On the Ground: Chapter 7
Title: On the Ground (Chapter 7)
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean, Sam, Castiel, etc.)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,868
Date written: 1 September 2009
Summary: On the ground, conditions are rough, everyone misses home, and they all feel the tides shifting, the approach of a great confrontation. Then Castiel is given a human charge. Nothing has ever been more confusing than Dean Winchester.
Other information: Story is cannon though Season 4. I’ve tried my best, but I still consider myself new to the Supernatural world. Please let me know if something is incorrect or doesn’t fit with cannon. I apologize in advance for mistakes. This was written just for fun, is completely fiction, and the characters and situations belong to Supernatural, the CW, et al. Written in American English. Beta-ed by moodwriter
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
--
by AlchemyFreak@TDA
A few days pass. Final battle plans are outlined and Sam and Bobby know their part. They inquire after Dean, and Castiel assures them he's fine. Bobby watches with a suspicious look that displeases Castiel. He doesn't understand what is expected of him in his interactions with humans. He wonders if he ever will.
He tries not to think about it as he appears outside the up-scale hotel in the city center. They've moved Dean. Everyone expects him to be hiding out in small towns and outskirts, in old run-down motels, so it seems less conspicuous to conceal him in a more obvious place where no one would ever look.
The wards are in use in Dean's new motel room, but they've adapted the Angel's deterrent so that the symbol for Castiel's name bisects the inner circle. It grants only him entrance through the deterrent.
In his room, Castiel watches as Dean paces in the spacious interior, cell phone to his ear as he speaks. His room is larger than that of the Beach Motel. The two beds are queens, and there's a small kitchen with faux tile flooring, a microwave and refrigerator. It's likely the fanciest room Dean has ever stayed in.
Castiel enters, remaining invisible, and watches as Dean conducts his phone call. He has recovered, his wounds are healed, and he sounds eager to make their next move. Castiel believes he is speaking with his brother, from the sounds of it. He knows the brothers conduct their phone calls safely, secretively, and infrequently, but he doesn’t ask for any information about how they do it. The technology of humans doesn’t greatly interest him nor profit him.
At last Dean snaps his phone closed. He looks relieved to have heard from Sam. He turns toward the kitchen in the hotel room just as Castiel lets his vessel materialize. Dean looks surprised to see Castiel standing there, but he does not jump at the sight.
“Cas,” he says, like a statement.
Castiel looks at him. Dean’s gaze is unreadable, his motions stilled.
The feeling from the storm clouds is building in the air again, catching Castiel off guard. It had not been there a moment before. He doesn’t understand how it gets there, but he can’t deny that the sensation is starting to grow on him, as the humans say. It’s vaguely uncomfortable, but it carries an edge of anticipation with it, too.
Castiel doesn’t know what he is anticipating as Dean approaches.
“Thank you,” Dean says.
“For what?”
“For last time. For, uh…saving me.”
Castiel doesn’t ask how Dean knows. Maybe Dean is learning to truly know Castiel - without proof, without seeing, without admissions.
Castiel swallows and looks down, surprised when he looks up again to find Dean immediately before him. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up again. He feels his unseen feathers ruffle. He doesn’t know why.
Dean steps forward, but science rules that it’s too close. The two masses can not take up the same space at the same time. Castiel steps backward. Dean moves forward again, and this time he raises his hand to Castiel. Castiel’s eyes widen and he grabs Dean, spinning him around and slamming him against the kitchen wall, gaze angry and defiant. He doesn’t know what he’s done now to deserve Dean’s raised hand. After all they’ve been through, it doesn’t make sense. It is a trick or a trap.
The breath seems to be knocked out of Dean for a second and he attempts to get it back, his shirt still held tightly in Castiel’s fists. Castiel is on edge with uncertainty.
“Relax,” Dean says to him, and blinks.
Castiel does relax his grip, but confusion sweeps over him in waves. He cannot keep count of how many times he has found himself confused due to Dean Winchester’s actions.
