Entertaining Angels (9/?)
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Entertaining Angels
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Category: Gen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: K+/PG
Spoilers: Through 4.10
Summary: A strange boy shows up at Dean and Sam's motel room. Maybe he needs help, or maybe he's there to help them-they can't quite tell.
Word Count: 2218
Disclaimer: Angels belong to God. The Winchesters belong to Kripke. It's a sad, sad world we live in.
Author's Note: There was a request for Cas and Sam interaction. I am nothing if not obliging. (And, um, yeah, was planning to do it anyway. ::shuffles feet sheepishly::)
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
9
It was time to hit the road again, which Dean was fine with. It was his natural habitat, the road, and he liked it and was always happy to return to it. In fact, he would be ready to go right now, if it wasn’t for the fun-sized angel currently clinging to him, both arms wrapped around his neck.
“All right, Cas, you can let go now. Just another little trip in the car. Everything’s okay now, really. C’mon, I can’t drive and hold you at the same time.”
Castiel tightened his arms, just short of strangling, wrapping his legs further around Dean’s waist. He seemed so tiny and frail, but there was a lot of power in those little muscles. Dean tugged at him carefully, his hands feeling large and clumsy on the small torso, and tossed a pleading look to Sam. His brother just shrugged. Ruby waited in her rental, tapping impatiently on the wheel.
“Buddy, I get that you’re still a little freaked out, but I need to drive the car now so we can get where we’re going and Ruby can maybe help us figure out how to help you, all right? You gotta sit in the backseat ‘cause the front isn’t safe for kids, but Sam and me will be right with you the whole time. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Shit. Rational arguments weren’t working. He had hoped to appeal to the ancient, powerful, inscrutable angelic being he knew was in there somewhere, but apparently right now the scared little kid was in charge. Dean sighed in exasperation and let his arms hang loose, not holding the boy up anymore. Castiel clung to him like a monkey, which probably looked utterly ridiculous. Was this what parents put up with all the time? No wonder Dad had decided to go the drill sergeant route. So much less frustrating.
“I could drive,” Sam offered.
Dean squinted a glare at him. Yeah right. Like that would ever happen when Dean wasn’t falling over from exhaustion or blood loss. Or, you know, dead and in Hell. When Dean could drive, he drove. It was as simple as that.
“Hey,” Sam said, face brightening. Dean could almost see the light bulb going off. “How about we try this, then?”
Sam stepped closer and held out his arms, laying a dinner plate-sized hand on Castiel’s back. The kid held still for a moment, thinking it over, then gave a tiny nod and reached back, letting Sam detach him from Dean’s body. His skinny arms and legs immediately re-wrapped around Sam’s neck and waist, though, the boy simply transferring his weary clinginess from one brother to the other. Dean stared, astonished but quite, quite happy.
Sam gave him a quirky grin, lifting only one corner of his mouth. “It was worth a try. You drive. I’ll sit with him in the backseat.”
“Yeah, okay. That’ll work.”
X
They could have made it to Lawrence in a single eight-hour stretch of driving, but it had been a long, rough day, and Dean started looking for a likely motel just past the Missouri border. Sam sat in the backseat with Castiel, suddenly taking on the unfamiliar role of caretaker and human-shaped pillow. Dean’s glances in the rearview mirror weren’t always suspicious, aimed at Ruby driving behind them-often they were amused, Dean smirking at his little brother’s awkward efforts to consciously imitate what Dean did as easily as breathing.
Castiel seemed too tired to engage in his usual fascinated staring out the window, preferring to lounge bonelessly against Sam, tucked under his arm. When the car warmed up Sam helped him out of the fleece coat Dean had bought for him at the thrift store, privately marveling at how small it was. (All of Castiel’s clothes were small: coat, shirt, jeans, even his shoes. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to Sam, but it really, truly was. He was shocked and helplessly charmed by it all, though he felt incredibly huge and hulking in comparison.)
