Fic: Little Big Things (4/10)
Title: Little Big Things (4/10)
Characters: Dean,Cas, Sam
Rating: PG
A/N: Written before episode 6.9 aired, so my take on the fairy's totally different.
Summary: Clap your hands and Tinker Bell will live
Chapter 4
Sam finds himself humming a little tune on his way back from the library. It's upbeat and he finds himself nodding along. There's a spring to his step and the soft fluff of snow underneath his boots brings the needed bass. The fresh sharp bitterness of the snow and the quietness it brought to the small town in Nebraska heightens his good mood. The snowman leaning to his right. The snowball fight a few feet away. The three snow angles by the motel sign didn't help and Sam actually finds himself grinning.
Trudging up to their door, Sam quickly stomps his boots to get rid of the snow. Behind him, the Impala sits parked, a fine white layers covering her like a blanket of goose feathers.
Twisting his glove off with his teeth, the other hand occupied with books, Sam fishes out the motel key and opens the door. Sliding into the warm room, slamming the door closed, Sam tugs of his hat as he walks into the tiny common room. "Hey."
Dean's sitting on the floor, crossed legged at the foot of his bed. The TV's turned off but the old-school radio is quietly blaring Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Green River". Dean mumbles something, waving a hand carelessly off in his direction. Shrugging off his damp coat and gloves, Sam drapes it over his chair. Laying the books on the table, he opens his laptop. Waiting for it load, Sam stretches out and turns to take in what has his brother's attention. "What are you doing?"
For a moment he's scared because Dean's just sitting there with these rocks lying before him. He's so lost to the outside world, his face tightened in intense concentration. It wouldn't surprise him anymore if Dean starts to drift off or just snaps from all the strain. Heck, Sam's surprised they're not in an insane asylum with what they've been through.
A breeze follows with a flap of wings and then Cas is in the room. Fixing his attention on him, a warm greeting shines in the angel's orbs. "Hello Sam." Then he flicks his attention to the stack of books. "What is it you are researching?"
"Oh, nothing." Which is totally a lie. He grabbed every book on Lucifer and Hell that he could find. "How have you been?"
Castiel walks over to the fridge, where he pulls out a bottle of beer. "Fine."
Dean's voice shouts in victory. "Ah Ha! Try to maneuver yourself out of this one." Leaning back onto his left hand, Dean is grinning like a maniac while his other reaches out to take a drink of water from the glass at his side. His brother is wearing a simple pair of sweats and a battered Marine Corp shirt they had picked up at some random Army and Navy store.
"What? No beer?" Sam teases.
Dean merely rolls his eyes as he points at the angel, who is tossing his cap into the sink. "Cas is a freaking mother hen, wouldn't let me drink a beer if we played this game. Said I wouldn't be a fighting chance if I was 'incapacitated'."
The air quotes around incapacitated makes Sam chuckle as he walks to sit down across from Dean. Dean lashes out and pushes Sam up onto the bed. "Watch where you sitting Sasquatch! You really are like a teenager." It's the first time Dean dares to make eye contact with him, those green eyes sharp and alert.
"Sorry," huffs Sam. Flopping down on the bed, he peers over the edge to take in the black, red, white and green stones. The stones are in some strange design on the faded rough brown carpet. A tiny pile was at Dean's feet and another stack is where he almost sat down. "What are you playing?"
Deans scratches his head. "Forgot the name, but it's some old game, kinda like Checkers and Mancala and Battleship all rolled into one."
Castiel, who watches Sam's routine with an inquisitive look, squints his eyes barely in mischief. It's a little thing Sam's starting to pick up. All these expressions and ticks of the angel, especially concerning those eyes, spoke volumes of facial expression. He might not be as good as Dean, but the mere fact he's picking up on certain things perks Sam's good mood.
"It is something Zoroastrians invented. It is a game of creativity." Castiel sinks down across from Dean, sitting cross-legged as he takes a sip.
Dean scowls at him, "Why can you have a drink?"
"I am not the…newbie here, Dean." There's an almost teasing tone which makes Dean huff. But that indignation is warm and Sam can see the tension seep away.
Sam had been afraid that after the beat down in Bobby's scrap yard that the two were drifting apart. Heck, Dean hadn't called or texted the angel. Then all of a sudden, here's Cas and Dean sitting together, teasing and playing a game.
"What did Bobby need anyway?" Dean's leaning forward now, running a finger over the rim of the plastic cup. He's got his head tilted and licking his lips, not once blinking. It's a distracting tactic that Sam's been a victim to on many occasions while growing up.
Castiel picks up a green rock, "He needed me to translate something concerning a vague reference on the Horsemen." Then he places the green rock between a red and white. Suddenly Sam swears he sees the shape of a Celtic knot snap into focus. But it's gone and he thinks that he's losing his mind because all there is are rocks in lines.
Dean curses and reaches out gathering all the rocks and starts to spread and mix them up. Castiel takes another drink from his beer to cover up the flickering of his lips.
"Just you wait, Cas, one of these days..."
"You said that the last twenty times, Dean. I think we should play poker. You have been meaning to teach me."
Placing a white rock smack dab in the middle, Dean lets out a long, thin grin on his face. "Oh no, big boy, I got you this time." The eagerness and determination vibrates from Dean, whose fingers are now tapping in beat with Rolling Stones and the amusement shines in Cas's eyes as he looks at Dean.
Then Dean slaps the angel lightly on the knee, "Come on, Romeo, I don't have all day."
