Supernatural fic - "Saving Grace" (Part Thirteen)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
Dean didn’t see Cas again for five days, and they were an agonizing, unbearable five days. Dean liked to think he had a good gut instinct for things, and his gut (and his chest) was telling him that the shit was really getting deep upstairs.
Sam was utterly useless when it came to being sympathetic or comforting. He was, however, royally pissed at how distracted Dean became. And that, at least, was true (even though Sam could be a little more considerate about it). Dean was unable to push to the background the throb of dread that filled up his chest. It trickled down to his gut and took up residence; he hadn’t been eating much for days. He wasn’t sleeping for shit, either… he had nightmares about Cas fighting to get to him when he was in Hell, Cas fighting Lucifer, Cas fighting the other angels, Cas fighting the fucking Cookie Monster... Cas fighting the whole damn universe enough to wake Dean at all hours.
Sam accused him (in a thoroughly disgusted tone) of pining for Castiel. Dean told Sam to go screw himself… admittedly not the healthiest way to address the issue, but Dean was about as agreeable as a bear with a migraine. Of course, Sam thought Dean and Castiel were making the beast with two backs… and two wings. Whatever. But it was troubling because Dean had had friends - hell, family - in the thick of a battle before, and he’d managed to push it to the back of his mind enough to get his job done. But this was different. This time, there was a link connecting him to Cas, and it was not going to be dismissed and pushed aside.
When Samuel contacted them about a possible lead on some big time demons, Sam couldn’t wait to bail on Dean. He’d had it with his brother, the walking liability, and having no soul to stop him, he jumped at the chance to walk out and leave Dean behind.
And Dean didn’t even try to stop him. He was going through some shit, and it was even worse suffering through whatever he was suffering through and butting heads with his alien brother at the same time. He just sat sourly as Sam grabbed up his stuff and left with Samuel.
Then the silence became stifling. He had no idea silence could be so freaking loud. He tried to call for Castiel a couple of times, but he didn’t get anything… not that he’d expected an answer. If he felt so awful, fair bet to say Cas was busy.
Not knowing who else to talk to, Dean called Bobby.
“Hello,” Bobby answered, already sounding weary.
“Before you jump down my throat about calling to complain,” Dean hastened, “I just want to make it clear this is not about Sam.”
“Yeah, right.” Bobby sighed. But when he spoke again, his voice was gentler, “So, what’s wrong with Castiel?”
Dean forced a smirk, but it even felt mangled. Good thing Bobby wasn’t actually there to see it. “How do you know it’s him?”
“Boy… don’t treat me like I don’t know you. Used to be the only time you called was if it was about Sam. Now it’s either about Sam or your angel, and since you led in with ‘this isn’t about Sam’, only one choice left.”
It felt good just to talk to someone who gave a fuck. Dean closed his eyes and his brow knit. “I have a really bad feeling he’s in trouble.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“About five, six days ago.”
“Not too out of the ordinary for him, is it? How do you know you’re not just letting your imagination get the better of you?”
If only. Dean grimaced. “I’m telling you, Bobby… he’s not doing so good. I’ve got a feeling… a grace kind of feeling.”
“Oh…” Bobby replied, sounding uneasy. “Dean… I have to be honest, it really bothers me that you can sense shit like that through that chunk of angel grace in you. It’s not natural.”
“I know you don’t like it, so can we just skip the lecture part?” Dean growled.
“All right, all right… no reason to bite my head off, boy.”
Dean sagged. “Sorry… guess I’ve been a little testy lately.”
A beat. “Where’s Sam?”
“He finally got sick of me. Took off with Samuel this morning.”
There was a pause where Dean could just picture Bobby’s expression. A mixed bag of disappointment, anger, sorrow, and resignation. Story of Dean’s life.
“Have you picked up on anything, by chance, that could give us a hint of what’s going on up there with the angels?” Dean asked miserably.
“Sorry, kid. If I wanted a go to person for getting a look behind the curtain to the angel scene, I’d go to you. If you say things are bad right now, then you know more than I do.”
“Right.” Dean rubbed at his eyes. Fuck, he was tired. “I’m worried about him, Bobby.”
“I know you are. But no matter what happens to him, you’re holding his backup plan, right? I mean, huge mistake or not, you’ve got him covered. So he can’t not be all right.”
“The grace I’m holding can mend his when it’s all over, but what if he dies up there? Then what? When I was grilling him on the details of this grace hideaway thing, he said his could grow back from the bit I’ve got, but I wouldn’t have the first clue how to do that!” He should have asked for a grace maintenance manual.
“Look, Dean… I don’t have any answers for you. Wish I did. But before you go off the deep end freaking out, wait and see what happens. Castiel could be fine. And if he’s not - God forbid, if he’s dead - then we’ll figure it out from there. It’s what we’re good at, right?”
Dean felt cold down to his bones. “He’s not dead,” Dean ground out vehemently. “I’d know.” He was certain he would. “But yeah, okay… no panicking. Got it.”
“Hang in there, kiddo. And call me if you find out anything.”
“I will… thanks, Bobby.”