The boy seemed to get even more comfortable, then, burrowing down into Sam’s side and tugging the man’s arm around himself. He held Sam’s hand in both of his, playing with his fingers, rolling them up and letting them fall open again, poking at his palm as if amazed at the size of it. Then he started repeating the lessons Dean had taught him, folding down all but one finger, showing Sam what he had learned.
“Pinky.”
Sam nodded, biting his lip to keep from laughing. The child sounded so utterly earnest, as if he felt this to be very important information that needed to be shared. “Yes, that’s a pinky.”
“Big pinky.” Castiel held up his own little finger for a side-by-side look.
“Yeah. All of my fingers are big.”
Castiel let that one go and went for another. “Thumb.”
“Yes, that’s my thumb.”
“Fourf finger.”
“That’s right.”
“The bird.”
Sam almost choked, trying to hold it in. “Middle finger. You should just call that the middle finger. And only hold it up to people who are really, really bad, okay?”
Castiel looked up at him, taking this in with grave attention. “Okay.”
“Here, let me show you something else.” He turned his hand over and carefully grasped the boy’s fingers in his, sharply aware of how tiny they were against his, then closed his thumb and forefinger around the pinky joint nearest Castiel’s palm. “That bone in there, you feel it? That’s called a metacarpal.”
By the time they found a motel, Castiel was fast asleep, cheek turned against Sam’s chest, snub little nose resting just over his heart. Just as well. Both Winchesters hoped that he would sleep through the discussion to follow. Whatever tale Ruby had to tell, it wasn’t going to be about puppies and cinnamon buns.
Dean got a room, and Sam carried the sleeping boy into it, aware of Ruby following at a discreet distance. Dean had arranged for a pull-out cot, but Sam didn’t bother with it, just tucking Castiel into the bed he knew Dean would be using later. The two of them were going to end up snuggled together anyway-better to head off the nightmares before they came, if possible. Then they let Ruby in and drew chairs from the room’s table into the corner farthest from the child, instinctively keeping their voices low, though they were already tense with anticipation.
“All right, what do you know?” Dean asked the instant Ruby’s butt hit the seat. “What happened to Cas?”
She took a few extra seconds to settle in, wiggling around to a comfortable spot and eyeing Dean defiantly, but she didn’t delay any longer than that. “I don’t know why he’s a kid now. That’s a new one on me. Chances are that no one else will be expecting it, either, so you’re probably about as safe as you can expect to be, under the circumstances.”
Dean relaxed slightly, gaze slipping reflexively over to check on the child, but Sam just leaned forward. “What can you tell us, then?”
“Well, you know Alastair, the knife-happy big kahuna…”
She had to pause for a shudder, hunching in on herself, and Dean’s eyes darkened, too. “Yeah, I know,” he said sharply, then immediately quieted. “Anna’s nuclear grace bomb hit him.”
Sam ground his teeth together, silently wishing. Another head he wanted bloody on a plate.
Ruby’s eyes were surprisingly empathetic. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising, really. “Yeah. You were hoping he’d been destroyed, right? I’m afraid not. Just banished. And he was pissed.”
Dean folded his arms over his stomach, looking sick. Sam wanted to reach over and grab his shoulder, something, but he knew the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. “What does this have to do with Castiel?” he asked instead.
“Well, Alastair has this thing about angels. He really, really likes killing them. Word was that when he got out, that was one of the big things he was looking forward to. Castiel was the first one he got his hands on.” She shrugged, going for nonchalance, but it didn’t quite work. “And then you, you know, put a crowbar in his plans.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I don’t exactly feel bad about that.”
Ruby nodded. “Oh, neither do I. But when Alastair got banished, then, there was just one thing he wanted. To finish the job. He couldn’t gather the power to get back, but that didn’t stop him from communicating with the rest of the Pit. So he…well, he offered a reward.”
Sam sat back in his chair, blinking. “A bounty.”
