Falling Star, Chapter Two
Tittle: Falling Star
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Set 5x04, the End in the five years
Rating: T+, sex and death
Beta: enviousxbeauty
Challenge Issued by: ParaCaerOuVora
Part One is here.
Enjoy the end!
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Part Two o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Castiel woke when he felt the sheets rustling. Dean was turning in his sleep, his brow creased. Castiel reached out his finger and touched Dean’s temple, but he couldn’t see clearly into Dean’s mind. He rested his palm on the side of Dean’s face and whispered. “Dean? Dean? What’s the matter?”
Dean woke with a start. “Huh?” He relaxed feeling Castiel. “Oh, g’morning.”
Castiel nodded. “Good morning. Were you having a dream?”
Dean sat up and stretched his arms. “Of sorts. Let’s get ready before the mess hall runs out of food.”
Castiel frowned as stood up, grabbing some clothes. He looked out the window, watching the burning sunrise. He murmured to himself slightly, “Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.”
Dean pulled his pants on and looked over at Castiel. “What?”
Castiel shook his head and tightened his belt. “Nothing.”
They got dressed in silence and went to find Bobby before they got breakfast. They found him, already done with his oatmeal, drumming his finger on the armrest. They gathered together a small team of reliable hunters after a small breakfast and headed out to the trucks. The Impala couldn’t hold as many as the two trucks could, so Dean let her stay behind.
It was a long drive to Bobby’s house. Nearly four hours, but it did give Castiel a chance to learn how to drive. The first hour was a little shaky, he hit the brakes hard a couple of times to the other passenger’s dismay but he quickly got the hang of it on the deserted road.
There were five men total when they crossed the quarantine zone; Dean, Castiel, Bobby and the two others. South Dakota wasn’t safe anymore, but they had to get the materials for the camp site.
The rolled into Singer’s Salvage Yard nervously looking for any stray Crotes. You couldn’t be to sure these days, it seemed the whole damn world was infected. Castiel got out, eyes scanning the area. Dean stood at his side, “Do you sense anything?”
Castiel swallowed back his hesitation. His senses were dampened and he didn’t precisely smell anything. “No.” he said as firmly as he could.
Dean nodded trusting him. “Okay,” he called out, “Grab only what you need. And be quick about it.”
Castiel pushed Bobby into the house as the old man yelled out directions. Dean grabbed what he asked, grumbling, “I can’t believe you even have an organization system.”
With his arms full, Dean ran to the truck to set down the first load of books. Already the bed of the vehicle was holding assorted weapons. As Dean turned his back he heard a faint rumbling down the road. Looking, up he saw the dust stirring as something approached.
Dean ran back in to the room. “We have to get going!” he yelled.
Everyone looked at him bewildered. The red headed solider walked over to the window. “Why? Is some- Holy shit! There’s a fucking tank on the lawn!”
Dean swore. “Everyone, start heading downstairs to the panic room…”
As he spoke the door opened to reveal seven heavily armed military men. The tall sergeant yelled, “What’s your business in Crote territory?”
Dean smiled and held up his hands, turning to face them slowly. “We’re just getting supplies, guys. No need to panic.”
One of the military men pointed to the ceiling. “What’s with all this Satan shit on the ceiling?”
“It ain’t for Satanism.” Bobby said defensively.
“Shut up smart ass. We’re doing the talking.” The sergeant said waving his gun. “We’re here to evacuate all survivors."
“And kill any fucking Crotes.” Said the tall skinny man in the back of their group, hands twitching as he held his gun.
Castiel looked at the army soldiers. He bit his lip and concentrated, willing to make them disappear.
“Now, calm down,” Dean said smoothly, “No one here is a Crote. What say we-”
As Castiel pushed himself his powers went to full force, and a lamp fell over in the next room causing a stack of books to hit the floor in a tumble.
“What was that?” One of the soldiers jumped.
“It’s a fucking trap!” Their leader yelled. “Kill ‘em.”
“Happily.” The skinny guy said firing his gun. The others in their squad followed suit. Dean and his men scattered but Bobby was decorated in lead. Castiel was hit in the leg during the scramble, he fell to his knees. Crawling to a bookshelf for cover, the last feathers fell, dull gray and rotted.