Part Fourteen
Dean didn’t see Cas again for five days, and they were an agonizing, unbearable five days. Dean liked to think he had a good gut instinct for things, and his gut (and his chest) was telling him that the shit was really getting deep upstairs.
Sam was utterly useless when it came to being sympathetic or comforting. He was, however, royally pissed at how distracted Dean became. And that, at least, was true (even though Sam could be a little more considerate about it). Dean was unable to push to the background the throb of dread that filled up his chest. It trickled down to his gut and took up residence; he hadn’t been eating much for days. He wasn’t sleeping for shit, either… he had nightmares about Cas fighting to get to him when he was in Hell, Cas fighting Lucifer, Cas fighting the other angels, Cas fighting the fucking Cookie Monster... Cas fighting the whole damn universe enough to wake Dean at all hours.
Sam accused him (in a thoroughly disgusted tone) of pining for Castiel. Dean told Sam to go screw himself… admittedly not the healthiest way to address the issue, but Dean was about as agreeable as a bear with a migraine. Of course, Sam thought Dean and Castiel were making the beast with two backs… and two wings. Whatever. But it was troubling because Dean had had friends - hell, family - in the thick of a battle before, and he’d managed to push it to the back of his mind enough to get his job done. But this was different. This time, there was a link connecting him to Cas, and it was not going to be dismissed and pushed aside.
When Samuel contacted them about a possible lead on some big time demons, Sam couldn’t wait to bail on Dean. He’d had it with his brother, the walking liability, and having no soul to stop him, he jumped at the chance to walk out and leave Dean behind.
And Dean didn’t even try to stop him. He was going through some shit, and it was even worse suffering through whatever he was suffering through and butting heads with his alien brother at the same time. He just sat sourly as Sam grabbed up his stuff and left with Samuel.
Then the silence became stifling. He had no idea silence could be so freaking loud. He tried to call for Castiel a couple of times, but he didn’t get anything… not that he’d expected an answer. If he felt so awful, fair bet to say Cas was busy.
Not knowing who else to talk to, Dean called Bobby.
“Hello,” Bobby answered, already sounding weary.
“Before you jump down my throat about calling to complain,” Dean hastened, “I just want to make it clear this is not about Sam.”
“Yeah, right.” Bobby sighed. But when he spoke again, his voice was gentler, “So, what’s wrong with Castiel?”
Dean forced a smirk, but it even felt mangled. Good thing Bobby wasn’t actually there to see it. “How do you know it’s him?”
“Boy… don’t treat me like I don’t know you. Used to be the only time you called was if it was about Sam. Now it’s either about Sam or your angel, and since you led in with ‘this isn’t about Sam’, only one choice left.”
It felt good just to talk to someone who gave a fuck. Dean closed his eyes and his brow knit. “I have a really bad feeling he’s in trouble.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“About five, six days ago.”
“Not too out of the ordinary for him, is it? How do you know you’re not just letting your imagination get the better of you?”
If only. Dean grimaced. “I’m telling you, Bobby… he’s not doing so good. I’ve got a feeling… a grace kind of feeling.”
“Oh…” Bobby replied, sounding uneasy. “Dean… I have to be honest, it really bothers me that you can sense shit like that through that chunk of angel grace in you. It’s not natural.”
“I know you don’t like it, so can we just skip the lecture part?” Dean growled.
“All right, all right… no reason to bite my head off, boy.”
Dean sagged. “Sorry… guess I’ve been a little testy lately.”
A beat. “Where’s Sam?”
“He finally got sick of me. Took off with Samuel this morning.”
There was a pause where Dean could just picture Bobby’s expression. A mixed bag of disappointment, anger, sorrow, and resignation. Story of Dean’s life.
“Have you picked up on anything, by chance, that could give us a hint of what’s going on up there with the angels?” Dean asked miserably.
“Sorry, kid. If I wanted a go to person for getting a look behind the curtain to the angel scene, I’d go to you. If you say things are bad right now, then you know more than I do.”
“Right.” Dean rubbed at his eyes. Fuck, he was tired. “I’m worried about him, Bobby.”
“I know you are. But no matter what happens to him, you’re holding his backup plan, right? I mean, huge mistake or not, you’ve got him covered. So he can’t not be all right.”
“The grace I’m holding can mend his when it’s all over, but what if he dies up there? Then what? When I was grilling him on the details of this grace hideaway thing, he said his could grow back from the bit I’ve got, but I wouldn’t have the first clue how to do that!” He should have asked for a grace maintenance manual.
“Look, Dean… I don’t have any answers for you. Wish I did. But before you go off the deep end freaking out, wait and see what happens. Castiel could be fine. And if he’s not - God forbid, if he’s dead - then we’ll figure it out from there. It’s what we’re good at, right?”
Dean felt cold down to his bones. “He’s not dead,” Dean ground out vehemently. “I’d know.” He was certain he would. “But yeah, okay… no panicking. Got it.”
“Hang in there, kiddo. And call me if you find out anything.”
“I will… thanks, Bobby.”
Part Fourteen