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tikificTitle: Bring It on Home to Me (Blood on the Tracks, Coda)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, Crowley, Bobby, Gabriel
Warnings: Cursing, some violence, Dean being dickish, appetizing descriptions of Greek food.
Word Count: 40,000 give or take.
Summary: What do you do with leftover angel grace; a discussion of hot tubs; and another auction.
Notes: This is the last bit, in which loose ends are either tied up or left to wriggle. Oh, and even though this is only one line, this is the internet, so I know someone will inevitably mention it: through a complicated set of circumstances, Loki is said to be the mother of Odin's horse, Sleipnir. Yes, the mother.
The figure could have been a pilgrim. Or a western tourist trekking the Himalayas
He was neither.
Pulling his overcoat tightly around him, Castiel entered the monastery and quietly made mention of a name to one of the saffron-robed monks. He was ushered him into a small, sparely furnished room.
He stood as he felt the presence at the doorway. “Brother Inias!”
“Brother Castiel?” asked the monk. He hurried forward and warmly embraced Castiel.
“It is very … beautiful here,” said Castiel.
“Yes,” said the young-appearing man. “I am very lucky.”
“I have brought something for you,” said Castiel, tugging at a chain around his neck. He brought out a conical vial which held a strange, glowing substance.
“Oh,” said Inias, clutching at the vial. He frowned in puzzlement. “You retrieved my grace from Raguel?”
“Yes. As you may have heard, he has been stopped.”
“I have begun to hear the voices once again,” said Inias, smiling broadly and tapping his ear. “Our brothers and sisters.”
“You can still hear them?” asked Castiel.
“Yes. I had no idea. I can't speak any more, but I can listen. It has given some comfort.” He looked back at Castiel. “May I ask...?”
“Why?” said Castiel.
Inias nodded. “I am not certain why my heart is troubled about this....”
“Raguel had fallen under the influence of a demon,” said Cas. “But I am not certain he was entirely … stable, beforehand.”
“Well, it's good that the threat has ended,” said Inias, who appeared to consider the matter closed.
“So. Will you rejoin us?” asked Cas.
“I.... I thank you for this. But....” Inias slipped the chain around his own neck, tucking the vial deep in his robes.
Castiel nodded.
“It's just...,” Inias began. He considered for a moment. “I have learned so many things. So many things. Being human.”
“I am not surprised. Many of our brothers and sisters, the ones who survived, feel the same as you do.”
“Really?” asked Inias.
Castiel nodded.
“These last few years have been full of confusion,” said Inias. “I feel.... I feel I have some peace here.”
Castiel stood. “I am glad for you, brother.”
Inias rose and once again embraced Castiel. “And you, brother,” he asked. “Have you found your peace?”
Castiel tilted his head. “I believe in my case, peace and happiness are not the same thing.”
Gabriel lay on the couch in Bobby Singer's main room, chatting on his cell phone. Bobby came by and glared at him. Gabriel gave the hunter a happy wave.
“So, Innie wouldn't go for the grace? Yeah, well none of them do. Maybe we can start dealing the stuff to college athletes. I'm joking, brother! I thought you got humor now. What, humor is funny? You're yanking my chain, aren't you? Brat. Yeah, OK, I'll tell Sammy.” He pushed the END CALL button and sat up, cross-legged on the couch. “Ooo, looking sharp, Mr. S.”
“So, I suppose I permanently got an archangel ass attached to my damn couch?” grumbled Bobby, who was, to be fair, dressed rather more nicely than usual.
“Everybody's got an archangel. We're the latest fashion accessory. Soooooo, you going on a date? Anyone I know?” Gabriel batted his eyes and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Maybe,” snarled Bobby.
“Hey, Bobby!” said Sam, brightly. “Oh, uh, hey Gabriel,” he said, not quite so brightly. He held a pizza box and a six pack, which he set down on the coffee table.
“Goin' out,” Bobby told Sam. “Don't let that one rearrange the furniture,” he said, pointing at Gabriel. And then he left.
