Sebastian sat low in the narrow chair. Jim raced around his office, dropping and picking up various things as he rummaged through his piles. Sebastian’s blue eyes traced after Jim.
“Sebastian!” Jim called, likely forgetting that Sebastian hadn’t moved since Jim told him to sit.
“Yes, Jim?”
“I’m going off for a few days; you need to watch Sherlock, okay.”
“Well, sir,” Sebastian stood up. “I don’t think I’m really capable of watching Mr. Holmes.”
“Not Holmes, Sebby, obviously, I mean the cub, watch the cub.”
“Oh, yes, well, couldn’t I just come with you Jim?” Sebastian crossed one leg over the other, watching Jim as he packed a duffle bag full of explosives and electronic appliances.
“Why? You’re ordinary Sebby; there isn’t anything you can do.”
Jim never knew when he was hurting Seb, he never really recognized plain emotion; he was immune to the feelings of others.
“Maybe I could help you, Jim.”
“No, you couldn’t. You’re just a person, Seb.” Jim zipped the bag and stood taut.
“As are you, sir.”
Jim’s eyes widened. “And the tiger grew claws. Do me a favour, okay?”
Sebastian sighed. “Yes, sir.”
“Find someone to watch Sherlock, and get yourself a ticket to Beijing.”
Sebastian nodded and left quickly the most ridiculous smile on his face. He called a friend, Irene Adler, and asked her to watch Jim’s illegal tiger cub, rightfully named Sherlock. And then phones the airline, buying himself a ticket for what he assumed was also Jim’s flight.
He returned to the office. In what had only been at most ten minutes Jim had left, duffle bag and all. He left a note folded up in half on his desk. Addressed to Sebby.
Sebastian unfolded it.
Sebby,
Off to Beijing. Big picture: blow up China. Be inconspicuous.
~M
Sebastian dropped the note and smiled; he returned to his house and packed up a few bags, waiting anxiously for his plane. He boarded, and looked around when there was a familiar note on his seat.
Seb,
There’s a bomb on the plane. Find and disarm it.
~M
Sebastian crumped the paper; he was tired of being tested. He was no more ordinary the Jim himself. He escaped the plane and called a connection he had to get him to Beijing. There he located Jim, in a suite hotel room.
“Seb? That you? Weird, that plane, it did blow up didn’t it?”
“I’m not ordinary Jim.”
“Oh I know.”
Jim turned around. Sebastian looked at Jim, his qwerky smile.
“Then why with the tests? Why are you testing me Jim?”
“Because, Sebby, I like watching you under pressure. It’s…quaint.”
Jim nodded and left to another room. Sebastian looked at the ceiling letting out a sigh when he saw another all-too familiar folded note.
Sebastian,
Come now if convenient.
If inconvenient, come as well.
~M
Sebastian furrowed his brow, folding the note into the pocket of his pants. He pulled open the door to Jim’s room. Jim smiled, leaping onto Sebastian and whispering.
“Emile, this is Jean, train him, okay?” Said the owner, thrusting forward a disheveled young man towards Javert.
The owner sauntered clumsily away, his pot-belly wagging side-by-side with him. Javert looked skeptically down at the man. He smiled awkwardly. The man held out a feeble arm.
“Hi, I’m Jean, Jean Valjean.”
“Shit name,” Javert mumbled to himself. Jean furrowed his brow. “I mean, hello, and I’m Javert, do not forget my name.”
Jean nodded. Javert led the newcomer to the register to log his number into the system.
“This is the system.” Javert told clicking on miscellaneous icons on the old computer.
Jean nodded.
“You’re employee number is right there you see it?” Javert pointed a finger at the iridescent screen.
Jean nodded. Javert bore his eyes into Jean’s. “Oh, yes…sir.”
“No you bollocked fetus, read me your number.”
Jean looked disgruntled. “Oh okay…two four six o’one.”
“Yes, and I’m Javert.”
Jean nodded squinting off.
“Good, now customers, here watch me.” Javert turned to the counter, addressing a college student.
