd been aware of the church, of the gossamer strand suddenly swelling to the size and strength of a steel cable while still looking delicate and then - the world seemed to rush by. Things finally righted themselves in his mind, and he found himself back in his room in Dean's house with no memory of how he got there.
“If you're going to make a habit of landing in the forsythia bushes, please let me know so I know whether or not I should prune them.” Dean's voice was full of jest, and it made the angel smile.
“That should be the last time.” He touched his forehead, wincing. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A few hours. Are you hungry?” Dean was sitting with his arms folded, his stern expression completely contradicted by the humor in his eyes.
“I think a little more rest is an order.” He let out a breath. “Did anyone see me fall?”
“Only Lis and I did - as far as I know. Then again, you didn't so much fall out of the sky as popped out of thin air a few feet above the bushes.” Dean stood. “I'll come and check on you before dinner - see if you feel like eating then.”
“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I suppose I managed to keep my wings in this time.”
“Yes.” Dean cleared his throat. “I'll let you rest.”
“I just need... a little time.” He coughed and pulled the pillow more fully under his chin.
“I know,” the man replied and left the room.
As soon as he heard Dean go downstairs, Castiel opened his eyes and just listened for a moment. This was his home now - maybe not this house, but he now lived in this reality - and he didn't know what would happen when Dean got older, what would happen to him? Would he be allowed into this place's Heaven? It'd be odd, knowing all the angels there by name, but they wouldn't be the same - just as he wouldn't be the same Castiel.
And quite frankly - it would be interesting to see everyone he had always known in a different light. If Zachariah didn't have a stick up his ass in this world, there was no telling what Uriel was going to be like.
**
Liesel stepped out of church on the last day of school, already knowing that her dad wouldn't be there. He'd been unable to get out of a string of surgeries for the day - it was complicated, he'd said, and really, it wasn't like it was eighth grade graduation or anything. She scanned the crowd of parents waiting outside of cars and waving and caught sight of Castiel sitting on a bench near the small grotto on the boundary between the church and school. She ducked out of the crowd and crossed the parking lot. “Aren't you hot sitting out here?”
Castiel looked up and smiled. “Not really. It's rather pleasant.” He looked over her shoulder at the crowd filing out of the church. “I take it you had a good last day?”
“It was pretty good.” She sat down and set the large envelope containing her report card and a couple of awards down between them. “Is it true that Mr. Jay is moving to Kentucky, and he couldn't be here because he's looking at houses?”
“Yes.” He gave her a small smile. “I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with me instead.”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.” She sighed. “I like Mr. Jay - and he's really nice, but you're really nice too.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the envelope and frowned. “May I look in here?”
“I guess.” She made a face. “And I just want to say that the comment about me needing to not talk with my hands so much is completely unfair.”
Castiel frowned. “I do not believe the woman who has been teaching you should be teaching. The fact that you tend to talk with your hands, which you have done for this entire conversation, is a completely involuntary action brought on by being raised by a hearing impaired parent.”
“I already know Dad talked to the principal about the whole Mother's Day thing.” She frowned when she saw the angel scanning the parking lot again. “What?”
“It's nothing.” A tiny smile formed at the corner of his mouth. “Let's go home. I - I believe I would like to try cooking something, and I want your help.”
“Uh - I didn't think to ask but um... are we walking?” They stood up and she held onto Castiel's hand as they made their way up the grassy hillside.
“Not all the way.” He held onto the envelope containing Liesel's report card in his other hand. “I believe your teacher may be either an Audist or a Surdophobic.”
“What does that mean?” They crossed from grass into the upper parking lot of the church.
“She either hates people who are deaf or is scared of them.” He shook his head. “Both such things are foolish. Though considering what your father and grandparents have accomplished, I can understand some resentment.”
“That's a pretty stupid way to think,” Liesel replied as they came to the main street and started up the next hill. “Even though it's hard for me to be the hearing person among the deaf... well, the world would be pretty boring if we all looked, sounded and acted the same.”
“Humans are wonderful in that way - I always thought it was a shame that so many animals seemed to look exactly the same.” He looked behind them and after scanning the rest of the area, tightened his grip on Liesel's hand. “This might pinch a bit.”
“What?” The next moment she shook her head as they arrived in the park that was a few blocks from her house, about halfway between her home and the school. “How... what was that?”
“That is how an angel flies, Lis.” Castiel smiled down at her. “Are you all right?”
She rubbed her face in response. “It didn't so much pinch as it was... it was sort of dizzying.”
“I've been told it does that.” They started down the street. “I am just glad to be able to do it again.”
Epilogue
Author: darth_firefly
Artist: usarechan
Fandom/Genre: AU, drama
Pairing(s): Mentions of Dean/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of character death, deaf!Dean
Summary:Castiel fully expected to die when he went into that warehouse in Van Nuys. He was ready to die. What he didn't expect was to land in the home of a Dean Winchester who had no idea who he was, who had never been to Hell, who wasn't a Winchester - and had never heard a single sound in his entire life. All that considered, the fact that this Dean had a seven year old daughter was hardly surprising at all. Oddly enough, the kid might be the LEAST of the surprises waiting for him in this other reality he now found himself in.
