The Smell of Napalm In the Morning Pt 2
The fallen angel started awake when a hand fell on his shoulder. He found himself staring into the Staff-sergeant’s face. The bigger man shot him an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry, we’re takin’ a dinner break. Come on out and stretch your legs. We still got a few miles to put in before we set camp for the night.”
Tucking his back-pack under the seat Castiel climbed to his feet cracking is back as he stepped out of the vehicle. He followed the Marines and the two other men to a small clearing beside the road where a fire was burning. As he sat down a small packet was shoved into his hands and the fallen angel glanced down frowning. A tall, blonde girl dressed in the camouflage that identified her as one of the Marines shot him a crooked grin, “It’s a MRE. Here I’ll show you.”
She ripped open the packet dumping the contents at Castiel’s feet. With a flick of her wrist she pulled out the heating pack and shook it up. “Here…just pull this and the pack will heat it. Hey, you got lucky you got the chicken noodles. I mean everything in an MRE tastes like chicken at least yours really is.”
Frito settled in besides the smaller man, “Oh cool, you got the skittles. Everybody loves the skittles.”
Castiel picked up the brightly colored packet and offered it to the younger man. “I do not eat candy.”
With a grin Frito winked, “A man of many principles and few vices, huh?”
Castiel shook his head, “No, I have very few principles left and many vices, but sugar isn’t one of them. You take it.”
The Marine accepted the packet of candy, “You’re alright, dude.”
Groaning Frito settled the remains of his near empty packet by the fire. The rest of the Marines tossed their trash on the pile before heading back to the vehicles. The Lance corporal tapped Castiel on the shoulder, “Come on, my back teeth are floating. I need a potty-buddy.”
“What?” Castiel said scrunching his face up. The Marine laughed.
“Staff-sergeant says we go nowhere without someone to watch our backs. Not even to take a leak so come on. Taylor calls us ‘potty-buddies’.”
“Oh okay.”
Slowly the former angel rose following the younger man to a secluded area. Castiel, himself, had only recently begun needing food on a regular basis, although he still ate less than most normal humans. He also found himself in need of relieving himself frequently as well. Tugging the zipper on his trousers open Castiel slid into a spot near enough to the other man to be an effective look-out but still far enough away to be able to piss himself.
They drove for a few hours until the sun had settled behind the slight rise of the hills and darkness descended over the road. Just ahead on the freeway was a small cluster of rough wood beam building. When the convoy pulled into the parking lot Castiel could see that the structure had been some kind of roadside restaurant and gift shop.
The group fell out of the vehicles pulling their packs out. Parker sent his Marines around the building telling the three civilians to stay put in the APC until the area was secured.
But the surveillance was unnecessary since the buildings were long abandoned and completely empty. There were traces of blood on the walls and floors among some scraps of fabric that might have once been clothing, but the bodies were long gone. Either consumed or dragged away. The air was stale, a little tainted by the scent of decomposition but mostly clean.
They swept through the building checking every corner and closet making sure that no Croats were present, but the building was stark empty and completely silent. Once they had secured the doors and windows they set out checking the facilities.
The tall blonde, who Castiel had learned was Taylor, went through the kitchen checking the lights and water. She turned shouting out to the Staff sergeant, “Water and Gas are still on but no electricity.”
One of the truck drivers, a younger man with improbably large mutton-chop sideburns grinned as he scoured the cash register prying open the doors beneath the counter. Carefully he pulled out plastic wrapped packages, “Hey score,” he said excitedly. Bundles of sweatshirts and pants and packets of tee-shirts spilled out. “Look at all this stuff, clean clothes folks!”
Several of the others pulled large soup pans from the cabinet filling them water and putting them on the stoves to heat, “Yeah,” Frito exclaimed, “And hot bath water.”
After they had washed and eaten a late meal the Marines set watches. Castiel told the Staff-sergeant that he could stand watch as well, but he was turned down. He settled into his borrowed sleeping bag and drifted off.
Sometime during the night the fallen angel was awaken by a hand settling heavily over his mouth. He grunted struggling when he was pinned by a heavier body. The hand clamped over his mouth didn’t move but the figure’s other hand wandered down his body settling on Castiel’s groin. He jerked trying to throw off the body on top of him finally biting the hand over his mouth.
