FIC: The Request, Dean/Castiel, 6/9
Jan. 23rd, 2010 02:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloudy_ficTitle: The Request, 6/9
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jenniferlupin
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jess, Anna, Michael
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, angels that aren't like angels from Supernatural or the Bible or really anywhere, but this story
Word count: approximately 36,000
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'm making no profit from this fanfiction.
Status: Complete. I'll be posting a chapter a day for the next eight days.
Summary: When Sam Winchester prays for his brother, Castiel is finally sent on his very first assignment. But what should be a simple love match turns into much more and Castiel finds himself risking everything to ensure the happiness of his extremely frustrating charge.
Author notes: Sorry this is late! All kinds of things conspired to keep me away from the computer all day. But it's a bit longer than usual, so I hope that makes up for it!
Sneaking into the Great Repository won't be the hard part. Since Castiel took over the recording work from Michael, the Repository Guards have become used to seeing him. The building itself, hewn from blue-streaked Seraph stones, recognizes his grace. It's doubtful his presence will raise an alarm.
Or it wouldn't if Castiel were checking in during the day shift. But when he leaves Sam Winchester confused and worried in his living room, it is well into the night shift in Heaven. Castiel’s been in the Repository during the evening but rarely. He'll have to tread lightly here.
But his nerves are nothing compared to the painful tangle of scorching anger and cutting sorrow gathered into a hard knot in his chest. A protectiveness Castiel hadn't realized he possessed is surging within him, strong and sure, pushing him along a path he knows he'll never regret. Even if the Guards do turn him over to Michael.
This task is simply more important than Castiel's disciplinary record.
Shadows fill the faded gold street that fronts the massive marbled structure. Even flying straight up, it would take Castiel several minutes to reach its top. The immense size allows the building to house every request made since the beginning of time. Knowing the day of the prayer and name of the requester will help Castiel narrow his search, but it may still take hours to discover the assigned angel.
Castiel slips off the main thoroughfare into the darkness pouring off the building. Very few of his brothers are travelling the main roads at this time of night. This is what Castiel meant when he told Dean that time works differently in Heaven. On Earth, day and night take turns ruling opposite sides of the world, each one in power somewhere throughout all of the earthly realm's twenty-four hours. But in Heaven, daylight lasts through both cycles. Night falls in the heavenly realm only during a secret time, an extra eight hours squeezed into a space that does not exist on Earth. It is a silent time when no prayers reach Heaven and angels can rest. The Great Repository should be empty but for those few of his brothers that drew a quarterly nightshift assignment.
But even if the streets were overflowing with his brothers, Castiel could escape their attention with ease. He's perfected his ability to melt into the background, to avoid the suspicion and the scorn by effectively making himself invisible. His natural reserve and quiet desire to be helpful combine to keep Castiel from standing out any more than he wishes.
The first thing that Castiel sees when he tugs open the heavy cobalt doors is one of his sisters standing at the small deposit booth. She glances at him when he enters, her red hair swaying over her slim shoulders. Castiel doesn't recognize her, but her light green tunic indicates that she belongs to Gabriel. He remains calm and simply nods at her, cool and casual as if he belongs there.
She nods back and turns away towards her business.
The breath escapes Castiel's lungs in a relieved, but fortunately silent rush.
It takes a moment to walk through the wide lobby, the echo of his step bouncing from ceiling to floor and back again. When he finally makes it across, he turns down the path that leads to the Michael garrison's storage section. At the end of this corridor, there is a door with the words HALLS OF RECORD written on it. Castiel quickly types in FOURTH EPOCH. He hears a low rumble that increases in volume as the halls spin past the door and then the noise abruptly ceases after a hard clicking sound. The door opens with a hiss of warm fragrant air onto the long narrow hallway that stores all requests from the fourth epoch. Walking will take too long, so Castiel rises on his wings and leans forward, jetting passed hundreds of thousands of shelves towards where the more recent requests are located. His mind is preoccupied with keeping his mental and emotional state normal, so that the ultra-sensitive Seraph stones won't record his presence as an anomaly. So preoccupied in fact that he nearly flies past the shelves that contain requests from what Dean knows as the early 1980s on Earth.
He sets down and though the Fourth Epoch Hall is quite empty, tiptoes to the shelves.
The search begins.
As he picks up the first scroll, Castiel feels a brief spark of memory. Not true recognition, just the sense that he's touched these papers before. He realizes with a jolt that he is literally the only angel in existence that could open these scrolls and close them without raising suspicions because they are sealed with his very own grace. Only his blessing would return the scrolls to their original state.
Further confirmation in Castiel's heart that this action is the right one.
When he opens the scroll, Castiel senses also the presence of Michael's grace, the force of his particular brand confirming that this request was carried out. The combination of their graces is one Castiel knows well and it makes him feel both good and bad. Good because it reminds Castiel of their many days spent together. And bad because Castiel probably smiled and laughed and felt joy as Dean's life crumbled away and to Cas, it was just another job, another request. He wonders if Dean wasn't at least a little bit right in believing angels callous. Castiel didn't know until he met Dean that there's a difference between feeling pity and distant sorrow for a human and really living their pain.
The hours pass too quickly for Castiel's liking. The search is slowed by his constant pauses to bless the scrolls back to normal. He keeps part of his attention on the minutes slipping away and as it gets closer to the start of dayshift, Castiel has to work hard to keep panic and frustration from rising within him and alerting the Seraph stones. So frantic are his movements and so intense his focus that Castiel very nearly closes and reseals what turns out to be the correct scroll. Luckily the word "Kansas" jumps out at him and Castiel curses himself for becoming clumsy. He unfolds the scroll completely and reads.
REQUESTER: Mary Winchester
LOCATION: Lawrence, Kansas, United States of America
REQUEST: Oh God, save them. Angels, please, just get them out alive.
SPECIFICS: The subject of the prayer is John Winchester, 29 year old male and his two sons, Dean, age four and Samuel, age six months. The assigned angel is authorized to use any means necessary to extract the subjects safely from their burning home. This request shall be attended to immediately.
ASSIGNED ANGEL: Anna
There is nothing Castiel can do to stop the blast of astonishment when he sees Anna's name. No way for him to keep his knees from going weak, forcing his wings to press hard into the floor to hold his weight up. Around him, the Seraph stones brighten to a blazing hot azure and Castiel knows only minutes will pass before a guard is dispatched down this very hall. Even so, it's difficult to make his hands work correctly, difficult to think past his amazement that the answer to a question he'd been waiting to ask his whole life had been sleeping across the room from him for the same length of time.
His desire to escape capture on Dean's behalf wins out over whatever else he is feeling and Castiel finally manages to seal the scroll. He takes flight and shoots across the hall at blinding speeds. The corridor outside the Halls of Record transport door is empty, but it's the lobby that really worries him. It's the only way out and he fears his shock kept him from reaching it before the guards. He creeps along the wall beside the lobby door, his wings slipping soft and quiet over the blue stones. There's no noise, no footsteps or wing flaps and when he peers around the edge of the door, Castiel is surprised by a very empty lobby.
Unease follows after his surprise, but Castiel doesn't want to waste this opportunity, so he ducks into the lobby and flits across the hall out the door without a backwards glance. He finds the street similarly devoid of angels and instead of floating across, he flies straight up and over the Great Repository, taking the long way round back to his garrison's barracks.
He doesn't see another angel the entire way.
