I need a fic with Human!Cas where he and Sam are both sick and Dean's going out of his mind trying to look after both of them because they keep getting Brilliant Ideas for their case. Like Sam trying to cast a locator spell before the Nyquil knocks him out and almost setting the table on fire, or Cad trying to explain to Dean why he really, desperately needs to be checking the reference books on the top shelf at the back of the archives (he's explaining it in a mix of Latin and German and doesn't realize it).
Don't worry, I'm tucking all these little ideas away to see if they fit a Whumptober prompt, so they're not going far.
I got one! Um, cas calling Dean late at night cause he was sick, and dean was worried, and cas just wants some comfort, and it might just devolve cuz dean just can't help his love of cas and his growly sick voice . . . And cas may have already known that lol.
Soup & Syrup on AO3
Word count: 1.548 words
Rating: General Audience
Some tags: soft boys, best friends to lovers, sick Cas, AU, gentle caretaker Dean, getting together, no real kisses though because Cas is SICK
Note: @ladygotsoul I hope you like this, love, and it made you feel as soft and happy as it made my own currently sick (and possibly using this fic to project and wish lol) ass. I adore you <3
“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, as soon as the call connects.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean mumbles into the speaker, sounding soft and half-asleep. “Fuck, you don’t sound so good.”
“Yeah, it’s—” he has to break off into a coughing fit, returning to the phone with his voice sounding even raspier. And it speaks volumes that even he himself notices it. “It’s gotten worse.”
He started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel their weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird.
Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called.
This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.
“— over? Cas?” Dean speaks against his ear, low and urgent, and Cas realizes that he hasn’t been listening at all during the past few moments.
“Sorry?” he rasps. “I spaced out for a bit.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks, and this time it’s soft, but still somewhat urgent.
“I feel a little better, spent most of the evening asleep and drinking tea. I’m just… groggy and weird. And my cough isn’t going away,” Cas says. Maybe pouts, but Dean can’t see that, so he’s good for now.
“I have some cough syrup at home. You want me to come over and bring it?” Dean shoots back immediately, no hesitation in his voice.
“It’s way too late, but thank you. Maybe tomorrow you cou—” his voice breaks in the middle of his sentence, and that hurts his throat so much, that he falls into another coughing fit. He tries to cover it by pressing his phone against his sweater-covered stomach and coughing into the crook of his arm, but as soon as his lungs have calmed down and he pulls his phone back to his ear to restart his sentence, Dean interrupts.
“I’m coming over,” he says, worried and determined. “I’m picking up soup and bringing the syrup. You need anything else?”
Cas is stunned into a few seconds of silence, can’t help the way his heart clenches in his chest with happiness and something way too close to the desperate love he has been suppressing for months, now. “I — Thank you, Dean. That — You’re amazing. Maybe you could bring a change of clothes and… stay over, tonight?”
“Sure,” Dean breathes. “Okay, be there in 15. Don’t fall asleep on me.”
And before Cas can reply anything at all, Dean ends the call and Cas is left alone with his thoughts.
He realizes, suddenly, how disgusting he currently is. He rips open the windows in his bedroom and living room, hopes for a breeze that will bring in some fresh air, and hops into his shower — hoping that his downstairs neighbors won’t hate him for all the noise at 1:27 a.m.
When he steps out of the shower after a quick scrubbing and the cool air hits him, he starts shivering like crazy. It doesn’t seem to matter how long he uses his towel to rub himself dry, how he uses his blow-dryer for the first time in ages or that he puts on sweatpants and two pairs of socks and his coziest sweater, he’s still shaking when he sinks down on his couch and wraps a blanket around himself. At least he isn’t smelling so bad anymore. Just in case Dean feels like giving im a hug, or something.
Cas is fighting sleep again, head lolling back against the headrest of the couch, when Dean arrives and Cas hears him unlock the front door.
Dean switches on the lights as he steps inside and closes the door behind himself, and as soon as Cas managed to blink his eyes open in the bright light, he finds Dean slipping out of his shoes, a soft smile on his lips and a plastic bag in his hand.
“Hey there,” he says, pulling off his jacket and closing the distance between them to sink down on the couch next to Cas, one leg pulled up so he’s facing Cas.
