Fic: Follow the yellow brick road, part 9/? in Oz
Follow the yellow brick road
2,000 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Many thanks to zelda_zee, who does what she can with the nonsense I write.
This is a continuation of Welcome to Oz. Fic master post here.
Follow the yellow brick road
Day 2
“Let’s order the most expensive thing on the menu,” Dean suggests as they take a seat. They’re in a restaurant called ‘Red, White, and Blue’ that serves, as the name implies, American food. Everything in the restaurant is decorated in varying shades of red, white, or blue (no exceptions) and there’s the tinny sound of a patriotic drum line playing in the background. “Might as well take advantage of the free money.”
“I doubt it is free if it comes with conditions, such as my vessel’s future employment,” Castiel says, and leaves his menu untouched on the table.
“Ignore the strings, Cas,” Dean says as he scans the available options: the usual burgers, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and then the high end stuff like steak. “We’re not gonna be around long enough to have to deal with them.”
“Are you sure that eating here is the best use of our time and energy, then?” Castiel asks. “Shouldn’t we be doing our utmost to escape?”
“Eating here is definitely the best use of our time, and I don’t know about you angel guys, but I need to eat to get some energy,” Dean says as he settles on what he’s going to order: a New York strip steak with curly fries. “You want to split an appetizer? The wings sound damn good.”
“I do not require sustenance,” Castiel says and he seems faintly annoyed at having to tell Dean for the second time that day.
“People don’t always eat just for sustenance, you know,” Dean says after the waitress comes by and he places his order for wings and steak (Dean’s always said: double the meat, double the fun). “Sometimes they eat because stuff tastes good.”
“Gluttony, Dean?” Castiel raises an eyebrow with more than a smidge of disapproval. “Is that what you’re engaging in?”
“I’m engaging in a chow down so I don’t freaking die of hunger,” Dean replies. “What’s with the attitude? Something crawl up your ass in the Mayor’s office and die on the way over here?”
Castiel sighs irritably and practically sniffs the air in disdain when the plate of deliciously fresh hot wings arrives. Dean shrugs and digs in, pausing in the middle briefly to say, “These are fucking amazing. If you have one, it might revive that thing that crawled up your ass so it can find its way out again.”
Castiel takes a sip of water instead and doesn’t take the bait. “What if the Mayor does not give you permission to leave this place?”
“Then we break into his office, hack his computer, and get it ourselves,” Dean says. “You know anything about computers?”
“No.”
“Shit. I could try, but that’s always been more of Sammy’s thing,” Dean says. “Okay, scrap that. New plan: I pimp you out to Alana and you convince her to reveal all the town’s dastardly secrets.” The scandalized expression on Castiel’s face is almost worth the price of admission alone. “Just kidding. She was totally digging on me, anyway.”
“If this is truly a government facility, the computer systems will surely be under extremely complex security,” Castiel says. “Electronic security I doubt anyone less than a professional could break into. Even if Sam were here I doubt he would be able to help in that respect.”
“Alright, wise guy,” Dean says as he finishes the last wing and wipes his fingers on his napkin, “you got any better ideas to share with the class?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Castiel admits. He picks at the lint on the tablecloth. “Though I suppose we can explore the house and town more. Perhaps there is something we missed.”
“We can raid the unpacked boxes when we get back,” Dean says. “Gotta set up that phone anyway.” The main course arrives and Dean’s salivating as soon as the scent hits his nostrils. The meal looks cooked to perfection and the curly fries are that wonderfully unnatural orange color (the brighter and more chemically induced the orange, the better the fries in Dean’s experience) and heavily seasoned. “I haven’t had steak since before I went to Hell, Cas. You think it still tastes as good as I remember?” He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before taking the plunge and literally moaning around the first bite. “It’s better, Cas. It’s somehow fucking better than I remember.” Castiel regards the steak with disapproval while Dean lets loose a series of pornographic moans.