The figure uttered a string of curses and slapped at him, but Castiel scrambled away. There was a rumbling and he finally recognized the voice as belonging to the older of the two truck drivers traveling with the group, “Damn you, you bit me you fuckin’ whore.”
“Well,” a deep voice rumbled, “what do you expect? Since you tried to rape him.”
“You can’t rape a whore. It’s what he’s good for.”
Parker hauled the other man off Castiel throwing in a few good punches to the side of the head with his free hand as he did. With a dismissive gesture he tossed the trucker aside like so much garbage and knelt down beside the fallen angel.
“You okay?” he asked kindly. Shaking his head in the affirmative Castiel straightened his clothes then began to settle down again. Parker stopped him motioning Castiel to his feet,
“Come on over here by me. It’s getting cold anyhow. We all can double up.”
&&&&&
It took them three weeks to make the trip to Camp Chiquita, near Sioux Falls. By the time that they small convoy rolled into the gateway of the camp under the watchful eyes of the guards Castiel was sitting behind the wheel of the small APC. He wasn’t the world’s best driver but he managed. He had a good grip on the steering wheel and kept mostly in the road.
He had also been sleeping with Staff-sergeant Parker since the night that the truck driver had tried to rape Castiel. The Marine was very open about their developing relationship, remarkably so considering he had been a military man. And the others in the small group didn’t really seem to care either way. So Castiel had taken this small bit of good luck, grateful for it while it lasted, and deep inside stifled the resentment he felt towards Dean Winchester for the abandonment, wondering… although admittedly briefly, if he’d ever see the man again. And somewhere in the back of the fallen angel’s mind he waited for this too to get shot to hell. As it turns out he didn’t have long to wait.
The last of the three APCs pulled into the compound and the Marines plus their civilian passengers fell out. A group of curious bystanders immediately began gathering around the small convoy chattering excitedly as the Marines began unloading the boxes of MREs and other supplies they had gathered on the trip.
A small mousy looking man emerged from the crowd and Castiel turned at the sound of voice eyes widening, “Chuck?” he gasped.
The erstwhile prophet scrambled around the vehicle throwing his arms around the angel, “Cas!”
Chuck leaned back surveying the angel, “You look like shit. Tough trip?”
“Yeah,” Castiel said sighing, “What are you doing here, Chuck?” He leaned back a frown flitting across his face. If the prophet was here who else from his grim past did Castiel have to worry about stumbling across? Certainly not him.
“I came to Sioux Falls with a bunch of survivors from Detroit. I remembered Bobby Singer had a place near here. We all camped out at his place until we picked up stakes and moved here. After the last Croat attacks.”
Castiel perked up, “Bobby is here? Does he know anything about…” the fallen angel drew a deep ragged breath closing his eyes. “Does he know anything about the Winchesters?”
“Bobby’s not here. I mean he’s dead.” Chuck said quietly. “He went back for some of his books after we cleared the place. At least we thought we’d cleared out the place. He should’a never went back alone. We all told him…but, well… you know Bobby.”
“Yes, I remember. So you’ve heard nothing of Sam…or…” Castiel’s voice faltered as he caught sight of a figure moving through the crowd. Closing his eyes the fallen angel let out a breathy sigh, “Dean.”
Dean looked up mouth hanging open slightly before he glared at the other man. Grasping Castiel’s elbow the elder Winchester brother tugged the fallen angel away from the crowd. The tall, black man in the back shot Dean a look that would have frosted an active volcano, but he kept quiet. His eyes never left Castiel’s face. Looking for even the slightest indication that the smaller man wanted Dean stomped hard. Dean swallowed; he’d been on low rations lately and the other man could probably kick his ass right now. But Castiel just shrugged Dean’s hand s off following him a short way to the side of the vehicles.
“I see you managed to land on your feet.” Dean said with a sneer. Castiel glared at him.
“No thanks to you. You just left me Dean.”
“Well, pardon my ass. You were some all powerful Angel of the Lord. I didn’t think you needed me to hold your hand.”
“Oh cut the bullshit, Dean. You knew I wasn’t all powerful…you just didn’t give a damn. You heard some little sniffle from Sam in your head and ran after him. You didn’t give a good god damn about me anymore. Not since my grace was slowly dwindling and I was less than useful to you.”
Dean frowned raising a hand and for one minute Castiel was certain that the other man was going to strike him. But Dean just raked his fingers through his hair, “Well, boo hoo. I had an apocalypse to stop.”