He releases his hold entirely on Dean, his hands falling to his sides as he tilts his head and gazes at Dean, wondering what is happening now. Dean gazes back. The tense cloud is still hovering in the atmosphere, growing warmer and more stifling, gathering density, darkness, and ferocity.
Then Dean leans forward, away from the wall and towards Castiel. Castiel watches him until his eyes cross, and then he feels Dean’s mouth against his own.
He blinks and leans back an inch, momentarily disoriented and almost losing his balance. Dean’s eyes are closed, so Castiel closes his, too. He feels Dean’s hand on his wrist and Dean leans back, pulling Castiel with him until Dean is flush against the kitchen wall.
Dean’s lips move against Castiel’s. It feels like… It feels.
Castiel remembers watching Anna and Dean do something like this. He tries to remember what he saw, imitate what it is he’s supposed to do.
Dean’s hand slides to the back of Castiel’s neck and draws him closer. Castiel leans into him, feels his vessel touching Dean’s body. Dean is not a vessel. He’s a real, living, breathing, feeling human being. Castiel grows lightheaded as he thinks about it. Then he remembers that his vessel needs oxygen, so he tries to breathe just as Dean’s tongue touches his lip.
Only, then he can’t breathe.
Struggling, Castiel reaches for Dean and his hands take hold of Dean’s shoulders. He feels the raised mark - detectable even through Dean’s T-shirt.
When Dean bites Castiel’s lip, it has a strange twinge to it, coppery in taste and striking white in color, and Castiel suddenly feels himself gripping Dean’s shoulder strong, his fingers digging into the place where the mark is. Dean grunts and slides a few inches down the wall, hanging onto Castiel.
He turns his face away from Castiel’s and the lightning loses its grounding. Instead, the tension from the cloud is thick around Castiel again.
An unintelligible sound comes from Dean and he pants, catching his breath. His hand comes up to Castiel’s wrist and pulls it away from Dean’s shoulder where the mark is. Dean visibly breathes easier then.
“Did…did I hurt you?” Castiel asks, brow furrowed and concerned as he tries to catch Dean’s gaze.
“N-no,” Dean answers. “I mean, it was good.”
Castiel looks away and steps back. One step. Four steps.
“Wait,” Dean says sharply. “Cas!” It’s a tone Castiel has heard before, but it’s usually calling Sammy’s name. Not ‘Cas.’
He doesn’t know what to say. The tense, electric feeling that he had always previously associated with storm clouds is smothering him, stealing his breath and his thoughts. It feels thick and impenetrable. He turns away from Dean; he can’t look at him.
He doesn’t know what he’s done.
Anna was human. Castiel is an angel.
“Cas,” Dean says again, and Castiel vaguely registers the heavy fall of his boots against the floor before his hand lands on Castiel’s shoulder, turning him around.
Castiel looks at him. He doesn’t know what else to do. He feels strangely open and uncovered. His mind flashes back to the first man and woman in the garden. And they felt naked. And the Father made clothes for them.
Dean steps closer. His eyes are gazing steadily into Castiel’s, holding them, following them. It’s as if he refuses to let Castiel look away.
Suddenly, Castiel jerks out of Dean’s grip, turns and steps way. “I have to go,” he says harshly, not even bothering to throw it over his shoulder.
“Damn it, Cas!” Dean shouts.
Dean grabs him, spins him, and Castiel can’t even blink before he’s got Dean’s mouth against his again, as well as his tongue and his hands and his body. Castiel knows he can throw him off. But he might hurt Dean. He might hurt himself.
The storm cloud is building thicker and higher, more tension, more rumbling, a huge wall cloud threatening to suffocate him, the lightning to electrocute him. And finally, finally he doesn’t fight it any more. He chooses not to fight it.
He chooses.