“Hello,” Cas rasps, sitting up so he can look at Dean.
“I got some chicken broth and this vegetable thing, wasn’t sure what you’d want.” Dean pulls the containers from the bag, sets them down on the table and leans back again. “When was the last time you had some food?”
“I had some cereal for breakfast today, but mostly I just… didn’t feel hungry at all. I could eat now, though. I take the vegetable thing and you can have chicken,” he says, trying to suppress a smile at the way Dean lights up with relief.
“Awesome,” Dean laughs, and then he’s up and rummaging through Cas’ kitchen for spoons.
They eat in silence, straight from the plastic containers, sitting side by side and gently bumping elbows every now and then. When they are done, Dean grabs Cas’ spoon and fills it with the cough syrup, going as far as raising it up to Cas’ lips so he can slurp it up in an, unfortunately, very unattractive way that has both of them snorting a little.
“Thank you,” Cas says. “Seriously, for everything.”
“Dude, of course. You sounded — I mean, honestly, you still don’t sound so good. All… growly,” he blushes a little, and Cas can’t do anything but find him unreasonably delightful.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Dean clears his throat. “Growly and raspy. Um. And with the red nose and flushed cheeks.”
“You like that?” Cas can’t help but ask, and he’ll just blame this bluntness on the raising fever later on.
Dean blushes even harder, a lovely shade of crimson that has his eyes looking impossibly greener. “I mean —I like your voice plenty enough, when you’re healthy and feeling good.”
“You do?” Cas grins, voice pitched even lower, and he can’t help but laugh at the way Dean shivers and sinks into the couch a little deeper. “Do you wanna watch something?” he asks, so Dean can deflect in that way he always likes to do.
“Sure, yeah,” he coughs, eyes averted. He gets up and starts Netflix on the tv, starting up season one of Brooklyn 9/9, Cas’ most favorite comfort show. When he sinks back on the couch, it’s a little closer by Cas’ side.
They watch for a little while before Cas starts to shiver again, so Dean wanders off to get Cas’ blanket and switch off the lights. When he returns to the couch, Cas is stretched out along the edge. “Would you… hold me?” he asks, raspy and honestly quite miserable.
Dean looks down at him a little hesitant for a few long seconds, but then he smiles wide and determined, blurts “sure,” and snuggles down between Cas and the back of the couch and carefully wraps his arms around Cas’ middle. “This okay?” he asks, pulling the soft blanket up around them.
“Mhm,” Cas sighs softly, “very much so.” He melts back against Dean’s chest, and feels Dean’s heart pick up speed just like his own is doing. “This is nice. I’ve been… hoping for this.”
“Yeah?” Dean asks, breathless and quiet. His arms tighten around Cas’ waist, head tipping down until his nose is buried in Cas’ wild hair. “Me too. Didn’t really think it’d happen this way, but… I will not complain.”
Cas turns in his arms, until he can look up at his face, and his stomach feels all warm and fuzzy. “I adore you,” he says, and Dean’s lips stretch into the cutest smile ever.
“I adore you, too,” Dean whispers back, but when he leans down, Cas ducks away so his lips land on Cas’ forehead instead of against his own lips.
“I’m sorry,” he rumbles. “But as much as I want this, I’m not gonna get you sick, too. You can kiss me all you want as soon as whatever-this-is is finally over, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. As much as you want,” Cas mumbles, and then he buries his head against Dean’s shoulder and unabashedly breathes in his woodsy, leathery smell for the very first time ever.
Maybe they end up not watching any tv at all. Maybe Cas falls asleep buried against Dean’s shoulder in mere seconds. Maybe they spend all of the weekend wrapped up on the couch together, only interrupted by Dean cooking some food and brewing tea and feeding Cas cough syrup.
Maybe, just maybe, Cas falls impossibly harder for his best friend during those few days cooped up together — and tells him so by the end of the weekend.
Thank you for your prompt request, @koshisekisen!! I did not manage to stay under 1000 words with this, LOL.
Koshisekisen wanted sick!Cas with worried!Sam and mother-hen!Dean. Hope this fits the bill :)
In From the Cold
"I'm sorry, I know you don't want me around. But I- I don't know what to do. I think I'm sick."