“Hello, how may I help you? I’m Javert.” Javert leaned his elbows on the glass countertop.
“Hi, uhm, one coffee: black.” Javert took the gentlemen’s order handing him a receipt and walking to start the coffee brewer. While it was brewing he took a permanent marker and asked the customer his name.
He wrote ‘Dean’ on the cup, but also added ‘and I’m Javert’ for some reason. He filled the coffee and handed it to the student, then waving goodbye to the patron “And I’m Javert!”
Dean looked skeptically as he fled the coffee shop.
“Okay go, your turn.”
Jean walked to the next customer, a young girl in a sundress. “Hello ma’am how may I help you today?”
“One peppermint mocha, please, and the name’s Amy Pond.”
Jean plugged in the requirements and handed the girl her receipt. He was turning on the coffee machine when Javert slapped his hand away from it.
“You didn’t tell her your name, you babbling pony.”
“She doesn’t need to know my name.” Jean insisted.
“Yes, of course she does! Otherwise who will she dream about at night? Who will she name her children after? Who will she fantasize about whilst sipping the coffee?”
Jean filled the coffee cup and handed it to Amy.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Just get out, you broke my only rule. Everyone needs to know your name.”
“I’m not going to leave.”
Javert looked very worried. “What’s my name?”
Jean looked sideways, conflicted. “Uhm” he mumbled.
“Javert! My name is Javert!. Better just die then.” Javert said walking outside to the convenient high cliff and jumping, releasing all inhumane gasses out of his rear.
I had every intention of making this longer, but couldn't decide where to go with it. I hope it's good enough.
Emmanuel remembering Cas'feelings for Dean.
“Daphne?” Emmanuel called for his wife.
“What is it, dear?” Daphne peeked her head around the wall, where Emmanuel looked deep in thought. He met her eyes.
“Do you know anyone called Dean Winchester?”
Daphne looked down In thought, “I don’t think so, dear, why?”
“Nothing.” Emmanuel ensured smiling, Daphne turned back into the kitchen.
It seemed everytime Emmanuel closed his eyes he saw these little clips, these films almost. This boy called Dean, that a man who looked like him had saved. They fought together and talked together. And when Emmanuel had been alone, or when the man who looked like Emmanuel had been alone. He thought about Dean.
Emmanuel stood up, he reached for the phone book, where he looked under Winchester and found no one listed except a “Samuel”. He shrugged.
There was a knock on the door. Emmanuel turned to answer it, when the face was familiar.
“Cas.” Said Dean Winchester breathlessly.
“Hello Dean.” Emmanuel said, even though he could have sworn he had something else in mind to say.
“Cas, what are you doing here?” Dean peered his head to look into the townhouse.
Emmanuel shook his head. “No, I think you have me confused, My name is Emmanuel Allen.”
“Emmanuel Allen? Right, okay?” Dean looked sideways at the porch, his body position indicated anger.
“Why did you call me Cas?” Emmanuel stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
“You look a lot like my friend Cas.”
“Were you and Cas very close?”
Dean nodded. He looked at Emmanuel very concerningly. “Yeah, pretty close.”
Emmanuel thought back to those flashbacks, when the man who looked like him had saved the Winchester, and when he thought about the Winchester, when he fell in love with the Winchester.
“You believe I am your Cas?”
“I-I don’t know, I mean, yeah.”
“So, if I am Castiel, then you are Dean Winchester.” Emmanuel looked back into the house through a window, Daphne was busy setting the table.
“You remember me?”
“Not so much remember as I’ve seen you in my head, I’ve seen these tidbits in my head. Did you love Castiel?” Emmanuel pulled his jacket tighter around him.
“N-No man, we were just friends, platonic friends.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah man-why-what did you see?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows.
“Nothing I guess. Nothing.”
“Well, since I guess you know you’re Cas, I need your help to save Sam.” Dean’s face all of a sudden was stoic.
BLAH I DID IT AGAIN. I DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT.