“Yeah, sort of. Hell is chaotic-there’s a hierarchy, but it shifts constantly, and everyone’s always trying to move up. Alastair…he’s one of the heavies. Any kind of reward from him would be…substantial.”
Dean swallowed. “So he basically sicced the entire Pit on one angel.”
“Yeah.” Ruby faced him frankly. “Last I heard, a bunch of demons caught a chance when Castiel was isolated, and they ambushed him. It was a mob-dealers and traders, lowly imps, high-level tempters and traitors. They were saying he was destroyed, but no one was sure how. They couldn’t prove who killed him-at least five different heavyweights are claiming the prize, and it’s getting nasty. It must have been…it must have been a feeding frenzy. Honestly, I’m shocked that he’s still alive at all, in any form.”
Dean’s head was turned toward the bed, gazing fixedly at the sleeping boy. His jaw worked slowly, eyes hard with this new knowledge. “And now he’s just a kid, an honest-to-God human kid, and he has all that locked up in his memory. Damn.”
Sam drew in a ragged breath. “We need that hex bag.”
Ruby met his eyes, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. Eventually they’re gonna work out that no one actually did the deed, and they’re gonna be after him again. You’re going to have all of Hell on your asses. Again.”
Dean looked back in Ruby’s face, just to give her the full force of his almighty smirk. “Well, at least we have experience.”
She nodded cheerfully. “And hey, no one knows what he looks like now! Maybe you’ll actually manage to survive, you massive idiots!”
He nodded back, just as full of false cheer. “No one except you!” A flicker of movement almost faster than the eye could follow, and Dean was across the small space separating them, bending down with his mouth next to her ear, one hand fisted in long, dark hair wrenching her head back to expose her neck, her own knife held to her throat. Dean’s voice was abruptly low, lethal. “Is it gonna stay that way?”
Ruby held statue-still, not even her throat moving. The single word was pushed out on a breath of air, stirring nothing. “Yes.”
Dean held frozen for another moment, pressed the point of the knife just a little bit closer, indenting the skin but not drawing blood. Then he released her and stood back in one smooth move, knife held ready. His smile was sharp as cut glass, twice as deadly.
“I’m not completely sure I believe you, Ruby. But consider this an act of faith.” He brandished the knife, then sheathed it, quick as a snake striking. “Don’t betray my trust in you.”
She held just as still as she had when the knife was at her throat, eyes inky black, fixed on Dean. Sam sat motionless, unsure of what he should do. Unsure if he should do anything at all.
A small shudder passed over Ruby, and she seemed to draw back into herself, the black pooling away, head lowering to stare at her fists, resting tight on her thighs. “You sure are a pissy little brood hen, Dean Winchester. Thought you were going to peck my wrist, there, for a minute.”
Dean just shook his head slowly from side to side. He didn’t even look angry. Just very, very firm. “This isn’t about me. It’s about a helpless little kid, a sweet, gentle little boy who never did anything to hurt you or me or anyone in the world. Don’t you dare do anything to screw him over. Don’t you dare.”
She raised her head to stare at him, a little of her defiance back. “I wasn’t planning to. I already said I would help you with the hex bag, didn’t I?”
Dean nodded easily, falling back to sit in his chair again. “Sure. Now that I know more of the story, though, I just want to be sure you won’t be getting any ideas about that reward.”
“None whatsoever.” Ruby bared her teeth. “I don’t want it. How many times do I have to prove myself to you?”
Dean slung one arm over the back of his chair, deliberately relaxed, though Sam could see the tension across his shoulders, in the way he held his head. “As many as it takes, Ruby Tuesday. As many as it takes.”
She looked to Sam, as if hoping for back-up, but he just stared back, mouth shut, jaw hard. “As many as it takes,” he echoed.
Because Dean was right. This wasn’t about them. When it came to Castiel, all bets were off, and all previous favors owed and given were null.