His unease grows into nervous anxiety. It's not that Castiel wishes to be seen. He just can't comprehend how his mistake didn't draw the attention of the entire Host, much less a few of his garrison's guards. This confusion is the only explanation Castiel has for the slight press of relief he feels when he turns the north corner of the barracks towards his bedchamber door and very nearly runs straight into Michael himself.
"Oh," Castiel says blankly. "Michael."
"Hello, Castiel," Michael answers cheerfully. "I see you are up early this morning."
The sun still hasn't risen over the silvered horizon, but Castiel knows it will make an appearance very shortly. It's not like Michael to be out at this hour. The many tasks required to run their garrison, not to mention the very difficult requests he handles himself, exhaust Michael to the point of requiring each moment of night's eight hours to rest.
"Yes," Castiel says, trying to fill his lungs with air and bring peace to his stomach. "I could say the same to you."
"And you may, if you wish," Michael and it sounds so like his normal teasing that Castiel feels himself beginning to relax. "Why don't you walk with me?"
He turns away and begins to walk, apparently expecting Castiel to follow. Castiel does, of course, though the unease starts to return. Michael usually questions Castiel when he does something out of the ordinary. Everything about their interaction so far is too normal.
They stroll along the side of the barracks without talking until they reach the entrance to the garden. Castiel is not surprised when Michael turns down the garden path. Michael loves the garden. He tells Castiel that the sight and scent of God’s precious flowers are his favorite in their Father's creation.
"Tell me of your request," Michael instructs gently. "I haven't seen much of you since it began and even then, you seemed distracted. How has it gone?"
How indeed. Castiel isn't sure he has words to describe how it’s gone. Certainly, he doesn't know how to describe the way Dean makes him feel or why he's willing to risk so much to ensure Dean's happiness. So he settles for a more clinical description.
"I admit, I struggled at first," he says as Michael directs them to a wrought-iron bench. "I wasn't sure what I had to do, but I think I understand now. I feel...I am confident that Dean Winchester will have a love match before I am done with him."
Something flashes in Michael's light brown eyes, just long enough for Castiel to think the word 'joy' to himself. But that doesn't make sense to him. Pleasure, yes. Or maybe even pride. Castiel can see Michael feeling these emotions because of Castiel's success. But the deep and abiding joy he believes he saw? He can't explain that.
"Good. I was concerned because it's your first job and Earth can be overwhelming. I would understand if you ran into something that...shocked you," Michael says. At any other time, Castiel would have thought nothing of it, but with the fear and anxiety over his recent break-in still pumping in his veins, Castiel's ears catch on the word 'shocked'. They hear the slight twist in Michael's voice, the meaningful implication and Castiel's eyes snap to Michael's face. For a brief moment, Michael stares out at the lily bushes, but then he slowly slides his gaze to Castiel as he speaks again.
"As long as you do what you feel in your heart is right, then I trust you," he says very deliberately and Castiel feels the blood drain out of his face.
Michael knows.
He knows exactly where Castiel had been and what he'd been doing. And for some reason, he is giving permission. Encouraging Castiel even and of all the shocks he's gotten tonight, this encounter is the most staggering.
"Good luck, brother," Michael says when Castiel stays quiet, unable to speak. "Come find me if you get in over your head."
Michael stands and places his wide gentle hands on either side of Castiel's face. He leans down and presses a soft kiss, a blessing, into Castiel's dark hair.
And then he is gone.
**************************
Castiel finds Anna in the study. Always an early riser, Anna spends nearly every morning taking advantage of the calm and quiet she finds in the abandoned study. She is sitting in a large straight-backed chair made from a velvety green material that emphasizes her blood-red hair and the blinding white wings draped over the grooves of the chair's wing rests. When he first slips in through the heavy wooden doors, Anna doesn't seem to hear him. Her eyes stay on the book in her hands, which bound together with paper like they are on Earth. Castiel smiles. Her fascination with all things human is somewhat legendary.
"Anna?"
She jerks in place as her attention is snatched from the volume in her hands to Castiel.
"Oh, you startled me! I'm reading a mystery. You shouldn't sneak up on someone reading a mystery," she says, pressing one hand over her heart. Castiel snorts.
"How was I to know you were reading a mystery?"
"You should just know is all," she replies with a smile. She closes the book and lays it aside on the polished wood table beside her sofa seat. A flick of her hand indicates the identical chair opposite hers and once again, Castiel is directed to sit beside one of his elders.
"What brings you to the study at this time of day?"
Her expression is pleasant, her demeanor serene. Sometimes, when they talk like this, when Anna gives him that warm knowing look and Castiel feels like nothing bad will ever happen, it's hard for him to remember that Anna is a warrior. Almost all her requests are dangerous. She is given tricky life and death situations that their Father wouldn't dare trust to anyone else.
But this time, the dangers of her life are the only thing on Castiel's mind.
"I need to ask you something, Anna," he begins, gathering his thoughts without rushing himself. Anna won't be pleased when she finds out what he did, but then he's not pleased himself. He knows Anna carried out her task the right way. In his head, he knows this. But as he watches her face, eyes tracing along features familiar to him as his own, Castiel realizes a kernel of hurt has burrowed its way into the normal love and affection he holds for Anna. No one is at fault here. Not Anna, not Castiel and certainly not Dean. And yet, the creature Y.E.D. has manipulated Anna into a villain in Dean's mind and now, through that association, the idea has entered Castiel's.
Castiel feels sick with himself. Y.E.D. has taken too much already. Castiel won't let him taint this relationship as well. Though it pains him to do so, Castiel withdraws his focus away from Dean and the grief still waging within his chest. He forces himself back to rationality.
He brutally drives away the thought that his mother allowed the death of Dean's mother. Instead, he transforms the lie back into the truth. Anna didn't kill Mary.
She saved Dean.
"What is it?" she asks, concern creeping into her expression.
Castiel takes a deep breath. It's best to just say it. Anna is fairly straightforward. She must be to succeed the way she does.
"I need your help. I need some information about a request you carried out in Gregorian 1983. November 2nd. The requester was called Mary Winchester. You saved her family from a house fire," he explains.
Confusion joins Anna's concern.
"How did you know about the request?" Her confusion suddenly resolves itself into suspicion. "What have you done, Castiel?"
She knows now as well. If Castiel had remembered the case on his own, he wouldn't need information from her. He shrugs. Anna may be disappointed in him, but Castiel has Michael's approval. Quite frankly, he doesn't need any from her. He just needs the information before the dayshift starts, so he can return to Dean and resolve this situation with Y.E.D.
"Only what is necessary to do my job," he says lightly. "I need this information, Anna. Without it, I don't think my charge can ever be truly happy. I don't believe our Father waited thousands of years to give me a task I'm destined to fail."
The strength of his conviction on this point pours through his grace and off him in waves. Castiel sees when Anna senses it because her expression changes yet again, this time from suspicious to impressed. Not necessarily a happy emotion, it nonetheless makes Castiel feel good. He likes being taken seriously for once.
"This job is very important to you," Anna comments, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. Her perfect wings are still and it makes Castiel think of Dean's eyes trailing over his ridiculous fidgeting wings.
"Dean is important to me," Castiel clarifies.
She studies him. Like Michael, Anna sometimes seems to look straight through Castiel. That's how Castiel feels now. But instead of being nervous, he holds steady. If Anna needs to scan his emotions to understand why he needs her help, then so be it.