Adam had tried, unsuccessfully, to explain to his finance, Kelly, why Dean and Liesel couldn't come to their wedding. He didn't know how to make her understand that one, he didn't think that John and Dean should be in the same state, let alone the same room at the same time, and two, Dean would sooner pull his own eyes out than let John be near Liesel. He didn't think his dad posed any real danger to the girl, it was more the concept. Frankly, after Sam told him what their dad had done to Dean, Adam rather wished he could not invite his father instead - but his mother remained in the dark about the whole abuse thing and really, the brothers agreed that she was better off not knowing. Cowardly, sure - but as John had never laid a hand on him or Sam, it was highly unlikely his mom would believe them.
Adam ran his fingers through his hair as he came into the kitchen where Kelly was busy making another wedding related list. “Morning,” he said to her as he went over to the far counter to get himself a mug of coffee.
“Morning,” she replied, taking a sip from her own cup. “How did you sleep?”
“Not bad. I only have a few classes this morning, so I'm going to stop by the store on the way home so we'll have that out of the way for the week.” He sat down at the table, and after taking a drink of coffee, pulled an orange out of the fruit basket and started to peel it.
“Sounds great.” She marked her place and shut the notebook with a slap. “I've been thinking...”
“That's always dangerous,” he interjected.
“Hey!” This made Adam grin - indignation and anger always made Kelly's Southern accent go from light to deep.
“Sorry, but you pretty much walked into that one.” He split the orange open. “I'm sorry, you were saying?”
“Right. I was thinking about how you keep telling me we can't invite your brother Dean.” She took a sip of coffee. “It doesn't seem right; he is your brother, after all.”
“I know, Kelly - but trust me, it's a very bad idea. I want to invite him too, but the last time Dean and Dad were in the same place Dean nearly broke my father's nose. Inviting him will not turn out well for anyone.” He started to segment out the orange.
“I just think...”
“Look, Dean will understand. I'm going to have a talk with him and he's going to agree with me. It'll be fine.”
“He's family.” The end of that sentence implied to Adam just how little family there was on his father's side - all of his Winchester relations were in touch with Dean - and almost none of them talked to his Dad. Yet another point of contention to bring up. If it hadn't been for Dean, Adam and Sam wouldn't even know their Winchester cousins.
“I know that. He's my big brother and I love him, but putting him in the same room...” He took a drink of coffee.
“Your dad can't hurt him anymore, he knows that.” Kelly was starting to sound desperate.
“Dean doesn't want my dad near Liesel. If it was just him, alone, I can see it working - but Dean and Liesel are sort of a package deal. I mean if we were going full formal and not inviting kids, I can see how it might work, but we're not. I've already accepted the fact that he won't be there.” He picked up an orange segment and ate it.
“Well, hell Adam... I know he won't come, but what is the harm in at least sending an invitation to him?” She wrapped her hands around her mug, biting her bottom lip.
“You're forgetting Liesel will most likely see it - and she won't understand why they won't be going - and then she'll be disappointed, and she's got enough problems for a kid as it is.” He ate a few more pieces of the orange.
“Fine - could we possibly set the date for a time when we know they won't be able to come? At least then there's a reason she can see that they can't come to the wedding, rather than the real one.” She took a slow sip from her mug. “I just wish there was a way to make everyone happy.”
“I don't think that's possible.” He pulled a napkin from the basket on the table and rubbed his fingers with it. “I'm going to talk with Dean tonight, and I know he'll understand. When we have a party down here for all the people who can't attend the wedding because of their complications or our budget, we'll definitely invite the two of them.” He took a breath. “I'm starting to get why Sam says when he gets married, he's going to elope.”
“Well, Sam is a lot closer to Dean than you are.” Kelly stole a segment of orange. “But I still wish they could come.”
“I know.” He picked up the last piece of the fruit. “I wish they could come too.”
**
Liesel was thrilled that her grandparents were moving to Austin. The idea of being able to see them at least every other a week was way, way better than twice a year. True, it'd only emphasize the fact that she was the only person in her family who wasn't deaf, but having family close would be wonderful. She envied her classmates who had grandparents who didn't live in another state because they saw them all the time. Somehow, in her mind, Grandma and Grandpa being in Austin equaled more time spent with family and less time of Mr. Jay watching her.
A loud bang from across the room snapped her from her thoughts and returned her focus to cleaning her desk - not that it needed it. Her desk was famous for being the one that was always clean.
The classroom was festooned with paper flowers, balloons and artwork and Liesel was doing her best not to let all of this get to her feelings. She knew her dad was going to be here and as much as she loved her dad, sometimes she felt it just wasn't the same. This was the first time there was a serious amount of work put into Mother's Day at school and all of this celebration just seemed to emphasize the fact that she didn't have her mom with her anymore.