He’s a little too abrupt in his decision and all at once he finds himself on the floor on top of Dean, both of them with the air knocked out of them. Dean, nonetheless, grabs Castiel and pulls him close, shifting underneath him. This time it’s Castiel who closes the space between them, and sets his lips to Dean’s. It’s only at that moment that he realizes how smooth lips feel. The skin covering them is made of something special, something much more delicate than the rest of the epidermis covering the human body. Something even their greatest doctors have not learned to duplicate.
And the tongue… Castiel opens his mouth and he hears a noise that he thinks came from his own vessel. Then he feels a tongue against his own, and Castiel nearly jumps up. Off. Away. But he doesn’t. It feels so… So much more like electricity than anything else. Nothing like what he thought a tongue might feel like - if he had ever actually considered such a thing.
Then he feels Dean moving, and he doesn’t expect to be pushed over, onto his back. Dean’s still pressed against him, but he’s got his knees on either side of Castiel and their bodies are closer than they’ve ever been before. Dean’s hands are moving quickly, touching the vessel…touching Castiel. He feels it all. Loud and ringing and hot even on top of the suit and coat.
Dean tugs at Castiel’s tie, quick, intent on something. He’s aggressive and unceasing. Touching, brushing, flitting over brief contact points as his hands move to Castiel’s shirt. On the other hand, Castiel is slow as he reaches out for Dean. His fingers touch Dean’s face, hesitant at first, then merely reserved in their exploration. His fingers skim over Dean’s chin and cheeks and lips. Dean’s hands slow as his eyes meet Castiel’s, as Castiel watches his own fingers on Dean’s face. He feels what his fingers are touching, watches what Dean’s eyes are saying. It’s amazing. All of it. Remarkable.
Dean’s fingers touch Castiels’ chest - his bare skin - and Castiel realizes that Dean has unbuttoned the shirt and pushed all the material out of the way until skin could meet skin. Castiel closes his eyes and blocks out every sensation except that of Dean’s hand over his breastbone. His head tips back onto the floor. Dean’s hand is slow, as though Castiel’s movements have tempered his own. As if he realizes that it is new - all of it, everything, new to Castiel.
Too new. Too much. Too…
Castiel pushes himself up, opens his eyes, and finds Dean thrown off balance as Castiel sits up. He doesn’t pause, but turns and raises to stand, Dean scrambling backward.
“Cas,” Dean says, a tone Castiel is not used to, one he doesn’t know if he’s heard from Dean before. Dean reaches for his hand, tugs on him, but Castiel only looks down at him.
Castiel shakes Dean’s hand off his own, and in a half-stride, he is gone, the sound of Dean calling after him fading in his ears.
..:..
It's two days later when Castiel spies Dean secretly leaving his motel room in the middle of the night. Castiel has kept his distance, and they haven’t spoken nor seen each other since…the last time. Castiel follows Dean as he drives on back highways and small roads for two hours. They purposely placed themselves close to the enemy - where they would never be expected, and yet close enough for their own attack, as soon as the timing is right. Dean parks his car and climbs out. Just as he closes the door and turns, Castiel appears directly in front of him. Dean swears, jumps, and the loose gravel under his feet grates together.
"This is a stupid risk," Castiel says.
"It's mine to take," Dean replies roughly, not looking at him.
"You could ruin everything."
"What do you care?" Dean raises his voice, suddenly leaning close into Castiel's face. Dean's eyes flash in anger and Castiel frowns.
"I'm coming with you," Castiel says.
"Stay away." Dean shoves past Castiel, toward the bar.
"Dean," Castiel threatens, using only his name.
"Do whatever you want," Dean growls, heading to the door of the bar where the music is blaring from inside. Castiel follows him. The place is too close to enemy territory to allow the brothers to meet alone. Castiel won't permit it, no matter how much protesting comes from Dean. Inside, Castiel appears in human form like anyone else. Dean has just found Sam sitting at a table in the back, alone and secluded. Sam stands and hugs Dean swiftly. They pat each other's backs and then sit down opposite one another. Sam notices Castiel's approach and looks mildly surprised but then simply nods at him and the Angel sits next to Dean who keeps his gaze resolutely averted. There is an empty chair at their table. Bobby has remained behind with the demons to cover Sam's tracks.