"Oh, Castiel," she says a moment later. Her voice is sad and troubled. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"What do you mean?" For the first time in this conversation, Castiel feels a prickle of discomfort.
"Angels...we can't be close to humans. You've forgotten your lessons, brother," she says, a trace of lecture in her tone. "I could understand if you only loved Dean. But you've gone and liked him."
Castiel frowns. "I don't understand."
"I know," Anna says. "That's why I'm worried. I never wanted you to feel pain, but especially not this pain."
Thousands of years of study and Castiel still doesn't comprehend the complexities of his job. He thought angels were meant to love humans, but he isn't doing it right. He's supposed to love from a distance and not like his charge. But how can he do that when he feels such a draw to Dean? Why in the name of the Host did their Father send him to a human he can't resist?
"Look," Castiel says, standing and pacing around the back of the chair, suddenly anxious without knowing why. "Regardless of whatever inappropriate feelings you've detected in me, I need to help Dean. I need to find someone to take care of him and I can't do that until I've taken care of him first. And I can't take care of him if I can't erase this unresolved pain from his life."
He swoops to her side, surprising them both, and drops to his knee beside her chair.
"Please, Anna," he says, grasping her folded hands with his. "You saved Dean once. Help me do it again."
Anna says nothing, only searches his face for a very long time. Long enough that Castiel's knees begin to hurt. Not that he pays much attention to his discomfort. He focuses all his energy on Anna's grace, on reaching out to it and allowing his desperation and sorrow on Dean's behalf to flow across from his grace to Anna's. Her eyes fall shut and Castiel sees the moment she gives in, his pain obviously too much for her to ignore.
"Alright," she whispers. "I'll tell you, but you must promise me you will be careful."
"I promise," he assures her and then on impulse, he leans over to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Anna."
She sighs, though Castiel thinks she looks a bit calmer. Retreating back to his seat, Castiel leans forward, eager for the information.
"She was murdered," Anna says softly, keeping her eyes closed. "Mary Winchester. A sweet soul. Strong and loving. I was very sorry to see her perish. She was everything the monster that killed her wasn't. I've rarely seen a soul like his, Castiel." A frown crosses her face and her eyes dart under her lids, as if she is reliving the memory right there. "There was hurt at his core and he'd covered it with revenge and bloodlust. He was truly evil."
"Do you remember his name? Or his face? Anything about him?"
"I'll never forget his face," she says. "He saw me. He was there the entire time. After he escaped John Winchester, he concealed himself outside the house and watched John beg me to save Mary's life. I didn't want to refuse him, Castiel."
She opens her eyes and meets his gaze. The warm fluid silver of her grace pours over him, encouraging him to understand how very seriously she means these words.
"I never want to leave humans like that, but I have to. I can only do what I'm charged with doing. No matter the cost," she says before looking away, at her hands twisting in her lap. Castiel tries to imagine refusing Dean if he were to beg for something, anything.
He can't.
"I understand," Castiel says because he almost does. At least, he understands that's how it's supposed to work. "Can you show me his face?"
"I can do you one better," Anna says, eyes dragging up from her lap. "I followed him home. I remember where he lives."
"Why?" Castiel asks, surprised.
"I don't know," she confesses. "I just...I wanted...I don't know what I wanted, but it was hard to leave him alive. It really was."
He stares at her. Maybe they aren't that different after all.
"Come here." Anna scoots forward till she is sitting on the chair's edge and waits for Castiel to do the same. She lifts a hand to Castiel's forehead, presses two fingers between his eyes and Castiel sees. A rush of images and sounds, colors flashing in his eyes and wind roaring through his ears. He sees a white house. Flames licking up the side, chewing the wood into ash. A dark-haired man with panic and grief in his eyes. A crying baby nestled in his arms. A small boy with blond hair, staring up at Anna. Confused and scared. The weight of responsibility already pressing against his soul.
Then the images push away from the family. A flash of motion. The oil of a dark soul. The satisfaction of an evil creature.
A glimpse of yellow.
The information explodes into his mind. The man's name. His face. His home. His scent. Castiel will never forget. He'll follow the man to the ends of the Earth. He will make the man pay for what he did to the Winchesters. What he did to Dean. Sweet lonely Dean. Castiel's Dean.
"Castiel?"
Anna is shaking his shoulders. The connection is broken, has been for awhile, but the memories were so intense. Castiel feels himself shaking lightly. The adrenaline he sensed in her memories, the anger towards Y.E.D. and the desire to destroy had been a lot stronger than he realized it would be. These are the memories of a soldier. Anna may lack an individualized love for her charges, but she makes up for it with righteous indignation.
"I'm sorry," he sputters, unconsciously reaching down to toy with his left wing feathers.
"It's alright. It's overwhelming, I know. That's why you must be careful, Castiel," she says, her voice laced with actual fear now. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'll take care," Castiel assures her.
Gray light is beginning to steal into the room. There's not a moment to waste. He stands and Anna stands with him.
"I have to return to Dean," he says and she only nods, walking him towards the door. When they reach it, Castiel stops and glances at her. There was no fear in Anna's memories. Even when she flew into the fire to scoop Dean and Sam off the floor into her arms, even when she felt Mary's anguish and John's despair. He realizes he's never really seen her afraid. Not in all the countless times she left to save a human's life. Not when their many brothers left on their own dangerous tasks. Yet, she fears now and Castiel thinks he knows why. He remembers how Dean had scoffed at Castiel for keeping quiet for so long. He remembers how Dean says that families don't treat each other like outcasts.
He remembers how Anna never did.
"Anna? Would you have told me all this if you weren't my mother?"
Instead of the surprise he expects, Anna only gives him a slight smile and leans up to return his kiss to the cheek. The scent of sweet lilies wafts around him.
"Stay safe, beloved," she murmurs and then she opens the door, leaving Castiel with the tips of his fingers pressed against his face.
***********************
"Tell me what he said again," Dean demands.
"God, seriously, Dean, it's not changed since the last time. Or the five times before that, I swear. He said he would be back, okay? Please sit down and please, for the love of all that's holy, please shut the hell up," Sam says, pinching the bridge of his nose between the forefinger and thumb of one hand.
"Fuck you," Dean says, but he's not really angry at Sam. He's not really angry at all. Well, okay, he's pissed as all get out at Castiel for ditching him without warning. And he'll totally kick Castiel's ass when he gets back. It’s just, he has to get back. Dean doesn't like the things Sam told him Castiel had said. Asking about Y.E.D. and Mom and getting dates. Going to search for something. But Castiel said that would get him in trouble. Dean doesn't know what punishment angels give each other for breaking rules, but knowing them, it can't be good.
Dean does not want Castiel getting punished because of him.
Sure, it'd be nice to have some information about Y.E.D., but it's not worth Castiel getting hurt over. It's not his damned job anyway. His job is to find someone willing to put up with Dean's bullshit. It's Dean's job to find Y.E.D. Just because he sucks at it doesn't mean Castiel should suffer.
"Thanks," Sam answers a moment later, almost as an afterthought. He is pressed into his sofa, head lax against the back cushion and he is watching Dean pace a dark line into the thick blue carpet in his living room. Dean has no idea what time it is, but it's gotta be after midnight by now. Which means he's been pacing around Sam's house for nearly four hours. Ever since Sam walked into the kitchen with a dazed expression and told Dean that Castiel had gone to get himself into trouble. Sam had hung with him the entire time and technically Jess had too, though she finally fell asleep and is currently snoring lightly, her head in Sam's lap.