Well, one thing Liesel knew she didn't want was a new mom. Liesel had heard it from a couple of kids and even a few adults - she'd actually been asked if she would want a new mommy. What the heck was a 'new mommy' anyway? She had a perfectly good mom who just happened to live in Heaven instead of in the house with her and Dad. And honestly, considering she had the best dad of all time, a new mommy was out of the question. Some people just needed to mind their own business. Moms weren't like the goldfish at the pet store - just because her mom was dead didn't mean she wanted a new one.
She went up to the front of the room and tossed the paper towel she had been using to clean off her desk into the trash can and picked up a place-mat from the pile on her teacher's desk. Several moms had already started filing into the classroom - and she watched as her classmates went up to greet them, some of them looking embarrassed as their moms hugged them. She straightened the second chair at her desk, watching the door - and that's when she heard it.
“I don't know what Liesel's waiting for.” Someone behind her said it - and it took all her resolve not to turn around and see who it was. It was a boy - either Jack Fitzgerald or Harper Wessling - the two of them sounded alike.
“She looks so stupid.” That was Kara Ferguson. A second later, that same girl raced past Liesel's desk to hug the woman who had just come in the door. “Hi, Mommy!”
Liesel kept her hand steady as she reached into her desk and pulled out the small package of tissues that she kept there. Why wasn't her dad here yet? Did he have to stay at work longer? She knew he had one surgery this morning, but that was it - he was supposed to be here! She rubbed her nose as Kara walked by her desk and she saw the girl stick her tongue out. Kara's mother smelled like the perfume counter of a department store - so sweet it was almost sickening. She coughed and blew her nose, then went to throw her tissue away. The room was full of chatter now; most of the moms were there. She had to bite her lip as she went back to her desk to keep herself from crying.
If there hadn't been a math test this morning, Liesel would have begged her dad to let her stay home from school. She saw a wooden box out of the corner of her eye and she looked up and instantly, she smiled.
“Sorry I'm a little late. Traffic.” Her father grinned at her. “I also had to stop by the bank and pick something up.” He set a hand on the box and then sat down in the empty chair. He took a good look at her face and then his expression changed. “You weren't crying, were you?”
“I was scared you weren't going to be here.” She looked ashamed of herself and rubbed her nose.
“I'm sorry.” He held out the package of tissues to her. “Or did someone say something nasty again?”
Liesel was about to respond when Kara's voice reached her.
“What's wrong with her dad?”
Liesel clenched her hands into fists in an effort to control her temper. Her gaze shot over to the girl and her mother, only for an instant, but it was enough for her dad to see where the problem was.
Dean straightened his shoulders before replying. “You know what one of the best things about no one but us being able to speak ASL is?”
“Let me guess...” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “We don't have to worry about anyone eavesdropping?”
“That - and with no one but us knowing what we're talking about, we can talk about anything and make them think we're talking about something else.” Dean shifted in his seat and set his hand on the box on the desk. “You know what's in here, right?”
“Mom's medals from Sydney and Atlanta,” she replied, her smile finally becoming more pronounced. “I can't believe you went and got them out.”
“Well, I figured that if the fact that your mom spends her time with angels and saints isn't impressive to your classmates - five Olympic medals should be.” He wrinkled his nose and took one of the tissues from his daughter's desk. “I think some of the moms took baths in perfume before they came here. Is this a tea party or a black tie dinner?”
“What's a black tie dinner?” Liesel gave him a questioning look. “Have we ever been to one?”
“No - but I've seen a few in the movies.” He saw the teacher move to the front of the classroom. “You going to be my translator, Lis?”
“Uh huh.” She straightened up and turned her focus on her teacher, shutting out the giggles coming from behind her.
*
Dean didn't take the wooden box back to the bank that afternoon - he put it on the list of things to do tomorrow. He sat down on his bed, running his fingers along the carved design, remembering the story Ignacia had told him about it. Armand, Ignacia's father, had made it for his daughter when she was a little older than Liesel - and told her it was for her Olympic medals that he was certain she'd win. He lifted the lid and looked down at the five medals (two from Atlanta, three from Sydney), still gleaming, resting on top of a folded Romanian flag. Two bronze, two silver, and one gold - and a faint floral scent drifted up from deep in the box he knew that there were preserved petals from several bouquets she'd received along with the medals.
He rang his finger along the single gold - Romania's team gold medal from Sydney - the games she said, on the day they met (unofficially) she'd see him at. But he hadn't gone to Sydney - some stupid ass judge had scored him lower than he should have on an event and it'd cost him a trip to Australia - he'd been named the second alternate, and he sat at home and watched his fellow teammates get the chalk and sweat beat out of them by Japan - which he expected, and frankly, didn't mind. It was the Russians, whom the US had defeated with ease at Worlds the year before, taking second place and the
American Men not even placing in the medal round that got to him.