“Make sure they’re all dead.” One solider hissed. “Can’t be to sure with Crotes.”
Dean, with his back pressed against the wall, raised his gun and nodded to the men under his command giving them the kill on sight order. They moved apart and went about the house avoiding the soldiers.
Castiel lay bleeding, barely able to move, as he realized his leg wasn’t stopping. It was bleeding away, no end in sight to the fire that seemed to be in his veins. He heard the shots and waited for another one to come to him.
“Bastards!” Someone yelled.
More gunfire. Castiel tried to move further away from the room.
He heard Dean’s voice above the confusion. “Sloppy work guys. We’ll have to work on coordination later.” Dean walked into the room, first seeing the bloody wheelchair. He took a deep ragged breath, “Bobby. Oh god, Bobby…”
Castiel looked up. “Dean, help...”
Dean shook himself out of his trance. “Cas?” he ran over to Castiel and saw the blood. “Put your arms around my neck.”
He picked Castiel up as the others ran into the room. “Castiel’s hurt. Somebody get sheets from upstairs. We need to staunch this wound.” He snapped, he looked over at Bobby. “And we’re taking Bobby’s body back to us so he can have a proper funeral. Hurry up, we’ve got to get out of here.”
The men worked quickly as they loaded everything into the trucks. The bullet riddled wheel chair was left to rust in the room. Dean carried Castiel out without stopping to grab one of Bobby’s photo albums for their Cabin. They staunched Castiel’s bleeding leg as much as they could and let him rest in the backseat.
Dean hit the gas as they sped back to camp.
Dean cursed himself the whole way there. Every sharp turn on the road reminded him of what a bad idea it was for him to be in charge. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t find the colt. He straightened a little, when he realized he knew someone who could help them. Looking over at Castiel’s still form, he knew he’d have to say Yes. Someone ought to be saved before no one else could. He cared about this world, about Castiel too much, to put himself above them anymore.
The next days were grey. Dean watched over Castiel, who had fallen deeply unconsciousness. No one knew why, his body had gone into shock. As he slept, Dean watched horrified as his skin paled, and his hair dulled. “No, no, no,” Dean whispered brushing the bangs from the unconscious Castiel’s eyes, “Cas you gotta wake up.”
At nights, some people in the campground thought they heard a voice screaming to the heavens Yes. The voice was distant and each pain laced syllable echoed in the dark to the silent stars.
“YES!” Dean yelled again deep in the forest that border lined Camp. “You bastards I said yes! Come fix it!”
There was no answer. His nerves grew increasingly short. His voice grew raspy and gruff with the effort. On the second day, as Dean sat by Castiel’s bedside he wondered what had happened at the Salvage yard that had made things go so terribly wrong.
They buried Bobby on that sunny day. It occurred to Dean that the soldiers had heard something in the other room, and he wondered vaguely if Castiel had even thought to use his powers. Somewhere between death and dreams, Castiel slept unknowing of the fear and hatred brewing in Dean’s gut.
Four days in a sleep like death, Castiel woke up. Dean was at his bedside pacing. “Hey.” Castiel said hoarsely.
“Oh good.” Dean said dryly. “You’re awake.”
He sat down on the bed and handed him some water. Castiel sipped it gratefully. “How long have I… what’s going on?”
“Four days.” Dean said solemnly. “Since Bobby died in the salvage yard. You got shot, and you’ve been out of it.”
Castiel swallowed. He’d been more than out of it; he could feel it in his bones. They were heavier, tied down to the earth more concretely. His veins didn’t have the same power to it. “Are you okay?”
Dean’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, but I’m just curious…”
Castiel attempted to sit up slightly. “Yes?”
Dean glared at him. “What the fuck happened exactly?”
“What do you mean?” Castiel’s brows furrowed. “You were there, you saw…”
“I saw an angel get shot and my friend get slaughtered. Why didn’t you waste them, Cas? You have the power.”
Castiel turned red slightly as he looked away from Dean’s penetrating gaze. “I’m sorry, Dean, I tried…”
Dean jumped up. “Tried? Bobby’s dead! He was the best one on our team! Are all angels useless?”