"Did he say-?"
"I will kill you, Dean," Sam interrupts idly.
"Bitch," Dean says.
"Jerk," Sam answers on cue.
Another circuit of the room, Dean's thoughts whirling. Honestly, this is insane. Castiel's a damned angel. They can take care of themselves. Or at least they should be able to take care of themselves. And it's not like Castiel is a weakling or anything. Just he seems so fucking trusting. Maybe Dean's wrong about all angels being dicks, but he maintains that they aren't a nice race of beings. The way they treat Castiel makes Dean's blood boil. He'd just feel better if Castiel were back on Earth where Dean could keep an eye on the guy.
"Dean, maybe we should-"
But what they should do, Dean never hears because he is too busy smashing hard into Castiel.
"The fuck!" Dean yelps, throwing himself back, nearly off his feet. Castiel reaches out and grabs his elbows, steadying him.
"Are you alright?" Castiel asks.
"Yes, damn it, watch where you land, will you?" Dean isn't sure how much of his bluster is his surprise at Castiel's arrival and how much is due to the hot zing of desire that races through his veins when their bodies press against each other. He's going to pretend he doesn't care.
"What happened?" He asks instead because there's no pretending he doesn't care about that.
"I have the name and address of the Y.E.D.," Castiel informs him simply. Easy as pie. The information handed to him on a silver platter and all it took was God only knows what kind of punishment for Castiel.
"Are you serious?" Sam edges out from under Jess and stands, eyes burning fever bright. "Dean, he's...did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I heard it," Dean snaps and he crosses his arms over his chest. "And what did it cost to get it, huh? What'd you have to do?"
Castiel is frowning at him. "I...I thought you'd be happy..."
"I'll be happy when you tell me what the hell happened," Dean growls. He senses Sam's gaze on his face and Dean knows if he looked at him now, he'd see incredulity in his brother's eyes. And yeah, he wants to know what Castiel found out. God, does he ever want to know. But this is more important.
"I found the request in the Great Repository-"
"You snuck into the library thing? Shit, Cas, you said that was against the Prime Directive or something," Dean says and he's seldom heard himself sounding so worried. It must be Cas' angel mojo. He's hypnotized Dean somehow.
"I...it's..." Clearly, Castiel is not one hundred percent on the same page as Dean. "I'm not in trouble, Dean," he says, cutting through his own confusion to the heart of the matter. "Michael knows what I did and he approves."
"Oh." The wind goes out of Dean's indignation sails.
"I've spoken with the angel who carried out your mother's request-"
"You found her?" Dean interrupts again, his stomach tightening. Now that he knows Cas has permission for all this, Dean's worries turn to the case. He never truly thought he'd ever hear anything about the red-haired angel again. Beside him, Sam draws a sharp breath. They exchange a look, the kind he only ever sees on Sam's face, the one that says you are looking at one of the only people in the world who can really know what you feel because they are in the exact same situation.
"Yes," Cas says. "It was Anna."
"Your mom?" Sam blurts, flabbergasted.
"Yes," Cas says again.
"Your mom," Dean repeats. The knot growing in his stomach draws even tighter, making him feel sick and dizzy. "Your mom and...and my mom..."
Suddenly Castiel is in his face, so close Dean can feel Cas' breath puffing against his mouth. Castiel's freaky strong fingers clamp around Dean's shoulders, probably leaving bruises in the shape of his hand prints and he shakes Dean a little.
"Anna saved your life. Yours and Sam's and your father's. You have to stop blaming her for the evil Y.E.D. visited on your family," he commands, jaw set and eyes flashing. Dean's never seen him like this before, so cold and distant. So harsh. Like a real angel. And yet, despite his severe expression and painful grip, Dean feels something inside him ease. Castiel wouldn't act like this if he didn't care about his own mom. Dean can't fault the guy for that.
"Cas," Dean says, unsure how to promise that he'll try. He thinks Cas might understand anyway because his fingers loosen and the long feather at the end of Castiel's left wing presses gently against Dean's cheek.
"Think of it later," he says. "Now we have to find your mother's killer. His name is Adam Zazel and he lives only a few short moments from this place."
Dean's mind races. Adam Zazel. The name is not familiar. In all those years of hunting for him, Dean never once heard the name or anything like it. And he would probably never have heard anything if not for the angel standing in front of him. Like with many dozens of other unsolved serial murder cases, this guy would have walked free.
"I'll call Victor," Dean says because it’s too immense to think of how much he owes Castiel. He's pacing again, thinking out loud. "Get some back-up. Rufus and Jo, I think."
"And me," Castiel says, stopping Dean in his tracks.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asks blankly.
"I'm coming with you."
"Like hell you are!" Dean pokes Castiel in his chest. "I'm not going to go crazy worrying about you tripping on your wings when I go up against this guy."
Castiel's eyes narrow at the mention of his wings and said wings twitch angrily against his back. That subtle angelic energy Castiel keeps hidden swells up, making him seem bigger than normal, taller and stronger and generally someone who could beat the shit out of Dean if he wanted.
"I can take care of myself, Dean Winchester," Castiel growls and it's not appropriate at all, but Dean can't help the pulse of desire at the gravel in Castiel's voice. "I won't let you confront this monster alone."
It's not an argument. Dean knows this. But he's also himself and arguing is one of Dean's strong suits.
"I won't be alone," he says. "There'll be-"
"Dean," Sam cuts in, grabbing Dean's elbow and turning him. "Just shut up, okay? You gotta take Cas with you or I'll go crazy. He can watch out for you."
"You also said he'd find me a soul-mate! Look how that's turned out!"
He instantly regrets his words, but says nothing, only stares defiantly at Sam, who rolls his eyes at him.
"It's not Castiel's fault you're too annoying to love," Sam countered. "But seriously, if you don't let him protect you, then I'm coming too."
"What the hell?"
"Someone has to watch out for you and I trust Cas. So it's either him or me," Sam says, lifting his chin and staring down his nose at Dean. It's not fair. Sam knows Dean would never risk him. Especially since Sam doesn't have any special training. He's got the physical strength to hold his own in a fight, but Sam's not been taught how to handle criminals. His presence there really could get them all killed.
"You may as well choose me because I'm coming either way," Castiel interjects. He sounds and looks calm, but his wings are stiff as boards and closed around his shoulders. Dean's going to have to kiss some serious ass after this is over. Damn his stupid mouth. Dean's always says something shitty when he's freaked.
He glances from Sam's determination to Castiel's confidence.
"Fuck," Dean mutters. "Come on then," he says to Castiel.
Cas watches Dean snap his jacket up from Sam's couch and shrug into it. They meet at the doorway, but before they can leave, Sam is tugging on Castiel's coat sleeve, halting their progress.
"You bring both yourselves back here, okay? I'll change my request to that if I have to. Just make sure Dean stays safe," he says and then Sam immediately turns to Dean, pinning him with the most intense look he's ever seen on Sam's face before. Tension lines his body and in his posture, Dean can see Sam's years of waiting on his brother and father to come home, his years of worry and learning the best way he could to stop evil sons of bitches, with words instead of action.
"You get him," Sam says and then he becomes too choked to continue. Dean lays a hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezes it and nods, his throat suddenly tight and throbbing.
"I will, Sammy."
Then he turns and leads Castiel out into the night.
Next Chapter
Author:
jenniferlupinPairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jess, Anna, Michael
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, angels that aren't like angels from Supernatural or the Bible or really anywhere, but this story
Word count: approximately 36,000
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'm making no profit from this fanfiction.
Status: Complete. I'll be posting a chapter a day for the next eight days.
Summary: When Sam Winchester prays for his brother, Castiel is finally sent on his very first assignment. But what should be a simple love match turns into much more and Castiel finds himself risking everything to ensure the happiness of his extremely frustrating charge.
Author notes: Sorry this is late! All kinds of things conspired to keep me away from the computer all day. But it's a bit longer than usual, so I hope that makes up for it!
Sneaking into the Great Repository won't be the hard part. Since Castiel took over the recording work from Michael, the Repository Guards have become used to seeing him. The building itself, hewn from blue-streaked Seraph stones, recognizes his grace. It's doubtful his presence will raise an alarm.
Or it wouldn't if Castiel were checking in during the day shift. But when he leaves Sam Winchester confused and worried in his living room, it is well into the night shift in Heaven. Castiel’s been in the Repository during the evening but rarely. He'll have to tread lightly here.
But his nerves are nothing compared to the painful tangle of scorching anger and cutting sorrow gathered into a hard knot in his chest. A protectiveness Castiel hadn't realized he possessed is surging within him, strong and sure, pushing him along a path he knows he'll never regret. Even if the Guards do turn him over to Michael.
This task is simply more important than Castiel's disciplinary record.
Shadows fill the faded gold street that fronts the massive marbled structure. Even flying straight up, it would take Castiel several minutes to reach its top. The immense size allows the building to house every request made since the beginning of time. Knowing the day of the prayer and name of the requester will help Castiel narrow his search, but it may still take hours to discover the assigned angel.
Castiel slips off the main thoroughfare into the darkness pouring off the building. Very few of his brothers are travelling the main roads at this time of night. This is what Castiel meant when he told Dean that time works differently in Heaven. On Earth, day and night take turns ruling opposite sides of the world, each one in power somewhere throughout all of the earthly realm's twenty-four hours. But in Heaven, daylight lasts through both cycles. Night falls in the heavenly realm only during a secret time, an extra eight hours squeezed into a space that does not exist on Earth. It is a silent time when no prayers reach Heaven and angels can rest. The Great Repository should be empty but for those few of his brothers that drew a quarterly nightshift assignment.
But even if the streets were overflowing with his brothers, Castiel could escape their attention with ease. He's perfected his ability to melt into the background, to avoid the suspicion and the scorn by effectively making himself invisible. His natural reserve and quiet desire to be helpful combine to keep Castiel from standing out any more than he wishes.
The first thing that Castiel sees when he tugs open the heavy cobalt doors is one of his sisters standing at the small deposit booth. She glances at him when he enters, her red hair swaying over her slim shoulders. Castiel doesn't recognize her, but her light green tunic indicates that she belongs to Gabriel. He remains calm and simply nods at her, cool and casual as if he belongs there.
She nods back and turns away towards her business.
The breath escapes Castiel's lungs in a relieved, but fortunately silent rush.
It takes a moment to walk through the wide lobby, the echo of his step bouncing from ceiling to floor and back again. When he finally makes it across, he turns down the path that leads to the Michael garrison's storage section. At the end of this corridor, there is a door with the words HALLS OF RECORD written on it. Castiel quickly types in FOURTH EPOCH. He hears a low rumble that increases in volume as the halls spin past the door and then the noise abruptly ceases after a hard clicking sound. The door opens with a hiss of warm fragrant air onto the long narrow hallway that stores all requests from the fourth epoch. Walking will take too long, so Castiel rises on his wings and leans forward, jetting passed hundreds of thousands of shelves towards where the more recent requests are located. His mind is preoccupied with keeping his mental and emotional state normal, so that the ultra-sensitive Seraph stones won't record his presence as an anomaly. So preoccupied in fact that he nearly flies past the shelves that contain requests from what Dean knows as the early 1980s on Earth.
He sets down and though the Fourth Epoch Hall is quite empty, tiptoes to the shelves.
The search begins.
As he picks up the first scroll, Castiel feels a brief spark of memory. Not true recognition, just the sense that he's touched these papers before. He realizes with a jolt that he is literally the only angel in existence that could open these scrolls and close them without raising suspicions because they are sealed with his very own grace. Only his blessing would return the scrolls to their original state.
Further confirmation in Castiel's heart that this action is the right one.
When he opens the scroll, Castiel senses also the presence of Michael's grace, the force of his particular brand confirming that this request was carried out. The combination of their graces is one Castiel knows well and it makes him feel both good and bad. Good because it reminds Castiel of their many days spent together. And bad because Castiel probably smiled and laughed and felt joy as Dean's life crumbled away and to Cas, it was just another job, another request. He wonders if Dean wasn't at least a little bit right in believing angels callous. Castiel didn't know until he met Dean that there's a difference between feeling pity and distant sorrow for a human and really living their pain.
The hours pass too quickly for Castiel's liking. The search is slowed by his constant pauses to bless the scrolls back to normal. He keeps part of his attention on the minutes slipping away and as it gets closer to the start of dayshift, Castiel has to work hard to keep panic and frustration from rising within him and alerting the Seraph stones. So frantic are his movements and so intense his focus that Castiel very nearly closes and reseals what turns out to be the correct scroll. Luckily the word "Kansas" jumps out at him and Castiel curses himself for becoming clumsy. He unfolds the scroll completely and reads.
REQUESTER: Mary Winchester
LOCATION: Lawrence, Kansas, United States of America
REQUEST: Oh God, save them. Angels, please, just get them out alive.
SPECIFICS: The subject of the prayer is John Winchester, 29 year old male and his two sons, Dean, age four and Samuel, age six months. The assigned angel is authorized to use any means necessary to extract the subjects safely from their burning home. This request shall be attended to immediately.
ASSIGNED ANGEL: Anna
There is nothing Castiel can do to stop the blast of astonishment when he sees Anna's name. No way for him to keep his knees from going weak, forcing his wings to press hard into the floor to hold his weight up. Around him, the Seraph stones brighten to a blazing hot azure and Castiel knows only minutes will pass before a guard is dispatched down this very hall. Even so, it's difficult to make his hands work correctly, difficult to think past his amazement that the answer to a question he'd been waiting to ask his whole life had been sleeping across the room from him for the same length of time.
His desire to escape capture on Dean's behalf wins out over whatever else he is feeling and Castiel finally manages to seal the scroll. He takes flight and shoots across the hall at blinding speeds. The corridor outside the Halls of Record transport door is empty, but it's the lobby that really worries him. It's the only way out and he fears his shock kept him from reaching it before the guards. He creeps along the wall beside the lobby door, his wings slipping soft and quiet over the blue stones. There's no noise, no footsteps or wing flaps and when he peers around the edge of the door, Castiel is surprised by a very empty lobby.
Unease follows after his surprise, but Castiel doesn't want to waste this opportunity, so he ducks into the lobby and flits across the hall out the door without a backwards glance. He finds the street similarly devoid of angels and instead of floating across, he flies straight up and over the Great Repository, taking the long way round back to his garrison's barracks.
He doesn't see another angel the entire way.
