Entertaining Angels (13/?)
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: 2259
Disclaimer: Angels belong to God. The Winchesters belong to Kripke. It's a sad, sad world we live in.
Author's Note: Check out the awesome fanart, and feel free to make suggestions for the soundtrack.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
13
Of course Missouri opened her front door seconds before they got there. They halted uncertainly a few feet away, Sam and Dean standing shoulder to shoulder, Castiel shyly hiding half behind Dean, though still peeking around him in curiosity. She waved a hand imperiously, holding the door with the other. "Well, come in if you're going to, you silly boys. I'm not standing here for my health."
The brothers glanced at each other, but obeyed, Castiel holding onto Dean's belt loop. Inside, Missouri bustled around taking their coats, ordering them to wipe their feet, leading the way into the living room. She took the hex bag from Castiel's coat pocket and gave it back to him, though, and the boy looked up at her, then jammed it into the right-hand pocket in his jeans, where it made a conspicuous bulge.
In the living area Missouri paused, facing them, her hands on her hips. Her face seemed strangely older than the last time they'd seen her, a little more careworn. The past few years must have been rough on psychics as well as hunters, so much more supernatural activity than usual, so much more evil to contend with. Her house looked much the same though, crowded and cozy and scattered with occult knick-knacks.
"Well, you boys have been through the wars, haven't you?" She shook her head, though Sam didn't think it was disapproval with them. Still, he felt Dean's shoulders hunch up slightly. Dean never knew quite how to deal with Missouri.
But her eyes softened, and she reached forward to grip his arms. “Dean, honey, you gotta stop hatin’ on yourself for that. You really think your daddy woulda done so much better than you?” A solemn shake of the dark head. “Mm-mm. He was a fighter, John Winchester. He wouldn’t have held still for anything, let alone something like that.”
Dean flinched. “You mean you know…”
“’Course I don’t know, child. For all I know, your daddy’s experience was completely different from yours in every way. But I knew John, and I know he would have taken any opportunity he could find to get loose and deal some damage. How do you think he managed to get out of that gate when it opened? He wasn’t wearing no chains then, was he?”
Dean swallowed, his breath hitching in his chest. Sam leaned in a little closer, letting their shoulders brush together, and on the other side Castiel wrapped both arms around the struggling man’s waist.
Missouri smiled at them both, wrinkles appearing beside her eyes like kindly magic. “You listen to your brother now,” with a nod at Sam, “he’s a smart boy. Much smarter than you, Dean Winchester.”
It was just the insult Dean needed to get him past his distress. He nodded shortly, his stance steadying, both annoyance and a quick flash of gratitude flickering over his face. Missouri turned to the little boy, her smile deepening. “You should listen to this little one, too. He’s far, far wiser than you.”
Castiel stared back at her with grave attention, the hand he had fisted in Dean’s shirt gradually loosening. He didn’t blink, of course, but Missouri did, suddenly, with a gasp and a staggered step back. “Oh, my glory. Oh, oh my.”
The words were shocked but her tone was oddly calm, almost bemused. She reached sideways and grabbed a handful of tissues from an end table, getting them in front of Castiel’s nose just before another enormous sneeze shook his entire body. He sniffled and took the tissues gratefully, and she shook her head in commiseration. “You poor boy. Come on and sit down, now.”
Missouri waved them forward to the sitting area where she sank into an easy chair, feet popping up to rest on a tweed-patterned ottoman. She had re-arranged her furniture sometime in the last couple years, Sam noted absently, but he recognized most of the pieces. The same and yet different, just like everything in their lives.
The Winchesters took a couch, and Castiel wiggled down between them, clutching his tissues. Sam laid a hand on his chest to check his breathing, something he remembered Dad doing when they were sick as kids. His breaths were a little rough and labored, but not too bad, and they seemed to come easily enough, no pain or respiratory distress. Cas rested his head on Dean’s arm, his eyes still fixed on Missouri.
The psychic shook her head slowly, watching the boy right back. “My, my, my. You’re just all full of light, aren’t you? Nothing in there but light. I don’t rightly know how you’re holding on to it all, what with all you’ve already seen and suffered in this dark, ugly world, but there it is. Nothing but light.”
Castiel nodded, but had to object to one part of that, his voice low and phlegmy. “Not dark. Not ugly.”