“You had a brother to find. Did you find him, Dean? Did you find Sam?” Jerking around Castiel motioned to the crowd gathered in the center of the half-tumbled down camp buildings. “Since I don’t see Saint Sammy here, you must have not gotten there first. I’d say Lucifer must be wearing dear Sammy…”
“Shut up you little wingless prick,” Dean snarled and then he did slap Castiel with the flat of his hand. The sound cracked loudly in the still air, but not so loudly it drew the ire or the attention of the Marines. The crowds around them continued unloading all the supplies and chatting animatedly.
Castiel staggered back hand climbing to his face fingertips brushing over the scarlet mark gradually darkening into a bruise. Dean swallowed hard, “You don’t look like you suffered any. You and your shiny new boyfriend, GI Joe, over there.”
Castiel scoffed, “They’re Marines not soldiers. GI Joe was a soldier…”
“You know damn well what I mean.”
“Oh that’s rich Dean. You’re a big one to talk about fidelity. How many nights has your bed been empty since you abandoned me?”
Flushing Dean scowled, “I thought you were…dead.”
Castiel laughed drily, “But you didn’t bother too hard to try to find out did you? David was there for me. I drove into the compound because he taught me to drive. I can fire a gun because he taught me how to do it. I survived being attacked by Croats because he killed them.”
Dean flinched but the fallen angel pressed forward grabbing the slightly taller man by the front of his shirt and shaking him. Tears slipped from Castiel’s eyes and his lips trembled, “It should have been you, Dean. It should have been you!”
The sound of footsteps caught both men’s attention and Dean turned. The big Marine was staring a hole through his head and Dean was sure that if looks could maim he would be a cripple. The Staff-sergeant moved forward catching Castiel gently by the arm, “Cas, are you okay, honey?”
Castiel nodded turning loose of Dean’s shirt, “Yes, David. I’m fine.”
Parker cocked his head raising an arm as Dean casually tried to catch the fallen angel by the shoulder. The Marine intercepted him, “I know your name Winchester. I’ve heard all about you.”
Thrusting his chest out Dean nodded, “Oh yeah…is that so?”
Smiling Parker pushed past the elder Winchester, “Yeah…Castiel talks in his sleep.”
Dean snarled after him but the bigger man didn’t turn around.
Tucking his back-pack under the seat Castiel climbed to his feet cracking is back as he stepped out of the vehicle. He followed the Marines and the two other men to a small clearing beside the road where a fire was burning. As he sat down a small packet was shoved into his hands and the fallen angel glanced down frowning. A tall, blonde girl dressed in the camouflage that identified her as one of the Marines shot him a crooked grin, “It’s a MRE. Here I’ll show you.”
She ripped open the packet dumping the contents at Castiel’s feet. With a flick of her wrist she pulled out the heating pack and shook it up. “Here…just pull this and the pack will heat it. Hey, you got lucky you got the chicken noodles. I mean everything in an MRE tastes like chicken at least yours really is.”
Frito settled in besides the smaller man, “Oh cool, you got the skittles. Everybody loves the skittles.”
Castiel picked up the brightly colored packet and offered it to the younger man. “I do not eat candy.”
With a grin Frito winked, “A man of many principles and few vices, huh?”
Castiel shook his head, “No, I have very few principles left and many vices, but sugar isn’t one of them. You take it.”
The Marine accepted the packet of candy, “You’re alright, dude.”
Groaning Frito settled the remains of his near empty packet by the fire. The rest of the Marines tossed their trash on the pile before heading back to the vehicles. The Lance corporal tapped Castiel on the shoulder, “Come on, my back teeth are floating. I need a potty-buddy.”
“What?” Castiel said scrunching his face up. The Marine laughed.
“Staff-sergeant says we go nowhere without someone to watch our backs. Not even to take a leak so come on. Taylor calls us ‘potty-buddies’.”
“Oh okay.”
Slowly the former angel rose following the younger man to a secluded area. Castiel, himself, had only recently begun needing food on a regular basis, although he still ate less than most normal humans. He also found himself in need of relieving himself frequently as well. Tugging the zipper on his trousers open Castiel slid into a spot near enough to the other man to be an effective look-out but still far enough away to be able to piss himself.