“I'm sitting right here!” Gabriel called after him. “Be home before midnight!” he yelled after Bobby.
“Call if you're gonna be late!” yelled Sam.
“Don't do drugs!” yelled Gabriel.
Sam smiled despite himself.
“Oh, and my baby brother just told me he's hanging out with a Winchester tonight,” Gabriel told Sam. “You can maybe guess which one.”
Sam shook his head and thumped down on the couch, where he fished among the detritus on Bobby's coffee table for a remote control.
“You know, we could go out! Us two boys! Get better acquainted!” said Gabriel, scooting over nearer to Sam.
“No,” said Sam without even looking up from the TV.
“But I'm an archangel! That makes me way cooler than Castiel!”
“Gabriel, frankly, I was waiting for something a little more … female,” Sam finished, glaring right into Gabriel's eyes.
Gabriel snapped his fingers, and turned into Lilu.
“No,” said Sam.
“Odin's horse didn't mind.”
“I'm sure he didn't,” said Sam. “Hey,” he said, pointing to the TV, “have you ever seen Star Wars?”
“Yeah,” said Gabriel, going back to Gabriel, although he was now wearing Jedi robes.
“Hey, cool! Can you do that for me?” And then Sam was all Obi-Wan Kenobi as well. “Sweeeeet.”
“You wanna real working lightsaber?” asked Gabriel.
“Huh,” said Sam, pulling the top off a cold one. “Maybe later. After we have a couple beers?”
“OK,” said Gabriel, helping himself to a long-neck.
I am turning into a chick.
Dean settled into the motel room bathtub, not really regretting the observation, just letting it float out there. He took a healthy swig from a cold long neck, carefully setting the bottle down on the floor beside the claw foot tub. After all these years, why hadn't anyone told him about hot baths? After a crappy day getting battered around by demons, this was fucking awesome.
Maybe at some point he would get a place with a hot tub. That made sense. But, wait, he was thinking about getting a place? As you couldn't really tow the hot tub behind the car. Or could you? Naw, too close to having a fucking camper van.
But a hot tub. He could sit out on the deck (he would have to get a deck, too), warm as hell, drinking beer, and then maybe if Cas was around....
He grinned up at the sound of familiar wing beats. “Dude, just in time! The water’s getting cold.”
Castiel shook his head, and then leaned over, putting a hand just over the bath water, heating it up. Dean rolled his eyes back in happiness. “Oh, yeah, that's just perfect.”
“I am your holy water heater,” grumbled Castiel. Dean threw his head back and laughed.
“Hey, you're getting pretty funny. Clothes!” he said. Castiel nodded, and began to shrug out of his clothing. Dean smiled as Cas very carefully folded the trench coat – Jimmy’s coat – he had so carefully reconstituted (or whatever the hell angels did) down to the last wrinkle. Cas then laid it over the back of a chair as if it were some kind of ermine robe. Or a prop from a 1938 horror film. But Dean also noticed with a small sense of smugness that the angel had retained the clothes Dean had bought him. Angels are sentimental bastards, he thought. That stuff, however, all ended up in kind of a tangle on the floor.
“So how did it go with...” Dean started.
“Inias?” said Castiel, pulling off his undershirt and adding it to the pile.
“Inias.” Dean repeated the odd name.
Castiel looked far off. “I returned his grace. He has, for the present time, opted to remain human.”
“Like they all do,” said Dean. “What?” he asked to Castiel's questioning look.
“Should I have allowed Raguel to make me fully human?” asked Castiel.
“Oh fuck no! How would we keep the water warm? Well, unless we got a hot tub. What do you think?”
“A hot tub?” asked Castiel, who had finally removed his clothing, and now was stepping into the tub. Dean reached up and guided him down so he was sitting between Dean's legs. “Wouldn't you need … a location? To place the hot tub?”
“So. We get … a location. I guess.”
“Or I suppose my brother could constitute a hot tub for us,” said Cas uncertainly.
“But it would probably have rainbow water and running unicorns.”
“You are right about that.”