“Dean, please…”
“Feel better Castiel.” Dean said mockingly, pronouncing his angelic name in a bitter tone. He turned, and stormed out of the cabin.
Castiel slumped back into the covers and fell into a restless sleep, surprised by how quickly he was exhausted. He was numb and shocked by Dean’s accusations and wondered again what had happened these past four days.
He wasn’t surprised to wake up alone the next morning with no one watching him, work had to go on. Dean probably had given the order he didn’t need a nurse maid. Castiel’s leg was stiff, but it seemed manageable.
He stood up slowly, feeling the stubble on his chin. His stomach growled as he moved. Wincing slightly, he pulled on proper clothes and went outside. The mess hall had already run out of breakfast for the day, so he continued to scavenge. There had to be something a wounded angel could do. He laughed at himself, he wasn’t even an angel. There had to be something human he could do, he corrected.
His ears perked up as he heard shots fired over at the shooting range. Limping, he got there just in time to see another target fall down. Dean held up his gun in front of the ten trainees. “I expect everyone to be able to hit the middle of the target ten times out of ten. No excuses. Thomas, stop starring at me like an idiot.”
He cocked his gun. “We cannot afford to miss.”
He fired at the target furthest from him and hit it dead center. A few clapped tentatively as he walked closer to them. “I’ll be coming around to make sure you are all aiming correctly.”
Dean noticed Castiel standing at the end of the line awkwardly and walked over to him first. Castiel smiled faintly, but stopped when Dean approached him frowning. “Feeling better?” he said icily.
“Yes.” Castiel said in a small voice. “I didn’t see yo-”
“Good.” Dean handed him a gun. “Then it’s time you learn to shoot.”
“Al-al-alright.” Castiel stammered.
“This isn’t like your little garrison, we don’t have powers.” Dean sneered. “You have to have some skills if you’re going to be human. So pay attention.”
Castiel started to speak, but Thomas who was only a foot away chirped, “Sir! Can I have some help?”
Dean took a deep breath and stepped over to Thomas. “Okay, Thomas, again it goes like this.” He looked over at Castiel. “Are you watching what I’m doing?”
Castiel held up the gun, the strange foreign tool he’d never had any inclination to use, and said firmly, “Yes sir, O fearless leader.”
As the group learned, they all practiced under Dean’s watchful eye. The only one to frequently hit just shy of the target area was Castiel. “Get out.”
Dean hissed. “Go to the mess hall and see if they need help cleaning. Come back when you’re ready to take things seriously.”
Castiel left as the other soldiers shook their heads sadly.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Dean apologized later that night when they met back at their cabin. Kissed him on the neck, and said gruffly that he’d lost his temper; it was just the stress of dealing with all of everyone else’s problems. Castiel let himself believe Dean meant it and kissed him back, ruffling his hair. Dean kept mumbling sorry as he pushed Castiel towards the bedroom. That night, as they lay entertained on the sheets, Castiel knew something had changed. Dean was moving against him, not gentle or with the same touch he knew, but rough and angry. He wasn’t with Castiel really; he was just using Castiel to vent his anger and his stress in angry thrusts. After they were done, Dean fell asleep next to him.
Castiel didn’t feel his arm draped across his chest, or Dean’s head on his shoulder. Dean may have been lying next to him but he couldn’t have been further away. Castiel lay there stiff as a board, sore and staring at the ceiling wide awake. He touched the necklace he still wore and looked over at Dean. He snapped off the little lump of metal and put it on his night stand.
He left the cabin quietly after a few hours and wandered around the campground. In the early morning hours, he watched the last star fall. Near day break, he shivered in the chill morning as he realized he was still only wearing his sweat pants. Castiel sighed, knowing he’d have to go back and talk to Dean or at least put on some decent clothes. When he returned in the morning, the bed was empty. He could still feel the warmth on the sheets.
Dean didn’t come back to his cabin, and he wasn’t surprised to hear rumor’s of him staying in Risa’s cabin until he had his own.
Castiel felt a little bit more useless everyday. He thought back to Bobby’s idea of him being the leader of the camp’s faith community. It was worth a shot, he decided. He would move on. At the very least, he could be a better solider- fall in line and just accept his orders.
It seemed the human thing to do.
.:The End:.