Castiel sighs and moves a red stone to the left, followed quickly by a trigger-happy black stone to the far right. Above, stretched out, books forgotten, Sam finds himself chuckling inside as he watches, the warmth seeping deep into his bones melting away the coldness of the winter outside.
--------------------------------------------
"Aaaachu."
Dean flicks his gaze at Cas, who is walking quietly beside him twitching his nose and looking down as if he didn't know a nose could make such a noise. "Gesundheit."
Cas nods a thanks and they continue their walk, not making anything out of the ordinary that an angel just sneezed. With each step on the gravel pathway, Dean ponders on the case. Something has been targeting college students, particularly men. They seem fine but a few days later they lie around and appear to be high twenty-four seven. Then poof, the guys disappear. It's a strange one, and it reminds him of the case involving that vampire who gave his blood to women saying it was a drug. Then Dean remembers Gordon and Sam standing with bloody hands over the dirty deed. He quickly shakes his head cause it brings to focus another Sam who's crouched before a possessed woman, mouth outlined red.
Raising his eyes, Dean spares a glance and sees Cas scanning the area around them as if he's never seen a wooded park before. It's late at night and right on the cusp between summer and fall. They don't talk and that is just fine with Dean. He always hated small talk. Then Cas sneezes, an actual loud, high-pitch sneeze. Stopping in mid-step, Dean turns to see the angel frozen in his spot. His pale face is wide with shock, his nose twitching slightly.
"You okay there bud?"
"Achuuu!"
"Bless you."
Cas is about to remark but another sneeze erupts out of him making his whole body rock, his head whipping backwards.
"Dude!" Dean reaches out and rests it gently against Cas's shoulder to steady him, "You're going get whiplash. Allergic to dead leaves or something?"
Cas sniffles more, blinking his eyes constantly. "Jimmy is not allergic…"
Dean can't help but let out a teasing smirk, "Someone thinking about you?"
A pinch confused look follows right on schedule, "How does sneezing and someone thinking about me relate?"
Chuckling, Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, "It's an old saying. Still didn't think angels could get the sniffles."
"We don't." Cas narrows his eyes, "Except…" A soft groan follows blue eyes staring up at the sky, "Oh crap."
Dean wants to cheer, instead he spots the seriousness. "What?"
But that's all Dean can say before two very hyperactive women pounce him. Cas tries to reach out, but he staggers backwards as his body doubles over with sneeze after sneeze shuddering his frame. The women drape themselves over Dean, one a blond, the other a red head, full pink lips moist and purring. Their wide pale eyes shimmer silver for a split second in the night.
"Hey there sugar."
"My, aren't you a sexy beast."
They're wearing mini shirts and white tank tops covered in what Dean wants to say is glitter but that can't be because it sure as hell doesn't sparkle and almost seems to disappear in the air. In front of him, a brunette is dressed in a similar fashion but clearly is the leader. She smiles seductively at him, totally ignoring Cas behind her. Raising perfectly manicured nails, Dean has to take a double take, but there hangs a Pixie stick.
Shrugging with one shoulder, she blinks slowly, her voice smoother than the hums of approval from her companions. "You want some?"
Dean can't help but chuckle, "A sugar stick, nah, think I'll pass. Besides, didn't your mother tell you not to accept candy from strangers?" Despite how attractive these women are, giggling and running their hands down his chest and sides, Dean knows a supernatural creature when he sees it.
The brunette laughs so timid and for a second Dean finds himself being pulled in. "Come on, just one hit."
"I-"
The woman goes flying to the side, right into a tree. Castiel is before him panting, eyes red with tears prickling at the edges. "Get away from him." The growl is enough to make the pebbles at their feet rattle and Dean can't help but gulp.
The two other women are not shrieking or snapping out some corny lines, instead just blinking, and blinking once more. Then it happens. They scream that high-pitch squeal and tackle Castiel leaving for a split second a dust of something sweet in the air.
"Oh my god!" The blond woman is running her hands through the angel's thick hair. "Damn, what a vessel!"
The red-head is behind Castiel lifting his coat tails, "Where the wings? Where the wings?"
Castiel struggles to bat away the women's hands that are groping and petting him. It's as almost as if they are trying to eat him or at least touch him to death. There's a clear red blush on his cheeks, the blue eyes wide with that old familiar shock yet somehow he's muttering string after string of Enochian that Dean knows isn't all full of peace and good-will.
Dean tries to leap in and grab one of them yet finds himself flung hard into the brush. Thorns stabbing into his jeans, he draws out his gun and points it at the blond woman. She's moving too fast to get a fix, vibrating almost in place. "Damn it."
Castiel notices Dean's move and has time to raise a hand before the red-head raises his arm way above his head, while the blond is running lips up and down his throat. "Don't shoot, it will only disperse them. Find a-" Then another sneezing fit befalls the poor angel.
"Find a what?" Every instinct makes Dean want to fire and shoot these creatures. And the mere fact Cas is trying to break free but can't makes him itch to fire. But he trusts Cas. "What the hell are they?"
"We're fairies, darling."
Dean pivots, gun aimed at the brunette. Even being thrown hard into a tree, she only has a few branches in her hair and some dirt smudges. "Fairies?"
Her smile is pure white teeth, "Oh yes."
"Where the wings then?" He spares a glance at Cas, who is tripped and pushed into the ground, the women still fawning over him rubbing their hands all over his arms and chest. Tears are running down his face, sneezes racking his throat sore as he tries to roll over onto his chest, shoulders rolling as if to protect something.
