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tikificTitle: Rusty Muffler (Flight Club, Chapter 6 of 8)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing, mild sexual situations (this chapter)
Word Count: 38,000 total
Summary: John abandons teenaged Sam and Dean in Sioux Falls for the school year, where our young hunters-to-be befriend a strange boy who claims he and his brothers are angels of the Lord. Well, he's got a pretty cool sword anyway. The plot thickens when young Sammy wonders why there are so many restless spooks in the neighborhood, leading the boys to decide that calling out for pizza and Death is a wicked awesome idea. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: This is a high school AU, but since I can never do these things correctly, angels are still angels. (And some of them are still dickbags.)
Castiel threw open his front door and strode confidently into the Haunted Mansion.
“Where are you headed, Castiel?” asked Raphael. And then when it became apparent, he added, “He won't speak to you.”
“He'll speak to me,” said Castiel.
“He still won't come out of his room,” warned Balthazar.
“That's all right. I will go in,” said Castiel, knocking on Gabriel's door.
“Go the fuck away!” came Gabriel's muffled voice.
Ignoring Gabriel, Castiel entered. Gabriel was a lump in the middle of the mattress, swaddled in layers and layers of bedding.
“I said go away!” said the lump.
Castiel sat down on the bed.
Gabriel suddenly moved, wriggling around, sitting up. His eyes were red from crying. “If you tell me they'll grow back, I'll-”
“I can drive a car,” said Castiel, holding up a set of keys.
Gabriel paused. “You can what?”
“I can drive a car. Dean's friend Bobby has loaned me a car. Would you like to come driving with me?”
“When did this happen?” asked Gabriel.
“Maybe he would let you drive too? He has a lot of cars.”
“Who is this guy?”
“He's Sam and Dean's friend. And he's cool and he has cars and books.”
“The cars sound cool,” Gabriel allowed.
“I'm going out this afternoon. He said he would show me how to shoot a gun.”
“Really?” asked Gabriel, his eyes widening.
Bobby wasn't terribly amused to see two boys instead of one drive up in Castiel's “new” car. Although he hadn't shared the information with Cas, one reason Bobby had selected that particular wreck for his driving lessons was that the engine was so damned noisy, you could never get away with any sneaking around.
But Bobby hadn't remembered exactly how damned noisy, and was now regretting he hadn't replaced the rusty muffler. Well, maybe he'd teach the angel kid to do it. Might as well get some use to him.
“Cas. And what's this supposed to be?” Bobby asked, pointing to the smaller kid who was now spinning around like an idiot.
“Mr. Singer. This is my brother, Gabriel.”
“Ah, so you're Gabe?” asked Bobby.
“Is all this yours, Mr. Singer?” asked Gabriel, who seemed honestly impressed. Bobby considered him for a minute. He had gleaned that Gabe was a little bratty, but he also knew that the poor kid had gotten some shit from his older brothers the evening Cas had intervened (and gotten a black eye for his trouble).
“Yeah, it ain't much, but it's home,” said Bobby. “By the way, Mr. Singer sounds like an old fart, so you two might as well call me, Bobby.”
“Thanks, Bobby!” said Gabriel.
“Now, Gabe. As you might know, I was gonna show your brother a little bit about shooting today. Seeing as how he’s been helping Dean on his runs. Now, I know him a little, but I don't know you. So, you're not gonna touch anything. Not anything! You're gonna shut the hell up and watch. You understand?”
Gabriel nodded frantically.
“Well, you didn't have to shut the hell up now,” sighed Bobby. “Come on. Let's get over to the range.”
Bobby's “shooting range” wasn’t much more than bottles up on fence posts. “Now, we're gonna start with handguns. They ain't great for aiming, but they're easy to carry, and have good stopping power for close range. Also, they're pretty small, and you kids ain't too big yet.”
Bobby found, unsurprisingly, that Castiel was an excellent shot. He was careful, and cool as a cucumber. Despite Bobby's caveats, he relented and let the other kid squeeze off a shot or two. Gabriel wasn't as good as Cas, but with a little coaching, he was decent.
Gabe had just managed to shoot a real live bottle when the other two kids appeared.
And that's what they did. They literally appeared. There was a sort of rustling sound first – wings beating? Damn.
As Bobby had been a spook hunter for decades, he wasn't necessarily put off by the principle of entities just popping up out of nowhere. But he nevertheless spared a glare. It was a mite rude.
“Balthy,” he said, as he recognized the tall kid. Balthazar had been the one who had popped up with a battered Cas the other night to see if Bobby could loan the kid a car, to give him something to do. Even though Bobby's every parental instinct told him to call a social worker about this, he'd bitten his tongue and helped them out, vowing to himself to keep a better watch on those kids as well as “his” Winchesters.
“Mr. Singer. This is my brother, Raphael,” said Balthazar, indicating a slightly shorter, dark-skinned kid.
“Bobby,” said Bobby, sticking out a hand. Raphael took it.
“Just go the fuck away,” said Gabriel.
Bobby tapped Gabriel on the shoulder and relieved him of the handgun. “Now,” Bobby told him, “this is my property, so I believe I have a say in who stays and who goes.”
“We're worried about you, Gabriel,” said Balthazar. “You haven’t been out of your room in days.”
“Yeah. Now's a great time to be worried,” grumbled Gabriel.
“And we are here to apologize,” said Raphael. “We should have done more … to protect you the other night. Both of you.”
“Raph? I assume you're the one in charge here?” asked Bobby.
“Yes. When my brothers are out of town,” said Raphael. He shrugged. “I try.”
“Well, you ain't trying hard enough. You're damn lucky I didn't get on the phone to Social Services when I saw what you guys had done to Cas!”
“I am all right now, Bobby,” said Castiel.
“And I ain't quite sure what you done to this one,” Bobby continued, pointing to Gabriel, “but I'm sure as hell that wasn't right either.”
“I.... Yeah,” said Raphael sadly. He looked bitter. “We need to stop fighting with each other! It's important! None of you see how important!”
“Go fuck yourself, Raphael,” said Gabiel.
“Now, Gabriel,” cautioned Balthazar.
“You don't remember. None of you remember. But I remember. I remember every moment. Every second. You all get to forget. But I don't.” Raphael stood for a moment. And then he raised his hand. He held Bobby’s handgun.
“Shit,” said Bobby, who had just noticed he was no longer holding the gun.
Raphael turned and expertly tapped off six quick shots. Six bottles turned to sprays of glass shards, one after the other. Raphael pointed the gun back downwards, and then, breathing hard, held it out, handle first, to a stunned Bobby.
“We weren't messengers,” said Raphael as a stunned Bobby took the gun. “We were soldiers of the Lord. And we.... We fucked it up. We fucked it up badly. So badly it couldn't be put together again. You don't understand. None of you do. What I live with.” Raphael looked up, tears in his eyes. “I think He put us here to get it right this time. This is our last chance! We have to stop fucking it up. Don't you see? Don't any of you see?”
Bobby put a hand on Raphael's shoulder. “Well, I'll tell you what. I think we've had enough shooting for the day. You boys wanna come inside for a while? I'm working on a problem, and it might be something you kids would know about.”