Sam, for his part, looks tired. A bruise darkens his left hand, and a small cut is over his right eyebrow. His eyes are heavy with lack of sleep. It is evident that the demons are riding him hard. Dean doesn't say much, but Castiel can tell that none such details escape his notice. It’s quiet as the brothers settle into their covert meeting. Each one peers over his shoulder compulsively, looking around as if wary of being watched. He supposes they have become accustomed to watchful eyes, never trusting that they are safe. He wonders if it is hard to live like that, and thinks it must be taxing on a human.
There is no small talk; the brothers jump to the point. The final steps of the plan require careful coordination on all sides, and it is set to take place in just four days. They briefly outline the finer details, pausing only to address the recent wounds that Bobby has sustained and the question of whether he’ll be ready for battle in time. Meanwhile Castiel sits at the alert, constantly scanning the room and attuning himself to the energies of the premises.
"So, I guess everyone is ready on your end," Dean says to Sam.
"Yeah, not much for us to do really but to keep playing the part. They've bought it and they're needy for me to leave their army. That is, until I become dispensable." Sam shrugs, darkness lining his words. "And you're ready? No more little escapades and injuries, I hope?"
"I'm fine," Dean says. Castiel looks at him, but Dean's gaze remains fixed on Sam. Sam looks between the two of them.
"Where've you been?" Sam asks, shifting gears.
"I can't tell you,” Dean replies. "But I've been moving." Sam frowns.
"He's safe," Castiel adds. Dean turns his head a small fraction sideways to look at Castiel, then he turns back to Sam. Sam's brow is furrowed. Dean lowers his hand from the table just as Castiel raises his. Their fingers bump and Dean glares at him. Castiel stares back, but their eyes meet only briefly. Dean averts his glare, and Castiel looks up to see Sam fixated on them. Sam looks away and wipes his hand over his mouth as if to hide a smirk. Dean sees it, and glares at Sam.
"You're kidding, right?" It is evident that Sam is smirking then, his hand lowered as his eyes dance in amusement back and forth between Dean and Castiel. Castiel is still frowning, but he supposes he really oughtn't be surprised at his confusion, as it is ever-present these days. He glances over at Dean, who doesn't appear to be confused at all. If anything, he seems angry.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean says through gritted teeth. Now Castiel looks between Sam and Dean. Sam is still amused but is trying to control it. Dean scowls at him, and the table, and the entire room.
"Come on, Dean," Sam says as if coaxing something from him. Dean glares.
Castiel is distracted then as he feels a shift in the atmosphere. He doesn’t forget that he is at the meeting in order to protect the brothers, and it proves to be a useful move after all.
"You need to go, Sam," Castiel interrupts suddenly, speaking to Sam and simultaneously rising to the alert. "And so do I." Castiel glances as Dean, who frowns but otherwise remains closed off.
"I'm leaving, too," Dean decides. "See you in four days." He stands from his seat. Sam's expression is somber again, and Dean continues. "Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
"Take care of yourself. You and Bobby be careful." Dean turns to leave and Castiel rises to follow him. Sam catches his arm, halting him.
"Take care of him," Sam requests quietly.
Castiel tilts his head to the side and blinks at Sam. He hears the door to the bar slam shut in Dean's wake and he knows Dean has left without him. He turns back to Sam as he feels the younger brother release his grip. He is still uncertain of the boy's meaning even as he steps past Sam and leaves the bar, disappear from sight the moment he's outside. He remains long enough to watch Sam leave too, just before three demons arrive. Whether they are following Sam or Dean, or even himself, he is not sure.
The demons leave and Castiel remains.
Four days.
Four days to the end and then all will be decided.