He thudded his hand against the motel room door. Looking around the vacant lot. The chain slid out of the lock on the other side and the door creaked open.
“Cas?” Said the familiar monotone voice of the elder Winchester.
“Hello, Dean.”
“What’s up?” The Winchester boy was vaguely confused as he moved from the doorframe and allowed him in. Cas took a seat on the bed, which he noted in his mind was uncomfortable.
“An infinite number of things are ‘up’ Dean, you’ll need to be more specific.” Castiel browsed the room, the odd paintings on the wall, the half wall, the white microwave, the small television.
“Right, I mean, what are you doing here Cas?”
Cas squinted up at the Winchester. “I’m hungry.”
Dean looked confused. “Well, there’s a burger on the counter if you-,”
Cas stood and walked to the counter unwrapping the hamburger and biting into it. Dean poised his mouth to say something, but his phone rang in his pocket and he clicked to answer. Cas paid close attention to Dean’s side of the conversation.
“Hey.”
“Yeah.”
“Now, Cas just stopped by.”
Dean looked sideways at Cas, “He was hungry.”
“Well, I don’t know Sammy, he said he was hungry.”
“Okay.”
Dean clicked his phone shut and sat on the edge of his bed. “Hey, Cas, Sam’s got a theory.”
Cas raised his eyebrows as he swallowed the last piece of burger.
“Cas, did you take anything from strangers? Like a powder or a stamp?”
Cas shook his head. “No, Dean. I’m fine. If you mean, however why I am here, it’s because I have nowhere else to go.”
“What about heaven?”
“If I could be there, why would I be here you imbecile?” Cas looked down at Dean and then continued staring around the room.
“Imbecile? What’s going on Cas?”
“I’m not an angel anymore Dean.”
“What?” Dean had this way of saying ‘what’ that almost made it seem like he was accusing you doing something.
“My grace is long gone.”
“You’re telling me.”
Castiel looked sideways at the human, judging in comparison how he would be more like Dean. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse.
“Sorry,” Dean stood “So, you’re basically a human now?”
Castiel nodded rolling his eyes, he had already said this. Was it a human thing to need to hear something multiple times? Cas didn’t wish to have to do that.
“Well, uh, what are we supposed to do?” Dean looked down at his hands.
“How would I know that Dean, I haven’t been human before?”
“Okay, man.” Dean seemed offended by Castiel’s tone. “Well uhm, I guess we can hunt together. We’re actually working on a case that’ll take about a month.”
“I don’t want to hunt, Dean, I won’t be very helpful with my angel powers.” Dean seemed to understand.
“Well, you could get a job.”
“A job?”
“Yeah, like Alfie works at Weiner Hut.”
“I don’t have a desire to work at the Weiner Hut.”
“You could apply somewhere else.”
“Like where, what would I have to do?”
Dean opened the curtains where down the street a JCPenneys had a help wanted sign lit up. “There.”
“I don’t want JC’s pennies, Dean; I’ve come to realize pennies aren’t a sufficient means of funding.”
“It’s a clothing store Cas, look lets go over and ask about a job okay?”
Cas followed Dean a few yards to the store, where just outside Dean turned around. “So what’s going to happen is you’re going to go in there-,”
“You aren’t coming with me?”
“No, it’s not good. Just go in, ask for a manager and ask the manager for an application, okay?”
Cas nodded and walked in. There were customers bustling through. He went to a desk marked ‘Customer Assistance’ and stood there until the cashier said something.
“How may I help you?”
“Hello, I am Castiel, I am supposed to ask for you manager.”
“Oh, I’m the manager Castiel, How can I help you?”
“I would like an application.”
“Okay,” the woman reached under the counter, “That’s a nice coat you got there, what label is it?”
“It’s not mine, its Jimmy’s. Well, actually I guess it is mine now, since Jimmy’s in heaven and I’m a human.”
The woman behind the counter looked mortified as she put the application back under the counter. “I won’t be able to give you an application at this time, I’m sorry.”