And, with his hand on Raphael's shoulder, Bobby led him towards the house. Castiel followed. Gabriel hung back, glaring, but Balthazar nodded to him, and he reluctantly followed.
“As I commented the other day, Mr.-”
“Bobby.”
“Bobby,” corrected Balthazar as they entered the cluttered living room, “your library is impresssive.”
“You have Enochian texts?” asked Raphael, who made for one corner, and then ran his finger over the spines of several books marked with strange sigils.
“Yep. Probably not as good as the stuff at your house I suppose,” said Bobby.
“You ought come over and see,” said Balthazar.
“A ticket to the Haunted Mansion?” laughed Bobby. “I wouldn't refuse.”
“The Haunted Mansion?” asked Gabriel.
“Sam and Dean started to call it that,” said Castiel, who was almost smiling. “It evidently resembled an amusement park ride?”
“Yeah, get the joke, but...” said Gabriel. “We do live in a scary house, huh?”
“I'm sure it ain't scary to you,” said Bobby. “This place is probably more scary.”
“This place is awesome,” said Gabriel. “You have smashed cars! And guns!”
“And books?” asked Balthazar.
“Eh,” said Gabriel, waving a hand.
“You're missing the sixth Book of Mystery?” asked Raphael, who was crouching down near a stack of angelic books.
“What? I shouldn't be!” said Bobby, coming near.
“I don't see it here,” said Raphael.
“Funny thing to go missing,” said Bobby. “I don't recall loaning it out.”
“Do you read Enochian?” asked Raphael.
“No, unfortunately. I've been able to make out some of the squiggles. But I'm probably even doing that wrong.”
“We could teach you,” offered Castiel.
“Cassie is our expert,” said Balthazar warmly. “He dreams in Enochian.”
“Yeah, Dean mentioned you speak it really well,” said Bobby.
“He did?” asked Castiel, causing Balthazar to laugh out loud.
“You like that human,” said Gabriel.
“No I don't,” said Castiel. “Um. Yes I do.”
“Nothing wrong with liking a human,” said Bobby. “And I say that as a human.”
“Oh. Sorry,” said Gabriel.
“What did you want to ask us about?” asked Raphael.
It was late when Castiel pulled up to the Winchester house. His car was a little quieter, as Bobby had insisted on swapping out the muffler. “Am I too late?” he asked.
“You're perfect,” said Dean, pulling him into the house.
“Where's Sam?”
“Gone to bed.” Dean tugged Castiel down on the couch and began kissing him. “Damn. I missed you. How long has it been?”
Castiel shook his head, glad that he had been missed, and especially glad to have been missed by Dean. “Um. Did you want me to extend my wings again?”
Dean pulled Cas over onto his lap. “Uh. Maybe no. For now?”
“All right.”
“It.... It make me kind of crazy.”
“I think I like it when you're crazy.” And the smile actually flickered in to a real smile.
“Well, then you could smile like that. Damn. I don't know,” said Dean. “Let's just.... Let's just be like this. For now. I like to go a little slow.”
Castiel smiled again and then they were kissing again, and kissing some more, and even more, and various items of clothing were doffed. And then Dean came up for air for long enough that he decided they should probably get the hell out of the living room, just in case Sam woke up and walked in on them.
They ended up in the master bedroom because, well, John wasn't using it, was he?
“You know what Sam noticed,” said Dean, quietly closing the door.
“No,” said Cas, sitting back on the bed, and thinking he probably ought to be more scared than he was.
“There hasn't been anyone. I mean, I haven't been with anyone. Since we moved here.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Uh. I think that's obvious,” said Dean, now sliding on top of Cas. “There aren't any girls around here who smack vampires and speak in angel.”
“Enochian,” said Castiel, who chose that minute to tell Dean more or less that he was very attractive in that language.
“God I love it when you do that!'
“I know.”
And then more clothes were off, and finally, all the clothes were off, and it was just them, together. And Castiel found he didn't really give a shit any more when he fledged, or even if he ever fucking fledged, because really, what would some crappy magic angel feathers have against this? How could flying ever make him feel like this?
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
So here was the thing about the master bedroom: it was around the back of the house. That was why Dean didn't hear the truck pull up, didn't hear the truck's door slam, didn't hear the front door open, and certainly didn't hear John Winchester open the door to the master bedroom, where Dean had fallen asleep, in John's bed, with Cas in his arms.
“Oh. Shit,” whispered Dean.
“One minute, Dean Winchester,” hissed John. “One minute, and then you're out of my fucking bedroom. Now!”
Castiel was awake, blinking in confusion.
“Stay here,” whispered Dean, who was already out of bed and pulling on his jeans.
“I should go out with you,” said Castiel.
“No, believe me, it's better if you stay here.”
“I could explain,” said Castiel.
“Not to my dad, you couldn't,” sighed Dean. He kissed Cas on the top of his head and then, pulling on a shirt, stepped out, carefully closing the door behind him.
“What the hell is going on?” demanded John.
“Nothing,” said Dean.
“Dad?” asked Sam, who looked like he had just gotten up. “What's the matter?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“You! Back to your room!” ordered John.
“Why?” asked Sam, who crossed his arms and stayed put.
“Samuel. I said back to your room. Now! I need to speak to your brother.”
“Cas is over,” Dean told Sam.
“Cas is our friend!” Sam told John. “He's an angel of the Lord!”
And then John went quiet, and suddenly, Dean had a sinking feeling that no, he couldn't handle this.
“You invited one of those … things … to our house?” asked John, rounding on Dean.
“Dad! Oh for Christ's sakes, it’s not like he’s a vampire!” said Dean. But he felt something wasn’t right. He could tell when John quit screaming and got kind of scary quiet. Something had changed in his father, making him turn from riled up to murderous.
John hurled himself at the bedroom door. He flung it open and spat, “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester,” said Castiel, who as now dressed and seemed preternaturally calm. “If I have given you a bad impression.”
“Get out of my house!” John whispered. “Now.”
“He's my friend and he doesn't have to leave!” said Dean, who had planted himself between John and Castiel.
“This is my house!” said John.
“No it's not! You don't even live here!” said Dean.
“No more of your mouth!” said John, who raised his hand.
And then all of a sudden John was on his stomach, arm wrenched behind him, Castiel's knee in his back.
“You … do not touch him,” Castiel whispered to John.
“Cas! Cas! It's OK. It's OK!” said Dean as Castiel's eyes bored into John. “Let him go, Cas,” said Dean, lightly touching Cas’ shoulder. He could feel the angel trembling. “Let him go.”
Castiel glanced at him and then, reluctantly, stepped back.
John got up, locking eyes with Castiel.
“Dad!” yelled Sam, who held out a cell phone.
“John! It's Bobby!” came a voice over the speaker. “You listen to me! Now! Else I'm grabbing my shotgun and coming for you!”
“Bobby,” said John, still having a stare down with Castiel.
“John Winchester! Whatever you're doing, you stop it. You get your ass in that truck, and you come out and see me. I said now! Do you hear me? I don't want another Denver.”
John's eyes flicked over to the phone.
“Do you fucking hear me John?”