Dean fumbled on the bathtub shelf for a small vial. He twisted out an eyedropper to tweaked out a drop of aniseed oil into the water. He felt Castiel instantly start to relax. Then he carefully sealed up the bottle. Cas reached a lazy hand towards the bottle, like a cat batting at a cloth mouse, but made no further attempt to grab it. The stuff was amazing, but Dean had found through his own experimentation that it was also pretty easy to get an overdose and end up with an angel who acted like he'd just had all his bones surgically removed.
Dean, recognizing the distinctive smell, had also tried soothing Cas with licorice whips, but those seemed to have no effect, and usually ended up getting snarfed up by Gabriel anyway. Minnie had given him some story about how it needed to be pure and from blah blah blah source. She had put out the suggestion of candles. But … candles? Fuck, no.
“Or we could just set up a hot tub in this motel room,” Dean suggested. “We seem to be the only people who stay here anymore. Are you doing that with angel mojo?”
Castiel smiled slightly and shrugged. “I suppose so. I don't really know.” Dean was running his hands up and down the angel's chest now, feeling the small ridges of scar tissue from the angel banishing sigil Cas had carved there in his own chest long ago. Cas had mentioned, once, all apologies, that he could never real get his vessel to heal completely. Dean didn't mind. People should have scars. It made sense. Dean’s expression turned to a smile. Here he was, in a warm tub with a naked angel? It seemed, for once, his life didn’t suck.
“Soooo, you got the leftover grace, right?” asked Dean.
“Yes. From the brothers who did not survive,” said Cas, his voice more melancholic than usual.
“What if I took one?”
Castiel twisted around to look Dean in the eye. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Then we could both be angels.”
“Even angels do not wish to be angels,” sighed Castiel, leaning back again. “And besides, you might cause yourself serious injury!”
“Aw!” scoffed Dean. “I was supposed to be Mike's vessel. I think I could take it.”
“I do not think it works that way. But, no, I do not wish you to become an angel.”
“Why not?”
“You are perfect as you are.”
“What? I thought I was a dick!” said Dean.
“You are a perfect dick.”
“Are you being funny again?”
Castiel considered. “Maybe.” He settled back.
“Hey, you know,” said Dean. “I never got to touch your wings.”
“Perhaps I will let you. At some point....”
“You let the goddesses grope you!”
Castiel relaxed more, and grinned.
“Hey, you're being a dick, aren't you?” asked Dean.
“It is surprisingly enjoyable!”
Dean held Castiel for a while. He let his hands stray further down, and felt Cas tense again, though in a very pleasant way. Cas twisted around again, this time for a long kiss. God, there was something worth losing your soul over.
“Hey,” Dean whispered. “Do you ever wonder what's going on with Crowley and Jahi?”
Cas sat back. “No.”
It was Dean's turn to grin. “Me, neither.”
“I shall have to rob a bank.”
“Do not bee overly dramateek.”
The couple peered at Lot 342 some more.
“Eet ess as worn by Leez Taylor. I have matched eet to zhee Blu Ray.”
“We shall see, my pet. If the bidding does not to too high perhaps.”
“Oh the bidding will be through the roof on this puppy!” The couple did not move, but both glared over at the guy who had just strolled over before the clear acrylic case containing Elizabeth Taylor's authentic, screen-used crown from the movie classic, Cleopatra.
“You are going to beed?” she asked him.
“Am I gonna bid! This little sucker is as good as mine,” he bragged, putting his expensive sunglasses on top of his head.
Crowley cast his eyes up and down. “Shoes,” he whispered in Jahi's ear.
“Yeah, I figure I'm gonna jump in their early on the bidding, push this bitch sky high! I- Ow!” yelped the man as Crowley snapped his fingers.
He started dancing, and then ran off.
Somehow, his flip flops had caught on fire.
“Fleep flops,” grumbled Jahi.
“I hate those things,” said Crowley, patting her arm.
“Hate zhose theengs,” she agreed, leaning her head over to rest on Crowley's shoulder. And they gazed at Cleopatra's crown for some minutes more.