His unease grows into nervous anxiety. It's not that Castiel wishes to be seen. He just can't comprehend how his mistake didn't draw the attention of the entire Host, much less a few of his garrison's guards. This confusion is the only explanation Castiel has for the slight press of relief he feels when he turns the north corner of the barracks towards his bedchamber door and very nearly runs straight into Michael himself.
"Oh," Castiel says blankly. "Michael."
"Hello, Castiel," Michael answers cheerfully. "I see you are up early this morning."
The sun still hasn't risen over the silvered horizon, but Castiel knows it will make an appearance very shortly. It's not like Michael to be out at this hour. The many tasks required to run their garrison, not to mention the very difficult requests he handles himself, exhaust Michael to the point of requiring each moment of night's eight hours to rest.
"Yes," Castiel says, trying to fill his lungs with air and bring peace to his stomach. "I could say the same to you."
"And you may, if you wish," Michael and it sounds so like his normal teasing that Castiel feels himself beginning to relax. "Why don't you walk with me?"
He turns away and begins to walk, apparently expecting Castiel to follow. Castiel does, of course, though the unease starts to return. Michael usually questions Castiel when he does something out of the ordinary. Everything about their interaction so far is too normal.
They stroll along the side of the barracks without talking until they reach the entrance to the garden. Castiel is not surprised when Michael turns down the garden path. Michael loves the garden. He tells Castiel that the sight and scent of God’s precious flowers are his favorite in their Father's creation.
"Tell me of your request," Michael instructs gently. "I haven't seen much of you since it began and even then, you seemed distracted. How has it gone?"
How indeed. Castiel isn't sure he has words to describe how it’s gone. Certainly, he doesn't know how to describe the way Dean makes him feel or why he's willing to risk so much to ensure Dean's happiness. So he settles for a more clinical description.
"I admit, I struggled at first," he says as Michael directs them to a wrought-iron bench. "I wasn't sure what I had to do, but I think I understand now. I feel...I am confident that Dean Winchester will have a love match before I am done with him."
Something flashes in Michael's light brown eyes, just long enough for Castiel to think the word 'joy' to himself. But that doesn't make sense to him. Pleasure, yes. Or maybe even pride. Castiel can see Michael feeling these emotions because of Castiel's success. But the deep and abiding joy he believes he saw? He can't explain that.
"Good. I was concerned because it's your first job and Earth can be overwhelming. I would understand if you ran into something that...shocked you," Michael says. At any other time, Castiel would have thought nothing of it, but with the fear and anxiety over his recent break-in still pumping in his veins, Castiel's ears catch on the word 'shocked'. They hear the slight twist in Michael's voice, the meaningful implication and Castiel's eyes snap to Michael's face. For a brief moment, Michael stares out at the lily bushes, but then he slowly slides his gaze to Castiel as he speaks again.
"As long as you do what you feel in your heart is right, then I trust you," he says very deliberately and Castiel feels the blood drain out of his face.
Michael knows.
He knows exactly where Castiel had been and what he'd been doing. And for some reason, he is giving permission. Encouraging Castiel even and of all the shocks he's gotten tonight, this encounter is the most staggering.
"Good luck, brother," Michael says when Castiel stays quiet, unable to speak. "Come find me if you get in over your head."
Michael stands and places his wide gentle hands on either side of Castiel's face. He leans down and presses a soft kiss, a blessing, into Castiel's dark hair.
And then he is gone.
**************************
Castiel finds Anna in the study. Always an early riser, Anna spends nearly every morning taking advantage of the calm and quiet she finds in the abandoned study. She is sitting in a large straight-backed chair made from a velvety green material that emphasizes her blood-red hair and the blinding white wings draped over the grooves of the chair's wing rests. When he first slips in through the heavy wooden doors, Anna doesn't seem to hear him. Her eyes stay on the book in her hands, which bound together with paper like they are on Earth. Castiel smiles. Her fascination with all things human is somewhat legendary.
"Anna?"
She jerks in place as her attention is snatched from the volume in her hands to Castiel.
"Oh, you startled me! I'm reading a mystery. You shouldn't sneak up on someone reading a mystery," she says, pressing one hand over her heart. Castiel snorts.
"How was I to know you were reading a mystery?"
"You should just know is all," she replies with a smile. She closes the book and lays it aside on the polished wood table beside her sofa seat. A flick of her hand indicates the identical chair opposite hers and once again, Castiel is directed to sit beside one of his elders.
"What brings you to the study at this time of day?"
Her expression is pleasant, her demeanor serene. Sometimes, when they talk like this, when Anna gives him that warm knowing look and Castiel feels like nothing bad will ever happen, it's hard for him to remember that Anna is a warrior. Almost all her requests are dangerous. She is given tricky life and death situations that their Father wouldn't dare trust to anyone else.
But this time, the dangers of her life are the only thing on Castiel's mind.
"I need to ask you something, Anna," he begins, gathering his thoughts without rushing himself. Anna won't be pleased when she finds out what he did, but then he's not pleased himself. He knows Anna carried out her task the right way. In his head, he knows this. But as he watches her face, eyes tracing along features familiar to him as his own, Castiel realizes a kernel of hurt has burrowed its way into the normal love and affection he holds for Anna. No one is at fault here. Not Anna, not Castiel and certainly not Dean. And yet, the creature Y.E.D. has manipulated Anna into a villain in Dean's mind and now, through that association, the idea has entered Castiel's.
Castiel feels sick with himself. Y.E.D. has taken too much already. Castiel won't let him taint this relationship as well. Though it pains him to do so, Castiel withdraws his focus away from Dean and the grief still waging within his chest. He forces himself back to rationality.
He brutally drives away the thought that his mother allowed the death of Dean's mother. Instead, he transforms the lie back into the truth. Anna didn't kill Mary.
She saved Dean.
"What is it?" she asks, concern creeping into her expression.
Castiel takes a deep breath. It's best to just say it. Anna is fairly straightforward. She must be to succeed the way she does.
"I need your help. I need some information about a request you carried out in Gregorian 1983. November 2nd. The requester was called Mary Winchester. You saved her family from a house fire," he explains.
Confusion joins Anna's concern.
"How did you know about the request?" Her confusion suddenly resolves itself into suspicion. "What have you done, Castiel?"
She knows now as well. If Castiel had remembered the case on his own, he wouldn't need information from her. He shrugs. Anna may be disappointed in him, but Castiel has Michael's approval. Quite frankly, he doesn't need any from her. He just needs the information before the dayshift starts, so he can return to Dean and resolve this situation with Y.E.D.
"Only what is necessary to do my job," he says lightly. "I need this information, Anna. Without it, I don't think my charge can ever be truly happy. I don't believe our Father waited thousands of years to give me a task I'm destined to fail."
The strength of his conviction on this point pours through his grace and off him in waves. Castiel sees when Anna senses it because her expression changes yet again, this time from suspicious to impressed. Not necessarily a happy emotion, it nonetheless makes Castiel feel good. He likes being taken seriously for once.
"This job is very important to you," Anna comments, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. Her perfect wings are still and it makes Castiel think of Dean's eyes trailing over his ridiculous fidgeting wings.
"Dean is important to me," Castiel clarifies.
She studies him. Like Michael, Anna sometimes seems to look straight through Castiel. That's how Castiel feels now. But instead of being nervous, he holds steady. If Anna needs to scan his emotions to understand why he needs her help, then so be it.