Dean wanted to pour an entire bottle of whiskey down his throat until the words were burned out of his ears. Except he doubted even that would do it, and he needed to stay sober enough to take care of Cas. Because god knew if he didn't stay wary, Zeke might take it upon himself to get the ex-angel out of the picture.
"Flu?" Sam asked, voice hushed as though to keep from waking Cas. From the way their friend was sweating through the covers, tossing his head in feverish sleep, it wouldn't have mattered.
"Yeah, looks like." Dean dabbed Cas's forehead with the damp towel, heart clenching at the soft moan it elicited.
Sam paused, then asked, "Did you see the sleeping bag?"
Dean nodded numbly. They hadn't been picking Cas up from work at the Gas-n-Sip. They'd been picking him up from his living quarters. Because Cas had no home. Because Cas had nothing.
Because Dean had kicked him out. And when Cas had called, wheezing and hacking, he'd apologized to Dean for calling for help.
"You got the flu once when we were kids," he said gruffly, instead of addressing the living situation that was his fault to begin with. "Just gotta let it run its course."
Sam's eyes crinkled with obvious worry, gaze shifting back to their fitfully turning friend. "We don't know if he can fight it off on his own. His immune system is probably starting from scratch since losing his grace. I mean, it's not like Jimmy's is intact."
"He's strong," Dean snapped. "Cas is the toughest sonofabitch I know. He'll pull through. He'd be too exposed at a hospital." Carefully, he dabbed more sweat away and dipped the towel back in the bowl to avoid Sam's uncertain look.
Then, Sam froze, only for a second before straightening to the tall, grim countenance that Dean was really starting to resent.
"Don't even start," he warned, glaring up at his brother who wasn't his brother at the moment.
Ezekiel's cool eyes glared back. "We had an arrangement."
Letting the towel splash back into the bowl, Dean stood so that they were nose to nose. "Yeah? Well, new arrangement. Cas stays. He's sick! God only knows what kinda crap he picked up, living on the floor of a friggin' gas station! This isn't up for debate, Zeke. I should never have made him leave in the first place, so get used to him being around."
"I must remind you," Ezekiel growled, "if I leave Sam now-"
"Then we'll figure that out, too, like we always do, whatever it takes."
Ezekiel was silent, jaw tightening, as he looked between Dean and Cas. "Do not expect me to heal him. It would be too suspicious."
Dean snorted, shaking his head in disgust. "Whatever. I'll do it myself. Oh, and Zeke?"
The angel had started to turn away, but looked back at him.
Eyes narrowing, Dean growled, "If you ever use Sammy as leverage again, I will rip you out of there myself and give you to the angels. And if you know anything about Winchesters, you know I ain't playing around." He waited a moment, watching Zeke's eyes flash in anger, but he thought he saw uncertainty in the cold gaze.
Then he was Sam again. Dean barely rearranged his own features in time, sitting back down to avoid his brother's momentary confusion.
"Um… what was I about to do?" Sam asked, looking around.
"Advil, crackers, water," Dean listed off without looking at him. "See if we have any Gatorade in the fridge. I'll make some chicken broth when he wakes up."
"Do you think that will help?"
"Worked for you. Sam, don't worry… I got you through this once, I can get him through it now."
He waited until Sam had hurried out of the room to grab the things they needed before reaching to take Cas's clammy hand. "Come on, man, I need you to fight this off," he murmured. "I need you to get better so you can kick my ass for being such a dick."
Cas's eyes blinked open, the deep blue hazy with sickness, but Dean couldn't help sighing in relief.
"Hey, buddy," he murmured. "Are you awake enough to eat something?"
Cas stared at him uncomprehending for a second, then twisted his face away. "'m not hungry."
He didn't sound certain, though, so Dean grabbed the nearby garbage can and plunked it down next to Cas just in time for him to lean over and vomit into it. Dean grabbed his shoulder, supporting his heaving friend until the bout passed, then wordlessly handed him the damp towel. Cas took it without meeting his eyes, wiping his mouth and leaning back.
"Where- where am I?"
Dean's throat closed up. "You're at the Bunker, Cas. You're home. Remember? We came and got you."