"We're kinda like hummingbirds." The low sultry voice pulls Dean's attention back, jerking backwards when she appears right in front of him. The pixie stick is now a few inches from her face and that clear glitter blows gently on him. "One little taste…and you'll be on a high that will last forever…think about all you can do…"
Dean licks his lips, not knowing why. All he can see is her silver eyes while a humming fills his ears. He barely hears the loud sneeze and a snap of something that sounds like wings followed by painful twinned grunts.
Then the brunette's wrist is wrenched back and she hisses darkly at his left.
"Dean!" The gruff, strained voice is enough to snap him out the haze. Dean shakes his head and takes a couple steps back bringing up the pistol. He can't remember when he lowered it. "What the hell?"
Castiel is panting, nose running and sniffling, eyes puffy and sweat is glinting on his face. He's covered in the faint sheen that same substance on the women, "It's fairy dust." Cas growls not once breaking his gaze from the brunette's cold face, tightening his grip on her wrist to the point where if she was a normal human it would be broken. "Highly addictive and makes one forget things. The Greeks had called it the Lotus."
Dean feels his blood begin to boil as he rubs his face with his sleeve jacket in hopes of getting rid of the stuff. "That does it, how we kill this bitch?"
There's no response and when he finally lowers his hand, "Cas?"
Cas is wheezing, his free hand is clutching his chest. The brunette fairy easily breaks his hold, rubbing at her red wrist. "Angels are allergic to our dust." The smile is anything but sexy. "He's asphyxiating, caramel."
Before he even blinks, Dean shots the fairy point blank range in the face. She bellows in a cloud of dust, sprinkling them lightly before a dirt devil appears and forms back into the tall beauty.
"Now that wasn't nice." But the fairy merely stands there gloating as her sisters limp back to her side. Their clothes, arms and legs are ripped, black blood running down the pale skin. Whatever Cas did to them makes him feel proud at what a badass his angel is even when he's getting his ass whipped by a couple of women.
Dean keeps his gun trained as he rushes to Castiel's side, who's pretty much on the verge of face planting into the ground. Draping an arm over his back while aiming the pistol at the fairies, Dean feels the dust cover his fingers and curses himself to Hell. No wonder Cas didn't want him to shoot, for all he knows during the explosion Cas and himself inhaled more dust. And he really didn't need to fall back under their little spell. Which, he wonders why he isn't. Then he hears between the hacks and sneezes Cas murmuring away.
Supporting him, Dean can only watch as Cas continues to try and heave in breath after breath between the protection spell. "Cas come on, zap us away from here."
"No can do, sugar," giggles the blond.
The red-head twirls a strand of hair over her broken finger. "His wings are covered, can't fly no more."
"He dying," the brunette licks her lips, a hunger look darkening her features. "It's been awhile since we've had an angel."
Trembling with rage, Dean grinds his teeth, "I swear to God, when…"
"What douse him in water?" finishes the blond. "It ain't gonna help, gumdrop, he'll be dead by then."
The blond and red-head glance at each other, smiling maliciously before linking their arms and begin to dance around the pair singing some annoying tune. Dean cocks his pistol and really wants to shoot at them, but he has a feeling another eruption of dust is going to end them.
He's running out of options. He can't let Cas die on him, not like this. Cas is a tough, sneaky, nerdy angel of the lord and dying because of some funky dust just isn't right. Dean tightens his grip on that familiar coat and begins to lead them away from the trio, taking a few steps backwards with his buddy staggering at his side.
The brunette fairy raises her hand, "Hey now, hold on a sec."
Dean freezes, tense for another attack. Then Cas leans into him, warm breathe ghosting down his neck. "Dean…"
"Shut it Cas," Dean hisses back, trying to keep his fear at bay. "What the hell do you want?"
"There is a…way to save him."
Dean feels something squeeze in his chest as she smiles again, twirling that pixie stick between her fingers. Cas's fingers tighten against his coat as the angel tries to usher them onwards. But Dean can't, he has to do something and wiggles out of Cas's grip. "What do I have to do?"
There he goes again, bargaining his soul and sanity for the people he cares about. And it scares him because he's not even thinking about. He thought that things would be different with Cas, but it seems as if the angel has made a stake on this Winchester's heart. He hears a poor attempt of a growl of disproval but ignores.
The fairy licks her lips as the two behind stop rejoicing, clearly not liking this turn of events. Their cold glares at their boss halt when she tosses them the blue pixie stick before pulling out another one from her pocket. The two jump at the stick, clawing at the soil and grass. Their addiction makes them oblivious to the outside world and the wager being conducted.
"We play a game." With a flick of her wrist, she appears to pluck out a leather bag. "You win, I'll help angel over there. I win, you drop this case hunter."
A gurgled cough and a torn sneeze is all that it takes. Dean shuffles off his coat, shaking off the dust before turning it inside out. He turns, lowering Cas gently to a nearby tree. The lack of resistance shows how weak and sick the angel is. Rolling up the jacket into a ball, he rests it gently behind Cas' head who is now leaning against the rough bark. "You hang in there, don't you dare die."
The annoyed but determined glare is enough to ease him. "You are in-sane..." Cas huffs out. "C..an.t…win."