They drove for a few hours until the sun had settled behind the slight rise of the hills and darkness descended over the road. Just ahead on the freeway was a small cluster of rough wood beam building. When the convoy pulled into the parking lot Castiel could see that the structure had been some kind of roadside restaurant and gift shop.
The group fell out of the vehicles pulling their packs out. Parker sent his Marines around the building telling the three civilians to stay put in the APC until the area was secured.
But the surveillance was unnecessary since the buildings were long abandoned and completely empty. There were traces of blood on the walls and floors among some scraps of fabric that might have once been clothing, but the bodies were long gone. Either consumed or dragged away. The air was stale, a little tainted by the scent of decomposition but mostly clean.
They swept through the building checking every corner and closet making sure that no Croats were present, but the building was stark empty and completely silent. Once they had secured the doors and windows they set out checking the facilities.
The tall blonde, who Castiel had learned was Taylor, went through the kitchen checking the lights and water. She turned shouting out to the Staff sergeant, “Water and Gas are still on but no electricity.”
One of the truck drivers, a younger man with improbably large mutton-chop sideburns grinned as he scoured the cash register prying open the doors beneath the counter. Carefully he pulled out plastic wrapped packages, “Hey score,” he said excitedly. Bundles of sweatshirts and pants and packets of tee-shirts spilled out. “Look at all this stuff, clean clothes folks!”
Several of the others pulled large soup pans from the cabinet filling them water and putting them on the stoves to heat, “Yeah,” Frito exclaimed, “And hot bath water.”
After they had washed and eaten a late meal the Marines set watches. Castiel told the Staff-sergeant that he could stand watch as well, but he was turned down. He settled into his borrowed sleeping bag and drifted off.
Sometime during the night the fallen angel was awaken by a hand settling heavily over his mouth. He grunted struggling when he was pinned by a heavier body. The hand clamped over his mouth didn’t move but the figure’s other hand wandered down his body settling on Castiel’s groin. He jerked trying to throw off the body on top of him finally biting the hand over his mouth.
The figure uttered a string of curses and slapped at him, but Castiel scrambled away. There was a rumbling and he finally recognized the voice as belonging to the older of the two truck drivers traveling with the group, “Damn you, you bit me you fuckin’ whore.”
“Well,” a deep voice rumbled, “what do you expect? Since you tried to rape him.”
“You can’t rape a whore. It’s what he’s good for.”
Parker hauled the other man off Castiel throwing in a few good punches to the side of the head with his free hand as he did. With a dismissive gesture he tossed the trucker aside like so much garbage and knelt down beside the fallen angel.
“You okay?” he asked kindly. Shaking his head in the affirmative Castiel straightened his clothes then began to settle down again. Parker stopped him motioning Castiel to his feet,
“Come on over here by me. It’s getting cold anyhow. We all can double up.”
&&&&&
It took them three weeks to make the trip to Camp Chiquita, near Sioux Falls. By the time that they small convoy rolled into the gateway of the camp under the watchful eyes of the guards Castiel was sitting behind the wheel of the small APC. He wasn’t the world’s best driver but he managed. He had a good grip on the steering wheel and kept mostly in the road.
He had also been sleeping with Staff-sergeant Parker since the night that the truck driver had tried to rape Castiel. The Marine was very open about their developing relationship, remarkably so considering he had been a military man. And the others in the small group didn’t really seem to care either way. So Castiel had taken this small bit of good luck, grateful for it while it lasted, and deep inside stifled the resentment he felt towards Dean Winchester for the abandonment, wondering… although admittedly briefly, if he’d ever see the man again. And somewhere in the back of the fallen angel’s mind he waited for this too to get shot to hell. As it turns out he didn’t have long to wait.
The last of the three APCs pulled into the compound and the Marines plus their civilian passengers fell out. A group of curious bystanders immediately began gathering around the small convoy chattering excitedly as the Marines began unloading the boxes of MREs and other supplies they had gathered on the trip.
A small mousy looking man emerged from the crowd and Castiel turned at the sound of voice eyes widening, “Chuck?” he gasped.
The erstwhile prophet scrambled around the vehicle throwing his arms around the angel, “Cas!”
Chuck leaned back surveying the angel, “You look like shit. Tough trip?”
“Yeah,” Castiel said sighing, “What are you doing here, Chuck?” He leaned back a frown flitting across his face. If the prophet was here who else from his grim past did Castiel have to worry about stumbling across? Certainly not him.