Breathing hard, John rose. “Yes, Bobby. On my way.” With a final murderous glance around the room, he was gone, like a passing storm.
“Fucking fuck,” said Dean, sinking down on the couch.
“I should.... I should go,” said Castiel.
“No! Please don't go now!” pleaded Dean, grabbing Cas' arm and pulling him down. “Sammy,” he told his brother. “Thanks, buddy. You saved my ass.”
Sam folded his arms and looked at Dean, with his arm slung over Cas.
“Cas spent the night, didn't he?”
“Yeah, he did,” admitted Dean.
“Seeeeeee? I told you that's why you weren't going with those girls!”
“Yes, Sammy. You're right. You're always right,” sighed Dean.
“Just remember that!”
“And Cas. Thanks for jumping in. With my dad. But, things with my dad, they're … complicated.”
“I will not let him strike you,” said Castiel, who immediately tensed.
Dean nodded. “Look. I know what it looked like. But Dad isn't like that. He gets real mad, but then you talk to him, and he calms down. I don't think he was gonna do it. But I don't know. Look!” he added, as Castiel was about to protest. “I know you protect people. Like you protected Sammy and you protected me. I know that's what you do. But you need to give me a chance with him. OK?”
Castiel seemed to calm down. “All.... All right.”
“He's not a bad guy.”
“Sometimes he's a real jerk!” groused Sam, who flopped down in the chair opposite. “But.... Yeah. Dean is right.”
“We'll figure it out. I guess,” said Dean, although he did not say it with a great deal of confidence.
“What’s this?” asked Dean as he sat in Bobby's living room that afternoon..
“What does it look like? It’s lamb’s blood,” said Bobby, motioning for the bowl
“Whoa, cool,” said Dean, handing it over.
“One hunter’s tip: pays to make friends with your local butcher. He thinks I keep a pack of big dogs out here.
“I’ll remember that,” laughed Dean. And then, more seriously, he asked, “So, is my dad still gonna kill me?”
Bobby sighed and looked up over his reading glasses. “You had to do this in his bed? What were you thinking? Of course, I realize any reference to ‘thinking’ makes this a stupid ass question.”
“I didn’t know he was coming home! It had been months. Besides, my bed is kind of cramped.”
“We’ll go get you a damn king size. Don’t you kids go neck in the back seat of your car any more?”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Dean, who was quite suddenly thinking of that. “You don’t understand, Bobby. Angels: have you seen it when they have their wings out?” he asked. He spread his arms and started to get a little dreamy-eyed.
“I ain’t had the pleasure. But I gotta ask, have you heard the expression, too much information?”
“Sorry, Uncle Bobby.”
“Look, your dad thinks…. I ain’t sure where he came up with this one, but he’s now got it in his head that angels are behind your ma’s death.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
“Not completely,” said Bobby. “You won’t remember, since you were small and Sammy was just a babe. We’ve always suspected there was supernatural involvement. I won’t go into it. Me, I think it’s demons. All the signs are there. But John….”
“Oh, good god!” said Dean. “Is that why he dragged us here? To Sioux Falls? It’s not for us, it was never for us, was it? He’s checking up on the angels.”
“Son….”
“That old son of a bitch!”
“Dean Winchester! You do not speak of your pop like that when I’m around.”
“Sorry. Uncle Bobby,” muttered Dean.
“One thing, boy, what you said about Cas tackling your old man like that?”
“Yeah,” said Dean, who thought it best not to mention right at the moment that he thought the whole thing was awfully cool.
“That boy is still water. You don’t quite know what’s happening beneath. Be careful when he’s around your old man. You kids are doing … homework together, or whatever it is, take my advice, go out to his house for the next few days.”
“OK. But I’ve told Cas I can handle my dad.”
“Ain’t you I’m worried about,” said Bobby, who removed his reading glasses and looked at Dean. “Your dad gets into it with Sam again, like when you kids were in Colorado….”
“The broken arm? That was an accident!” said Dean. “I mean…. Sort of an accident.” Dean shuddered at the memory of the emergency room visit, and the polite fiction that Sammy had “fallen.” Well, he had fallen, but only after John had smacked him.
“Those two are too much alike. I’ve always said so,” said Bobby. “Your dad gets into it with Sammy again, and Cas is around, I ain’t sure the boy won’t haul off and snap your dad’s fool neck.”
Dean didn’t reply, although he thought, not for the first time, that maybe somebody should haul off and break his fool father’s neck. But he immediately regretted the thought.
“Like I said,” Bobby continued, slipping back the eyglasses. “Give your dad some room. Maybe get Sam’s whatchajiggy Nintendo thing and set it up at Cas’ house.”
“So my dad’s in town, and we’re supposed to avoid him?” asked Dean sullenly.
Bobby shrugged. “What do I look like, your fairy godmother, kid? Now, gimme a minute, I’m scrying.”
“You’re what?”
“It’s like a search. You know that angel magic book that went missing on me?”
“You couldn’t find it?”
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to do,” Bobby told him. “I mark my books, especially the rare ones, in case of some damn fool who borrows it and doesn’t return it.”
Dean watched in fascination as Bobby dipped his hand in the sticky sheep's blood and seemed to run it around, like he was looking for something in the bottom of the bowl.
“Huh,” Bobby said at length, sitting back.
“What is it?”
Bobby grabbed a rag and started to wipe the blood from his hand.
“Hey, Bobby! I can steer around a corner and hardly ever crash!” yelled Gabriel, who had just burst through the door. Castiel followed him, and Dean was pretty sure the angel was rolling his eyes. “Hey, were you scrying?” asked Gabriel, who ran over to the bowl. “What did you see?”
“As a matter of fact, I was looking for that lost Enochian Book of Mysteries,” said Bobby, who was suddenly studying Gabriel closely.
“Did you locate it, Bobby?” asked Castiel.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. Seems like it somehow got into you boys’ house.”
“Gabriel!” chided Castiel.
“Cassie, why would I steal a book? I don’t even like books!” said Gabriel.
“It could well have been one of us, though,” said Castiel. “You are not warded against angels! The collection should be secured.”
“Now,” laughed Bobby, “Cas, you’re a paranoid little bastard, my kind of person.”
Castiel looked confused.
“But I’m not gonna ward against you boys: you’re friends. I’ll tell you what you could do though. When you get back to your house, could you take a look around, see if maybe one of your brothers forgot to return something?”
“Yes, we will return immediately and conduct a thorough search,” promised Castiel.
“But I’m only halfway through my driving lesson!” protested Gabriel.
“I will need your assistance, Gabriel,” said Castiel. “You are sneaky and underhanded!”
“Well, if you put it that way…” said Gabriel, grinning.
“Cas, I got a favor to ask,” said Dean. “I was wondering if I could bring Sammy by your place for the afternoon. We could set up his Nintendo, and he wouldn’t be a bother.”
“Of course Sam could come by!” said Castiel.
“He’s got a Nintendo?” asked Gabriel. “What about an Xbox?”
“Gabriel! You are supposed to be improving your grades,” lectured Cas.
“When did you turn into Michael?” asked Gabriel shrewdly.
“I’m not Michael!” protested Cas.