Dean ran his fingers through his hair, trying to will his thoughts away from darker places, but inevitably, just thinking about gymnastics was tossing fuel onto the fire of memories. The first time he'd ever seen Ignacia up close was after Individual Events at Worlds in '99; they'd both won the silver on the floor. To this day, he didn't know why he had held out his hand to help her onto the platform - but he did remember how small her hand looked in his - but they were similar in being covered in callouses and traces of chalk - hers from bars and his from rings. He even could remember the jolt in his chest when their fingers touched - and going back to Maryland had been hard. Ignacia was some impossible dream at that point; she lived in a world so far removed from his they might as well have been on different planets.
Then, somehow, they'd found each other two years later - in the West Branch of the Palo Alto public library. In the cookbooks - and the second his fingers brushed hers again when he handed her a book that had been on the top shelf, he'd known. He'd known that he could never let her go again. They overcame so much - a language barrier, a religion barrier (though Dean remained convinced that what had made Armand and Octavia Madgearu accept him as quickly as they did was the fact that he still went to church every week without his mother telling him), and everything should have been good - not perfect but at least good. The next seven years were just that.
And then Ignacia got sick - and things started falling apart. He'd been holding her hand when she slipped away from this Earth - they'd said good-bye in the same way they had met.
Castiel had been sitting in his room, half engrossed in a book, when Dean's emotions brushed against his Grace. He set the book down and went to the doorway of the master bedroom. He already knew that Liesel was asleep, and therefore, couldn't hear the broken, uneven, and rough sound of her father crying. He didn't even hesitate in going across the room, sitting down next to the man and pulling him into a tight embrace.
He felt Dean grasp the front of his shirt, his whole body shaking with sobs. Castiel rubbed his back in slow, comforting circles, letting the man have his tears. There wasn't any way to make the pain go away - the angel knew that. He rested his head against Dean's, making small, soothing noises that even though he knew the man couldn't hear him, seemed right. He flexed his shoulders and let his wings, now almost completely healed, come out and he wrapped those around Dean as well. He paid no attention to the few feathers that fluttered to the ground around them. His Grace could feel the man's soul awash in grief he had been keeping back - as if a year's worth of repressing the emotion had broken free and was threatening to consume him.
Dean tightened his grip on Castiel's shirt, hating himself for crying, hating himself for appearing so weak, hating himself for the fact that he had been so utterly helpless when Ignacia had died. That just broke other things in his mind - his fear he wasn't a good enough father, his worry he wouldn't be able to protect Liesel - it was just one thing after another.
The angel pressed a very light kiss on the top of the man's head, wondering how he could know two different Deans - but both had so much pain built up inside of them - and only one was willing to admit it. Finally, the man's grasp relaxed, and the rest of his body followed suit.
Dean had cried himself to sleep.
Castiel let out a breath and gently laid him down on top of the covers, on the side of the bed that he knew was his normal side to sleep on and covered him with a thin knitted blanket from the foot of the bed. Once Dean was sleeping comfortably, he picked up the wooden box, shut it, and set it on the bedside table. He was about to leave the room again when he heard Dean whimper in his sleep.
The angel sat back down on the bed, keeping one hand on the man's forehead. He might not be able to remove the overwhelming feelings of loss and grief from Dean, but one thing he could do right now was keep nightmares at bay. He leaned back against the headboard, smiling faintly when he heard rain start to patter against the windows and roof.
**
Gabriel had left Castiel and the Coulters, knowing that the three of them would be perfectly fine and safe while he was gone. There were wards on both his and Dean's house, the hospital where Dean worked, and on Liesel's school - not that he worried about any demons slipping out of Hell any time soon - and as for regular run-of-the-mill monsters - his friends among the pagans were keeping them under control in return for staying off hunters' radar. He had it on good authority that several members of the Norse pantheon had an affinity for skin-walker meat these days. The animals he'd been taking care of were all healed and had been released back into the wild, save for the stray cat, which he'd found a home for with an old woman whose family all lived overseas.
He stretched his arms over his head and came into the kitchen of the loft apartment. “Smells like you've taken a cooking class or two.”
“Shut it,” the woman behind the stove said, poking at the bacon in the skillet. “I'm a pretty decent cook.”
“I know, I'm just giving you a hard time.” He came over, gave her a light kiss on the top of the head and slid into a stool. “So what have you been up to?”
“You mean other than the scheduled school visits and running the tamer parts of your information empire?” She chuckled and blushed faintly. “Okay, so I have taken a couple of cooking lessons here and there...” She looked up and pursed her lips. “Isn't this the part of this recurring conversation when you ask me to move to Austin, I refuse, and then we bicker over if we should have blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?”
Gabriel smirked. “Well, Bela - I thought I'd stop asking a few times, see if that helps convince you.”
The woman shook her head. “It'd never work. Plus, aren't I supposed to be some sort of sainted author of religious young adult novels for girls?”
“You think all those teens would purchase those books if my picture was on the back cover?” He got up and went to the pantry.
Bela put a few slices of bacon onto a waiting plate. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Well, I already know what you're going to say, so...” He got out the pancake mix and went over to the fridge. “Why don't you want to move to Austin?”
“It's too hot down there for me.” She laid a few more slices of bacon into the pan as he started mixing up the batter. “Why can't you move up here?” She turned and looked at him. “Or is you being in Austin part of some other super-secret angel work?”
