We're not keeping him...
Title: We're not keeping him.
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas (gen or slashy depending how you want tot see it)
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Castiel makes a four legged friend, Dean says they're not keeping him, but Castiel gets his way thanks to an impressive lost puppy impersonation.
A/N: written for i_rise_inside inspired by the adorable pic of Cas and a rather sad lonely looking puppy she posted.
Castiel sat leaning against the wall. It was rainy, steady sheets of ice cold water. The tiny awning he was sitting under was barely enough to keep him dry, but after the fight with the witch he didn’t have the energy to drag himself off the ground and search for somewhere better to wait.
The witch had been incredibly powerful and old. She had used a spell to try and pull Castiel’s grace from his vessel, a remarkably painful and effective spell. Fortunately he had stopped her from completing it by stabbing her through the throat, before he succumb to the spell effects. Messy, but rather satisfying.
Her lifeless corpse lay in the rain on the other side of the alley. He knew he probably should have waited somewhere else, but in the downpour he doubted anyone would be about to see him sitting here with a mutilated corpse. As he leaned his head back against the wall he was unsure if he had the energy to get up, let alone move anyway.
He had lost his phone somewhere in the alley during the fight. He had been trying to find it when he collapsed and had barely managed to drag himself to the shelter of the awning. The alley was awash with stormwater, he doubted he could find it, even if he did no doubt it wouldn’t work.
He had told Dean where he was going, he just had to wait. Sooner or later he would come along to see what had happened to him and hopefully find him in the alley. Preferably sooner he thought, as a stab of pain shot down his side as he tried to sit more comfortably.
Movement at the end of the alley caught his attention. He stiffened for a moment before seeing it was only a dog, a stray, no doubt looking for shelter in the storm. It was sitting under another awning, however the water was starting to overflow from the gutter and pool around its feet. It alternatively picked one front paw up then the other in an effort to keep dry and warm, all to no avail though.
It was watching Castiel who was under the only other awing and shelter insight. Castiel tilted his head wearily, too tired to be truly curious. The movement bought another stab of pain, this time accompanied by nausea and a slight blurring of his vision. He curled in on himself against the pain.
As it settled he wondered at the irony of an angel of the lord lying alone in an alley in the freezing rain. Alone and helpless. He had come alone instead of waiting for Dean as he thought the witch was too powerful, and the sometimes reckless Winchester would only end up getting himself into trouble, plus Dean hated witches.
Now he was the one in trouble. As the cold started to seep into his limbs he realised just how close the witch had been to killing him. He was weak, his grace a dwindling ember, he hoped it only needed time to heal, to come back in full. As he shivered with cold a moment of doubt crept in, what if it didn’t.
He had lost his grace once and in doing so had almost lost himself. His faith in Dean in the end was the only thing that had held him together. He wasn’t sure he could go through that again.
Down the alley he heard the dog whimper, completely surrounded by water now. He felt about as lost and miserable as the dog looked. It was looking back at him, as if deciding if it should risk sharing the shelter with the slumped and miserable angel, head out into the storm to look for another shelter, or stay where it was, freezing and wet.
It stood and timidly walked towards him, obviously deciding Castiel was harmless enough, which Castiel had to admit he probably was at the moment. As it got closer, it paused briefly before giving a quiet whimper and sitting next to him. In the tiny shelter the awning offered it had to lean against him to stay dry.
Castiel's shivering began to get worse. He pulled his trench coat tighter around himself. His eyes drifting shut with weariness. After a few minutes he noticed the warmth of the dog leaning against his side. He lifted his hand and gently stroked its ears, the dog leaning harder against him. Castiel drifted off into sleep, his arm around the dog.
………………..
Dean had been frantically looking everywhere for Castiel, cursing the stubborn angel for going after the witch alone and now not answering his phone. As the hours passed his cursing became more vehement to cover his growing concern.
The rain had eased and the eastern horizon was beginning to lighten before he found him. Having looked in every building around the empty warehouse where Castiel had said he was going, he was walking past the alley when he had noticed the two slumped figures at the end of it. As he rushed down towards them, pistol in hand. He saw that the first was a dead woman, presumably the witch, the second was Castiel. He paused as he reached him and saw the dog curled up by his side. It opened its eyes and growled warily at him, waking Castiel, whose hand instinctively stroked its head. He opened his eyes and saw Dean hovering.