Cas nodded and went back outside. Dean turned and noticed Cas’ empty hands. “What happened?”
“She could not give me an application at this time.”
“Right. Maybe we should start with something smaller,” A girl drove past on a bicycle and Dean turned around with a light in his eyes. “Do you know how to ride a bike?”
Cas shook his head.
Cas followed Dean as they walked down the strip of the stores where Dean tucked into something called a “wally world”. There were bunches of people walking around talking on cellphones, or yelling at children.
Dean stopped in front of a rack of bicycles, “Take your pick buddy.”
Cas smiled, he pointed easily at a purple bike with the word “angel” painted on the side with wings on either side. There was a wicker basket on the front and a bell.
“No.” Dean said pulling a red bike with pegs on the back wheel out and wheeling it to the cashier. He paid with a credit card, the name on it “Kane Dilon”.
“That card isn’t your, Dean?” Cas said.
The Cashier looked up, and Dean smiled. “It’s my…partners, we share an account.”
Cas furrowed his brow but before he could say anything Dean grabbed the receipt and the bike and left.
They went to the parking lot of the motel. Dean sat Cas on the bike. Cas felt very unstable and kept both feet planted on the ground. Dean held one hand on the handlebar and one hand on Cas’ back.
“I don’t want to do this Dean.”
“It’ll be okay, Cas.”
Dean started pushing the bike forward, and Cas dug his feet into the dirt. “No! Dean, I don’t believe this contraption is safe!”
“Cas, little kids ride this, you’ll be okay, just pick your feet up, I’m not going to let go okay.”
Cas looked carefully up at Dean and nodded lifting his feet to the peddles. He peddled, and Dean walked and then jogged at the same speed. Cas started smiling, and turned to thank Dean when he saw Dean was no longer there.
“Dean!” He yelled losing control and falling off the bike. He rubbed the bump on his head as Dean ran over to him.
“You said you wouldn’t let go.”
“Sorry, it’s a pretty common thing.”
“Humanity sucks, this hurts Dean.”
“Let’s go get some ice. I’ll get the bike.”
“Leave the bike Dean, trust me when I say I will not be victim to anymore of you stupid dare-devil ideals.
blah. PG fic . little. blah sorry about all the text posts today, i promised fics for all.
Castiel sighed; the blank word document taunted him with each flash of the awaiting text marker. He sipped from his coffee, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He slid his computer a few inches across the table and laid his head down in collegiate defeat. He closed his eyes.
He lifted his head a few minutes later in hopes somehow the paper would have been written. When it wasn’t he shrugged out of his chair and back up to the counter. The copper-haired women smiled, “Hi sweetie, how can I help you.”
“Refill.” He mumbled handing her the empty mug. He fished around in his pocket while she took the mug. He glanced around when he noticed someone leaning against the bakers rack. He wore an apron with the coffee house logo embroidered onto it. His hair was mussed and his face freckled.
The man caught Cas’ eye and Cas turned back to the women, trading his change for her coffee. He glanced back at the bakery boy, who was still looking at him. He set his coffee down and sat in his chair, staring again at the word document. He dragged his long fingers across the keyboard and typed carefully.
‘Castiel Novak.’
For some reason, this just marked more defeat. Worse than a blank document was a document only housing a name. He brought his head down again on the table. He heard a tiny thud and lifted his head up. He shot out of his chair and fumbled to pick up the coffee cup. He was reaching for his laptop when someone else lifted it for him.
It was the bakery boy. He handed Cas the laptop and took a rag from his apron, he wiped up the spilled coffee and offered Cas a different table. Cas sat back down, checking his laptop for damage.
“Is it okay?” The boy asked, Cas looked for a name tag, but there was none.
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
“You’ve been staring at that blank word document for a while, can I ask what you’re writing…,” He leaned over to read the name on the document “Castiel Novak.”
“It’s my term paper-,” He waited for the man to say his name.
“Oh, I’m Dean.”
“Hi, Dean.”