“I like it down there - as for my job - that's going to change shortly.” He went back to the cupboard. “Chocolate chip, right?”
Bela whipped her head around to look at him. “You bring fresh blueberries with you and now you don't want them in pancakes?”
He opened the package and measured out a cup before adding it to the mixture. “The berries are for later.” Gabriel shrugged. “So Austin is out - and I am not a fan of being up here in New York - so what do you say we both compromise and go renovate an antebellum home in Kentucky?” He came over and joined her at the stove.
She snickered in response as she set a few more pieces of cooked bacon on the plate. “Can I have a pony?”
Gabriel looked her over. “You're a little tall for a pony, so would you mind if you got a horse instead?”
Bela gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” He beamed. “You can have a few horses if you like - and I'm going to have a pack of retired greyhounds.” He looked the stove over. “I'll finish up breakfast - I think you have a book to read.”
She chuckled and went over to the table. “This is the final one about the Jewish girl, right?”
“Uh huh - the series our esteemed publishers at Simon & Schuster keep badgering us to let Hollywood take and make a film or two out of.” He started to heat up another pan. “And I keep refusing, of course.”
“What, have them make a movie in time to compete with The Lost Hero and The Last Sacrifice next year on Memorial Day weekend? No thank you.” Bela took a drink of coffee. “Now, put the first one up against the next Tom Cruise flick, and we might have something.”
“Point taken.” He shrugged. “I don't keep up on all the teen lit like you do. Is there a series with vampires that sparkle?”
She snorted into her mug. “Yeah, there is. It's some four-parter called Twilight. I met the author once - she said she couldn't understand why her books weren't popular. I didn't have the heart to tell her that having a werewolf soul-bond with a newborn in the last book was downright disgusting.” She shook her head. “Obviously, she never read Tuck Everlasting.” She looked up. “It's like published fanfic.”
“I can think of worse stories.” He poured some of the batter into the pan. “And I've read a lot of them.”
“So out of curiosity, what is the worst book you've ever read?” She picked up the manuscript.
“The jury is still out on that.” He flipped the pancake in the air. “You haven't been having nightmares again, have you?”
“No, I think they've finally stopped.” She tucked one leg under her as she scanned the start of the story. “Gabe... if you're up here, who's watching the kid?”
“A friend.” He smiled. “A friend I thought I'd lost forever... and while he's not exactly the same, he's got potential.”
“You know, I still don't know what's more confusing, you angels or the game of cricket - and that's saying something considering the fact that I'm British.”
Gabriel pulled a few more pieces of bacon from the pan and tossed the first batch of pancakes onto a plate. “I'm going with cricket, because I was there the day dirt was invented, and I don't get that game. Curling, on the other hand...”
“I know, I know...” She grinned. “You going to save injured wild animals in Kentucky?”
“Constantly. I plan to have a barn just for them.” He went back to cooking breakfast.
**
The Monday after Mother's Day was the first time Castiel was left alone in Dean's house. With the man at work and Liesel at school - and Gabriel who knew where - he found that he wasn't sure what to do in his solitude. He had already looked through most of the photograph albums, he had found books of little interest on the shelves - he only read fifty pages of The Hunger Games before he decided the subject was far too appalling to continue. Films were also out of the question - he knew how to work the DVD player, thanks to Gabriel, but without the archangel there to explain parts he didn't understand, he didn't feel up to the task.
So here he was, sitting in the kitchen, looking over another one of the cookbooks. Cooking seemed to be one of the things he was picking up with only a few problems. He frowned as he flipped through a book entitled West Meets East that had notations in the margin that were written in Romanian. He had just found an index card shoved in the middle of the book with a recipe for mock apple pie (also written in Romanian) when he heard a rustle of wings and his head rose as he felt a presence he hadn't since before he stormed the gates of Hell. “Michael.”
“And here I was trying to sneak up on you,” the archangel replied, and a moment later, a young boy around ten years of age with shaggy black hair came in from the dining room. He was barefooted and scruffily dressed, but Michael's Grace shone as bright as a thousand suns. “I should spend more time with fledglings, less with warriors.”
Castiel swallowed hard. “Why...” He frowned and tilted his head, “Forgive me for asking, but I was told that archangels of your caliber could only inhabit true vessels.”
“If this was the Apocalypse, yes. But as we're not there...” He went over to the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and came over to the island. “Rules are different.”
“I don't under...” Michael held up a hand and he fell silent.
“There's a lot we don't tell your rank, Castiel.” He opened the bottle and took a drink. “As to where I got the vessel - well, if you'd been watching or listening to the news, you would have heard about the massive earthquake in Thailand that happened a little while ago.” Michael shrugged. “The young boy who used to be in this body is already in Heaven playing baseball with his friends. But I didn't come over here to discuss such matters.”
“Why are you here?” He frowned. “Am I...in some form of trouble?”