She smiled gently. “Well, that’s true enough. There’s plenty of beauty left in this ol’ world, too. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re only seeing that.” Her eyes flickered to Sam and Dean. “These boys will keep an eye on the rest for you. You’re in good hands.”
Her gaze sharpened in warning at them, telling them that they had better not prove her wrong if they knew what was good for them. Sam nodded back almost involuntarily, responding to the silent order. Dean just looked a little pissed, mutely retorting, What, you think we didn’t know?
Sam thought maybe it was time they got down to their reason for coming. “Missouri, we were hoping you could help us.”
She sighed gustily. “Lord, boy, you can’t make small talk for five minutes?”
He opened his mouth to apologize, unaccountably sheepish, and also somewhat shocked at himself. Wasn’t Dean supposed to be the brash one, while Sam was the one with people skills? Yet his brother sat there silent, had barely said a word since they arrived.
Missouri flapped a hand in dismissal before he could speak. “Never mind, never mind. I know you’re only worried about keeping that dear boy safe. But you’re at my house now. You think I don’t have up every protection and warding spell I know? You’re as safe here as anywhere. And you don’t have anything on your tail right now, do you?”
“Not that we know of, no.”
“Well then. Sit back. Take a load off. I’m not going to go digging around in the child’s brain without getting to know him a bit, first. In a little while I’ll go get some cookies, and your brother will relax enough to be a smart-mouth with me, and you’ll give him disapproving looks and I’ll threaten to smack him with a spoon, and your little friend will smile at us all and won’t understand it one tiny bit but love us anyway because that’s just what he does, and everything will be just fine.”
Sam blinked rapidly, then nodded and slouched back against the couch, feeling some of the tightness across his shoulders release for the first time since Castiel had showed up at their motel room, dirty and weary, scraped and bruised, barely able to speak. It was hard to believe that that hadn’t even been thirty-six hours ago. It felt like much, much longer.
Of course Missouri was right. Everything went pretty much exactly as she said.
X
Later Dean walked with Castiel to the playground down the street, small hand gripping big, sneakers and boots scuffing together through a thin drift of desiccated leaves. Sam stood at the kitchen window and watched them go, the smell of beans and spices rich around him. Missouri was making red beans and rice for them, had already started it before they got there, but she invited Sam into the kitchen to inspect the ingredients because she already knew that he wanted to.
He turned away to sit at the table where they had once made gris-gris bags to banish a poltergeist, letting his head fall to rest on one hand. Missouri sat across from him, cradling a mug of hot tea in both hands. His own mug rested at his elbow, untouched.
“Well now, why don’t you tell me how it is with you, Sam Winchester?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
She thwapped his shoulder with a flat hand. It actually stung a little. “Hush your sass, boy. I know you’ve been making yourself more like Dean, and you’ve had good reasons, but you can skip the more irritating parts of his personality.”
Sam let a sigh run out, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I…” He swallowed, running out of words.
Her hand returned to his shoulder, rubbing gently this time. “You’re not used to being the one taking care of things. It scares you that Dean needs that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He nodded, grateful for the words to explain the unease swirling inside him. “I don’t mind, really I don’t, but… I’m not used to it. Dean isn’t either, and I know he hates it, hates himself for needing it, and that’s just as bad.”
Missouri patted his shoulder before returning her hand to her mug and taking a long sip. “I told you true earlier. All three of you boys have been through the wars. You have to be kind to yourself too, Sam. You can’t be upset with yourself when things don’t come easy.”
It was a revelation, the idea that he should be gentle with himself as well as his brother. Sam blinked and nodded. “You…you sense thoughts and energies. You know what Dean’s been through.”
She eyed him narrowly over her brim. “It’s Dean’s place to tell you, not mine.”
“I know. I’m not asking for more information.” Sam swallowed thickly. “God, I don’t think I could stand to know anymore than he’s already told me. I just want to know…if there’s any way to fix this for him. Make it better.”
“There’s no potion I can mix up for you, child. There’s no spell to chant, no magic words. I am sorry for that, truly.” Missouri shook her head, letting out a breath in both grief and exasperation. “You men always want a straightforward cure for what ails you, a set of instructions and a list of steps to follow, but sometimes there’s no simple path. Your brother’s on a journey, same as all of us, only his has been to darker places than most.”
“Yeah.” Sam looked down at his hand on the table, absently tracing patterns. After a moment he realized that he was drawing an invisible devil’s trap, over and over.