Part 10
Title: Entertaining Angels
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Category: Gen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: K+/PG
Spoilers: Through 4.10
Summary: A strange boy shows up at Dean and Sam's motel room. Maybe he needs help, or maybe he's there to help them-they can't quite tell.
Word Count: 2218
Disclaimer: Angels belong to God. The Winchesters belong to Kripke. It's a sad, sad world we live in.
Author's Note: There was a request for Cas and Sam interaction. I am nothing if not obliging. (And, um, yeah, was planning to do it anyway. ::shuffles feet sheepishly::)
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
9
It was time to hit the road again, which Dean was fine with. It was his natural habitat, the road, and he liked it and was always happy to return to it. In fact, he would be ready to go right now, if it wasn’t for the fun-sized angel currently clinging to him, both arms wrapped around his neck.
“All right, Cas, you can let go now. Just another little trip in the car. Everything’s okay now, really. C’mon, I can’t drive and hold you at the same time.”
Castiel tightened his arms, just short of strangling, wrapping his legs further around Dean’s waist. He seemed so tiny and frail, but there was a lot of power in those little muscles. Dean tugged at him carefully, his hands feeling large and clumsy on the small torso, and tossed a pleading look to Sam. His brother just shrugged. Ruby waited in her rental, tapping impatiently on the wheel.
“Buddy, I get that you’re still a little freaked out, but I need to drive the car now so we can get where we’re going and Ruby can maybe help us figure out how to help you, all right? You gotta sit in the backseat ‘cause the front isn’t safe for kids, but Sam and me will be right with you the whole time. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Shit. Rational arguments weren’t working. He had hoped to appeal to the ancient, powerful, inscrutable angelic being he knew was in there somewhere, but apparently right now the scared little kid was in charge. Dean sighed in exasperation and let his arms hang loose, not holding the boy up anymore. Castiel clung to him like a monkey, which probably looked utterly ridiculous. Was this what parents put up with all the time? No wonder Dad had decided to go the drill sergeant route. So much less frustrating.
“I could drive,” Sam offered.
Dean squinted a glare at him. Yeah right. Like that would ever happen when Dean wasn’t falling over from exhaustion or blood loss. Or, you know, dead and in Hell. When Dean could drive, he drove. It was as simple as that.
“Hey,” Sam said, face brightening. Dean could almost see the light bulb going off. “How about we try this, then?”
Sam stepped closer and held out his arms, laying a dinner plate-sized hand on Castiel’s back. The kid held still for a moment, thinking it over, then gave a tiny nod and reached back, letting Sam detach him from Dean’s body. His skinny arms and legs immediately re-wrapped around Sam’s neck and waist, though, the boy simply transferring his weary clinginess from one brother to the other. Dean stared, astonished but quite, quite happy.
Sam gave him a quirky grin, lifting only one corner of his mouth. “It was worth a try. You drive. I’ll sit with him in the backseat.”
“Yeah, okay. That’ll work.”
X
They could have made it to Lawrence in a single eight-hour stretch of driving, but it had been a long, rough day, and Dean started looking for a likely motel just past the Missouri border. Sam sat in the backseat with Castiel, suddenly taking on the unfamiliar role of caretaker and human-shaped pillow. Dean’s glances in the rearview mirror weren’t always suspicious, aimed at Ruby driving behind them-often they were amused, Dean smirking at his little brother’s awkward efforts to consciously imitate what Dean did as easily as breathing.
Castiel seemed too tired to engage in his usual fascinated staring out the window, preferring to lounge bonelessly against Sam, tucked under his arm. When the car warmed up Sam helped him out of the fleece coat Dean had bought for him at the thrift store, privately marveling at how small it was. (All of Castiel’s clothes were small: coat, shirt, jeans, even his shoes. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to Sam, but it really, truly was. He was shocked and helplessly charmed by it all, though he felt incredibly huge and hulking in comparison.)