“You obviously have mistaken me for the Michael in your world, Castiel.” He sighed and rocked on his heels. “I suppose Gabriel had already told you that it is far too risky for us to return you to your home, correct?”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “Though what I am going to do here, I do not know.”
“Oh, I'm sure you can think of something.” Michael shrugged. “Though I suggest you stay out of teaching. Other angels have tried it, frustration gets to them all in the end. You seem to have a natural curiosity for cooking.”
Castiel straightened his shoulders, not sure if he should feel offended or not. “I'm only doing this because Gabriel is not here and Dean often comes home too tired to cook.”
“See, that right there? The fact that you're going to cook because you know Dean will be too tired to do it proves you give a damn. That is exactly what I was expecting.” Michael tapped his fingers on the counter, taking another drink of water. “Dean thinks he's only known Gabriel a couple of years - but I put my brother on the task of watching him off and on for a while now. That's how Dean was able to be in plain sight for about three months and not get found.” He shrugged. “Not to mention...”
“Azazel never really gave two craps about him.” Castiel interjected.
“Exactly!” Michael smiled. “I understand that the Dean in your world shot the bastard.”
“Yes. With the Colt.” He felt his shoulders fall. “And then I made an error in the weapon's power that cost two women their lives.”
“You received false information, Castiel.” He shook his head. “I know that is little consolation, but it is the truth.”
He hung his head. “I feel like I should have known. I should have known it would not be so easy.”
“Nothing's easy.” Michael sighed. “I didn't come down here to discuss things that can't be changed. I came down to ask you if you want the job that Gabriel's been doing.”
“I don't think I'm one for saving wounded animals, Michael.” Castiel looked up, frowning. “Or are you referring to his job protecting Dean?”
“Not so much protecting as being the one thing he needs - something to keep him grounded. See, Zach and Daniel serve different functions in their jobs. Daniel's a sounding board who doesn't want the role of best friend or brother and Zachariah is an authority figure who encourages Sam to succeed. Gabriel's not going to stop being the best friend - any more than Ignacia's going to cease to be his soul-mate. What I'm asking you to do, Castiel - is to be the brother Dean didn't get to have.”
“He has brothers. Sam and Adam are his brothers,” he said flatly.
“And the Winchesters have divided loyalties -except with each other. The Dean and Sam in your world share a bond similar to the one that they have. The same bond that frustrated you so in your world shuts Dean out in this one.” He took another drink of water. “It's a lot to take in, I know...”
“I can do that.” He said it without thinking and found the truth in his words as he spoke. As connected to the Dean he pulled from Hell he was, the one here - seemed to need him more. It was in that moment he realized that Dean without Sam wasn't complete - despite the whole range of family he knew the man had, a brother was the one thing he didn't have. “Though I don't think it can be an instant sort of connection.”
“I know that.” Michael finished the water. “Your Grace is still around half full - perhaps a little over. In order to sever the link between you and your world early, you're going to have to go to holy ground. There's a church that's going to be torn down in Kansas City. I suggest you go there - just in case there's any aftershocks.”
“I'll do my best not to bring the building down.” His smile faltered. “I will worry about the friends I am leaving behind.”
“That's understandable.” He went and tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin. “Do you have any questions?”
The angel straightened his shoulders, frowning. “Yes. Who is this Chuck Norris I keep being told the Castiel in this world was like, and do I want to be like him as well?”
**
John signed the check for the payment for the damages his trip to Lawrence had cost him and then sealed the envelope. He had thought long and hard about what Mary had said to him. It was hard to cut Dean off completely from memory when the boy - funny that he still saw him as that despite the fact that Dean was an adult - was present in both Adam and Sam's lives. Although he had already learned from Adam that Dean was not going to be at or a part of the wedding - he felt it was better that way for everyone.
John naturally agreed.
Deep down, he never had expected any sort of reunion with Dean to go well. The damage had been too great, and John knew he had only himself to blame. He took out his keys and unlocked the small strong box he kept in his desk. He had told both Adam and Sam it was where the important papers were kept. The truth was, the important papers were in another box - at the bank. All those years ago, when he had gone to see if he could find Dean, the caseworker had made it plain to him - they had known about the abuse and they wouldn't tell him a damn thing - only that he was safe. He lifted the lid of the box and took a breath.
The first thing in the box was a copy of Sports Illustrated dated July 1995 - and one of the headlines read 'One Year Until Atlanta: Gymnastics Outlook.' - the first time he'd seen the name 'Dean Coulter' in print - before Sam even found his brother. John had known - he'd just had to hear about a deaf boy named Dean with incredible accuracy and aim, and he'd known. The phenom who got cheated out of two Olympic berths not for scoring, he was certain - but because some asshole didn't want a deaf guy representing the United States.
When really, a deaf kid showing up at the Olympics and kicking everyone's asses would have been the perfect way to show the world that anyone can achieve in this country.
He set the magazine aside and looked down at the photographs that were underneath. He had purposely avoided watching that National Championship eleven years ago because he had known he couldn't stand it - couldn't keep a clear mind while he watched the son he'd deemed worthless prove him wrong. John had known long ago that if Dean did something with himself, none of the credit lay with him - unless it was letting him go and into that life, but even that had been a gamble. The CPS was full of tragic endings - and a deaf nine year old could have been one of them.
