Vigil

[grace_optional]

Who: Anna (grace_optional,) Bobby (junkyard_hunter,) Castiel (to_rebel,) Dean (will_end_you,) Sam (chosefamily)
What: Cas was just pining for the fjords.
Where: Winchester household
When: Backdated to Monday the 21st, following Hades' death
Rating: PG-13 at worst, probably
Status: Ongoing

Comments

[junkyard_hunter]

There wasn't anything they could do for Cas. Not right now.

When he and Dean had brought Castiel home, they'd set about the grim task of washing away the accumulated grime and blood from laying out in a field for far too long. The angel didn't exactly have an extensive wardrobe, but they'd managed to find clean clothes that fit him passably well. While they waited, his suit and trenchcoat were cleaned and waiting for.. whatever was going to happen.

Bobby kept his own vigil, never straying far from the room. Cas was gone. Again. Right now, he needed to keep his attention focused on his family in their grief.

[will_end_you]

SInce there was little else he could do, Dean had taken to alternating between pacing or sitting in the room with the others - often with a beer in hand - and patrolling the Underworld, looking for something to take his frustrations out on. Why? Cas probably hadn't even had a chance to defend himself. He'd seen the way that angels fought... and if he hadn't seen it coming. But that wasn't worth thinking about.

At the moment Dean was slouched in a chair across the room from the couch that held Cas, a beer in hand. Waiting. He wasn't entirely certain what for, but... well, anything could happen here.

[to_rebel]

Awareness came too quickly. There was absolutely nothing and, in the next moment, self-awareness. With it came memory and, most pressing, pain. Starved lungs forced a great gulp of air -- which jarred suddenly healing ribs. Pain beyond knitting bones seared him deep within as death's grip loosened. Had he breath, he may have cried out; instead, he gasped for air. In his mind, he was still in the field, still at the mercy of a brother gone mad.

Gasping for breath that wouldn't come, Castiel instinctively tried to curl around himself -- and toppled off the couch. Not that he really noticed hitting the floor amid confusion and pain. (Dimly, though, some part of his mind told him that he was laying on carpet, rather than dirt.)

[grace_optional]

Anna's still heart leaped into her throat at that gasp, and she jumped out of her chair so hastily she nearly went sprawling.

He was breathing. Zombies might draw breath now and then to vocalize, but they didn't struggle for air. She set the knife aside and crawled across the floor to him. "Cas? Cas, it's all right now, you're safe at home. He's gone."

She touched his hand, felt the warmth coming back into him, and would have offered up a prayer of thanks if she'd thought anyone was listening.

Leppard came running up and rubbed happily against her person, purring loudly.