The boy seemed to get even more comfortable, then, burrowing down into Sam’s side and tugging the man’s arm around himself. He held Sam’s hand in both of his, playing with his fingers, rolling them up and letting them fall open again, poking at his palm as if amazed at the size of it. Then he started repeating the lessons Dean had taught him, folding down all but one finger, showing Sam what he had learned.
“Pinky.”
Sam nodded, biting his lip to keep from laughing. The child sounded so utterly earnest, as if he felt this to be very important information that needed to be shared. “Yes, that’s a pinky.”
“Big pinky.” Castiel held up his own little finger for a side-by-side look.
“Yeah. All of my fingers are big.”
Castiel let that one go and went for another. “Thumb.”
“Yes, that’s my thumb.”
“Fourf finger.”
“That’s right.”
“The bird.”
Sam almost choked, trying to hold it in. “Middle finger. You should just call that the middle finger. And only hold it up to people who are really, really bad, okay?”
Castiel looked up at him, taking this in with grave attention. “Okay.”
“Here, let me show you something else.” He turned his hand over and carefully grasped the boy’s fingers in his, sharply aware of how tiny they were against his, then closed his thumb and forefinger around the pinky joint nearest Castiel’s palm. “That bone in there, you feel it? That’s called a metacarpal.”
By the time they found a motel, Castiel was fast asleep, cheek turned against Sam’s chest, snub little nose resting just over his heart. Just as well. Both Winchesters hoped that he would sleep through the discussion to follow. Whatever tale Ruby had to tell, it wasn’t going to be about puppies and cinnamon buns.
Dean got a room, and Sam carried the sleeping boy into it, aware of Ruby following at a discreet distance. Dean had arranged for a pull-out cot, but Sam didn’t bother with it, just tucking Castiel into the bed he knew Dean would be using later. The two of them were going to end up snuggled together anyway-better to head off the nightmares before they came, if possible. Then they let Ruby in and drew chairs from the room’s table into the corner farthest from the child, instinctively keeping their voices low, though they were already tense with anticipation.
“All right, what do you know?” Dean asked the instant Ruby’s butt hit the seat. “What happened to Cas?”
She took a few extra seconds to settle in, wiggling around to a comfortable spot and eyeing Dean defiantly, but she didn’t delay any longer than that. “I don’t know why he’s a kid now. That’s a new one on me. Chances are that no one else will be expecting it, either, so you’re probably about as safe as you can expect to be, under the circumstances.”
Dean relaxed slightly, gaze slipping reflexively over to check on the child, but Sam just leaned forward. “What can you tell us, then?”
“Well, you know Alastair, the knife-happy big kahuna…”
She had to pause for a shudder, hunching in on herself, and Dean’s eyes darkened, too. “Yeah, I know,” he said sharply, then immediately quieted. “Anna’s nuclear grace bomb hit him.”
Sam ground his teeth together, silently wishing. Another head he wanted bloody on a plate.
Ruby’s eyes were surprisingly empathetic. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising, really. “Yeah. You were hoping he’d been destroyed, right? I’m afraid not. Just banished. And he was pissed.”
Dean folded his arms over his stomach, looking sick. Sam wanted to reach over and grab his shoulder, something, but he knew the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. “What does this have to do with Castiel?” he asked instead.
“Well, Alastair has this thing about angels. He really, really likes killing them. Word was that when he got out, that was one of the big things he was looking forward to. Castiel was the first one he got his hands on.” She shrugged, going for nonchalance, but it didn’t quite work. “And then you, you know, put a crowbar in his plans.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I don’t exactly feel bad about that.”
Ruby nodded. “Oh, neither do I. But when Alastair got banished, then, there was just one thing he wanted. To finish the job. He couldn’t gather the power to get back, but that didn’t stop him from communicating with the rest of the Pit. So he…well, he offered a reward.”
Sam sat back in his chair, blinking. “A bounty.”