“Cas what the hell, are you alright?”
“Dean, I’m fine” he said. Though he still felt worse for wear he realised he was much better then when he had fallen asleep earlier in the night, refusing to admit that part of that was from relief at seeing Dean. Dean helped the angel to his feet. The dog deciding Dean wasn’t a threat stopped growling and merely sat, watching.
Putting Castiel's arm over his shoulder, he took most of the angel’s weight as he steadied him. “Well you don’t look fine,” Dean said tersely, in a mix of anger and concern. Concern winning out as he stumbled with the angle back to the impala parked out on the street. Anger at the angel’s rash action and the worry he had caused Dean could wait till he decided Castiel actually was ok.
By the time they reached the car Castiel was much more awake, “I’m fine Dean, I don’t need your help.” He shrugged Dean's arm off and sat a little unsteadily in the front seat of the impala.
Dean studied him for a second, deciding that he wasn’t about to die and probably would be just fine. “Huh, yeah you did just fine by yourself against the damn witch”
“She caught me off guard.”
“Yeah they do that.”
Castiel glared at Dean, “You maybe, I’m an...”
“Angel of the lord, I know. Whatever Cas, next time we go together.”
Castiel didn’t answer, merely kept glaring, too stubborn to admit Dean might have a point.
The night was giving way to morning, Dean glanced back down the alley at the witch’s body. The dog was nowhere to be seen. “We’d best get out of here.”
…………………..
By the time they got back to Bobby’s Castiel was mostly recovered. He could still feel a sort of tear in his grace but he wasn’t anywhere near as weak. He thought it would probably be fine within a few days. He was strong enough to teleport again but had travelled with Dean the whole way back instead. His lonely brush with death causing him to savour Dean’s company more than usual.
They hadn’t been back long, they were out in the junk yard, Dean sitting on the impala eating a burger with a beer. He had just spent the last 5 minutes lecturing Castiel on the ideals of team work and backing each other up. At first Castiel had stubbornly argued he was an angel and could handle himself, but had soon realised the lecture was merely Dean covering the worry he had felt when Castiel had been missing, and let him continue the lecture in silence.
When Dean realised Castiel had stopped arguing he stuttered to a stop, glaring at Castiel who seemed distracted. “You hearing me?”
“Yes Dean, it does nobody good being alone.”
“Exactly…” he was cut off mid sentence by the sound of wings as Castiel disappeared. “You son of a bitch, you know I hate it when you do that!" He said to the now empty junk yard.
…………………..
He was just about to start on his second burger when Castiel appeared again. Only he wasn’t alone. The dog from the alley way was at his side, Castiel’s hand resting on its head as it looked around, taking in its sudden change of location.
“What the fuck Cas?”
“Bobby misses Rumsfeld, and he’s alone here when we go on hunts, so I thought…”
“So you got him a stray?”
Castiel frowned looking down at the dog. “Yes.”
Dean rubbed his face with his hand "Cas, you can’t just keep every stray that follows you home.”
Castiel tilted his head, “he didn’t follow me, I bought him here,” as if the distinction made Dean’s argument moot.
“Cas, we’re not keeping him.”
Castiel looked down at the dog now sitting, leaning against his leg. He looked back up at Dean.
Dean rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the damn lost puppy impersonation they were both giving him, and damn if Castiel wasn’t doing it better.
“Fine, you can keep the damn dog.”
“He’s for Bobby.”
“Whatever,” Dean said downing the last of his beer trying to ignore the pleased smile Castiel was giving the dog.
He unwrapped his burger and took a bite. “What?” Dean asked with a full mouth when he noticed Castiel eyeing his burger.
Castiel’s eyes continued to follow the burger as Dean took another bite.
“Cas, quit it,” Dean said, giving Castiel the, you’re a weird angel and your freaking me out, look.
Castiel looked from the burger, to the dog, to Dean, “he’s hungry.”
Dean gave Castiel his best you can’t be serious look, Castiel merely looked back, completely serious. Dean rolled his eyes but still tore the burger, tossing half to the dog who devoured it.
The dog wagged its tail. Castiel smiled triumphantly. Dean glared, resiting the urge to pat the dog and return Castiel’s smile.
He failed on both accounts.
......................................
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