He felt Cas tense under his hand, felt his breath quicken slightly. "I thought… Perhaps if you could just make me some… 'papers'. You need papers to go to a hospital, right? You and Sam always make them- I don't have papers."
Taking a bracing breath, Dean nodded. "I know you don't." Because he'd sent Cas out into the world completely unprepared for an eventuality like this. The ex-angel had nothing to go on but what he might have picked up along the way from watching Sam and Dean. He probably didn't even know what having "papers" meant.
"Sorry," Cas slurred, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry… shouldn't have called… I didn't mean to be a burden. I just need some papers. I can go to a hospital, you don't have to keep me here-"
"Stop." Damn it all. "Cas, listen to me, okay? You're not a burden. If you get worse, we might have to take you to a hospital, but I'd rather keep you close as long as possible. It's safer that way."
And what if an angel or a demon, or maybe even a monster—hell, even a human with evil ideas—had found Cas while he was completely vulnerable, sick and unconscious in a gas station with no protection at all? No one there looking out for him, because the person who was supposed to had told him to leave.
Pushing that nightmarish thought away, Dean finished, "You're gonna be okay. But don't apologize. You got nothing to be sorry for, I do." He glanced over his shoulder, hearing footsteps from down the hall. "We'll talk when you're feeling better, okay?"
"'kay."
"Hey, you're awake!" Sam exclaimed, setting down a pack of crackers, some water, and a medicine bottle. "Think you can take this?"
"Take some," Dean ordered. "Then eat a couple of crackers."
"Better just do it," Sam suggested with an anxious smile. "Dean's a bully when he's playing nurse."
Cas just looked between the two, feverish and bewildered, but nodding. Dean took the medicine bottle and dumped two Advil into his palm, holding them out with the glass of water. He waited until Cas had swallowed the pills to help him lay back down.
"Sleep it off," Dean murmured. He raised his voice slightly for Zeke's benefit and finished, "I'll keep an eye on you."
And he would never leave Cas out in the cold again.
*choo!* Dean looked up from the book he was reading. It was some stupid kids book about wizards that Sam forced on him (he would never admit to enjoying it). "Sam? You okay man? Sounds like you're getting sick." Sam poked his head into the library. "Dude, what are you talking about? In fine." Dean scoffed "You always say that, but once you start sneezing..." Dean whistled for emphasis. "Well I'm not sneezing. So ha." Sam crossed his arms. "Maybe you shouldn't be blaming your sneezes on me." Dean snapped his book shut. "I'm not sneezing! You just don't want to admit you're getting sick!" "Choo! Choo!" Dean and Sam both flinched when they heard the sneeze. "Was that?" Sam question trailed off. "Cas? Yeah, I think it was." even though they knew he was human now, the idea of him getting sick seemed surreal. "Cas? Buddy? You okay? " Dean walked slowly towards the bunkers living room. Almost like he would when hunting. "Dean?" the ang- Cas' voice sounded weak and shakey. Maybe even a little watery, like he needed to cough real bad. "Choo!" Dean walked into the living room were Cas was lying, curled into a ball, on the couch. "Shit Cas! What's wrong?" Dean ran to the couch and crouched down. "I feel like I'm going to die." Cas struggled to get the words out. "Cas, I think you have the flu. I'm going to make you some soup, okay?" Dean started to stand when Cas grabbed his sleeve. "Stay?" Cas peered at Dean. His eyes pleading him not to go. Dean sighed and settled down by the couch. "Okay, I'll stay here and Sam will make soup." Cas visibly relaxed, sinking farther into the couch and slightly uncurling. "Thank you Dean." Dean smiled and shut his eyes "Its nothing buddy." Sam smirked in the doorway at the sight. As sweet as it was, Dean barely let him cook. Hopefully he wouldn't catch the stove on fire.
Hey guys! I’m going to be posting links to some Christmas stories on here. These are all requests that I have done over ( I think the last 3) years now. If you’ve followed me here from the fan fiction sites, you probably have already read them, but I wanted to post them here too, so people can read or re-read them for some holiday feels ^_^
Here’s the first one for you:
Christmas Cold
(It’s Christmas and newly human Cas gets his first cold. It’s up to Sam and Dean to take care of him while TFW still tries to celebrate their first official Christmas in the bunker)
Summary: Castiel gets the flu, Sam and Dean are overprotective. Set in an alternate season 9 in which no one is sad. (Sam is fine, and Cas didn’t get kicked out of the bunker).
Word Count: 1.4k
Castiel was researching for one of Dean’s hunts when he first felt the stuffy nose. He didn’t pay it any attention, and the creature turned out to be a Lamia. Castiel texted Dean the details, forgot about his nose, and ignored his mildly itchy eyes and sore throat that showed up gradually.
He remembered while watching Game of Thrones with Sam; he’d already seen the episode, but he didn’t feel the need to mention this to Sam. Both of the brothers were showing Castiel the show while the other was on a hunt - separately, and it didn’t seem that either of them noticed it. During one of the more boring parts of the episode, he turned to Sam and asked him about the symptoms.
“Well, it, uh, it sounds like you’re getting sick for the first time. Congratulations” Sam chuckled, and patted his shoulder as best he could, seeing as they were propped up against Sam’s headboard.
“Isn’t sick is when Dean didn’t move from the motel bed and wheezed at me when I tried to change the channel from western movies?” He asked, almost shuddering from the memory.
“Well, that was an extreme kind of sick. From how it sounds, you probably aren’t going to get much worse than a little cold. If you want, we can get some medicine after the episode?” Sam offered.
“That sounds good.” Castiel replied, smiling at Sam.
“Now, back to the blood and gore.”
---------------
Once they got to the CVS, Sam texted Dean.
Sam: Hey, Cas got sick for the first time. We’re getting medicine right now. Anything you want from cvs?
Dean: Surprised it hasn’t happened earlier. Pick me up some aleve?
Sam: What, is your back bothering you?
Dean: Shut up.
Dean: And get me the aleve.
Sam chuckled, grabbing the small bottle off the shelf, he turned to Cas to ask him if there was a flavor he preferred, but then he stopped. “You okay? Cas?”
Castiel felt strange. His head felt too light, but also heavy at the same time, his mouth felt dry, and the room was zooming in and out of focus. He could kind of hear Sam, but Castiel wasn’t processing what he said. Before he knew it, he was slumping down, falling slowly.
Sam panicked, rushing forwards, and catching Cas. Sam lowered him to the ground, laying him down, before trying to wake him up. Thankfully, Castiel came to after a few seconds.
“What happened?” Castiel croaked, his throat punishing him for each word.
“You’re burning up.” Sam said, putting his hand on Castiel’s forehead, and helping (pulling) him up. “We’re going home.”
“But-”
“Home.”
---------------
The second Sam got Cas into his bed, he was out. Sam started to make a list of things they would need. Gatorade, crackers, I think we have soup. Medicine. As he was writing it down, he heard the bunker door open and close loudly.
“Honey, I’m home.” Dean joked, setting his duffel bags on the floor next to the table. “Where’s our little trooper?”
“Cas’s knocked out in his room. Do we have soup?” Sam asked, chewing on the end of the pen.
“Yeah, I think. I’ll go check on him, if he’s awake, see if he wants anything to eat.”
“Yeah, okay, but he’s probably not gonna wake up anytime soon.” Sam said, adding more to his list while Dean waved his hand in acknowledgement. Do we need a puke tub?
---------------
“Dude. When you said he was sick, I thought you meant a cold, not the goddamn plague.” Dean said as he walked back into the war room.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But then he got a fever of like, 103, and passed out at the CVS.” Sam said, folding his list.
“He passed out in CVS? And you didn’t think to tell me?” Dean asked.
“Sorry, I was distracted, and forgot you didn’t already know. I’m gonna go to the store, you take care of Cas.” Sam told Dean as he got up and made sure his wallet was in his pocket.
“Yeah, sure. Make sure you get split pea, tomato and rice, and chicken noodle.”
“Got it. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
---------------
Almost ten hours later, with Sam and Dean switching who checked on Cas once an hour, Castiel woke up. Dean was about to check up on him, when Castiel walked into the bedroom turned living room with two blankets wrapped around his shoulders. He was stumbling, and holding on to everything, and still barely managing to keep on his feet.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, standing up and wrapping one arm firmly around his shoulders, using the other to hold him up. “Let’s get you to the couch.” Dean started pretty much carrying him to the couch, but Castiel tried to stop him
“No, Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to help, I can do this myself.” Castiel told him, before dissolving in a coughing fit.
Dean fixed him with one of the most intense looks Castiel has ever been given. “You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, let’s see that.” He said, barely lifting his left arm from Castiel’s shoulders, and hurriedly putting it back as Cas almost fell. “You aren’t allowed to walk by yourself until Sam or I say so, got it? And no research.”
Castiel grit his teeth. He hated feeling useless, which was what he was right now. “Fine.” He said, and let Dean lead him to the couch. Dean was allowed to walk on his own when he was sick…
“Yeah, and that’s because I had a cold.” Dean told him flatly, picking up Cas’s legs and setting them on his lap.
Castiel startled, looking up. He must’ve accidentally said that out loud. “So?” Castiel said petulantly, decidedly not pouting.
“You passed out at the pharmacy. That’s a bit more serious than a sore throat.” Dean smirked, and patted his leg. “Never thought I’d see an angel of the Lord pout.”
“Former angel.” Castiel replied, and then started to not pout even harder. “And I don’t ‘pout’.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Castiel changed the channel to a documentary about bees, knowing that Dean wouldn’t leave.
Dean had surprisingly strong maternal instincts for a hunter, and from seeing what Dean had been like with Sam, he knew Dean would hover over him until he had been deemed completely healthy.
---------------
After four days, Castiel had had it. He’d only just gotten the privilege to walk yesterday, and very reluctantly. Every few hours, either Dean or Sam (mostly Dean, if Castiel was being honest. Sam, after getting over the initial concern, just brought him some books to read, and movie recommendations) was checking up on him, with the exception of his required nine to ten hours hours of sleep each night.
He just wanted to do some goddamn research, or was that too much to ask? Or work out, just once!
Dean had seen him sneaking over to the gym, and immediately sent him to bed. To bed. Like a human child. It wasn’t even going to be a hard workout, he wasn’t stupid. Nothing dangerous, he’d learned his lesson when he first started using the gym with Sam.
Enough was enough.
“Hey, Cas, hydrate.” Dean handed him a bottle of water, and sat next to him at the table. “What’cha doin’?” He asked, leaning over to look at the book Castiel was reading.
“I’m researching for Jody.”
Dean rolled his eyes, and started to try to take the book away. “How many times-”
“I’m sick with the flu, Dean. Not invalid. I can walk on my own, I barely have a stuffy nose anymore, and my sore throat went away yesterday. I have watched more Netflix than is probably healthy for the human body to handle, and I need to do something substantial.” Castiel finished his rant by dramatically unscrewing the lid on the water, and taking a self-satisfied drink.
Dean rubbed his hand over his face. Why does Cas actually have to insist on working? Being sick is for relaxing. “Do you actually want to do research?”
Castiel looked at Dean, confused. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“Most people like to relax when they’re sick. You know, things they enjoy. As long as you aren’t doing this out of some stupid sense of commitment or something, it’s fine.”
“Good.” Castiel replied, relieved.
“What’s Jody hunting?” Dean asked, standing up to get some more books.
Cas is trying to act like angels getting migraines is normal, and Dean is getting steadily more pissed off about angel radio.
Cas pinches at his temple.
There's too much going on in his head right now, and, well, it hurts.
Dean is kind of pissed at him, and he kind of has a right to be.
He went back to Heaven without saying a word, and Dean has apparently been trying to find him for weeks now, and, well, patchy cell reception is the weakest of excuses.
Somehow, despite all his best efforts, he still doesn’t know where Kelly is, and the other angels are just as desperate to find her as he is.
Perhaps more so.
He knits his brow several times before trying to focus back on the map in front of him.
There are marks everywhere, showing where they know she’s been.
There has to be a clue here, somewhere, and, if he could just focus, he could find it.
He, Sam, and Dean have to find her before it's too late.
He's all the more aware of this since he can't seem to tune out of any of the chatter of his brothers and sisters right now -- they’re arguing, unsurprisingly, about him. About the idea that Kelly is innocent in all of this, and that her child could be as well.