“Whoa! Wings down, boys!” laughed Bobby. “You’re welcome to borrow stuff from my library if you want, but I’m awfully persnickety about getting stuff back. So if you happen to turn up that book, if you could instill on the party in question, that’s the deal?”
“Yes, sir,” said Castiel, who elbowed Gabriel.
“Yes, Bobby,” said Gabriel.
The very next day Bobby confronted a contrite-looking party of four boys gathered at his front door..
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Raphael told Bobby. “This is completely inappropriate.” He solemnly handed to ancient volume over to Bobby.
“So, can I ask where it was?” asked Bobby with a studied casualness.
“It was hidden in Lucifer’s room,” said Castiel.
“Eh. Not really hidden. Under the mattress. I could have done better,” said Gabriel.
“This does not mean Lucifer was necessarily the culprit,” said Raphael.
“Of course he was the culprit,” said Castiel.
“As I have stated before,” said Balthazar, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I believe we should contact our brother.”
“Your brother Michael?” asked Bobby. Balthazar nodded. “Yeah, that sounds reasonable.”
“Balthazar, don’t smoke here, it’s rude!” chided Raphael.
“Bobby, may I smoke upon your property?” asked Balthazar.
“Sure, as long as you ain’t near a propane tank,” said Bobby. Balthazar smirked at Raphael.
“Would you boys do me another favor?” asked Bobby.
“Anything,” said Raphael.
“Well,” said Bobby, holding up the book. “I admit, I got this book, but I’m not much for making out angelic squiggles.”
“You wish a translation?” said Raphael.
“Doesn’t have to be a full one, but a rundown of the kinds of spells that’s in this volume? Might come in useful.”
“Cassie is your man for that,” said Balthazar. “He is our Enochian scholar.”
“I will gladly do it for you, Bobby!” said Castiel, who puffed up visibly.
“I hate to be a pest, but you got some time this afternoon?” asked Bobby.
“Certainly!”
Balthazar made a big show of clearing his throat.
“I told you smoking would do that,” grumbled Raphael.
“Raphael?” prompted Balthazar.
“Oh,” said Raphael. “That.”
Bobby looked between the two angels. He was convinced that if Raphael’s skin had been paler, the boy would have been blushing as he shyly stuck out his hand with a flyer towards Bobby.
“Now, what’s this?”
“An evening of culture!” grinned Balthazar, clapping Raphael on the shoulder.
“Yuck,” said Gabriel.
“Um. There’s going to be a poetry reading. And, some of my works have been accepted,” muttered Raphael.
“Because I submitted them,” said Balthazar.
“Don’t feel obligated,” Raphael told Bobby.
“Wouldn’t miss it!” said Bobby, holding the paper. “I guess we all could use a little culture.”
“Can we get back to the Haunted Mansion now? Sammy brought his Nintendo!” whined Gabriel.
“Do you have your homework done?” Raphael asked him.
“Well….”
“I can come back for you later, Cassie!” offered Balthazar.
“I will call Dean for a ride home,” said Castiel.
“I suppose you will,” said Balthazar with a smile. And then with a little wave and a soft rustle of wings, the three disappeared.
“Bobby, there is a reason why you wish for a quick translation,” said Castiel as Bobby handed the volume to him. It was not a question.
“Yeah. There is.”
“I do not trust my brother, Lucifer.”
“I gathered that. Look, Raph says he remembers your past lives. He ever fill you in on the details?”
Castiel shook his head.
Bobby nodded. “Well, there’s not a ton of material on you angels. It’s almost as if someone went in and scrubbed out all the religious texts: Bible, Koran, Torah. It’s all the same.”
“That is strange.”
“Well, yeah, it’s pretty strange. But from what I could tell, there are a whole bunch of rumors of some kind of pretty bad rift up there. And it seems the most likely culprits were Michael and Lucifer.”
“That is not what I would have expected. They have always gotten along,” said Castiel.
“Things ain’t always what they seem. Anyways, I’m getting a little peckish. What do you say we make some toasted cheese sandwiches and read angel spell books?”
“What is a toasted cheese sandwich? It’s food, right?” asked Castiel.
“Well, the way I make ‘em, some would say so,” said Bobby.
“Dean.”
“Oh. Uh. Hi, Dad,” said Dean. Dean had come home after class intending to grab a couple of things before he headed off pick up Cas. It was strange seeing his old man in his house. Although, as John had pointed out, it was his house.
“Where’s Sam? I thought he’d be home by now,” said John.
“Uh. He’s at some friends. They’re playing Nintendo. It can get loud, so we didn’t wanna, you know, disturb you.”
“You can come in, you know. I’m not gonna kill you,” John told his son.
“Well, of course not, nowhere to hide the body,” said Dean.
John glared, but then it switched to a smile. Dean smiled and sat down opposite.
“You want some beer?”
“Oh, better not,” said Dean. “I’m heading off to study. With a friend.”
“You’re studying?” asked John, skeptically.
“I’m up to a B average,” said Dean. Even now, he found the news surprising.
“Really?” asked John.
“Really,” said Dean. “You gonna be home for a few days?”
“Yeah. I think so. We need to talk.”
Dean nodded. Though he was not quite sure what they were supposed to talk about.
“I’ve been thinking. About what Sam said,” John continued, his eyes watching Dean.
“What Sam said … when?” asked Dean.
“About homeschooling you guys.”
Dean felt a chill. “You said it was a dumb idea. For religious whack-a-dos. But now it’s not dumb, for some reason?” he asked.
“Well, then I could keep you boys with me.”
“I dunno, Dad,” said Dean.
“What’s wrong with it?”
Everything, thought Dean. “Because…. We have friends here. And, I’m doing OK in school, Sam is doing great, and he’s not getting picked on. For once!”
“He wouldn’t get picked on at all if I tutored him,” said John, glaring over his beer at Dean.
“Dad. You’re not gonna tutor Sam! You know damn well he could get into a good college. And me, I might even try the city college.”
“You? At college?” scoffed John.
“Why the hell not?” asked Dean, his cheeks burning.
“Dean, face it. You’re like me. You have no use for that crap.”
Dean struggled to keep calm. “Dad! We’re finally feeling like…. This is finally feeling kind of like a home. It’s not like when we had you and mom. But we’re doing OK. And you wanna take us away from it?”
John sat forward. “This is about that angel boy, isn’t it?”
“What if it is?” asked Dean, standing up. “Maybe you don’t like that I got somebody who will stand up for me, but I fucking like it.”
“You know what they did to your mother?” asked John darkly.
“No. And neither do you! Not after ten fucking years of dragging our asses around the country!”
“Dean….”
“No! You wanna throw your life away on that, go ahead! But no more taking me, and no more dragging Sammy in on this!”
John glared. “Sam is my boy. I don’t need your permission. If I want to go, and take my son, I’m gonna do it. You wanna ruin your life with some twisted little angel fuck, that is your business.”
Dean was glad he hadn’t accepted the beer, because if he’d had a bottle in his hand, at that moment, he wasn’t quite sure what he would have done.