The photocopied newspaper clippings from bigger city sports pages he'd gotten at the library, the achievements of Dean Coulter, wunderkind of the gymnastics world - the one who'd bowed out after winning the National title - choosing to go out on top instead of waiting for something to force him out. The edition of Sports Illustrated when the American Men won the silver medal at Worlds - the magazine when he'd seen Dean smile in triumph at Nationals - and even some silly article from People magazine on the 'match made by gymnastics' that was quite a stretch in talking about Dean and that tiny woman he'd married, Ignacia. Of course, one look at the woman's face, and he had a feeling she was just as tough and tenacious as Mary Campbell had been.
Part of him was screaming to just throw all of this out and forget - and the other part of him was begging not to let go.
He shut the box, relocked it, and went out into the garage, where he opened the trunk of the Impala and then placed the box in the secret compartment that, once upon a time, held an arsenal. He put the box inside, closed the compartment and trunk and went back into the house - he'd find a way to not think about the box.
Eventually.
*
“I can't believe you've had a girlfriend long enough to go on vacation with them,” Adam said over the top of his menu, grinning as his brother flushed.
“Say it a little louder, Adam; I don't think the people at the Thai place across the street heard you.” Sam took a drink of water, relieved that neither Kelly nor Becca were at the table at the moment. “This is all new to me, okay?”
“Okay.” He folded the menu and set it on the table before reaching for another piece of bread from the basket. “I think she's a nice girl. She's a little more... serious than most of the, um... flighty girlfriends you've had.”
Sam took a drink from his soda and shook his head. “She's serious until you get her talking about Dr. Who. Then it's like being right back with Jessica and her whole Harry Potter thing.”
“Look who's talking Mister-Always-had-to-be-Goliath when we played Gargoyles.” Adam snickered as he saw the two women coming back from the bathroom. “Don't worry, I won't rat you out.”
“You better not. I've still got the photos Mom took of you dressed as Little Lord Fauntleroy for Halloween when you were five.” Sam turned his attention back to his menu.
“Did we miss anything?” Kelly slid back into her chair at the same time Becca did.
“Nothing important,” Sam replied and frowned. “Now the question is not what to have for dinner, but what can you have for dinner and still have room for dessert.”
“Just get the Shepherd’s Pie, and eat half of it,” Becca said, folding her hands over her menu. “And leave the calories for dessert - the Alfredo in this place has, like, two sticks of butter per serving.” She shuddered at the thought.
“Sounds like a plan.” He took a drink of water.
“Did you tell your brother the good news?” Kelly asked Adam as she picked up her own water glass.
“Not yet.” Adam grinned. “I've been offered a better scholarship - one that pays for almost everything.”
“Where?” Sam set his glass down.
“The University of Kentucky.” His smile widened. “So it looks like Kelly and I are going to be moving to Lexington.”
“Seriously?” A wide smile broke out on Sam's face. “That's awesome!” He shook his head. “When the hell did you get old enough to even start med school?”
“Oh, sometime after you took the LSAT and before you passed the bar,” Adam said with a retort.
**
The tiles were broken, and the once beautiful stained glass was half shattered and all of the windows were boarded up. Most of the pews had been either carted off when the church closed its doors or stolen - and the air smelled of earth, stale incense, spent wax, and dust. Castiel made his way up the center isle - here he could catch the trace memories of weddings and happy couples and over-scented flowers from funerals. A church was supposed to be a hub of a community - and those that called this place a hub had sought their community elsewhere. He stood in the center of the building, the early summer sunlight filtering though the boards causing dust motes to dance in the air, casting him half in shadow, half in light.
The angel sighed softly and took several more steps forward until he was in the exact center of the building and closed his eyes, concentrating. The whispers of the church fell away and he let Grace stretch outward, feeling his arms lift and his hands spread, bringing a small smile to his face. He must appear to be an overgrown fledgling who had just discovered how to hide his wings, leaving him greater movement in his arms. He let his eyes change to their true form - in entering this state, he'd made himself vulnerable to attack, but with his eyes blazing with holy fire, a mere glance would deter anyone or anything that tried to harm him.
As soon as his gaze shifted from the physical one to a higher plane, the world seemed to white out completely save for two strands, one thin, like gossamer, the other thicker, like rope - but starting to fray. He reached out with his Grace and touched the glowing one gently, fearing it would snap with the lightest touch. In his mouth, he tasted sweet tea, sour-dough bread, beef broth, and an underline of mint. He smiled and then turned his attention to the other cord, which seemed to have weakened slightly in his inattention. He set his Grace upon it and was assaulted by the smell of gun oil, the taste of stale coffee and leather. Castiel felt his eyes open a little wider and he could see the Dean he pulled from Hell.