Dean nodded and gave an awry smile. “Anna, I’m taking my break!” He yelled to the copper-haired woman. “What are you studying?” Dean took the seat across from Cas.
“I’m pre-law.” Cas said, he wasn’t sure what to make of the apparently charismatic coffee-house boy.
“Fancy, so you go to Berkeley, right?”
Cas nodded. “Do you uhm…are you a student?”
“Naw, got a GED though.” He smiled, and the way his eyes lit up made Cas somehow believe this person was proud of his GED, and that made Cas proud for him too.
“Good for you Dean.”
“Yeah, So, I guess you got a lot of girlfriend’s right, waiting to ride the lawyer money train.”
Cas shook his head. “Guess it’s a myth, or no one has faith in me.” Cas smiled and Dean laughed.
“Well, you sure LOOK like a lawyer.”
“And you sure look like a baker.”
Dean threw his head back in laughter. “They don’t even let me near the oven.”
Cas smiled, somehow Cas could tell this boy had seen some hard days, and even the smallest joke or serendipitous moment would make him smile. He wouldn’t take anything for granted. Castiel thought this guy has it right.
“Why are you here then, there isn’t some grand plan for you?”
Dean shook his head. “No. Just go with the flow.”
And for thirty minutes Dean and Cas talked, about college, about Dean’s brother, Sam, who had passed away when he was young. They talked about a lot of things Cas never thought he would talk about with a stranger. When Dean stood up Cas almost felt his heart beat faster than it was supposed to.
“I better let you get to that paper.” Dean smiled.
Cas stood too, “Here,” he handed Dean a card. “That’s my number, call me sometime, okay?” And with that, reluctantly he nodded goodbye to the baker boy and folded up his non-existent term paper and left.
Dean had never seen Windigos attack in packs. There were four by his count, six by Sam’s, and three by Cas’. Dean figured Cas was probably right, but he’d stick to four just like Sam would stick to the unreasonable idea of six.
Either way, they weren’t ready. They got cornered in a swamp. Cas was only half-angel at this point. He looked to Dean with fear in his eyes. It was weird seeing Castiel afraid. It made sense, he hadn’t really seen this stuff, REALLY been on the ground dealing with it. Dean’s eyes flicked to Sam who was looking around fast, trying to figure something out.
The Windigos came out fast, and the three boys jumped back into the swamp. It was instinct. There was no way they could take down three at once, they needed a plan. Dean and Sam were gasping swimming across fast, and then looked back and Cas wasn’t there. Dean looked to Sam. They turned around. Cas was just ahead of them. He nodded and touched his hands to the boy’s shoulders.
Then they were in their hotel room, newspaper articles cluttered the walls. The stench of swamp ran around the room, and Dean pinched his nose. All three members of Team Free Will were dripping with grimy swamp water; even the ends of Sam’s hair were drenched.
“God.” Dean remarked. “Sammy, you first.” He ordered, and without any further explanation Sam wondered into the bathroom where the shower started running. Dean shrugged off his leather jacket and started to scrub at it with a motel towel.
He cursed under his breath when he could feel the integrity of the leather weaken. He stood up and faced Cas; who hadn’t moved since their arrival.
“Cas, we gotta get you out of that trench coat.” He looked over the soaked trench coat, reaching the top and realizing Cas was shaking, slightly but fast. “Cas? Are you okay?”
Dean grabbed the towel he used for his jacket and held the sides of Cas’s trenchcoat, as he moved to slide it off Cas pushed Dean’s hands away.
“Cas, you’re freezing, take off the coat.”
Cas shook his head.
“Cas!”
Castiel shook his head again, “No, Dean.”
Dean threw the towel over Castiel’s shoulders, and furrowed his brow. “Well, use your mojo to make yourself clean again.”
“I can’t Dean,” He rolled his eyes. “Angel powers come selectively, ever since I rebelled, and healing isn’t one of them right now.”
“Then take the coat off and shower before you shake to death.”
“Dean, I said no.” Castiel grabbed the corners of the towel and pulled it closer around his neck.