Instead, tears in his eyes, he turned on his heel, and walked out the door, letting it slam, hard, on John Winchester.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, John, Bobby, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar, Joshua, Death
Warnings: Cursing, mild sexual situations (this chapter)
Word Count: 38,000 total
Summary: John abandons teenaged Sam and Dean in Sioux Falls for the school year, where our young hunters-to-be befriend a strange boy who claims he and his brothers are angels of the Lord. Well, he's got a pretty cool sword anyway. The plot thickens when young Sammy wonders why there are so many restless spooks in the neighborhood, leading the boys to decide that calling out for pizza and Death is a wicked awesome idea. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: This is a high school AU, but since I can never do these things correctly, angels are still angels. (And some of them are still dickbags.)
Castiel threw open his front door and strode confidently into the Haunted Mansion.
“Where are you headed, Castiel?” asked Raphael. And then when it became apparent, he added, “He won't speak to you.”
“He'll speak to me,” said Castiel.
“He still won't come out of his room,” warned Balthazar.
“That's all right. I will go in,” said Castiel, knocking on Gabriel's door.
“Go the fuck away!” came Gabriel's muffled voice.
Ignoring Gabriel, Castiel entered. Gabriel was a lump in the middle of the mattress, swaddled in layers and layers of bedding.
“I said go away!” said the lump.
Castiel sat down on the bed.
Gabriel suddenly moved, wriggling around, sitting up. His eyes were red from crying. “If you tell me they'll grow back, I'll-”
“I can drive a car,” said Castiel, holding up a set of keys.
Gabriel paused. “You can what?”
“I can drive a car. Dean's friend Bobby has loaned me a car. Would you like to come driving with me?”
“When did this happen?” asked Gabriel.
“Maybe he would let you drive too? He has a lot of cars.”
“Who is this guy?”
“He's Sam and Dean's friend. And he's cool and he has cars and books.”
“The cars sound cool,” Gabriel allowed.
“I'm going out this afternoon. He said he would show me how to shoot a gun.”
“Really?” asked Gabriel, his eyes widening.
Bobby wasn't terribly amused to see two boys instead of one drive up in Castiel's “new” car. Although he hadn't shared the information with Cas, one reason Bobby had selected that particular wreck for his driving lessons was that the engine was so damned noisy, you could never get away with any sneaking around.
But Bobby hadn't remembered exactly how damned noisy, and was now regretting he hadn't replaced the rusty muffler. Well, maybe he'd teach the angel kid to do it. Might as well get some use to him.
“Cas. And what's this supposed to be?” Bobby asked, pointing to the smaller kid who was now spinning around like an idiot.
“Mr. Singer. This is my brother, Gabriel.”
“Ah, so you're Gabe?” asked Bobby.
“Is all this yours, Mr. Singer?” asked Gabriel, who seemed honestly impressed. Bobby considered him for a minute. He had gleaned that Gabe was a little bratty, but he also knew that the poor kid had gotten some shit from his older brothers the evening Cas had intervened (and gotten a black eye for his trouble).
“Yeah, it ain't much, but it's home,” said Bobby. “By the way, Mr. Singer sounds like an old fart, so you two might as well call me, Bobby.”
“Thanks, Bobby!” said Gabriel.
“Now, Gabe. As you might know, I was gonna show your brother a little bit about shooting today. Seeing as how he’s been helping Dean on his runs. Now, I know him a little, but I don't know you. So, you're not gonna touch anything. Not anything! You're gonna shut the hell up and watch. You understand?”
Gabriel nodded frantically.
“Well, you didn't have to shut the hell up now,” sighed Bobby. “Come on. Let's get over to the range.”
Bobby's “shooting range” wasn’t much more than bottles up on fence posts. “Now, we're gonna start with handguns. They ain't great for aiming, but they're easy to carry, and have good stopping power for close range. Also, they're pretty small, and you kids ain't too big yet.”
Bobby found, unsurprisingly, that Castiel was an excellent shot. He was careful, and cool as a cucumber. Despite Bobby's caveats, he relented and let the other kid squeeze off a shot or two. Gabriel wasn't as good as Cas, but with a little coaching, he was decent.
Gabe had just managed to shoot a real live bottle when the other two kids appeared.
And that's what they did. They literally appeared. There was a sort of rustling sound first – wings beating? Damn.
As Bobby had been a spook hunter for decades, he wasn't necessarily put off by the principle of entities just popping up out of nowhere. But he nevertheless spared a glare. It was a mite rude.
“Balthy,” he said, as he recognized the tall kid. Balthazar had been the one who had popped up with a battered Cas the other night to see if Bobby could loan the kid a car, to give him something to do. Even though Bobby's every parental instinct told him to call a social worker about this, he'd bitten his tongue and helped them out, vowing to himself to keep a better watch on those kids as well as “his” Winchesters.
“Mr. Singer. This is my brother, Raphael,” said Balthazar, indicating a slightly shorter, dark-skinned kid.
“Bobby,” said Bobby, sticking out a hand. Raphael took it.
“Just go the fuck away,” said Gabriel.
Bobby tapped Gabriel on the shoulder and relieved him of the handgun. “Now,” Bobby told him, “this is my property, so I believe I have a say in who stays and who goes.”
“We're worried about you, Gabriel,” said Balthazar. “You haven’t been out of your room in days.”
“Yeah. Now's a great time to be worried,” grumbled Gabriel.
“And we are here to apologize,” said Raphael. “We should have done more … to protect you the other night. Both of you.”
“Raph? I assume you're the one in charge here?” asked Bobby.
“Yes. When my brothers are out of town,” said Raphael. He shrugged. “I try.”
“Well, you ain't trying hard enough. You're damn lucky I didn't get on the phone to Social Services when I saw what you guys had done to Cas!”
“I am all right now, Bobby,” said Castiel.
“And I ain't quite sure what you done to this one,” Bobby continued, pointing to Gabriel, “but I'm sure as hell that wasn't right either.”
“I.... Yeah,” said Raphael sadly. He looked bitter. “We need to stop fighting with each other! It's important! None of you see how important!”
“Go fuck yourself, Raphael,” said Gabiel.
“Now, Gabriel,” cautioned Balthazar.
“You don't remember. None of you remember. But I remember. I remember every moment. Every second. You all get to forget. But I don't.” Raphael stood for a moment. And then he raised his hand. He held Bobby’s handgun.
“Shit,” said Bobby, who had just noticed he was no longer holding the gun.
Raphael turned and expertly tapped off six quick shots. Six bottles turned to sprays of glass shards, one after the other. Raphael pointed the gun back downwards, and then, breathing hard, held it out, handle first, to a stunned Bobby.
“We weren't messengers,” said Raphael as a stunned Bobby took the gun. “We were soldiers of the Lord. And we.... We fucked it up. We fucked it up badly. So badly it couldn't be put together again. You don't understand. None of you do. What I live with.” Raphael looked up, tears in his eyes. “I think He put us here to get it right this time. This is our last chance! We have to stop fucking it up. Don't you see? Don't any of you see?”
Bobby put a hand on Raphael's shoulder. “Well, I'll tell you what. I think we've had enough shooting for the day. You boys wanna come inside for a while? I'm working on a problem, and it might be something you kids would know about.”