"Now you're realizing this," tsks Dean. "Just keep saying that spell there and I'll get you back to your stubborn self in no time." Turning he walks up to the head fairy as she drops gracefully down onto the ground, sitting cross-legged. Dumping out colorful rocks, she splits it into two piles. "Object of the game is making a design."
Sitting across from her, Dean gathers his rocks, "That's it?"
"Yes," then a flash of a wicked smile, "But one rock at a time and the rocks will reveal the winner. Whoever wins three out of five rounds gets the prize."
"How do I know you won't cheat? That these rocks aren't rigged?"
The other fairies giggle and cackle, draped over each other and pouring their own pixie sticks into their mouths as their wounds slowly bleed out. Eyes glazed over, they hum and bounce to a beat that's beyond comprehension. They're getting annoying and frankly terrifying. Women and sugar highs, the fairies are like a bunch of those fawning teenage girls that scream at a level only dogs can hear.
The brunette drops a rock in the center and it immediately turns a null gray color. "That is what happens when one cheats."
Dean spares a glance over his shoulder and sees Cas give a weak nod. He's barely breathing, eyes at half-mast and dull and there almost seems to be a rash appearing over his neck where the one fairy was kissing him. Glancing back at the rocks, Dean licks his lips. "Okay then," and drops a red rock to the left of the gray one.
He loses in the end, not surprisingly. But the brunette fairy is laughing as she pours the rocks back into the bag. "Don't fret, Dean. It makes you even hotter and sweeter."
A hot blush dashes across his checks. Dean wants to punch the fairy but he wills himself still. He can't cover himself in more dust if he has to drag Cas to the Impala and figure out how the hell to save him. And he will save him, because he isn't going to lose Cas.
The leather bag falling into his lap is unexpected and Dean finds his head jerked upwards, questions pouring out of his eyes.
"You were entertaining," the fairy continues to hum in pleasure as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I rarely play anymore but I have a feeling you will use them more than I." She turns, muttering something. Throwing her hand out, a powerful gust roars out of the woods and Cas vanishes in the wind.
Dean launches to his feet, "What?"
"Don't worry sugarplum; angel is merely free-falling a 1,000 miles per hour to get the dust off of him." She pulls out a red pixie stick, ripping the top off, "He was weak anyway. Not much grace on those bones." Snapping her fingers, her sisters stumble to their feet where they were sprawled out on the grass twisting fingers in the air. They are pale as corpses but are no longer bleeding. "Remember our deal, no saving the humans." Then, in a breeze they are gone.
A few hours later, washing himself clean of the dust and tossing his clothes into the half-filled tube, Dean crashes on the motel bed trying not think about how on the evening news the missing people were found all dead at an abandoned house. He knows the fairies have left, covering up their trail. Guilt knaws at him, but it lessens slightly when Castiel appears weaving in and out on his feet. The blast of ice-cold air bellows at the curtains and ruffles the sheets.
Dean peers upward, taking in the ragged form before scooting over and without being told, Castiel collapses right next to him. The angel is breathing normally, his eyes no longer puffy or red. The only sign of the allergic attack is a slightly red nose. Dean shifts his gaze and stares numbly at the ceiling with Cas staring tiredly at the stripped pattern of the comforter.
"Let me guess, they're the reason why you're terrified of women."
"Is it that obvious?" The dead-panned statement makes Dean smile weakly.
"Well if it means anything, if I had to deal with fairies constantly I'd be terrified myself."
There's silence and for a second Dean hears Cas's breathing even out. He tilts his head slightly to see if the angel is asleep, which would be a first. Instead those eyes, once again clear and sharp thank god, are staring at him.
"Thank you," Cas whispers. There's a sliver of fear, at how close he almost came again to dying but there's gratitude and that usual stoicism to cover up the fact.
"No problem." Dean finds himself whispering back, the words 'That's what family is for' stuck in his throat. "Just let me know if you angels got any other odd-ball ticks I need to know about."
Castiel nods. "I will let you know."
"Good." They continue to stare until Cas begins to chuckle ever so softly, a bemused look falling into his eyes.
"What?"
"I was thinking about what if Zachariah was to meet the fairies."
"oh.Oh."
It's enough, Dean thinks, because Cas is worth it. And it's a little thing he can do to pay back for all that the angel has done for him.
They both break into soft peals of laughter till Dean laughs himself into exhaustion, a grin plastered on his face while Castiel closes his own eyes and meditates as his battered body heals.
-------------------------------------------
The mental institution is busy and Sam finds that despite the busy crowd, the security is pretty lax. He's walking with a few other patients from his group therapy session and passes the open windows of the recreational room. His brown eyes sweep over the crowd hoping to draw Dean's attention. They need to talk, get a game plan.
He spots his brother at the checkers table by himself, face grim in concentration. It's the same, lost expression back when Dean and Cas were playing that rock game. An amused glint brightens his face as his lips move in a conversation with some invisible person. Dread fills Sam hoping that Dean hasn't chosen to actually snap. There's a difference in playing insane and being insane. He'd rather leave this place with mentality intact. Dean clearly points in victory as he slams the black piece on the other side of the board. He then raises his hand and points at the air across from him, saying something.
Then the victory grin is gone and the mood switches like day and night. Dean collapses back in his chair, crossing his arms, grumbling away. There's a guarded look, walls up at full maximum. Sam knows that Dean only gets that look when he's pushed into talking about something he doesn't want to talk about.
As he passes the open doorway, Sam hears some other patient sneeze a couple times in row. Dean's voice breaks through the air with clarity, "It's the fairy dust."