“Oh, Sam, honey.” She drew a deep breath, and suddenly her hand covered his, stilling the restless movement. “Sam, Sam, you can’t blame yourself for this. The guilt will eat you up, leave you bone dry with nothing else to give, and then where will Dean and little Castiel be?”
He looked up, sudden tears stinging his eyes. “But it was for me. He went for me. And I didn’t save him. I tried and I tried and I didn’t save him. If only…even just a month earlier, it would have made such a difference for him…”
All of the things he’d been holding back, refusing to think, for days and weeks now, months, all of the feelings he had refused and refused and pushed back and walled away behind patience and sobriety and discipline and hunting and Ruby…they all seemed to crash into him at once, now, a tidal wave black and towering, there to crush him and bury him, ruin him forever.
“Sam, Sam.” Her other hand was holding his now, strong and fierce. “You’re a smart boy. You know all the things I would say to you on this. You didn’t choose to die, and you couldn’t have stopped Dean from giving everything to get you back. No one in the universe could have stopped him, you know that. You didn’t have the power to save him, and the road you were taking to get that power wouldn’t have led you anywhere good, you know that now. I’m sorry you weren’t the one to get him out, truly, but he’s out now, and you have to be Sam, not the person you made yourself be to survive those months without your brother.”
He nodded, focused on breathing the way Ruby had taught him, deep and strong, in and out.
“What Dean did for you was stupid, no one denies that, but he did it for love. And now what you do, to repay him, you understand? It has be in kind. It can’t be out of guilt or rage or any of the other things you got hurting inside you. You hear me, boy? Your journey’s been to some dark places, too, but it’s time to walk back to the high road. You hear me?”
“I hear you.” It was a low murmur, almost inaudible, and he concentrated on making it stronger. “I hear you.”
Missouri patted his hand gently and withdrew, picking up her tea again. She blew out a breath in relief, as if she’d been running a race or struggling with a heavy load. “Good. Good. You Winchesters, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Oh, I hope not.” Sam offered her a smile. It was slow, but felt closer to real than anything he’d put on his face for a long, long time. “I really hope not, Missouri.”
Part 14
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: 2259
Disclaimer: Angels belong to God. The Winchesters belong to Kripke. It's a sad, sad world we live in.
Author's Note: Check out the awesome fanart, and feel free to make suggestions for the soundtrack.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
13
Of course Missouri opened her front door seconds before they got there. They halted uncertainly a few feet away, Sam and Dean standing shoulder to shoulder, Castiel shyly hiding half behind Dean, though still peeking around him in curiosity. She waved a hand imperiously, holding the door with the other. "Well, come in if you're going to, you silly boys. I'm not standing here for my health."
The brothers glanced at each other, but obeyed, Castiel holding onto Dean's belt loop. Inside, Missouri bustled around taking their coats, ordering them to wipe their feet, leading the way into the living room. She took the hex bag from Castiel's coat pocket and gave it back to him, though, and the boy looked up at her, then jammed it into the right-hand pocket in his jeans, where it made a conspicuous bulge.
In the living area Missouri paused, facing them, her hands on her hips. Her face seemed strangely older than the last time they'd seen her, a little more careworn. The past few years must have been rough on psychics as well as hunters, so much more supernatural activity than usual, so much more evil to contend with. Her house looked much the same though, crowded and cozy and scattered with occult knick-knacks.
"Well, you boys have been through the wars, haven't you?" She shook her head, though Sam didn't think it was disapproval with them. Still, he felt Dean's shoulders hunch up slightly. Dean never knew quite how to deal with Missouri.
But her eyes softened, and she reached forward to grip his arms. “Dean, honey, you gotta stop hatin’ on yourself for that. You really think your daddy woulda done so much better than you?” A solemn shake of the dark head. “Mm-mm. He was a fighter, John Winchester. He wouldn’t have held still for anything, let alone something like that.”
Dean flinched. “You mean you know…”
“’Course I don’t know, child. For all I know, your daddy’s experience was completely different from yours in every way. But I knew John, and I know he would have taken any opportunity he could find to get loose and deal some damage. How do you think he managed to get out of that gate when it opened? He wasn’t wearing no chains then, was he?”