“It is simply a piece of charred meat,” Castiel says, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Oh, come on-live a little, would you? Here, have a fry.” Dean shoves a fry at Castiel, who eyeballs it with distaste. The distaste melts away, however, once he takes a cautious bite, and is replaced with wide-eyed shock.
“This is-” Castiel starts and stops, finishes off the last of his fry. “This is amazing!”
“You want more?” Dean asks, still reveling in the remaining half of his steak.
Castiel needs no further invitation than that and proceeds to plow into Dean’s fries, guzzling them down at a rate which reminds Dean of the last time he saw Castiel’s body-then inhabited by Jimmy-eat. Castiel looks positively starved. “This is an experience which is unparalleled,” Castiel mumbles in between mouthfuls of fries. “I never realized it could be like this before.”
“Dude,” Dean says with slight alarm at his rapidly emptying plate. “I was planning to eat a few of those.”
“Oh?” Castiel glances up at Dean quizzically. “We can order more, yes? We have all that money they gave me.”
“You want more?” Dean says as Castiel continues to inhale fries. An hour and two platters of fries later, Castiel finally seems satiated.
“That was most satisfying,” Castiel say and burps.
“Guess you were pretty hungry, huh?” Dean raises an eyebrow as he pays the bill.
“Hunger,” Castiel says. “Such a strange experience. I did not recognize the physiological response before-hunger.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dean says as they leave the restaurant. “Is what I think is happening really happening? Are you becoming a real boy, Pinocchio?”
“I do not know what is happening,” Castiel says. “My current need for food and sleep may merely be temporary conditions brought on by this strange place. I am having difficulty predicting how it will affect this body.”
“And this has nothing to do with your headache or the striptease you did in the kitchen?” Dean says. He fishes his car keys out of pocket and gets in the car. “This is all a string of unrelated weirdness?”
“It must be,” Castiel says to the window.
Dean shrugs and lets the matter drop. If Castiel’s not interested in hearing Dean’s ideas, that’s fine. Let Castiel worry about Castiel’s shit.
After a silent drive back to the house, Dean digs through some of the ‘Living Room - miscellaneous’ boxes and comes up with a phone. He plugs it into the phone jack and tries dialing both Sam and Bobby’s phone numbers. Nothing (not even Dean’s own cell phone number) works; after punching in the fifth digit, the phone inevitably begins to ring. “This is bullshit,” Dean says after the fourth accidental call to Salvador Cordero, who starts yelling around call number two. “Five digit phone numbers? What the fuck?”
“A town with a limited population probably does not need so many phone number possibilities,” Castiel observes, “multiples of five should be sufficient.”
“You’re not even a teacher yet and you’re starting with the math,” Dean replies and Castiel almost smiles. “You’re allowed to laugh. In fact, it’s encouraged.”
Castiel walks to the window and peers outside. “No mailboxes. Not in front of this house or any other.”
“There might be a computer in one of the boxes in that office upstairs, but if there’s no mail and no phone line, I doubt they’d pony up for an internet connection,” Dean says.
“I suspect not,” Castiel says, pulling the curtain closed again.
“I know it’s been a weird couple of days, but do you remember anything more about your maybe orders?” Dean flicks through the boxes still stacked in the hallway for anything of interest. “You said you were sent here, right? Any clue about what I’m doing here? Why we’re here? When we’re getting out?”
Castiel tugs at the bottom of his shirt self consciously, pulls out a wrinkle. “I do not remember anything more than I did yesterday. I believe I was sent here for a reason, but I do not know what that reason is. As far as I know, you were not supposed to join me.”
“Good to know you guys are equal opportunity with the cryptic instructions,” Dean says. “Does make me wonder how the hell anything gets done though.”
“It did not used to be like this,” Castiel says, speaking mostly to the floor. “Even when my orders were incomplete, I could always turn to my brothers and sisters for guidance. Their voices would guide me to clarity.”