"Oh, Castiel," she says a moment later. Her voice is sad and troubled. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"What do you mean?" For the first time in this conversation, Castiel feels a prickle of discomfort.
"Angels...we can't be close to humans. You've forgotten your lessons, brother," she says, a trace of lecture in her tone. "I could understand if you only loved Dean. But you've gone and liked him."
Castiel frowns. "I don't understand."
"I know," Anna says. "That's why I'm worried. I never wanted you to feel pain, but especially not this pain."
Thousands of years of study and Castiel still doesn't comprehend the complexities of his job. He thought angels were meant to love humans, but he isn't doing it right. He's supposed to love from a distance and not like his charge. But how can he do that when he feels such a draw to Dean? Why in the name of the Host did their Father send him to a human he can't resist?
"Look," Castiel says, standing and pacing around the back of the chair, suddenly anxious without knowing why. "Regardless of whatever inappropriate feelings you've detected in me, I need to help Dean. I need to find someone to take care of him and I can't do that until I've taken care of him first. And I can't take care of him if I can't erase this unresolved pain from his life."
He swoops to her side, surprising them both, and drops to his knee beside her chair.
"Please, Anna," he says, grasping her folded hands with his. "You saved Dean once. Help me do it again."
Anna says nothing, only searches his face for a very long time. Long enough that Castiel's knees begin to hurt. Not that he pays much attention to his discomfort. He focuses all his energy on Anna's grace, on reaching out to it and allowing his desperation and sorrow on Dean's behalf to flow across from his grace to Anna's. Her eyes fall shut and Castiel sees the moment she gives in, his pain obviously too much for her to ignore.
"Alright," she whispers. "I'll tell you, but you must promise me you will be careful."
"I promise," he assures her and then on impulse, he leans over to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Anna."
She sighs, though Castiel thinks she looks a bit calmer. Retreating back to his seat, Castiel leans forward, eager for the information.
"She was murdered," Anna says softly, keeping her eyes closed. "Mary Winchester. A sweet soul. Strong and loving. I was very sorry to see her perish. She was everything the monster that killed her wasn't. I've rarely seen a soul like his, Castiel." A frown crosses her face and her eyes dart under her lids, as if she is reliving the memory right there. "There was hurt at his core and he'd covered it with revenge and bloodlust. He was truly evil."
"Do you remember his name? Or his face? Anything about him?"
"I'll never forget his face," she says. "He saw me. He was there the entire time. After he escaped John Winchester, he concealed himself outside the house and watched John beg me to save Mary's life. I didn't want to refuse him, Castiel."
She opens her eyes and meets his gaze. The warm fluid silver of her grace pours over him, encouraging him to understand how very seriously she means these words.
"I never want to leave humans like that, but I have to. I can only do what I'm charged with doing. No matter the cost," she says before looking away, at her hands twisting in her lap. Castiel tries to imagine refusing Dean if he were to beg for something, anything.
He can't.
"I understand," Castiel says because he almost does. At least, he understands that's how it's supposed to work. "Can you show me his face?"
"I can do you one better," Anna says, eyes dragging up from her lap. "I followed him home. I remember where he lives."
"Why?" Castiel asks, surprised.
"I don't know," she confesses. "I just...I wanted...I don't know what I wanted, but it was hard to leave him alive. It really was."
He stares at her. Maybe they aren't that different after all.
"Come here." Anna scoots forward till she is sitting on the chair's edge and waits for Castiel to do the same. She lifts a hand to Castiel's forehead, presses two fingers between his eyes and Castiel sees. A rush of images and sounds, colors flashing in his eyes and wind roaring through his ears. He sees a white house. Flames licking up the side, chewing the wood into ash. A dark-haired man with panic and grief in his eyes. A crying baby nestled in his arms. A small boy with blond hair, staring up at Anna. Confused and scared. The weight of responsibility already pressing against his soul.
Then the images push away from the family. A flash of motion. The oil of a dark soul. The satisfaction of an evil creature.
A glimpse of yellow.
The information explodes into his mind. The man's name. His face. His home. His scent. Castiel will never forget. He'll follow the man to the ends of the Earth. He will make the man pay for what he did to the Winchesters. What he did to Dean. Sweet lonely Dean. Castiel's Dean.
"Castiel?"
Anna is shaking his shoulders. The connection is broken, has been for awhile, but the memories were so intense. Castiel feels himself shaking lightly. The adrenaline he sensed in her memories, the anger towards Y.E.D. and the desire to destroy had been a lot stronger than he realized it would be. These are the memories of a soldier. Anna may lack an individualized love for her charges, but she makes up for it with righteous indignation.
"I'm sorry," he sputters, unconsciously reaching down to toy with his left wing feathers.
"It's alright. It's overwhelming, I know. That's why you must be careful, Castiel," she says, her voice laced with actual fear now. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'll take care," Castiel assures her.
Gray light is beginning to steal into the room. There's not a moment to waste. He stands and Anna stands with him.
"I have to return to Dean," he says and she only nods, walking him towards the door. When they reach it, Castiel stops and glances at her. There was no fear in Anna's memories. Even when she flew into the fire to scoop Dean and Sam off the floor into her arms, even when she felt Mary's anguish and John's despair. He realizes he's never really seen her afraid. Not in all the countless times she left to save a human's life. Not when their many brothers left on their own dangerous tasks. Yet, she fears now and Castiel thinks he knows why. He remembers how Dean had scoffed at Castiel for keeping quiet for so long. He remembers how Dean says that families don't treat each other like outcasts.
He remembers how Anna never did.
"Anna? Would you have told me all this if you weren't my mother?"
Instead of the surprise he expects, Anna only gives him a slight smile and leans up to return his kiss to the cheek. The scent of sweet lilies wafts around him.
"Stay safe, beloved," she murmurs and then she opens the door, leaving Castiel with the tips of his fingers pressed against his face.
***********************
"Tell me what he said again," Dean demands.
"God, seriously, Dean, it's not changed since the last time. Or the five times before that, I swear. He said he would be back, okay? Please sit down and please, for the love of all that's holy, please shut the hell up," Sam says, pinching the bridge of his nose between the forefinger and thumb of one hand.
"Fuck you," Dean says, but he's not really angry at Sam. He's not really angry at all. Well, okay, he's pissed as all get out at Castiel for ditching him without warning. And he'll totally kick Castiel's ass when he gets back. It’s just, he has to get back. Dean doesn't like the things Sam told him Castiel had said. Asking about Y.E.D. and Mom and getting dates. Going to search for something. But Castiel said that would get him in trouble. Dean doesn't know what punishment angels give each other for breaking rules, but knowing them, it can't be good.
Dean does not want Castiel getting punished because of him.
Sure, it'd be nice to have some information about Y.E.D., but it's not worth Castiel getting hurt over. It's not his damned job anyway. His job is to find someone willing to put up with Dean's bullshit. It's Dean's job to find Y.E.D. Just because he sucks at it doesn't mean Castiel should suffer.
"Thanks," Sam answers a moment later, almost as an afterthought. He is pressed into his sofa, head lax against the back cushion and he is watching Dean pace a dark line into the thick blue carpet in his living room. Dean has no idea what time it is, but it's gotta be after midnight by now. Which means he's been pacing around Sam's house for nearly four hours. Ever since Sam walked into the kitchen with a dazed expression and told Dean that Castiel had gone to get himself into trouble. Sam had hung with him the entire time and technically Jess had too, though she finally fell asleep and is currently snoring lightly, her head in Sam's lap.
"Did he say-?"
"I will kill you, Dean," Sam interrupts idly.
"Bitch," Dean says.
"Jerk," Sam answers on cue.
Another circuit of the room, Dean's thoughts whirling. Honestly, this is insane. Castiel's a damned angel. They can take care of themselves. Or at least they should be able to take care of themselves. And it's not like Castiel is a weakling or anything. Just he seems so fucking trusting. Maybe Dean's wrong about all angels being dicks, but he maintains that they aren't a nice race of beings. The way they treat Castiel makes Dean's blood boil. He'd just feel better if Castiel were back on Earth where Dean could keep an eye on the guy.
"Dean, maybe we should-"
But what they should do, Dean never hears because he is too busy smashing hard into Castiel.
"The fuck!" Dean yelps, throwing himself back, nearly off his feet. Castiel reaches out and grabs his elbows, steadying him.
"Are you alright?" Castiel asks.
"Yes, damn it, watch where you land, will you?" Dean isn't sure how much of his bluster is his surprise at Castiel's arrival and how much is due to the hot zing of desire that races through his veins when their bodies press against each other. He's going to pretend he doesn't care.
"What happened?" He asks instead because there's no pretending he doesn't care about that.
"I have the name and address of the Y.E.D.," Castiel informs him simply. Easy as pie. The information handed to him on a silver platter and all it took was God only knows what kind of punishment for Castiel.
"Are you serious?" Sam edges out from under Jess and stands, eyes burning fever bright. "Dean, he's...did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I heard it," Dean snaps and he crosses his arms over his chest. "And what did it cost to get it, huh? What'd you have to do?"
Castiel is frowning at him. "I...I thought you'd be happy..."
"I'll be happy when you tell me what the hell happened," Dean growls. He senses Sam's gaze on his face and Dean knows if he looked at him now, he'd see incredulity in his brother's eyes. And yeah, he wants to know what Castiel found out. God, does he ever want to know. But this is more important.
"I found the request in the Great Repository-"
"You snuck into the library thing? Shit, Cas, you said that was against the Prime Directive or something," Dean says and he's seldom heard himself sounding so worried. It must be Cas' angel mojo. He's hypnotized Dean somehow.
"I...it's..." Clearly, Castiel is not one hundred percent on the same page as Dean. "I'm not in trouble, Dean," he says, cutting through his own confusion to the heart of the matter. "Michael knows what I did and he approves."
"Oh." The wind goes out of Dean's indignation sails.
"I've spoken with the angel who carried out your mother's request-"
"You found her?" Dean interrupts again, his stomach tightening. Now that he knows Cas has permission for all this, Dean's worries turn to the case. He never truly thought he'd ever hear anything about the red-haired angel again. Beside him, Sam draws a sharp breath. They exchange a look, the kind he only ever sees on Sam's face, the one that says you are looking at one of the only people in the world who can really know what you feel because they are in the exact same situation.
"Yes," Cas says. "It was Anna."
"Your mom?" Sam blurts, flabbergasted.
"Yes," Cas says again.
"Your mom," Dean repeats. The knot growing in his stomach draws even tighter, making him feel sick and dizzy. "Your mom and...and my mom..."
Suddenly Castiel is in his face, so close Dean can feel Cas' breath puffing against his mouth. Castiel's freaky strong fingers clamp around Dean's shoulders, probably leaving bruises in the shape of his hand prints and he shakes Dean a little.
"Anna saved your life. Yours and Sam's and your father's. You have to stop blaming her for the evil Y.E.D. visited on your family," he commands, jaw set and eyes flashing. Dean's never seen him like this before, so cold and distant. So harsh. Like a real angel. And yet, despite his severe expression and painful grip, Dean feels something inside him ease. Castiel wouldn't act like this if he didn't care about his own mom. Dean can't fault the guy for that.
"Cas," Dean says, unsure how to promise that he'll try. He thinks Cas might understand anyway because his fingers loosen and the long feather at the end of Castiel's left wing presses gently against Dean's cheek.
"Think of it later," he says. "Now we have to find your mother's killer. His name is Adam Zazel and he lives only a few short moments from this place."
Dean's mind races. Adam Zazel. The name is not familiar. In all those years of hunting for him, Dean never once heard the name or anything like it. And he would probably never have heard anything if not for the angel standing in front of him. Like with many dozens of other unsolved serial murder cases, this guy would have walked free.
"I'll call Victor," Dean says because it’s too immense to think of how much he owes Castiel. He's pacing again, thinking out loud. "Get some back-up. Rufus and Jo, I think."
"And me," Castiel says, stopping Dean in his tracks.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asks blankly.
"I'm coming with you."
"Like hell you are!" Dean pokes Castiel in his chest. "I'm not going to go crazy worrying about you tripping on your wings when I go up against this guy."
Castiel's eyes narrow at the mention of his wings and said wings twitch angrily against his back. That subtle angelic energy Castiel keeps hidden swells up, making him seem bigger than normal, taller and stronger and generally someone who could beat the shit out of Dean if he wanted.
"I can take care of myself, Dean Winchester," Castiel growls and it's not appropriate at all, but Dean can't help the pulse of desire at the gravel in Castiel's voice. "I won't let you confront this monster alone."
It's not an argument. Dean knows this. But he's also himself and arguing is one of Dean's strong suits.
"I won't be alone," he says. "There'll be-"
"Dean," Sam cuts in, grabbing Dean's elbow and turning him. "Just shut up, okay? You gotta take Cas with you or I'll go crazy. He can watch out for you."
"You also said he'd find me a soul-mate! Look how that's turned out!"
He instantly regrets his words, but says nothing, only stares defiantly at Sam, who rolls his eyes at him.
"It's not Castiel's fault you're too annoying to love," Sam countered. "But seriously, if you don't let him protect you, then I'm coming too."
"What the hell?"
"Someone has to watch out for you and I trust Cas. So it's either him or me," Sam says, lifting his chin and staring down his nose at Dean. It's not fair. Sam knows Dean would never risk him. Especially since Sam doesn't have any special training. He's got the physical strength to hold his own in a fight, but Sam's not been taught how to handle criminals. His presence there really could get them all killed.
"You may as well choose me because I'm coming either way," Castiel interjects. He sounds and looks calm, but his wings are stiff as boards and closed around his shoulders. Dean's going to have to kiss some serious ass after this is over. Damn his stupid mouth. Dean's always says something shitty when he's freaked.
He glances from Sam's determination to Castiel's confidence.
"Fuck," Dean mutters. "Come on then," he says to Castiel.
Cas watches Dean snap his jacket up from Sam's couch and shrug into it. They meet at the doorway, but before they can leave, Sam is tugging on Castiel's coat sleeve, halting their progress.
"You bring both yourselves back here, okay? I'll change my request to that if I have to. Just make sure Dean stays safe," he says and then Sam immediately turns to Dean, pinning him with the most intense look he's ever seen on Sam's face before. Tension lines his body and in his posture, Dean can see Sam's years of waiting on his brother and father to come home, his years of worry and learning the best way he could to stop evil sons of bitches, with words instead of action.
"You get him," Sam says and then he becomes too choked to continue. Dean lays a hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezes it and nods, his throat suddenly tight and throbbing.
"I will, Sammy."
Then he turns and leads Castiel out into the night.
Next Chapter