Dean swallowed, his breath hitching in his chest. Sam leaned in a little closer, letting their shoulders brush together, and on the other side Castiel wrapped both arms around the struggling man’s waist.
Missouri smiled at them both, wrinkles appearing beside her eyes like kindly magic. “You listen to your brother now,” with a nod at Sam, “he’s a smart boy. Much smarter than you, Dean Winchester.”
It was just the insult Dean needed to get him past his distress. He nodded shortly, his stance steadying, both annoyance and a quick flash of gratitude flickering over his face. Missouri turned to the little boy, her smile deepening. “You should listen to this little one, too. He’s far, far wiser than you.”
Castiel stared back at her with grave attention, the hand he had fisted in Dean’s shirt gradually loosening. He didn’t blink, of course, but Missouri did, suddenly, with a gasp and a staggered step back. “Oh, my glory. Oh, oh my.”
The words were shocked but her tone was oddly calm, almost bemused. She reached sideways and grabbed a handful of tissues from an end table, getting them in front of Castiel’s nose just before another enormous sneeze shook his entire body. He sniffled and took the tissues gratefully, and she shook her head in commiseration. “You poor boy. Come on and sit down, now.”
Missouri waved them forward to the sitting area where she sank into an easy chair, feet popping up to rest on a tweed-patterned ottoman. She had re-arranged her furniture sometime in the last couple years, Sam noted absently, but he recognized most of the pieces. The same and yet different, just like everything in their lives.
The Winchesters took a couch, and Castiel wiggled down between them, clutching his tissues. Sam laid a hand on his chest to check his breathing, something he remembered Dad doing when they were sick as kids. His breaths were a little rough and labored, but not too bad, and they seemed to come easily enough, no pain or respiratory distress. Cas rested his head on Dean’s arm, his eyes still fixed on Missouri.
The psychic shook her head slowly, watching the boy right back. “My, my, my. You’re just all full of light, aren’t you? Nothing in there but light. I don’t rightly know how you’re holding on to it all, what with all you’ve already seen and suffered in this dark, ugly world, but there it is. Nothing but light.”
Castiel nodded, but had to object to one part of that, his voice low and phlegmy. “Not dark. Not ugly.”
She smiled gently. “Well, that’s true enough. There’s plenty of beauty left in this ol’ world, too. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re only seeing that.” Her eyes flickered to Sam and Dean. “These boys will keep an eye on the rest for you. You’re in good hands.”
Her gaze sharpened in warning at them, telling them that they had better not prove her wrong if they knew what was good for them. Sam nodded back almost involuntarily, responding to the silent order. Dean just looked a little pissed, mutely retorting, What, you think we didn’t know?
Sam thought maybe it was time they got down to their reason for coming. “Missouri, we were hoping you could help us.”
She sighed gustily. “Lord, boy, you can’t make small talk for five minutes?”
He opened his mouth to apologize, unaccountably sheepish, and also somewhat shocked at himself. Wasn’t Dean supposed to be the brash one, while Sam was the one with people skills? Yet his brother sat there silent, had barely said a word since they arrived.
Missouri flapped a hand in dismissal before he could speak. “Never mind, never mind. I know you’re only worried about keeping that dear boy safe. But you’re at my house now. You think I don’t have up every protection and warding spell I know? You’re as safe here as anywhere. And you don’t have anything on your tail right now, do you?”
“Not that we know of, no.”
“Well then. Sit back. Take a load off. I’m not going to go digging around in the child’s brain without getting to know him a bit, first. In a little while I’ll go get some cookies, and your brother will relax enough to be a smart-mouth with me, and you’ll give him disapproving looks and I’ll threaten to smack him with a spoon, and your little friend will smile at us all and won’t understand it one tiny bit but love us anyway because that’s just what he does, and everything will be just fine.”
Sam blinked rapidly, then nodded and slouched back against the couch, feeling some of the tightness across his shoulders release for the first time since Castiel had showed up at their motel room, dirty and weary, scraped and bruised, barely able to speak. It was hard to believe that that hadn’t even been thirty-six hours ago. It felt like much, much longer.
Of course Missouri was right. Everything went pretty much exactly as she said.
X
Later Dean walked with Castiel to the playground down the street, small hand gripping big, sneakers and boots scuffing together through a thin drift of desiccated leaves. Sam stood at the kitchen window and watched them go, the smell of beans and spices rich around him. Missouri was making red beans and rice for them, had already started it before they got there, but she invited Sam into the kitchen to inspect the ingredients because she already knew that he wanted to.