He was in Bobby Singer's house - Sam, Adam, and the old hunter, who was walking no less, were in the library with Gabriel. The archangel seemed to be the only one who noticed his presence, and rather than say something to the rest of the assembly, looked straight at him and gave an ever so slight wave of the hand. It was safe to let go - the Winchesters would be fine - all three of them. Somehow, he knew the archangel would explain.
Castiel pulled back with his Grace and away from the scene and fashioned part of his Grace into a blade - and with one swift motion, severed the link that held him bound to that other world.
The reaction was swift and almost painful. One moment he'd been aware of the church, of the gossamer strand suddenly swelling to the size and strength of a steel cable while still looking delicate and then - the world seemed to rush by. Things finally righted themselves in his mind, and he found himself back in his room in Dean's house with no memory of how he got there.
“If you're going to make a habit of landing in the forsythia bushes, please let me know so I know whether or not I should prune them.” Dean's voice was full of jest, and it made the angel smile.
“That should be the last time.” He touched his forehead, wincing. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A few hours. Are you hungry?” Dean was sitting with his arms folded, his stern expression completely contradicted by the humor in his eyes.
“I think a little more rest is an order.” He let out a breath. “Did anyone see me fall?”
“Only Lis and I did - as far as I know. Then again, you didn't so much fall out of the sky as popped out of thin air a few feet above the bushes.” Dean stood. “I'll come and check on you before dinner - see if you feel like eating then.”
“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I suppose I managed to keep my wings in this time.”
“Yes.” Dean cleared his throat. “I'll let you rest.”
“I just need... a little time.” He coughed and pulled the pillow more fully under his chin.
“I know,” the man replied and left the room.
As soon as he heard Dean go downstairs, Castiel opened his eyes and just listened for a moment. This was his home now - maybe not this house, but he now lived in this reality - and he didn't know what would happen when Dean got older, what would happen to him? Would he be allowed into this place's Heaven? It'd be odd, knowing all the angels there by name, but they wouldn't be the same - just as he wouldn't be the same Castiel.
And quite frankly - it would be interesting to see everyone he had always known in a different light. If Zachariah didn't have a stick up his ass in this world, there was no telling what Uriel was going to be like.
**
Liesel stepped out of church on the last day of school, already knowing that her dad wouldn't be there. He'd been unable to get out of a string of surgeries for the day - it was complicated, he'd said, and really, it wasn't like it was eighth grade graduation or anything. She scanned the crowd of parents waiting outside of cars and waving and caught sight of Castiel sitting on a bench near the small grotto on the boundary between the church and school. She ducked out of the crowd and crossed the parking lot. “Aren't you hot sitting out here?”
Castiel looked up and smiled. “Not really. It's rather pleasant.” He looked over her shoulder at the crowd filing out of the church. “I take it you had a good last day?”
“It was pretty good.” She sat down and set the large envelope containing her report card and a couple of awards down between them. “Is it true that Mr. Jay is moving to Kentucky, and he couldn't be here because he's looking at houses?”
“Yes.” He gave her a small smile. “I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with me instead.”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.” She sighed. “I like Mr. Jay - and he's really nice, but you're really nice too.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the envelope and frowned. “May I look in here?”
“I guess.” She made a face. “And I just want to say that the comment about me needing to not talk with my hands so much is completely unfair.”
Castiel frowned. “I do not believe the woman who has been teaching you should be teaching. The fact that you tend to talk with your hands, which you have done for this entire conversation, is a completely involuntary action brought on by being raised by a hearing impaired parent.”
“I already know Dad talked to the principal about the whole Mother's Day thing.” She frowned when she saw the angel scanning the parking lot again. “What?”
“It's nothing.” A tiny smile formed at the corner of his mouth. “Let's go home. I - I believe I would like to try cooking something, and I want your help.”
“Uh - I didn't think to ask but um... are we walking?” They stood up and she held onto Castiel's hand as they made their way up the grassy hillside.
“Not all the way.” He held onto the envelope containing Liesel's report card in his other hand. “I believe your teacher may be either an Audist or a Surdophobic.”
“What does that mean?” They crossed from grass into the upper parking lot of the church.
“She either hates people who are deaf or is scared of them.” He shook his head. “Both such things are foolish. Though considering what your father and grandparents have accomplished, I can understand some resentment.”
“That's a pretty stupid way to think,” Liesel replied as they came to the main street and started up the next hill. “Even though it's hard for me to be the hearing person among the deaf... well, the world would be pretty boring if we all looked, sounded and acted the same.”
“Humans are wonderful in that way - I always thought it was a shame that so many animals seemed to look exactly the same.” He looked behind them and after scanning the rest of the area, tightened his grip on Liesel's hand. “This might pinch a bit.”
“What?” The next moment she shook her head as they arrived in the park that was a few blocks from her house, about halfway between her home and the school. “How... what was that?”
“That is how an angel flies, Lis.” Castiel smiled down at her. “Are you all right?”
She rubbed her face in response. “It didn't so much pinch as it was... it was sort of dizzying.”
“I've been told it does that.” They started down the street. “I am just glad to be able to do it again.”
Epilogue