Chapter 5
Characters: Dean,Cas, Sam
Rating: PG
A/N: Written before episode 6.9 aired, so my take on the fairy's totally different.
Summary: Clap your hands and Tinker Bell will live
Chapter 4
Sam finds himself humming a little tune on his way back from the library. It's upbeat and he finds himself nodding along. There's a spring to his step and the soft fluff of snow underneath his boots brings the needed bass. The fresh sharp bitterness of the snow and the quietness it brought to the small town in Nebraska heightens his good mood. The snowman leaning to his right. The snowball fight a few feet away. The three snow angles by the motel sign didn't help and Sam actually finds himself grinning.
Trudging up to their door, Sam quickly stomps his boots to get rid of the snow. Behind him, the Impala sits parked, a fine white layers covering her like a blanket of goose feathers.
Twisting his glove off with his teeth, the other hand occupied with books, Sam fishes out the motel key and opens the door. Sliding into the warm room, slamming the door closed, Sam tugs of his hat as he walks into the tiny common room. "Hey."
Dean's sitting on the floor, crossed legged at the foot of his bed. The TV's turned off but the old-school radio is quietly blaring Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Green River". Dean mumbles something, waving a hand carelessly off in his direction. Shrugging off his damp coat and gloves, Sam drapes it over his chair. Laying the books on the table, he opens his laptop. Waiting for it load, Sam stretches out and turns to take in what has his brother's attention. "What are you doing?"
For a moment he's scared because Dean's just sitting there with these rocks lying before him. He's so lost to the outside world, his face tightened in intense concentration. It wouldn't surprise him anymore if Dean starts to drift off or just snaps from all the strain. Heck, Sam's surprised they're not in an insane asylum with what they've been through.
A breeze follows with a flap of wings and then Cas is in the room. Fixing his attention on him, a warm greeting shines in the angel's orbs. "Hello Sam." Then he flicks his attention to the stack of books. "What is it you are researching?"
"Oh, nothing." Which is totally a lie. He grabbed every book on Lucifer and Hell that he could find. "How have you been?"
Castiel walks over to the fridge, where he pulls out a bottle of beer. "Fine."
Dean's voice shouts in victory. "Ah Ha! Try to maneuver yourself out of this one." Leaning back onto his left hand, Dean is grinning like a maniac while his other reaches out to take a drink of water from the glass at his side. His brother is wearing a simple pair of sweats and a battered Marine Corp shirt they had picked up at some random Army and Navy store.
"What? No beer?" Sam teases.
Dean merely rolls his eyes as he points at the angel, who is tossing his cap into the sink. "Cas is a freaking mother hen, wouldn't let me drink a beer if we played this game. Said I wouldn't be a fighting chance if I was 'incapacitated'."
The air quotes around incapacitated makes Sam chuckle as he walks to sit down across from Dean. Dean lashes out and pushes Sam up onto the bed. "Watch where you sitting Sasquatch! You really are like a teenager." It's the first time Dean dares to make eye contact with him, those green eyes sharp and alert.
"Sorry," huffs Sam. Flopping down on the bed, he peers over the edge to take in the black, red, white and green stones. The stones are in some strange design on the faded rough brown carpet. A tiny pile was at Dean's feet and another stack is where he almost sat down. "What are you playing?"
Deans scratches his head. "Forgot the name, but it's some old game, kinda like Checkers and Mancala and Battleship all rolled into one."
Castiel, who watches Sam's routine with an inquisitive look, squints his eyes barely in mischief. It's a little thing Sam's starting to pick up. All these expressions and ticks of the angel, especially concerning those eyes, spoke volumes of facial expression. He might not be as good as Dean, but the mere fact he's picking up on certain things perks Sam's good mood.
"It is something Zoroastrians invented. It is a game of creativity." Castiel sinks down across from Dean, sitting cross-legged as he takes a sip.
Dean scowls at him, "Why can you have a drink?"
"I am not the…newbie here, Dean." There's an almost teasing tone which makes Dean huff. But that indignation is warm and Sam can see the tension seep away.
Sam had been afraid that after the beat down in Bobby's scrap yard that the two were drifting apart. Heck, Dean hadn't called or texted the angel. Then all of a sudden, here's Cas and Dean sitting together, teasing and playing a game.
"What did Bobby need anyway?" Dean's leaning forward now, running a finger over the rim of the plastic cup. He's got his head tilted and licking his lips, not once blinking. It's a distracting tactic that Sam's been a victim to on many occasions while growing up.
Castiel picks up a green rock, "He needed me to translate something concerning a vague reference on the Horsemen." Then he places the green rock between a red and white. Suddenly Sam swears he sees the shape of a Celtic knot snap into focus. But it's gone and he thinks that he's losing his mind because all there is are rocks in lines.
Dean curses and reaches out gathering all the rocks and starts to spread and mix them up. Castiel takes another drink from his beer to cover up the flickering of his lips.
"Just you wait, Cas, one of these days..."
"You said that the last twenty times, Dean. I think we should play poker. You have been meaning to teach me."
Placing a white rock smack dab in the middle, Dean lets out a long, thin grin on his face. "Oh no, big boy, I got you this time." The eagerness and determination vibrates from Dean, whose fingers are now tapping in beat with Rolling Stones and the amusement shines in Cas's eyes as he looks at Dean.
Then Dean slaps the angel lightly on the knee, "Come on, Romeo, I don't have all day."