“Yeah, sort of. Hell is chaotic-there’s a hierarchy, but it shifts constantly, and everyone’s always trying to move up. Alastair…he’s one of the heavies. Any kind of reward from him would be…substantial.”
Dean swallowed. “So he basically sicced the entire Pit on one angel.”
“Yeah.” Ruby faced him frankly. “Last I heard, a bunch of demons caught a chance when Castiel was isolated, and they ambushed him. It was a mob-dealers and traders, lowly imps, high-level tempters and traitors. They were saying he was destroyed, but no one was sure how. They couldn’t prove who killed him-at least five different heavyweights are claiming the prize, and it’s getting nasty. It must have been…it must have been a feeding frenzy. Honestly, I’m shocked that he’s still alive at all, in any form.”
Dean’s head was turned toward the bed, gazing fixedly at the sleeping boy. His jaw worked slowly, eyes hard with this new knowledge. “And now he’s just a kid, an honest-to-God human kid, and he has all that locked up in his memory. Damn.”
Sam drew in a ragged breath. “We need that hex bag.”
Ruby met his eyes, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. Eventually they’re gonna work out that no one actually did the deed, and they’re gonna be after him again. You’re going to have all of Hell on your asses. Again.”
Dean looked back in Ruby’s face, just to give her the full force of his almighty smirk. “Well, at least we have experience.”
She nodded cheerfully. “And hey, no one knows what he looks like now! Maybe you’ll actually manage to survive, you massive idiots!”
He nodded back, just as full of false cheer. “No one except you!” A flicker of movement almost faster than the eye could follow, and Dean was across the small space separating them, bending down with his mouth next to her ear, one hand fisted in long, dark hair wrenching her head back to expose her neck, her own knife held to her throat. Dean’s voice was abruptly low, lethal. “Is it gonna stay that way?”
Ruby held statue-still, not even her throat moving. The single word was pushed out on a breath of air, stirring nothing. “Yes.”
Dean held frozen for another moment, pressed the point of the knife just a little bit closer, indenting the skin but not drawing blood. Then he released her and stood back in one smooth move, knife held ready. His smile was sharp as cut glass, twice as deadly.
“I’m not completely sure I believe you, Ruby. But consider this an act of faith.” He brandished the knife, then sheathed it, quick as a snake striking. “Don’t betray my trust in you.”
She held just as still as she had when the knife was at her throat, eyes inky black, fixed on Dean. Sam sat motionless, unsure of what he should do. Unsure if he should do anything at all.
A small shudder passed over Ruby, and she seemed to draw back into herself, the black pooling away, head lowering to stare at her fists, resting tight on her thighs. “You sure are a pissy little brood hen, Dean Winchester. Thought you were going to peck my wrist, there, for a minute.”
Dean just shook his head slowly from side to side. He didn’t even look angry. Just very, very firm. “This isn’t about me. It’s about a helpless little kid, a sweet, gentle little boy who never did anything to hurt you or me or anyone in the world. Don’t you dare do anything to screw him over. Don’t you dare.”
She raised her head to stare at him, a little of her defiance back. “I wasn’t planning to. I already said I would help you with the hex bag, didn’t I?”
Dean nodded easily, falling back to sit in his chair again. “Sure. Now that I know more of the story, though, I just want to be sure you won’t be getting any ideas about that reward.”
“None whatsoever.” Ruby bared her teeth. “I don’t want it. How many times do I have to prove myself to you?”
Dean slung one arm over the back of his chair, deliberately relaxed, though Sam could see the tension across his shoulders, in the way he held his head. “As many as it takes, Ruby Tuesday. As many as it takes.”
She looked to Sam, as if hoping for back-up, but he just stared back, mouth shut, jaw hard. “As many as it takes,” he echoed.
Because Dean was right. This wasn’t about them. When it came to Castiel, all bets were off, and all previous favors owed and given were null.
Part 10