Next: Chapter 8
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean, Sam, Castiel, etc.)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,868
Date written: 1 September 2009
Summary: On the ground, conditions are rough, everyone misses home, and they all feel the tides shifting, the approach of a great confrontation. Then Castiel is given a human charge. Nothing has ever been more confusing than Dean Winchester.
Other information: Story is cannon though Season 4. I’ve tried my best, but I still consider myself new to the Supernatural world. Please let me know if something is incorrect or doesn’t fit with cannon. I apologize in advance for mistakes. This was written just for fun, is completely fiction, and the characters and situations belong to Supernatural, the CW, et al. Written in American English. Beta-ed by moodwriter
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
--
by AlchemyFreak@TDA
A few days pass. Final battle plans are outlined and Sam and Bobby know their part. They inquire after Dean, and Castiel assures them he's fine. Bobby watches with a suspicious look that displeases Castiel. He doesn't understand what is expected of him in his interactions with humans. He wonders if he ever will.
He tries not to think about it as he appears outside the up-scale hotel in the city center. They've moved Dean. Everyone expects him to be hiding out in small towns and outskirts, in old run-down motels, so it seems less conspicuous to conceal him in a more obvious place where no one would ever look.
The wards are in use in Dean's new motel room, but they've adapted the Angel's deterrent so that the symbol for Castiel's name bisects the inner circle. It grants only him entrance through the deterrent.
In his room, Castiel watches as Dean paces in the spacious interior, cell phone to his ear as he speaks. His room is larger than that of the Beach Motel. The two beds are queens, and there's a small kitchen with faux tile flooring, a microwave and refrigerator. It's likely the fanciest room Dean has ever stayed in.
Castiel enters, remaining invisible, and watches as Dean conducts his phone call. He has recovered, his wounds are healed, and he sounds eager to make their next move. Castiel believes he is speaking with his brother, from the sounds of it. He knows the brothers conduct their phone calls safely, secretively, and infrequently, but he doesn’t ask for any information about how they do it. The technology of humans doesn’t greatly interest him nor profit him.
At last Dean snaps his phone closed. He looks relieved to have heard from Sam. He turns toward the kitchen in the hotel room just as Castiel lets his vessel materialize. Dean looks surprised to see Castiel standing there, but he does not jump at the sight.
“Cas,” he says, like a statement.
Castiel looks at him. Dean’s gaze is unreadable, his motions stilled.
The feeling from the storm clouds is building in the air again, catching Castiel off guard. It had not been there a moment before. He doesn’t understand how it gets there, but he can’t deny that the sensation is starting to grow on him, as the humans say. It’s vaguely uncomfortable, but it carries an edge of anticipation with it, too.
Castiel doesn’t know what he is anticipating as Dean approaches.
“Thank you,” Dean says.
“For what?”
“For last time. For, uh…saving me.”
Castiel doesn’t ask how Dean knows. Maybe Dean is learning to truly know Castiel - without proof, without seeing, without admissions.
Castiel swallows and looks down, surprised when he looks up again to find Dean immediately before him. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up again. He feels his unseen feathers ruffle. He doesn’t know why.
Dean steps forward, but science rules that it’s too close. The two masses can not take up the same space at the same time. Castiel steps backward. Dean moves forward again, and this time he raises his hand to Castiel. Castiel’s eyes widen and he grabs Dean, spinning him around and slamming him against the kitchen wall, gaze angry and defiant. He doesn’t know what he’s done now to deserve Dean’s raised hand. After all they’ve been through, it doesn’t make sense. It is a trick or a trap.
The breath seems to be knocked out of Dean for a second and he attempts to get it back, his shirt still held tightly in Castiel’s fists. Castiel is on edge with uncertainty.
“Relax,” Dean says to him, and blinks.
Castiel does relax his grip, but confusion sweeps over him in waves. He cannot keep count of how many times he has found himself confused due to Dean Winchester’s actions.