Castiel sighs and moves a red stone to the left, followed quickly by a trigger-happy black stone to the far right. Above, stretched out, books forgotten, Sam finds himself chuckling inside as he watches, the warmth seeping deep into his bones melting away the coldness of the winter outside.
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"Aaaachu."
Dean flicks his gaze at Cas, who is walking quietly beside him twitching his nose and looking down as if he didn't know a nose could make such a noise. "Gesundheit."
Cas nods a thanks and they continue their walk, not making anything out of the ordinary that an angel just sneezed. With each step on the gravel pathway, Dean ponders on the case. Something has been targeting college students, particularly men. They seem fine but a few days later they lie around and appear to be high twenty-four seven. Then poof, the guys disappear. It's a strange one, and it reminds him of the case involving that vampire who gave his blood to women saying it was a drug. Then Dean remembers Gordon and Sam standing with bloody hands over the dirty deed. He quickly shakes his head cause it brings to focus another Sam who's crouched before a possessed woman, mouth outlined red.
Raising his eyes, Dean spares a glance and sees Cas scanning the area around them as if he's never seen a wooded park before. It's late at night and right on the cusp between summer and fall. They don't talk and that is just fine with Dean. He always hated small talk. Then Cas sneezes, an actual loud, high-pitch sneeze. Stopping in mid-step, Dean turns to see the angel frozen in his spot. His pale face is wide with shock, his nose twitching slightly.
"You okay there bud?"
"Achuuu!"
"Bless you."
Cas is about to remark but another sneeze erupts out of him making his whole body rock, his head whipping backwards.
"Dude!" Dean reaches out and rests it gently against Cas's shoulder to steady him, "You're going get whiplash. Allergic to dead leaves or something?"
Cas sniffles more, blinking his eyes constantly. "Jimmy is not allergic…"
Dean can't help but let out a teasing smirk, "Someone thinking about you?"
A pinch confused look follows right on schedule, "How does sneezing and someone thinking about me relate?"
Chuckling, Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, "It's an old saying. Still didn't think angels could get the sniffles."
"We don't." Cas narrows his eyes, "Except…" A soft groan follows blue eyes staring up at the sky, "Oh crap."
Dean wants to cheer, instead he spots the seriousness. "What?"
But that's all Dean can say before two very hyperactive women pounce him. Cas tries to reach out, but he staggers backwards as his body doubles over with sneeze after sneeze shuddering his frame. The women drape themselves over Dean, one a blond, the other a red head, full pink lips moist and purring. Their wide pale eyes shimmer silver for a split second in the night.
"Hey there sugar."
"My, aren't you a sexy beast."
They're wearing mini shirts and white tank tops covered in what Dean wants to say is glitter but that can't be because it sure as hell doesn't sparkle and almost seems to disappear in the air. In front of him, a brunette is dressed in a similar fashion but clearly is the leader. She smiles seductively at him, totally ignoring Cas behind her. Raising perfectly manicured nails, Dean has to take a double take, but there hangs a Pixie stick.
Shrugging with one shoulder, she blinks slowly, her voice smoother than the hums of approval from her companions. "You want some?"
Dean can't help but chuckle, "A sugar stick, nah, think I'll pass. Besides, didn't your mother tell you not to accept candy from strangers?" Despite how attractive these women are, giggling and running their hands down his chest and sides, Dean knows a supernatural creature when he sees it.
The brunette laughs so timid and for a second Dean finds himself being pulled in. "Come on, just one hit."
"I-"
The woman goes flying to the side, right into a tree. Castiel is before him panting, eyes red with tears prickling at the edges. "Get away from him." The growl is enough to make the pebbles at their feet rattle and Dean can't help but gulp.
The two other women are not shrieking or snapping out some corny lines, instead just blinking, and blinking once more. Then it happens. They scream that high-pitch squeal and tackle Castiel leaving for a split second a dust of something sweet in the air.
"Oh my god!" The blond woman is running her hands through the angel's thick hair. "Damn, what a vessel!"
The red-head is behind Castiel lifting his coat tails, "Where the wings? Where the wings?"
Castiel struggles to bat away the women's hands that are groping and petting him. It's as almost as if they are trying to eat him or at least touch him to death. There's a clear red blush on his cheeks, the blue eyes wide with that old familiar shock yet somehow he's muttering string after string of Enochian that Dean knows isn't all full of peace and good-will.
Dean tries to leap in and grab one of them yet finds himself flung hard into the brush. Thorns stabbing into his jeans, he draws out his gun and points it at the blond woman. She's moving too fast to get a fix, vibrating almost in place. "Damn it."
Castiel notices Dean's move and has time to raise a hand before the red-head raises his arm way above his head, while the blond is running lips up and down his throat. "Don't shoot, it will only disperse them. Find a-" Then another sneezing fit befalls the poor angel.
"Find a what?" Every instinct makes Dean want to fire and shoot these creatures. And the mere fact Cas is trying to break free but can't makes him itch to fire. But he trusts Cas. "What the hell are they?"
"We're fairies, darling."
Dean pivots, gun aimed at the brunette. Even being thrown hard into a tree, she only has a few branches in her hair and some dirt smudges. "Fairies?"
Her smile is pure white teeth, "Oh yes."
"Where the wings then?" He spares a glance at Cas, who is tripped and pushed into the ground, the women still fawning over him rubbing their hands all over his arms and chest. Tears are running down his face, sneezes racking his throat sore as he tries to roll over onto his chest, shoulders rolling as if to protect something.