And, with his hand on Raphael's shoulder, Bobby led him towards the house. Castiel followed. Gabriel hung back, glaring, but Balthazar nodded to him, and he reluctantly followed.
“As I commented the other day, Mr.-”
“Bobby.”
“Bobby,” corrected Balthazar as they entered the cluttered living room, “your library is impresssive.”
“You have Enochian texts?” asked Raphael, who made for one corner, and then ran his finger over the spines of several books marked with strange sigils.
“Yep. Probably not as good as the stuff at your house I suppose,” said Bobby.
“You ought come over and see,” said Balthazar.
“A ticket to the Haunted Mansion?” laughed Bobby. “I wouldn't refuse.”
“The Haunted Mansion?” asked Gabriel.
“Sam and Dean started to call it that,” said Castiel, who was almost smiling. “It evidently resembled an amusement park ride?”
“Yeah, get the joke, but...” said Gabriel. “We do live in a scary house, huh?”
“I'm sure it ain't scary to you,” said Bobby. “This place is probably more scary.”
“This place is awesome,” said Gabriel. “You have smashed cars! And guns!”
“And books?” asked Balthazar.
“Eh,” said Gabriel, waving a hand.
“You're missing the sixth Book of Mystery?” asked Raphael, who was crouching down near a stack of angelic books.
“What? I shouldn't be!” said Bobby, coming near.
“I don't see it here,” said Raphael.
“Funny thing to go missing,” said Bobby. “I don't recall loaning it out.”
“Do you read Enochian?” asked Raphael.
“No, unfortunately. I've been able to make out some of the squiggles. But I'm probably even doing that wrong.”
“We could teach you,” offered Castiel.
“Cassie is our expert,” said Balthazar warmly. “He dreams in Enochian.”
“Yeah, Dean mentioned you speak it really well,” said Bobby.
“He did?” asked Castiel, causing Balthazar to laugh out loud.
“You like that human,” said Gabriel.
“No I don't,” said Castiel. “Um. Yes I do.”
“Nothing wrong with liking a human,” said Bobby. “And I say that as a human.”
“Oh. Sorry,” said Gabriel.
“What did you want to ask us about?” asked Raphael.
It was late when Castiel pulled up to the Winchester house. His car was a little quieter, as Bobby had insisted on swapping out the muffler. “Am I too late?” he asked.
“You're perfect,” said Dean, pulling him into the house.
“Where's Sam?”
“Gone to bed.” Dean tugged Castiel down on the couch and began kissing him. “Damn. I missed you. How long has it been?”
Castiel shook his head, glad that he had been missed, and especially glad to have been missed by Dean. “Um. Did you want me to extend my wings again?”
Dean pulled Cas over onto his lap. “Uh. Maybe no. For now?”
“All right.”
“It.... It make me kind of crazy.”
“I think I like it when you're crazy.” And the smile actually flickered in to a real smile.
“Well, then you could smile like that. Damn. I don't know,” said Dean. “Let's just.... Let's just be like this. For now. I like to go a little slow.”
Castiel smiled again and then they were kissing again, and kissing some more, and even more, and various items of clothing were doffed. And then Dean came up for air for long enough that he decided they should probably get the hell out of the living room, just in case Sam woke up and walked in on them.
They ended up in the master bedroom because, well, John wasn't using it, was he?
“You know what Sam noticed,” said Dean, quietly closing the door.
“No,” said Cas, sitting back on the bed, and thinking he probably ought to be more scared than he was.
“There hasn't been anyone. I mean, I haven't been with anyone. Since we moved here.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Uh. I think that's obvious,” said Dean, now sliding on top of Cas. “There aren't any girls around here who smack vampires and speak in angel.”
“Enochian,” said Castiel, who chose that minute to tell Dean more or less that he was very attractive in that language.
“God I love it when you do that!'
“I know.”
And then more clothes were off, and finally, all the clothes were off, and it was just them, together. And Castiel found he didn't really give a shit any more when he fledged, or even if he ever fucking fledged, because really, what would some crappy magic angel feathers have against this? How could flying ever make him feel like this?
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
So here was the thing about the master bedroom: it was around the back of the house. That was why Dean didn't hear the truck pull up, didn't hear the truck's door slam, didn't hear the front door open, and certainly didn't hear John Winchester open the door to the master bedroom, where Dean had fallen asleep, in John's bed, with Cas in his arms.
“Oh. Shit,” whispered Dean.
“One minute, Dean Winchester,” hissed John. “One minute, and then you're out of my fucking bedroom. Now!”
Castiel was awake, blinking in confusion.
“Stay here,” whispered Dean, who was already out of bed and pulling on his jeans.
“I should go out with you,” said Castiel.
“No, believe me, it's better if you stay here.”
“I could explain,” said Castiel.
“Not to my dad, you couldn't,” sighed Dean. He kissed Cas on the top of his head and then, pulling on a shirt, stepped out, carefully closing the door behind him.
“What the hell is going on?” demanded John.
“Nothing,” said Dean.
“Dad?” asked Sam, who looked like he had just gotten up. “What's the matter?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“You! Back to your room!” ordered John.
“Why?” asked Sam, who crossed his arms and stayed put.
“Samuel. I said back to your room. Now! I need to speak to your brother.”
“Cas is over,” Dean told Sam.
“Cas is our friend!” Sam told John. “He's an angel of the Lord!”
And then John went quiet, and suddenly, Dean had a sinking feeling that no, he couldn't handle this.
“You invited one of those … things … to our house?” asked John, rounding on Dean.
“Dad! Oh for Christ's sakes, it’s not like he’s a vampire!” said Dean. But he felt something wasn’t right. He could tell when John quit screaming and got kind of scary quiet. Something had changed in his father, making him turn from riled up to murderous.
John hurled himself at the bedroom door. He flung it open and spat, “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester,” said Castiel, who as now dressed and seemed preternaturally calm. “If I have given you a bad impression.”
“Get out of my house!” John whispered. “Now.”
“He's my friend and he doesn't have to leave!” said Dean, who had planted himself between John and Castiel.
“This is my house!” said John.
“No it's not! You don't even live here!” said Dean.
“No more of your mouth!” said John, who raised his hand.
And then all of a sudden John was on his stomach, arm wrenched behind him, Castiel's knee in his back.
“You … do not touch him,” Castiel whispered to John.
“Cas! Cas! It's OK. It's OK!” said Dean as Castiel's eyes bored into John. “Let him go, Cas,” said Dean, lightly touching Cas’ shoulder. He could feel the angel trembling. “Let him go.”
Castiel glanced at him and then, reluctantly, stepped back.
John got up, locking eyes with Castiel.
“Dad!” yelled Sam, who held out a cell phone.
“John! It's Bobby!” came a voice over the speaker. “You listen to me! Now! Else I'm grabbing my shotgun and coming for you!”
“Bobby,” said John, still having a stare down with Castiel.
“John Winchester! Whatever you're doing, you stop it. You get your ass in that truck, and you come out and see me. I said now! Do you hear me? I don't want another Denver.”
John's eyes flicked over to the phone.
“Do you fucking hear me John?”