Here you go honey, let me know what you think, I'll keep writing if you so desire. ATM it is PG, BTW for bystanders
Dean was driving hap-hazardly when some frilly girl song came on his favourite radio station. He ruffled his nose and poised his finger on the dial to change it.
“Hello Dean.” Said a familiar voice.
Dean’s hand fell from the radio dial-leaving the song on. His heart rate went up, he convinced himself it was only due to the suddenness with which Cas always appeared.
“Where is Sam?” Cas looked at the vacant passenger seat.
“Dealing with Amelia. What do you need Cas?” Dean kept his face stern.
“I sense hostility in you Dean, have I done something?” Cas squinted at the disgruntled driver.
“Just a little busy with a case, Cas.”
The song was distracting, but Dean ignored it, his hands tensing on the wheel. He looked in the rear-view mirror and noticed the angel was staring blankly out the window.
“Cas!”
“Yes, Dean?” Cas returned his attention to the elder Winchester.
“What do you need?”
“This may sound,’ Cas took a long pause “Bizarre”
Dean rolled his eyes, “Everything you say is bizarre Cas.”
Castiel nodded. “You remember the prophet, Chuck Shirley?”
Dean nodded, watching Cas’ eyes roam around the car and Cas’ hand rub at his neck as if he was nervous.
“Yeah, I remember Chuck.”
“He has written another chapter in his book.”
“Yeah, okay?” Dean was used to the vague ways of his angel, but no matter how often it happened it would always be annoying.
“The title of the chapter is ‘Put Your Hands on me’ and it features you and I.”
Dean furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”
“It appears that he has foreseen some kinds of…unusual actions between us.”
“What exactly do you mean Cas?!” Dean grunted, pulling into the parking lot of a small town diner.
“Dean, He saw us together.”
“Yeah, okay, we’re together right now, what’s the big deal?” Dean pulled the key out of the ignition and turned around to face the angel in the back seat.
“No dean he saw us together like…”
“Like what?”
Dean’s eyes grew wide when the angel leaned forward and placed his soft thin lips against Dean’s large chapped ones.
Cas leaned back very calmly, “like that.”
Dean felt his heart beat inside his chest as he twiddled his fingers against each other. Dean was quiet for a while, of course Cas didn’t mind. He seemed to like the silence, he liked that Dean was thinking. And it didn’t seem like a while to Cas, Cas’ perception of time was warped since he had lived for so long.
Dean ‘s palms were sweaty, and his breath had grown uneven, he had tried to fight this for so long, tried to convince himself it was something else. He stared at the angel, while Cas was looking away. He debated a lot of things to say, ‘what the hell was that Cas?’ or ‘You can’t just do that Cas!’, but both would be a lie, and if Dean had learned anything it was to stop lying to angels. But his conscious couldn’t let him tell the truth either.
“Well, why are you telling me this?” Dean searched for answers in Castiel’s blue eyes.
“Well, I wanted to know how you felt about it to be honest.” Cas looked through Dean.
“I am not nearly drunk enough to handle this,” Dean grunted to himself.
“I’d rather you weren’t intoxicated.”
“You want the truth Cas?”
“It is the preferable option.” Cas spoke flaccidly, as that was an obvious answer.
“Well Cas,” Words starting stringing themselves into sentences, in an unusual manner like he’d heard them before, but he could have sworn he hadn’t. “Well, if I went blind, you’d help me see. If I lost my mind, you’d find it for me. I can’t stop my mind from thinking about you. How am I supposed to function?”
After he’d said it he felt a dropping in his gut, he couldn’t decipher if it was embarrassment or fear or nervousness, but what Cas said was reassuring.
“Until now my eyes could see, you touch me once, it all becomes hazy.” Cas swallowed.
They sat there in the parking lot of the diner like that for a good thirty minutes, both unsure of what to say or what to do when they both in some kind of serendipitous spontaneous rejoice spoke quietly in unison. “Put your hands on me.”