"We're kinda like hummingbirds." The low sultry voice pulls Dean's attention back, jerking backwards when she appears right in front of him. The pixie stick is now a few inches from her face and that clear glitter blows gently on him. "One little taste…and you'll be on a high that will last forever…think about all you can do…"
Dean licks his lips, not knowing why. All he can see is her silver eyes while a humming fills his ears. He barely hears the loud sneeze and a snap of something that sounds like wings followed by painful twinned grunts.
Then the brunette's wrist is wrenched back and she hisses darkly at his left.
"Dean!" The gruff, strained voice is enough to snap him out the haze. Dean shakes his head and takes a couple steps back bringing up the pistol. He can't remember when he lowered it. "What the hell?"
Castiel is panting, nose running and sniffling, eyes puffy and sweat is glinting on his face. He's covered in the faint sheen that same substance on the women, "It's fairy dust." Cas growls not once breaking his gaze from the brunette's cold face, tightening his grip on her wrist to the point where if she was a normal human it would be broken. "Highly addictive and makes one forget things. The Greeks had called it the Lotus."
Dean feels his blood begin to boil as he rubs his face with his sleeve jacket in hopes of getting rid of the stuff. "That does it, how we kill this bitch?"
There's no response and when he finally lowers his hand, "Cas?"
Cas is wheezing, his free hand is clutching his chest. The brunette fairy easily breaks his hold, rubbing at her red wrist. "Angels are allergic to our dust." The smile is anything but sexy. "He's asphyxiating, caramel."
Before he even blinks, Dean shots the fairy point blank range in the face. She bellows in a cloud of dust, sprinkling them lightly before a dirt devil appears and forms back into the tall beauty.
"Now that wasn't nice." But the fairy merely stands there gloating as her sisters limp back to her side. Their clothes, arms and legs are ripped, black blood running down the pale skin. Whatever Cas did to them makes him feel proud at what a badass his angel is even when he's getting his ass whipped by a couple of women.
Dean keeps his gun trained as he rushes to Castiel's side, who's pretty much on the verge of face planting into the ground. Draping an arm over his back while aiming the pistol at the fairies, Dean feels the dust cover his fingers and curses himself to Hell. No wonder Cas didn't want him to shoot, for all he knows during the explosion Cas and himself inhaled more dust. And he really didn't need to fall back under their little spell. Which, he wonders why he isn't. Then he hears between the hacks and sneezes Cas murmuring away.
Supporting him, Dean can only watch as Cas continues to try and heave in breath after breath between the protection spell. "Cas come on, zap us away from here."
"No can do, sugar," giggles the blond.
The red-head twirls a strand of hair over her broken finger. "His wings are covered, can't fly no more."
"He dying," the brunette licks her lips, a hunger look darkening her features. "It's been awhile since we've had an angel."
Trembling with rage, Dean grinds his teeth, "I swear to God, when…"
"What douse him in water?" finishes the blond. "It ain't gonna help, gumdrop, he'll be dead by then."
The blond and red-head glance at each other, smiling maliciously before linking their arms and begin to dance around the pair singing some annoying tune. Dean cocks his pistol and really wants to shoot at them, but he has a feeling another eruption of dust is going to end them.
He's running out of options. He can't let Cas die on him, not like this. Cas is a tough, sneaky, nerdy angel of the lord and dying because of some funky dust just isn't right. Dean tightens his grip on that familiar coat and begins to lead them away from the trio, taking a few steps backwards with his buddy staggering at his side.
The brunette fairy raises her hand, "Hey now, hold on a sec."
Dean freezes, tense for another attack. Then Cas leans into him, warm breathe ghosting down his neck. "Dean…"
"Shut it Cas," Dean hisses back, trying to keep his fear at bay. "What the hell do you want?"
"There is a…way to save him."
Dean feels something squeeze in his chest as she smiles again, twirling that pixie stick between her fingers. Cas's fingers tighten against his coat as the angel tries to usher them onwards. But Dean can't, he has to do something and wiggles out of Cas's grip. "What do I have to do?"
There he goes again, bargaining his soul and sanity for the people he cares about. And it scares him because he's not even thinking about. He thought that things would be different with Cas, but it seems as if the angel has made a stake on this Winchester's heart. He hears a poor attempt of a growl of disproval but ignores.
The fairy licks her lips as the two behind stop rejoicing, clearly not liking this turn of events. Their cold glares at their boss halt when she tosses them the blue pixie stick before pulling out another one from her pocket. The two jump at the stick, clawing at the soil and grass. Their addiction makes them oblivious to the outside world and the wager being conducted.
"We play a game." With a flick of her wrist, she appears to pluck out a leather bag. "You win, I'll help angel over there. I win, you drop this case hunter."
A gurgled cough and a torn sneeze is all that it takes. Dean shuffles off his coat, shaking off the dust before turning it inside out. He turns, lowering Cas gently to a nearby tree. The lack of resistance shows how weak and sick the angel is. Rolling up the jacket into a ball, he rests it gently behind Cas' head who is now leaning against the rough bark. "You hang in there, don't you dare die."
The annoyed but determined glare is enough to ease him. "You are in-sane..." Cas huffs out. "C..an.t…win."
"Now you're realizing this," tsks Dean. "Just keep saying that spell there and I'll get you back to your stubborn self in no time." Turning he walks up to the head fairy as she drops gracefully down onto the ground, sitting cross-legged. Dumping out colorful rocks, she splits it into two piles. "Object of the game is making a design."