Breathing hard, John rose. “Yes, Bobby. On my way.” With a final murderous glance around the room, he was gone, like a passing storm.
“Fucking fuck,” said Dean, sinking down on the couch.
“I should.... I should go,” said Castiel.
“No! Please don't go now!” pleaded Dean, grabbing Cas' arm and pulling him down. “Sammy,” he told his brother. “Thanks, buddy. You saved my ass.”
Sam folded his arms and looked at Dean, with his arm slung over Cas.
“Cas spent the night, didn't he?”
“Yeah, he did,” admitted Dean.
“Seeeeeee? I told you that's why you weren't going with those girls!”
“Yes, Sammy. You're right. You're always right,” sighed Dean.
“Just remember that!”
“And Cas. Thanks for jumping in. With my dad. But, things with my dad, they're … complicated.”
“I will not let him strike you,” said Castiel, who immediately tensed.
Dean nodded. “Look. I know what it looked like. But Dad isn't like that. He gets real mad, but then you talk to him, and he calms down. I don't think he was gonna do it. But I don't know. Look!” he added, as Castiel was about to protest. “I know you protect people. Like you protected Sammy and you protected me. I know that's what you do. But you need to give me a chance with him. OK?”
Castiel seemed to calm down. “All.... All right.”
“He's not a bad guy.”
“Sometimes he's a real jerk!” groused Sam, who flopped down in the chair opposite. “But.... Yeah. Dean is right.”
“We'll figure it out. I guess,” said Dean, although he did not say it with a great deal of confidence.
“What’s this?” asked Dean as he sat in Bobby's living room that afternoon..
“What does it look like? It’s lamb’s blood,” said Bobby, motioning for the bowl
“Whoa, cool,” said Dean, handing it over.
“One hunter’s tip: pays to make friends with your local butcher. He thinks I keep a pack of big dogs out here.
“I’ll remember that,” laughed Dean. And then, more seriously, he asked, “So, is my dad still gonna kill me?”
Bobby sighed and looked up over his reading glasses. “You had to do this in his bed? What were you thinking? Of course, I realize any reference to ‘thinking’ makes this a stupid ass question.”
“I didn’t know he was coming home! It had been months. Besides, my bed is kind of cramped.”
“We’ll go get you a damn king size. Don’t you kids go neck in the back seat of your car any more?”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Dean, who was quite suddenly thinking of that. “You don’t understand, Bobby. Angels: have you seen it when they have their wings out?” he asked. He spread his arms and started to get a little dreamy-eyed.
“I ain’t had the pleasure. But I gotta ask, have you heard the expression, too much information?”
“Sorry, Uncle Bobby.”
“Look, your dad thinks…. I ain’t sure where he came up with this one, but he’s now got it in his head that angels are behind your ma’s death.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
“Not completely,” said Bobby. “You won’t remember, since you were small and Sammy was just a babe. We’ve always suspected there was supernatural involvement. I won’t go into it. Me, I think it’s demons. All the signs are there. But John….”
“Oh, good god!” said Dean. “Is that why he dragged us here? To Sioux Falls? It’s not for us, it was never for us, was it? He’s checking up on the angels.”
“Son….”
“That old son of a bitch!”
“Dean Winchester! You do not speak of your pop like that when I’m around.”
“Sorry. Uncle Bobby,” muttered Dean.
“One thing, boy, what you said about Cas tackling your old man like that?”
“Yeah,” said Dean, who thought it best not to mention right at the moment that he thought the whole thing was awfully cool.
“That boy is still water. You don’t quite know what’s happening beneath. Be careful when he’s around your old man. You kids are doing … homework together, or whatever it is, take my advice, go out to his house for the next few days.”
“OK. But I’ve told Cas I can handle my dad.”
“Ain’t you I’m worried about,” said Bobby, who removed his reading glasses and looked at Dean. “Your dad gets into it with Sam again, like when you kids were in Colorado….”
“The broken arm? That was an accident!” said Dean. “I mean…. Sort of an accident.” Dean shuddered at the memory of the emergency room visit, and the polite fiction that Sammy had “fallen.” Well, he had fallen, but only after John had smacked him.
“Those two are too much alike. I’ve always said so,” said Bobby. “Your dad gets into it with Sammy again, and Cas is around, I ain’t sure the boy won’t haul off and snap your dad’s fool neck.”
Dean didn’t reply, although he thought, not for the first time, that maybe somebody should haul off and break his fool father’s neck. But he immediately regretted the thought.
“Like I said,” Bobby continued, slipping back the eyglasses. “Give your dad some room. Maybe get Sam’s whatchajiggy Nintendo thing and set it up at Cas’ house.”
“So my dad’s in town, and we’re supposed to avoid him?” asked Dean sullenly.
Bobby shrugged. “What do I look like, your fairy godmother, kid? Now, gimme a minute, I’m scrying.”
“You’re what?”
“It’s like a search. You know that angel magic book that went missing on me?”
“You couldn’t find it?”
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to do,” Bobby told him. “I mark my books, especially the rare ones, in case of some damn fool who borrows it and doesn’t return it.”
Dean watched in fascination as Bobby dipped his hand in the sticky sheep's blood and seemed to run it around, like he was looking for something in the bottom of the bowl.
“Huh,” Bobby said at length, sitting back.
“What is it?”
Bobby grabbed a rag and started to wipe the blood from his hand.
“Hey, Bobby! I can steer around a corner and hardly ever crash!” yelled Gabriel, who had just burst through the door. Castiel followed him, and Dean was pretty sure the angel was rolling his eyes. “Hey, were you scrying?” asked Gabriel, who ran over to the bowl. “What did you see?”
“As a matter of fact, I was looking for that lost Enochian Book of Mysteries,” said Bobby, who was suddenly studying Gabriel closely.
“Did you locate it, Bobby?” asked Castiel.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. Seems like it somehow got into you boys’ house.”
“Gabriel!” chided Castiel.
“Cassie, why would I steal a book? I don’t even like books!” said Gabriel.
“It could well have been one of us, though,” said Castiel. “You are not warded against angels! The collection should be secured.”
“Now,” laughed Bobby, “Cas, you’re a paranoid little bastard, my kind of person.”
Castiel looked confused.
“But I’m not gonna ward against you boys: you’re friends. I’ll tell you what you could do though. When you get back to your house, could you take a look around, see if maybe one of your brothers forgot to return something?”
“Yes, we will return immediately and conduct a thorough search,” promised Castiel.
“But I’m only halfway through my driving lesson!” protested Gabriel.
“I will need your assistance, Gabriel,” said Castiel. “You are sneaky and underhanded!”
“Well, if you put it that way…” said Gabriel, grinning.
“Cas, I got a favor to ask,” said Dean. “I was wondering if I could bring Sammy by your place for the afternoon. We could set up his Nintendo, and he wouldn’t be a bother.”
“Of course Sam could come by!” said Castiel.
“He’s got a Nintendo?” asked Gabriel. “What about an Xbox?”
“Gabriel! You are supposed to be improving your grades,” lectured Cas.
“When did you turn into Michael?” asked Gabriel shrewdly.
“I’m not Michael!” protested Cas.