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas; Sam, Crowley, Bobby, Gabriel
Warnings: Cursing, some violence, Dean being dickish, appetizing descriptions of Greek food.
Word Count: 40,000 give or take.
Summary: What do you do with leftover angel grace; a discussion of hot tubs; and another auction.
Notes: This is the last bit, in which loose ends are either tied up or left to wriggle. Oh, and even though this is only one line, this is the internet, so I know someone will inevitably mention it: through a complicated set of circumstances, Loki is said to be the mother of Odin's horse, Sleipnir. Yes, the mother.
The figure could have been a pilgrim. Or a western tourist trekking the Himalayas
He was neither.
Pulling his overcoat tightly around him, Castiel entered the monastery and quietly made mention of a name to one of the saffron-robed monks. He was ushered him into a small, sparely furnished room.
He stood as he felt the presence at the doorway. “Brother Inias!”
“Brother Castiel?” asked the monk. He hurried forward and warmly embraced Castiel.
“It is very … beautiful here,” said Castiel.
“Yes,” said the young-appearing man. “I am very lucky.”
“I have brought something for you,” said Castiel, tugging at a chain around his neck. He brought out a conical vial which held a strange, glowing substance.
“Oh,” said Inias, clutching at the vial. He frowned in puzzlement. “You retrieved my grace from Raguel?”
“Yes. As you may have heard, he has been stopped.”
“I have begun to hear the voices once again,” said Inias, smiling broadly and tapping his ear. “Our brothers and sisters.”
“You can still hear them?” asked Castiel.
“Yes. I had no idea. I can't speak any more, but I can listen. It has given some comfort.” He looked back at Castiel. “May I ask...?”
“Why?” said Castiel.
Inias nodded. “I am not certain why my heart is troubled about this....”
“Raguel had fallen under the influence of a demon,” said Cas. “But I am not certain he was entirely … stable, beforehand.”
“Well, it's good that the threat has ended,” said Inias, who appeared to consider the matter closed.
“So. Will you rejoin us?” asked Cas.
“I.... I thank you for this. But....” Inias slipped the chain around his own neck, tucking the vial deep in his robes.
Castiel nodded.
“It's just...,” Inias began. He considered for a moment. “I have learned so many things. So many things. Being human.”
“I am not surprised. Many of our brothers and sisters, the ones who survived, feel the same as you do.”
“Really?” asked Inias.
Castiel nodded.
“These last few years have been full of confusion,” said Inias. “I feel.... I feel I have some peace here.”
Castiel stood. “I am glad for you, brother.”
Inias rose and once again embraced Castiel. “And you, brother,” he asked. “Have you found your peace?”
Castiel tilted his head. “I believe in my case, peace and happiness are not the same thing.”
Gabriel lay on the couch in Bobby Singer's main room, chatting on his cell phone. Bobby came by and glared at him. Gabriel gave the hunter a happy wave.
“So, Innie wouldn't go for the grace? Yeah, well none of them do. Maybe we can start dealing the stuff to college athletes. I'm joking, brother! I thought you got humor now. What, humor is funny? You're yanking my chain, aren't you? Brat. Yeah, OK, I'll tell Sammy.” He pushed the END CALL button and sat up, cross-legged on the couch. “Ooo, looking sharp, Mr. S.”
“So, I suppose I permanently got an archangel ass attached to my damn couch?” grumbled Bobby, who was, to be fair, dressed rather more nicely than usual.
“Everybody's got an archangel. We're the latest fashion accessory. Soooooo, you going on a date? Anyone I know?” Gabriel batted his eyes and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Maybe,” snarled Bobby.
“Hey, Bobby!” said Sam, brightly. “Oh, uh, hey Gabriel,” he said, not quite so brightly. He held a pizza box and a six pack, which he set down on the coffee table.
“Goin' out,” Bobby told Sam. “Don't let that one rearrange the furniture,” he said, pointing at Gabriel. And then he left.