“I came to Sioux Falls with a bunch of survivors from Detroit. I remembered Bobby Singer had a place near here. We all camped out at his place until we picked up stakes and moved here. After the last Croat attacks.”
Castiel perked up, “Bobby is here? Does he know anything about…” the fallen angel drew a deep ragged breath closing his eyes. “Does he know anything about the Winchesters?”
“Bobby’s not here. I mean he’s dead.” Chuck said quietly. “He went back for some of his books after we cleared the place. At least we thought we’d cleared out the place. He should’a never went back alone. We all told him…but, well… you know Bobby.”
“Yes, I remember. So you’ve heard nothing of Sam…or…” Castiel’s voice faltered as he caught sight of a figure moving through the crowd. Closing his eyes the fallen angel let out a breathy sigh, “Dean.”
Dean looked up mouth hanging open slightly before he glared at the other man. Grasping Castiel’s elbow the elder Winchester brother tugged the fallen angel away from the crowd. The tall, black man in the back shot Dean a look that would have frosted an active volcano, but he kept quiet. His eyes never left Castiel’s face. Looking for even the slightest indication that the smaller man wanted Dean stomped hard. Dean swallowed; he’d been on low rations lately and the other man could probably kick his ass right now. But Castiel just shrugged Dean’s hand s off following him a short way to the side of the vehicles.
“I see you managed to land on your feet.” Dean said with a sneer. Castiel glared at him.
“No thanks to you. You just left me Dean.”
“Well, pardon my ass. You were some all powerful Angel of the Lord. I didn’t think you needed me to hold your hand.”
“Oh cut the bullshit, Dean. You knew I wasn’t all powerful…you just didn’t give a damn. You heard some little sniffle from Sam in your head and ran after him. You didn’t give a good god damn about me anymore. Not since my grace was slowly dwindling and I was less than useful to you.”
Dean frowned raising a hand and for one minute Castiel was certain that the other man was going to strike him. But Dean just raked his fingers through his hair, “Well, boo hoo. I had an apocalypse to stop.”
“You had a brother to find. Did you find him, Dean? Did you find Sam?” Jerking around Castiel motioned to the crowd gathered in the center of the half-tumbled down camp buildings. “Since I don’t see Saint Sammy here, you must have not gotten there first. I’d say Lucifer must be wearing dear Sammy…”
“Shut up you little wingless prick,” Dean snarled and then he did slap Castiel with the flat of his hand. The sound cracked loudly in the still air, but not so loudly it drew the ire or the attention of the Marines. The crowds around them continued unloading all the supplies and chatting animatedly.
Castiel staggered back hand climbing to his face fingertips brushing over the scarlet mark gradually darkening into a bruise. Dean swallowed hard, “You don’t look like you suffered any. You and your shiny new boyfriend, GI Joe, over there.”
Castiel scoffed, “They’re Marines not soldiers. GI Joe was a soldier…”
“You know damn well what I mean.”
“Oh that’s rich Dean. You’re a big one to talk about fidelity. How many nights has your bed been empty since you abandoned me?”
Flushing Dean scowled, “I thought you were…dead.”
Castiel laughed drily, “But you didn’t bother too hard to try to find out did you? David was there for me. I drove into the compound because he taught me to drive. I can fire a gun because he taught me how to do it. I survived being attacked by Croats because he killed them.”
Dean flinched but the fallen angel pressed forward grabbing the slightly taller man by the front of his shirt and shaking him. Tears slipped from Castiel’s eyes and his lips trembled, “It should have been you, Dean. It should have been you!”
The sound of footsteps caught both men’s attention and Dean turned. The big Marine was staring a hole through his head and Dean was sure that if looks could maim he would be a cripple. The Staff-sergeant moved forward catching Castiel gently by the arm, “Cas, are you okay, honey?”
Castiel nodded turning loose of Dean’s shirt, “Yes, David. I’m fine.”
Parker cocked his head raising an arm as Dean casually tried to catch the fallen angel by the shoulder. The Marine intercepted him, “I know your name Winchester. I’ve heard all about you.”
Thrusting his chest out Dean nodded, “Oh yeah…is that so?”
Smiling Parker pushed past the elder Winchester, “Yeah…Castiel talks in his sleep.”
Dean snarled after him but the bigger man didn’t turn around.