“Whoa! Wings down, boys!” laughed Bobby. “You’re welcome to borrow stuff from my library if you want, but I’m awfully persnickety about getting stuff back. So if you happen to turn up that book, if you could instill on the party in question, that’s the deal?”
“Yes, sir,” said Castiel, who elbowed Gabriel.
“Yes, Bobby,” said Gabriel.
The very next day Bobby confronted a contrite-looking party of four boys gathered at his front door..
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Raphael told Bobby. “This is completely inappropriate.” He solemnly handed to ancient volume over to Bobby.
“So, can I ask where it was?” asked Bobby with a studied casualness.
“It was hidden in Lucifer’s room,” said Castiel.
“Eh. Not really hidden. Under the mattress. I could have done better,” said Gabriel.
“This does not mean Lucifer was necessarily the culprit,” said Raphael.
“Of course he was the culprit,” said Castiel.
“As I have stated before,” said Balthazar, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I believe we should contact our brother.”
“Your brother Michael?” asked Bobby. Balthazar nodded. “Yeah, that sounds reasonable.”
“Balthazar, don’t smoke here, it’s rude!” chided Raphael.
“Bobby, may I smoke upon your property?” asked Balthazar.
“Sure, as long as you ain’t near a propane tank,” said Bobby. Balthazar smirked at Raphael.
“Would you boys do me another favor?” asked Bobby.
“Anything,” said Raphael.
“Well,” said Bobby, holding up the book. “I admit, I got this book, but I’m not much for making out angelic squiggles.”
“You wish a translation?” said Raphael.
“Doesn’t have to be a full one, but a rundown of the kinds of spells that’s in this volume? Might come in useful.”
“Cassie is your man for that,” said Balthazar. “He is our Enochian scholar.”
“I will gladly do it for you, Bobby!” said Castiel, who puffed up visibly.
“I hate to be a pest, but you got some time this afternoon?” asked Bobby.
“Certainly!”
Balthazar made a big show of clearing his throat.
“I told you smoking would do that,” grumbled Raphael.
“Raphael?” prompted Balthazar.
“Oh,” said Raphael. “That.”
Bobby looked between the two angels. He was convinced that if Raphael’s skin had been paler, the boy would have been blushing as he shyly stuck out his hand with a flyer towards Bobby.
“Now, what’s this?”
“An evening of culture!” grinned Balthazar, clapping Raphael on the shoulder.
“Yuck,” said Gabriel.
“Um. There’s going to be a poetry reading. And, some of my works have been accepted,” muttered Raphael.
“Because I submitted them,” said Balthazar.
“Don’t feel obligated,” Raphael told Bobby.
“Wouldn’t miss it!” said Bobby, holding the paper. “I guess we all could use a little culture.”
“Can we get back to the Haunted Mansion now? Sammy brought his Nintendo!” whined Gabriel.
“Do you have your homework done?” Raphael asked him.
“Well….”
“I can come back for you later, Cassie!” offered Balthazar.
“I will call Dean for a ride home,” said Castiel.
“I suppose you will,” said Balthazar with a smile. And then with a little wave and a soft rustle of wings, the three disappeared.
“Bobby, there is a reason why you wish for a quick translation,” said Castiel as Bobby handed the volume to him. It was not a question.
“Yeah. There is.”
“I do not trust my brother, Lucifer.”
“I gathered that. Look, Raph says he remembers your past lives. He ever fill you in on the details?”
Castiel shook his head.
Bobby nodded. “Well, there’s not a ton of material on you angels. It’s almost as if someone went in and scrubbed out all the religious texts: Bible, Koran, Torah. It’s all the same.”
“That is strange.”
“Well, yeah, it’s pretty strange. But from what I could tell, there are a whole bunch of rumors of some kind of pretty bad rift up there. And it seems the most likely culprits were Michael and Lucifer.”
“That is not what I would have expected. They have always gotten along,” said Castiel.
“Things ain’t always what they seem. Anyways, I’m getting a little peckish. What do you say we make some toasted cheese sandwiches and read angel spell books?”
“What is a toasted cheese sandwich? It’s food, right?” asked Castiel.
“Well, the way I make ‘em, some would say so,” said Bobby.
“Dean.”
“Oh. Uh. Hi, Dad,” said Dean. Dean had come home after class intending to grab a couple of things before he headed off pick up Cas. It was strange seeing his old man in his house. Although, as John had pointed out, it was his house.
“Where’s Sam? I thought he’d be home by now,” said John.
“Uh. He’s at some friends. They’re playing Nintendo. It can get loud, so we didn’t wanna, you know, disturb you.”
“You can come in, you know. I’m not gonna kill you,” John told his son.
“Well, of course not, nowhere to hide the body,” said Dean.
John glared, but then it switched to a smile. Dean smiled and sat down opposite.
“You want some beer?”
“Oh, better not,” said Dean. “I’m heading off to study. With a friend.”
“You’re studying?” asked John, skeptically.
“I’m up to a B average,” said Dean. Even now, he found the news surprising.
“Really?” asked John.
“Really,” said Dean. “You gonna be home for a few days?”
“Yeah. I think so. We need to talk.”
Dean nodded. Though he was not quite sure what they were supposed to talk about.
“I’ve been thinking. About what Sam said,” John continued, his eyes watching Dean.
“What Sam said … when?” asked Dean.
“About homeschooling you guys.”
Dean felt a chill. “You said it was a dumb idea. For religious whack-a-dos. But now it’s not dumb, for some reason?” he asked.
“Well, then I could keep you boys with me.”
“I dunno, Dad,” said Dean.
“What’s wrong with it?”
Everything, thought Dean. “Because…. We have friends here. And, I’m doing OK in school, Sam is doing great, and he’s not getting picked on. For once!”
“He wouldn’t get picked on at all if I tutored him,” said John, glaring over his beer at Dean.
“Dad. You’re not gonna tutor Sam! You know damn well he could get into a good college. And me, I might even try the city college.”
“You? At college?” scoffed John.
“Why the hell not?” asked Dean, his cheeks burning.
“Dean, face it. You’re like me. You have no use for that crap.”
Dean struggled to keep calm. “Dad! We’re finally feeling like…. This is finally feeling kind of like a home. It’s not like when we had you and mom. But we’re doing OK. And you wanna take us away from it?”
John sat forward. “This is about that angel boy, isn’t it?”
“What if it is?” asked Dean, standing up. “Maybe you don’t like that I got somebody who will stand up for me, but I fucking like it.”
“You know what they did to your mother?” asked John darkly.
“No. And neither do you! Not after ten fucking years of dragging our asses around the country!”
“Dean….”
“No! You wanna throw your life away on that, go ahead! But no more taking me, and no more dragging Sammy in on this!”
John glared. “Sam is my boy. I don’t need your permission. If I want to go, and take my son, I’m gonna do it. You wanna ruin your life with some twisted little angel fuck, that is your business.”
Dean was glad he hadn’t accepted the beer, because if he’d had a bottle in his hand, at that moment, he wasn’t quite sure what he would have done.
Instead, tears in his eyes, he turned on his heel, and walked out the door, letting it slam, hard, on John Winchester.