“I'm sitting right here!” Gabriel called after him. “Be home before midnight!” he yelled after Bobby.
“Call if you're gonna be late!” yelled Sam.
“Don't do drugs!” yelled Gabriel.
Sam smiled despite himself.
“Oh, and my baby brother just told me he's hanging out with a Winchester tonight,” Gabriel told Sam. “You can maybe guess which one.”
Sam shook his head and thumped down on the couch, where he fished among the detritus on Bobby's coffee table for a remote control.
“You know, we could go out! Us two boys! Get better acquainted!” said Gabriel, scooting over nearer to Sam.
“No,” said Sam without even looking up from the TV.
“But I'm an archangel! That makes me way cooler than Castiel!”
“Gabriel, frankly, I was waiting for something a little more … female,” Sam finished, glaring right into Gabriel's eyes.
Gabriel snapped his fingers, and turned into Lilu.
“No,” said Sam.
“Odin's horse didn't mind.”
“I'm sure he didn't,” said Sam. “Hey,” he said, pointing to the TV, “have you ever seen Star Wars?”
“Yeah,” said Gabriel, going back to Gabriel, although he was now wearing Jedi robes.
“Hey, cool! Can you do that for me?” And then Sam was all Obi-Wan Kenobi as well. “Sweeeeet.”
“You wanna real working lightsaber?” asked Gabriel.
“Huh,” said Sam, pulling the top off a cold one. “Maybe later. After we have a couple beers?”
“OK,” said Gabriel, helping himself to a long-neck.
I am turning into a chick.
Dean settled into the motel room bathtub, not really regretting the observation, just letting it float out there. He took a healthy swig from a cold long neck, carefully setting the bottle down on the floor beside the claw foot tub. After all these years, why hadn't anyone told him about hot baths? After a crappy day getting battered around by demons, this was fucking awesome.
Maybe at some point he would get a place with a hot tub. That made sense. But, wait, he was thinking about getting a place? As you couldn't really tow the hot tub behind the car. Or could you? Naw, too close to having a fucking camper van.
But a hot tub. He could sit out on the deck (he would have to get a deck, too), warm as hell, drinking beer, and then maybe if Cas was around....
He grinned up at the sound of familiar wing beats. “Dude, just in time! The water’s getting cold.”
Castiel shook his head, and then leaned over, putting a hand just over the bath water, heating it up. Dean rolled his eyes back in happiness. “Oh, yeah, that's just perfect.”
“I am your holy water heater,” grumbled Castiel. Dean threw his head back and laughed.
“Hey, you're getting pretty funny. Clothes!” he said. Castiel nodded, and began to shrug out of his clothing. Dean smiled as Cas very carefully folded the trench coat – Jimmy’s coat – he had so carefully reconstituted (or whatever the hell angels did) down to the last wrinkle. Cas then laid it over the back of a chair as if it were some kind of ermine robe. Or a prop from a 1938 horror film. But Dean also noticed with a small sense of smugness that the angel had retained the clothes Dean had bought him. Angels are sentimental bastards, he thought. That stuff, however, all ended up in kind of a tangle on the floor.
“So how did it go with...” Dean started.
“Inias?” said Castiel, pulling off his undershirt and adding it to the pile.
“Inias.” Dean repeated the odd name.
Castiel looked far off. “I returned his grace. He has, for the present time, opted to remain human.”
“Like they all do,” said Dean. “What?” he asked to Castiel's questioning look.
“Should I have allowed Raguel to make me fully human?” asked Castiel.
“Oh fuck no! How would we keep the water warm? Well, unless we got a hot tub. What do you think?”
“A hot tub?” asked Castiel, who had finally removed his clothing, and now was stepping into the tub. Dean reached up and guided him down so he was sitting between Dean's legs. “Wouldn't you need … a location? To place the hot tub?”
“So. We get … a location. I guess.”
“Or I suppose my brother could constitute a hot tub for us,” said Cas uncertainly.
“But it would probably have rainbow water and running unicorns.”
“You are right about that.”