He releases his hold entirely on Dean, his hands falling to his sides as he tilts his head and gazes at Dean, wondering what is happening now. Dean gazes back. The tense cloud is still hovering in the atmosphere, growing warmer and more stifling, gathering density, darkness, and ferocity.
Then Dean leans forward, away from the wall and towards Castiel. Castiel watches him until his eyes cross, and then he feels Dean’s mouth against his own.
He blinks and leans back an inch, momentarily disoriented and almost losing his balance. Dean’s eyes are closed, so Castiel closes his, too. He feels Dean’s hand on his wrist and Dean leans back, pulling Castiel with him until Dean is flush against the kitchen wall.
Dean’s lips move against Castiel’s. It feels like… It feels.
Castiel remembers watching Anna and Dean do something like this. He tries to remember what he saw, imitate what it is he’s supposed to do.
Dean’s hand slides to the back of Castiel’s neck and draws him closer. Castiel leans into him, feels his vessel touching Dean’s body. Dean is not a vessel. He’s a real, living, breathing, feeling human being. Castiel grows lightheaded as he thinks about it. Then he remembers that his vessel needs oxygen, so he tries to breathe just as Dean’s tongue touches his lip.
Only, then he can’t breathe.
Struggling, Castiel reaches for Dean and his hands take hold of Dean’s shoulders. He feels the raised mark - detectable even through Dean’s T-shirt.
When Dean bites Castiel’s lip, it has a strange twinge to it, coppery in taste and striking white in color, and Castiel suddenly feels himself gripping Dean’s shoulder strong, his fingers digging into the place where the mark is. Dean grunts and slides a few inches down the wall, hanging onto Castiel.
He turns his face away from Castiel’s and the lightning loses its grounding. Instead, the tension from the cloud is thick around Castiel again.
An unintelligible sound comes from Dean and he pants, catching his breath. His hand comes up to Castiel’s wrist and pulls it away from Dean’s shoulder where the mark is. Dean visibly breathes easier then.
“Did…did I hurt you?” Castiel asks, brow furrowed and concerned as he tries to catch Dean’s gaze.
“N-no,” Dean answers. “I mean, it was good.”
Castiel looks away and steps back. One step. Four steps.
“Wait,” Dean says sharply. “Cas!” It’s a tone Castiel has heard before, but it’s usually calling Sammy’s name. Not ‘Cas.’
He doesn’t know what to say. The tense, electric feeling that he had always previously associated with storm clouds is smothering him, stealing his breath and his thoughts. It feels thick and impenetrable. He turns away from Dean; he can’t look at him.
He doesn’t know what he’s done.
Anna was human. Castiel is an angel.
“Cas,” Dean says again, and Castiel vaguely registers the heavy fall of his boots against the floor before his hand lands on Castiel’s shoulder, turning him around.
Castiel looks at him. He doesn’t know what else to do. He feels strangely open and uncovered. His mind flashes back to the first man and woman in the garden. And they felt naked. And the Father made clothes for them.
Dean steps closer. His eyes are gazing steadily into Castiel’s, holding them, following them. It’s as if he refuses to let Castiel look away.
Suddenly, Castiel jerks out of Dean’s grip, turns and steps way. “I have to go,” he says harshly, not even bothering to throw it over his shoulder.
“Damn it, Cas!” Dean shouts.
Dean grabs him, spins him, and Castiel can’t even blink before he’s got Dean’s mouth against his again, as well as his tongue and his hands and his body. Castiel knows he can throw him off. But he might hurt Dean. He might hurt himself.
The storm cloud is building thicker and higher, more tension, more rumbling, a huge wall cloud threatening to suffocate him, the lightning to electrocute him. And finally, finally he doesn’t fight it any more. He chooses not to fight it.
He chooses.