<i>It's a nephilim! All nephilims are abominations!
Not to mention that it's Lucifer’s!
Sister, please, the woman was unaware that she was creating a nephilim and the nephilim was unaware he was being created.
So Castiel said, brother, but we cannot forget that we no longer have our wings because he did what he thought was right.
It was a mistake to cast him out! Our wings? That was all Metatron’s doing.
Perhaps, but we cannot forget how many of our brethren we lost when we were at war with Raphael. Losing our wings was only one of his missteps, brother. </i>
Unbidden, images of all the angels that have lost their lives at his hands flash through his mind and bile from his empty human stomach rises.
He can't handle this anymore.
He's getting too human.
He runs in the bathroom, spits what little there is out and stands shakily over the sink, waiting for the nausea to pass.
He's still standing there when Sam and Dean kick the motel door in.
“Well, that was a bust, Cas. You got any other useful ideas? ” Dean’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, trails through the bathroom door. Then as the motel door shuts, there’s some huffing, followed by, “Sam, he’s not even here. Of course he went AWOL ...again. That's just what he does.”
Cas sighs heavily. He can't do anything right, for the angels or the Winchesters, no matter how hard he tries.
Dean hears him, however, and his tone completely changes, softening into concern. “Cas? You checking porn out in there or something?”
He doesn't answer.
The angels have picked up a lead on Kelly’s location and are blasting the information through.
It feels like his head is going to explode.
“Cas...?” Dean knocks tentatively on the door.
He puts one hand against his temple while continuing to grip the sink with the other. He accidentally kicks at the cabinet; it opens and immediately slams back shut.
He groans.
“Cas, I'm coming in there.”
Dean looks from his shaky form to the small traces of bile in the sink and back. “What the hell, man? Are you... are you sick or something?”
Cas shakes his head, regrets it, and presses a hand back against his temple. “It's...the voices, there’s so many. They're so loud.”
Dean gives him a quizzical and concerned look before putting two and two together. “Angel radio. Goddamn angel radio.”
He picks up a rag from the sink and runs it under the faucet, splashing a little to clear the bile away. He hands it to Cas. “That thing got an off switch?”
He wishes it did. “No.”
“‘’Course not. Okay, go lay down with that on your head. I'll dig up some Ibuprofen for you.”
“No,” Cas winces as various angels begin arguing even more vehemently about Kelly’s fate, and Dean rests his hand on his shoulder, “they think they found Kelly in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. A demon was willing to give up the location because he doesn't want Lucifer and his child to be able to take over Hell...or break Lucifer out of the Cage. We need to go.”
<i> Killing her and the child is the only way
I agree.
We must kill the woman
</i>
There is still dissent, but, in his absence, it seems to be dimming.
He seems to no longer have true allies in Heaven.
It’s disheartening.
Their plans for her imminent death are filled with images of Kelly being stabbed through the heart by silver blades and of her being eviscerated by the combined grace of several of his brothers.
It’s graphic and disorienting and more bile is rising in his throat.
“We need,” he spits more bile into the sink, “to go now!”
Dean stares at him in disbelief before leaning his head out the bathroom door, “Sam, you hearing all this?”
“Yeah,” Sam leans in the door, “um...Cas... you, uh, sure you’re up for that?”
“Of course.” Indignantly, Cas takes two steps towards the bathroom door before promptly collapsing.
XXX
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“Got me. Angel radio’s gotten to him before, but this...this seems different.”
Cas rubs at his temple as he sits up, feeling the rumble of the Impala beneath him, and peels a damp washcloth from his forehead.
He glances out the window and another wave of nausea hits him before he sees the first street sign. The bile has an oddly orange taste.
“There’s a bucket on the floor, Cas.”
He reaches for it and pulls it into his lap.
Once he’s settled, Dean stares at him in the rearview mirror, “What is going on with you? And don’t just give me that voices crap. This is a whole different level of messed up. Did they do something to you up there?”
Cas sighs. “The angels were not receptive to my ideas, but, no, they didn’t do anything. This...I don’t know why everything that they’re saying, everything that they’re thinking, it’s so much stronger than usual. It has been since I left Heaven.”