Dean fumbled on the bathtub shelf for a small vial. He twisted out an eyedropper to tweaked out a drop of aniseed oil into the water. He felt Castiel instantly start to relax. Then he carefully sealed up the bottle. Cas reached a lazy hand towards the bottle, like a cat batting at a cloth mouse, but made no further attempt to grab it. The stuff was amazing, but Dean had found through his own experimentation that it was also pretty easy to get an overdose and end up with an angel who acted like he'd just had all his bones surgically removed.
Dean, recognizing the distinctive smell, had also tried soothing Cas with licorice whips, but those seemed to have no effect, and usually ended up getting snarfed up by Gabriel anyway. Minnie had given him some story about how it needed to be pure and from blah blah blah source. She had put out the suggestion of candles. But … candles? Fuck, no.
“Or we could just set up a hot tub in this motel room,” Dean suggested. “We seem to be the only people who stay here anymore. Are you doing that with angel mojo?”
Castiel smiled slightly and shrugged. “I suppose so. I don't really know.” Dean was running his hands up and down the angel's chest now, feeling the small ridges of scar tissue from the angel banishing sigil Cas had carved there in his own chest long ago. Cas had mentioned, once, all apologies, that he could never real get his vessel to heal completely. Dean didn't mind. People should have scars. It made sense. Dean’s expression turned to a smile. Here he was, in a warm tub with a naked angel? It seemed, for once, his life didn’t suck.
“Soooo, you got the leftover grace, right?” asked Dean.
“Yes. From the brothers who did not survive,” said Cas, his voice more melancholic than usual.
“What if I took one?”
Castiel twisted around to look Dean in the eye. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Then we could both be angels.”
“Even angels do not wish to be angels,” sighed Castiel, leaning back again. “And besides, you might cause yourself serious injury!”
“Aw!” scoffed Dean. “I was supposed to be Mike's vessel. I think I could take it.”
“I do not think it works that way. But, no, I do not wish you to become an angel.”
“Why not?”
“You are perfect as you are.”
“What? I thought I was a dick!” said Dean.
“You are a perfect dick.”
“Are you being funny again?”
Castiel considered. “Maybe.” He settled back.
“Hey, you know,” said Dean. “I never got to touch your wings.”
“Perhaps I will let you. At some point....”
“You let the goddesses grope you!”
Castiel relaxed more, and grinned.
“Hey, you're being a dick, aren't you?” asked Dean.
“It is surprisingly enjoyable!”
Dean held Castiel for a while. He let his hands stray further down, and felt Cas tense again, though in a very pleasant way. Cas twisted around again, this time for a long kiss. God, there was something worth losing your soul over.
“Hey,” Dean whispered. “Do you ever wonder what's going on with Crowley and Jahi?”
Cas sat back. “No.”
It was Dean's turn to grin. “Me, neither.”
“I shall have to rob a bank.”
“Do not bee overly dramateek.”
The couple peered at Lot 342 some more.
“Eet ess as worn by Leez Taylor. I have matched eet to zhee Blu Ray.”
“We shall see, my pet. If the bidding does not to too high perhaps.”
“Oh the bidding will be through the roof on this puppy!” The couple did not move, but both glared over at the guy who had just strolled over before the clear acrylic case containing Elizabeth Taylor's authentic, screen-used crown from the movie classic, Cleopatra.
“You are going to beed?” she asked him.
“Am I gonna bid! This little sucker is as good as mine,” he bragged, putting his expensive sunglasses on top of his head.
Crowley cast his eyes up and down. “Shoes,” he whispered in Jahi's ear.
“Yeah, I figure I'm gonna jump in their early on the bidding, push this bitch sky high! I- Ow!” yelped the man as Crowley snapped his fingers.
He started dancing, and then ran off.
Somehow, his flip flops had caught on fire.
“Fleep flops,” grumbled Jahi.
“I hate those things,” said Crowley, patting her arm.
“Hate zhose theengs,” she agreed, leaning her head over to rest on Crowley's shoulder. And they gazed at Cleopatra's crown for some minutes more.