“Angel radio hasn’t come back yet, huh?” Dean says. “You think it’s gonna?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel says. “This place is-at first, I found it soothing, but I am growing to believe more and more that there is something very unusual about time here-as if it is no longer as fluid as it once was.”
“But time’s passing,” Dean points out. “It’s been a day and a half since we first got here.”
“Yes, but,” Castiel seems to be struggling to articulate whatever he means, “it is as if everything-everyone-is holding their breath. In a state of suspended animation while we continue to move forward,” he stops. “Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” Dean says. “But it does sound less crazy than the shit I’ve been hearing all day.” Dean moves one of the stacked cardboard boxes to the floor. “How many boxes of clothes did Jimmy pack, anyway?”
“If what Mayor Chin said is true, he would have packed in preparation for spending the rest of his life here.” Castiel looks around at all the neatly labeled boxes. “There is nothing to indicate that his wife and daughter would be living here as well.”
Dean pries open a box of clothing and finds some faded old T-shirts and sweats that probably would be too big on Castiel, but might just fit Dean. “Cas, the only person we know for certain is dead’s Jimmy. How he managed to get a house in a secret government facility while dead for ten years is a mystery to me, but maybe it’s more of your angel buddies and their time travel fuckery. Or maybe they’re just screwing with our heads, which seems like the simpler answer.”
“I gave my word to him,” is all Castiel says.
“I know,” Dean says. “Look it’s just-we don’t know what’s going on yet, alright? Tomorrow, we’ll talk to the Mayor, see what’s up, and then take it from there. No point jumping to conclusions until we know the whole story.”
Castiel reluctantly meets Dean’s eyes and nods. “Perhaps everything will be clearer tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope so,” Dean says with optimism he doesn’t quite feel. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower in that kickass bathroom upstairs and then probably hit those kickass thousand count sheets. Do you want a spare blanket, or-”
“That will not be necessary,” Castiel interrupts. “I will continue to search for clues as to our current situation and try to devise a method of escape.”
“Okay,” Dean says, putting his hands in the air. “Clues and escape: got it. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Onto the next chapter: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart
2,000 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Many thanks to zelda_zee, who does what she can with the nonsense I write.
This is a continuation of Welcome to Oz. Fic master post here.
Follow the yellow brick road
Day 2
“Let’s order the most expensive thing on the menu,” Dean suggests as they take a seat. They’re in a restaurant called ‘Red, White, and Blue’ that serves, as the name implies, American food. Everything in the restaurant is decorated in varying shades of red, white, or blue (no exceptions) and there’s the tinny sound of a patriotic drum line playing in the background. “Might as well take advantage of the free money.”
“I doubt it is free if it comes with conditions, such as my vessel’s future employment,” Castiel says, and leaves his menu untouched on the table.
“Ignore the strings, Cas,” Dean says as he scans the available options: the usual burgers, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and then the high end stuff like steak. “We’re not gonna be around long enough to have to deal with them.”
“Are you sure that eating here is the best use of our time and energy, then?” Castiel asks. “Shouldn’t we be doing our utmost to escape?”
“Eating here is definitely the best use of our time, and I don’t know about you angel guys, but I need to eat to get some energy,” Dean says as he settles on what he’s going to order: a New York strip steak with curly fries. “You want to split an appetizer? The wings sound damn good.”
“I do not require sustenance,” Castiel says and he seems faintly annoyed at having to tell Dean for the second time that day.
“People don’t always eat just for sustenance, you know,” Dean says after the waitress comes by and he places his order for wings and steak (Dean’s always said: double the meat, double the fun). “Sometimes they eat because stuff tastes good.”
“Gluttony, Dean?” Castiel raises an eyebrow with more than a smidge of disapproval. “Is that what you’re engaging in?”
“I’m engaging in a chow down so I don’t freaking die of hunger,” Dean replies. “What’s with the attitude? Something crawl up your ass in the Mayor’s office and die on the way over here?”