Sitting across from her, Dean gathers his rocks, "That's it?"
"Yes," then a flash of a wicked smile, "But one rock at a time and the rocks will reveal the winner. Whoever wins three out of five rounds gets the prize."
"How do I know you won't cheat? That these rocks aren't rigged?"
The other fairies giggle and cackle, draped over each other and pouring their own pixie sticks into their mouths as their wounds slowly bleed out. Eyes glazed over, they hum and bounce to a beat that's beyond comprehension. They're getting annoying and frankly terrifying. Women and sugar highs, the fairies are like a bunch of those fawning teenage girls that scream at a level only dogs can hear.
The brunette drops a rock in the center and it immediately turns a null gray color. "That is what happens when one cheats."
Dean spares a glance over his shoulder and sees Cas give a weak nod. He's barely breathing, eyes at half-mast and dull and there almost seems to be a rash appearing over his neck where the one fairy was kissing him. Glancing back at the rocks, Dean licks his lips. "Okay then," and drops a red rock to the left of the gray one.
He loses in the end, not surprisingly. But the brunette fairy is laughing as she pours the rocks back into the bag. "Don't fret, Dean. It makes you even hotter and sweeter."
A hot blush dashes across his checks. Dean wants to punch the fairy but he wills himself still. He can't cover himself in more dust if he has to drag Cas to the Impala and figure out how the hell to save him. And he will save him, because he isn't going to lose Cas.
The leather bag falling into his lap is unexpected and Dean finds his head jerked upwards, questions pouring out of his eyes.
"You were entertaining," the fairy continues to hum in pleasure as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I rarely play anymore but I have a feeling you will use them more than I." She turns, muttering something. Throwing her hand out, a powerful gust roars out of the woods and Cas vanishes in the wind.
Dean launches to his feet, "What?"
"Don't worry sugarplum; angel is merely free-falling a 1,000 miles per hour to get the dust off of him." She pulls out a red pixie stick, ripping the top off, "He was weak anyway. Not much grace on those bones." Snapping her fingers, her sisters stumble to their feet where they were sprawled out on the grass twisting fingers in the air. They are pale as corpses but are no longer bleeding. "Remember our deal, no saving the humans." Then, in a breeze they are gone.
A few hours later, washing himself clean of the dust and tossing his clothes into the half-filled tube, Dean crashes on the motel bed trying not think about how on the evening news the missing people were found all dead at an abandoned house. He knows the fairies have left, covering up their trail. Guilt knaws at him, but it lessens slightly when Castiel appears weaving in and out on his feet. The blast of ice-cold air bellows at the curtains and ruffles the sheets.
Dean peers upward, taking in the ragged form before scooting over and without being told, Castiel collapses right next to him. The angel is breathing normally, his eyes no longer puffy or red. The only sign of the allergic attack is a slightly red nose. Dean shifts his gaze and stares numbly at the ceiling with Cas staring tiredly at the stripped pattern of the comforter.
"Let me guess, they're the reason why you're terrified of women."
"Is it that obvious?" The dead-panned statement makes Dean smile weakly.
"Well if it means anything, if I had to deal with fairies constantly I'd be terrified myself."
There's silence and for a second Dean hears Cas's breathing even out. He tilts his head slightly to see if the angel is asleep, which would be a first. Instead those eyes, once again clear and sharp thank god, are staring at him.
"Thank you," Cas whispers. There's a sliver of fear, at how close he almost came again to dying but there's gratitude and that usual stoicism to cover up the fact.
"No problem." Dean finds himself whispering back, the words 'That's what family is for' stuck in his throat. "Just let me know if you angels got any other odd-ball ticks I need to know about."
Castiel nods. "I will let you know."
"Good." They continue to stare until Cas begins to chuckle ever so softly, a bemused look falling into his eyes.
"What?"
"I was thinking about what if Zachariah was to meet the fairies."
"oh.Oh."
It's enough, Dean thinks, because Cas is worth it. And it's a little thing he can do to pay back for all that the angel has done for him.
They both break into soft peals of laughter till Dean laughs himself into exhaustion, a grin plastered on his face while Castiel closes his own eyes and meditates as his battered body heals.
-------------------------------------------
The mental institution is busy and Sam finds that despite the busy crowd, the security is pretty lax. He's walking with a few other patients from his group therapy session and passes the open windows of the recreational room. His brown eyes sweep over the crowd hoping to draw Dean's attention. They need to talk, get a game plan.
He spots his brother at the checkers table by himself, face grim in concentration. It's the same, lost expression back when Dean and Cas were playing that rock game. An amused glint brightens his face as his lips move in a conversation with some invisible person. Dread fills Sam hoping that Dean hasn't chosen to actually snap. There's a difference in playing insane and being insane. He'd rather leave this place with mentality intact. Dean clearly points in victory as he slams the black piece on the other side of the board. He then raises his hand and points at the air across from him, saying something.
Then the victory grin is gone and the mood switches like day and night. Dean collapses back in his chair, crossing his arms, grumbling away. There's a guarded look, walls up at full maximum. Sam knows that Dean only gets that look when he's pushed into talking about something he doesn't want to talk about.
As he passes the open doorway, Sam hears some other patient sneeze a couple times in row. Dean's voice breaks through the air with clarity, "It's the fairy dust."
Chapter 5