He turned away to sit at the table where they had once made gris-gris bags to banish a poltergeist, letting his head fall to rest on one hand. Missouri sat across from him, cradling a mug of hot tea in both hands. His own mug rested at his elbow, untouched.
“Well now, why don’t you tell me how it is with you, Sam Winchester?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
She thwapped his shoulder with a flat hand. It actually stung a little. “Hush your sass, boy. I know you’ve been making yourself more like Dean, and you’ve had good reasons, but you can skip the more irritating parts of his personality.”
Sam let a sigh run out, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I…” He swallowed, running out of words.
Her hand returned to his shoulder, rubbing gently this time. “You’re not used to being the one taking care of things. It scares you that Dean needs that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He nodded, grateful for the words to explain the unease swirling inside him. “I don’t mind, really I don’t, but… I’m not used to it. Dean isn’t either, and I know he hates it, hates himself for needing it, and that’s just as bad.”
Missouri patted his shoulder before returning her hand to her mug and taking a long sip. “I told you true earlier. All three of you boys have been through the wars. You have to be kind to yourself too, Sam. You can’t be upset with yourself when things don’t come easy.”
It was a revelation, the idea that he should be gentle with himself as well as his brother. Sam blinked and nodded. “You…you sense thoughts and energies. You know what Dean’s been through.”
She eyed him narrowly over her brim. “It’s Dean’s place to tell you, not mine.”
“I know. I’m not asking for more information.” Sam swallowed thickly. “God, I don’t think I could stand to know anymore than he’s already told me. I just want to know…if there’s any way to fix this for him. Make it better.”
“There’s no potion I can mix up for you, child. There’s no spell to chant, no magic words. I am sorry for that, truly.” Missouri shook her head, letting out a breath in both grief and exasperation. “You men always want a straightforward cure for what ails you, a set of instructions and a list of steps to follow, but sometimes there’s no simple path. Your brother’s on a journey, same as all of us, only his has been to darker places than most.”
“Yeah.” Sam looked down at his hand on the table, absently tracing patterns. After a moment he realized that he was drawing an invisible devil’s trap, over and over.
“Oh, Sam, honey.” She drew a deep breath, and suddenly her hand covered his, stilling the restless movement. “Sam, Sam, you can’t blame yourself for this. The guilt will eat you up, leave you bone dry with nothing else to give, and then where will Dean and little Castiel be?”
He looked up, sudden tears stinging his eyes. “But it was for me. He went for me. And I didn’t save him. I tried and I tried and I didn’t save him. If only…even just a month earlier, it would have made such a difference for him…”
All of the things he’d been holding back, refusing to think, for days and weeks now, months, all of the feelings he had refused and refused and pushed back and walled away behind patience and sobriety and discipline and hunting and Ruby…they all seemed to crash into him at once, now, a tidal wave black and towering, there to crush him and bury him, ruin him forever.
“Sam, Sam.” Her other hand was holding his now, strong and fierce. “You’re a smart boy. You know all the things I would say to you on this. You didn’t choose to die, and you couldn’t have stopped Dean from giving everything to get you back. No one in the universe could have stopped him, you know that. You didn’t have the power to save him, and the road you were taking to get that power wouldn’t have led you anywhere good, you know that now. I’m sorry you weren’t the one to get him out, truly, but he’s out now, and you have to be Sam, not the person you made yourself be to survive those months without your brother.”
He nodded, focused on breathing the way Ruby had taught him, deep and strong, in and out.
“What Dean did for you was stupid, no one denies that, but he did it for love. And now what you do, to repay him, you understand? It has be in kind. It can’t be out of guilt or rage or any of the other things you got hurting inside you. You hear me, boy? Your journey’s been to some dark places, too, but it’s time to walk back to the high road. You hear me?”
“I hear you.” It was a low murmur, almost inaudible, and he concentrated on making it stronger. “I hear you.”
Missouri patted his hand gently and withdrew, picking up her tea again. She blew out a breath in relief, as if she’d been running a race or struggling with a heavy load. “Good. Good. You Winchesters, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Oh, I hope not.” Sam offered her a smile. It was slow, but felt closer to real than anything he’d put on his face for a long, long time. “I really hope not, Missouri.”
Part 14