Castiel sighs irritably and practically sniffs the air in disdain when the plate of deliciously fresh hot wings arrives. Dean shrugs and digs in, pausing in the middle briefly to say, “These are fucking amazing. If you have one, it might revive that thing that crawled up your ass so it can find its way out again.”
Castiel takes a sip of water instead and doesn’t take the bait. “What if the Mayor does not give you permission to leave this place?”
“Then we break into his office, hack his computer, and get it ourselves,” Dean says. “You know anything about computers?”
“No.”
“Shit. I could try, but that’s always been more of Sammy’s thing,” Dean says. “Okay, scrap that. New plan: I pimp you out to Alana and you convince her to reveal all the town’s dastardly secrets.” The scandalized expression on Castiel’s face is almost worth the price of admission alone. “Just kidding. She was totally digging on me, anyway.”
“If this is truly a government facility, the computer systems will surely be under extremely complex security,” Castiel says. “Electronic security I doubt anyone less than a professional could break into. Even if Sam were here I doubt he would be able to help in that respect.”
“Alright, wise guy,” Dean says as he finishes the last wing and wipes his fingers on his napkin, “you got any better ideas to share with the class?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Castiel admits. He picks at the lint on the tablecloth. “Though I suppose we can explore the house and town more. Perhaps there is something we missed.”
“We can raid the unpacked boxes when we get back,” Dean says. “Gotta set up that phone anyway.” The main course arrives and Dean’s salivating as soon as the scent hits his nostrils. The meal looks cooked to perfection and the curly fries are that wonderfully unnatural orange color (the brighter and more chemically induced the orange, the better the fries in Dean’s experience) and heavily seasoned. “I haven’t had steak since before I went to Hell, Cas. You think it still tastes as good as I remember?” He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before taking the plunge and literally moaning around the first bite. “It’s better, Cas. It’s somehow fucking better than I remember.” Castiel regards the steak with disapproval while Dean lets loose a series of pornographic moans.
“It is simply a piece of charred meat,” Castiel says, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Oh, come on-live a little, would you? Here, have a fry.” Dean shoves a fry at Castiel, who eyeballs it with distaste. The distaste melts away, however, once he takes a cautious bite, and is replaced with wide-eyed shock.
“This is-” Castiel starts and stops, finishes off the last of his fry. “This is amazing!”
“You want more?” Dean asks, still reveling in the remaining half of his steak.
Castiel needs no further invitation than that and proceeds to plow into Dean’s fries, guzzling them down at a rate which reminds Dean of the last time he saw Castiel’s body-then inhabited by Jimmy-eat. Castiel looks positively starved. “This is an experience which is unparalleled,” Castiel mumbles in between mouthfuls of fries. “I never realized it could be like this before.”
“Dude,” Dean says with slight alarm at his rapidly emptying plate. “I was planning to eat a few of those.”
“Oh?” Castiel glances up at Dean quizzically. “We can order more, yes? We have all that money they gave me.”
“You want more?” Dean says as Castiel continues to inhale fries. An hour and two platters of fries later, Castiel finally seems satiated.
“That was most satisfying,” Castiel say and burps.
“Guess you were pretty hungry, huh?” Dean raises an eyebrow as he pays the bill.
“Hunger,” Castiel says. “Such a strange experience. I did not recognize the physiological response before-hunger.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dean says as they leave the restaurant. “Is what I think is happening really happening? Are you becoming a real boy, Pinocchio?”
“I do not know what is happening,” Castiel says. “My current need for food and sleep may merely be temporary conditions brought on by this strange place. I am having difficulty predicting how it will affect this body.”
“And this has nothing to do with your headache or the striptease you did in the kitchen?” Dean says. He fishes his car keys out of pocket and gets in the car. “This is all a string of unrelated weirdness?”
“It must be,” Castiel says to the window.
Dean shrugs and lets the matter drop. If Castiel’s not interested in hearing Dean’s ideas, that’s fine. Let Castiel worry about Castiel’s shit.