He’s a little too abrupt in his decision and all at once he finds himself on the floor on top of Dean, both of them with the air knocked out of them. Dean, nonetheless, grabs Castiel and pulls him close, shifting underneath him. This time it’s Castiel who closes the space between them, and sets his lips to Dean’s. It’s only at that moment that he realizes how smooth lips feel. The skin covering them is made of something special, something much more delicate than the rest of the epidermis covering the human body. Something even their greatest doctors have not learned to duplicate.
And the tongue… Castiel opens his mouth and he hears a noise that he thinks came from his own vessel. Then he feels a tongue against his own, and Castiel nearly jumps up. Off. Away. But he doesn’t. It feels so… So much more like electricity than anything else. Nothing like what he thought a tongue might feel like - if he had ever actually considered such a thing.
Then he feels Dean moving, and he doesn’t expect to be pushed over, onto his back. Dean’s still pressed against him, but he’s got his knees on either side of Castiel and their bodies are closer than they’ve ever been before. Dean’s hands are moving quickly, touching the vessel…touching Castiel. He feels it all. Loud and ringing and hot even on top of the suit and coat.
Dean tugs at Castiel’s tie, quick, intent on something. He’s aggressive and unceasing. Touching, brushing, flitting over brief contact points as his hands move to Castiel’s shirt. On the other hand, Castiel is slow as he reaches out for Dean. His fingers touch Dean’s face, hesitant at first, then merely reserved in their exploration. His fingers skim over Dean’s chin and cheeks and lips. Dean’s hands slow as his eyes meet Castiel’s, as Castiel watches his own fingers on Dean’s face. He feels what his fingers are touching, watches what Dean’s eyes are saying. It’s amazing. All of it. Remarkable.
Dean’s fingers touch Castiels’ chest - his bare skin - and Castiel realizes that Dean has unbuttoned the shirt and pushed all the material out of the way until skin could meet skin. Castiel closes his eyes and blocks out every sensation except that of Dean’s hand over his breastbone. His head tips back onto the floor. Dean’s hand is slow, as though Castiel’s movements have tempered his own. As if he realizes that it is new - all of it, everything, new to Castiel.
Too new. Too much. Too…
Castiel pushes himself up, opens his eyes, and finds Dean thrown off balance as Castiel sits up. He doesn’t pause, but turns and raises to stand, Dean scrambling backward.
“Cas,” Dean says, a tone Castiel is not used to, one he doesn’t know if he’s heard from Dean before. Dean reaches for his hand, tugs on him, but Castiel only looks down at him.
Castiel shakes Dean’s hand off his own, and in a half-stride, he is gone, the sound of Dean calling after him fading in his ears.
..:..
It's two days later when Castiel spies Dean secretly leaving his motel room in the middle of the night. Castiel has kept his distance, and they haven’t spoken nor seen each other since…the last time. Castiel follows Dean as he drives on back highways and small roads for two hours. They purposely placed themselves close to the enemy - where they would never be expected, and yet close enough for their own attack, as soon as the timing is right. Dean parks his car and climbs out. Just as he closes the door and turns, Castiel appears directly in front of him. Dean swears, jumps, and the loose gravel under his feet grates together.
"This is a stupid risk," Castiel says.
"It's mine to take," Dean replies roughly, not looking at him.
"You could ruin everything."
"What do you care?" Dean raises his voice, suddenly leaning close into Castiel's face. Dean's eyes flash in anger and Castiel frowns.
"I'm coming with you," Castiel says.
"Stay away." Dean shoves past Castiel, toward the bar.
"Dean," Castiel threatens, using only his name.
"Do whatever you want," Dean growls, heading to the door of the bar where the music is blaring from inside. Castiel follows him. The place is too close to enemy territory to allow the brothers to meet alone. Castiel won't permit it, no matter how much protesting comes from Dean. Inside, Castiel appears in human form like anyone else. Dean has just found Sam sitting at a table in the back, alone and secluded. Sam stands and hugs Dean swiftly. They pat each other's backs and then sit down opposite one another. Sam notices Castiel's approach and looks mildly surprised but then simply nods at him and the Angel sits next to Dean who keeps his gaze resolutely averted. There is an empty chair at their table. Bobby has remained behind with the demons to cover Sam's tracks.
Sam, for his part, looks tired. A bruise darkens his left hand, and a small cut is over his right eyebrow. His eyes are heavy with lack of sleep. It is evident that the demons are riding him hard. Dean doesn't say much, but Castiel can tell that none such details escape his notice. It’s quiet as the brothers settle into their covert meeting. Each one peers over his shoulder compulsively, looking around as if wary of being watched. He supposes they have become accustomed to watchful eyes, never trusting that they are safe. He wonders if it is hard to live like that, and thinks it must be taxing on a human.
There is no small talk; the brothers jump to the point. The final steps of the plan require careful coordination on all sides, and it is set to take place in just four days. They briefly outline the finer details, pausing only to address the recent wounds that Bobby has sustained and the question of whether he’ll be ready for battle in time. Meanwhile Castiel sits at the alert, constantly scanning the room and attuning himself to the energies of the premises.
"So, I guess everyone is ready on your end," Dean says to Sam.
"Yeah, not much for us to do really but to keep playing the part. They've bought it and they're needy for me to leave their army. That is, until I become dispensable." Sam shrugs, darkness lining his words. "And you're ready? No more little escapades and injuries, I hope?"
"I'm fine," Dean says. Castiel looks at him, but Dean's gaze remains fixed on Sam. Sam looks between the two of them.
"Where've you been?" Sam asks, shifting gears.
"I can't tell you,” Dean replies. "But I've been moving." Sam frowns.
"He's safe," Castiel adds. Dean turns his head a small fraction sideways to look at Castiel, then he turns back to Sam. Sam's brow is furrowed. Dean lowers his hand from the table just as Castiel raises his. Their fingers bump and Dean glares at him. Castiel stares back, but their eyes meet only briefly. Dean averts his glare, and Castiel looks up to see Sam fixated on them. Sam looks away and wipes his hand over his mouth as if to hide a smirk. Dean sees it, and glares at Sam.
"You're kidding, right?" It is evident that Sam is smirking then, his hand lowered as his eyes dance in amusement back and forth between Dean and Castiel. Castiel is still frowning, but he supposes he really oughtn't be surprised at his confusion, as it is ever-present these days. He glances over at Dean, who doesn't appear to be confused at all. If anything, he seems angry.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean says through gritted teeth. Now Castiel looks between Sam and Dean. Sam is still amused but is trying to control it. Dean scowls at him, and the table, and the entire room.
"Come on, Dean," Sam says as if coaxing something from him. Dean glares.
Castiel is distracted then as he feels a shift in the atmosphere. He doesn’t forget that he is at the meeting in order to protect the brothers, and it proves to be a useful move after all.
"You need to go, Sam," Castiel interrupts suddenly, speaking to Sam and simultaneously rising to the alert. "And so do I." Castiel glances as Dean, who frowns but otherwise remains closed off.
"I'm leaving, too," Dean decides. "See you in four days." He stands from his seat. Sam's expression is somber again, and Dean continues. "Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
"Take care of yourself. You and Bobby be careful." Dean turns to leave and Castiel rises to follow him. Sam catches his arm, halting him.
"Take care of him," Sam requests quietly.
Castiel tilts his head to the side and blinks at Sam. He hears the door to the bar slam shut in Dean's wake and he knows Dean has left without him. He turns back to Sam as he feels the younger brother release his grip. He is still uncertain of the boy's meaning even as he steps past Sam and leaves the bar, disappear from sight the moment he's outside. He remains long enough to watch Sam leave too, just before three demons arrive. Whether they are following Sam or Dean, or even himself, he is not sure.
The demons leave and Castiel remains.
Four days.
Four days to the end and then all will be decided.
Next: Chapter 8