After a silent drive back to the house, Dean digs through some of the ‘Living Room - miscellaneous’ boxes and comes up with a phone. He plugs it into the phone jack and tries dialing both Sam and Bobby’s phone numbers. Nothing (not even Dean’s own cell phone number) works; after punching in the fifth digit, the phone inevitably begins to ring. “This is bullshit,” Dean says after the fourth accidental call to Salvador Cordero, who starts yelling around call number two. “Five digit phone numbers? What the fuck?”
“A town with a limited population probably does not need so many phone number possibilities,” Castiel observes, “multiples of five should be sufficient.”
“You’re not even a teacher yet and you’re starting with the math,” Dean replies and Castiel almost smiles. “You’re allowed to laugh. In fact, it’s encouraged.”
Castiel walks to the window and peers outside. “No mailboxes. Not in front of this house or any other.”
“There might be a computer in one of the boxes in that office upstairs, but if there’s no mail and no phone line, I doubt they’d pony up for an internet connection,” Dean says.
“I suspect not,” Castiel says, pulling the curtain closed again.
“I know it’s been a weird couple of days, but do you remember anything more about your maybe orders?” Dean flicks through the boxes still stacked in the hallway for anything of interest. “You said you were sent here, right? Any clue about what I’m doing here? Why we’re here? When we’re getting out?”
Castiel tugs at the bottom of his shirt self consciously, pulls out a wrinkle. “I do not remember anything more than I did yesterday. I believe I was sent here for a reason, but I do not know what that reason is. As far as I know, you were not supposed to join me.”
“Good to know you guys are equal opportunity with the cryptic instructions,” Dean says. “Does make me wonder how the hell anything gets done though.”
“It did not used to be like this,” Castiel says, speaking mostly to the floor. “Even when my orders were incomplete, I could always turn to my brothers and sisters for guidance. Their voices would guide me to clarity.”
“Angel radio hasn’t come back yet, huh?” Dean says. “You think it’s gonna?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel says. “This place is-at first, I found it soothing, but I am growing to believe more and more that there is something very unusual about time here-as if it is no longer as fluid as it once was.”
“But time’s passing,” Dean points out. “It’s been a day and a half since we first got here.”
“Yes, but,” Castiel seems to be struggling to articulate whatever he means, “it is as if everything-everyone-is holding their breath. In a state of suspended animation while we continue to move forward,” he stops. “Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” Dean says. “But it does sound less crazy than the shit I’ve been hearing all day.” Dean moves one of the stacked cardboard boxes to the floor. “How many boxes of clothes did Jimmy pack, anyway?”
“If what Mayor Chin said is true, he would have packed in preparation for spending the rest of his life here.” Castiel looks around at all the neatly labeled boxes. “There is nothing to indicate that his wife and daughter would be living here as well.”
Dean pries open a box of clothing and finds some faded old T-shirts and sweats that probably would be too big on Castiel, but might just fit Dean. “Cas, the only person we know for certain is dead’s Jimmy. How he managed to get a house in a secret government facility while dead for ten years is a mystery to me, but maybe it’s more of your angel buddies and their time travel fuckery. Or maybe they’re just screwing with our heads, which seems like the simpler answer.”
“I gave my word to him,” is all Castiel says.
“I know,” Dean says. “Look it’s just-we don’t know what’s going on yet, alright? Tomorrow, we’ll talk to the Mayor, see what’s up, and then take it from there. No point jumping to conclusions until we know the whole story.”
Castiel reluctantly meets Dean’s eyes and nods. “Perhaps everything will be clearer tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope so,” Dean says with optimism he doesn’t quite feel. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower in that kickass bathroom upstairs and then probably hit those kickass thousand count sheets. Do you want a spare blanket, or-”
“That will not be necessary,” Castiel interrupts. “I will continue to search for clues as to our current situation and try to devise a method of escape.”
“Okay,” Dean says, putting his hands in the air. “Clues and escape: got it. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Onto the next chapter: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart