thursdays_angel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thursdays_angel) wrote2012-03-28 07:36 pm
thursdays_angel) wrote2012-03-28 07:36 pm
April 1st -- A Short Long Time Back
It takes a while for Castiel to make his way to the small cabin at the end of the dirt trail. The crutches slow him down considerably. But it’s a warm night, the moon is bright enough to light the way, and he, for a change, has pleasant thoughts to accompany him.
Milliways. He'd never thought he'd see it again.
He had considered staying. Seriously considered it. Just forget that the door even existed. Stay in Milliways with his friends. No Croats, no demons, no camp full of refugees, no Lucifer, no dying world.
He could have stayed. Hell, maybe he should have stayed.
But even an all-but-powerless, drug-addicted, ex-angel has responsibilities.
The biggest and most cantankerous of which lives in this cabin.
Castiel scales the steps to the porch, and bangs on the door with the end of one crutch.
He knows Dean is home. Whether he’s alone or not is always a question, but Castiel knows he’s home.
Milliways. He'd never thought he'd see it again.
He had considered staying. Seriously considered it. Just forget that the door even existed. Stay in Milliways with his friends. No Croats, no demons, no camp full of refugees, no Lucifer, no dying world.
He could have stayed. Hell, maybe he should have stayed.
But even an all-but-powerless, drug-addicted, ex-angel has responsibilities.
The biggest and most cantankerous of which lives in this cabin.
Castiel scales the steps to the porch, and bangs on the door with the end of one crutch.
He knows Dean is home. Whether he’s alone or not is always a question, but Castiel knows he’s home.
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There are no high-pitched giggles coming from the cabin, but neither is there the sound of a knock-down drag-out fight.
That means there's neither an ingenue or Risa (or a series of ingenues and Risa) in the cabin at this time.
But it ain't like Dean gets lonely anymore.
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After all, his eyes haven't been innocent in quite some time, if indeed they had ever been.
Castiel bangs his crutch against the door again.
"You wouldn't turn away a cripple, would you?"
The accompanying huff of laughter may or may not be hearable from inside.
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Dean's voice sounds like it's crawling out of his throat over ground glass.
Sometimes it's deliberate.
Sometimes he's just so fucking tired.
"You think you can open the door, Cas?"
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"I hope this isn't an indication that you've made up your mind not to move for the rest of the night," he says, in the light, conversational way that he knows Dean generally finds universally annoying.
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Dean does not sound impressed.
Or amused.
Or, thank . . . someone, tired.
Some days it's the little things.
"You got somethin' useful to say?"
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"I might have something interesting to show you."
Or not. The door to Milliways might be long gone by the time they get back to his cabin, and he'll have dragged Dean over there for nothing.
But Castiel spent a very long time living his life by faith. Those days may be gone, but some habits die hard.
"Come with me for a minute."
He waves the end of a crutch in a vague Come along gesture.
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There really wouldn't be any other reason to come to Dean with whatever this is, would there?
They've already been over the 'no blindsiding Dean with surprise orgies' rule, so that one's out.
Dean's already flicking the safety on his gun and tucking it into his pants, preparatory to following Gimpy the fallen angel out of the cabin.
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"I do."
It's not even a lie, really. Dean hadn't specified what kind of lead.
"Back at my cabin." He pushes himself back up onto his crutches. "We should move fast."
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"Tell me you didn't leave a goddamn demon alone in your cabin."
Strike that.
"Tell me you didn't leave a demon with anybody in your cabin."
If either of those is true, moving fast is not gonna be at all in doubt.
Cas'll get left in the dust.
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"No demons. You know they aren't my type."
His ankle is starting to twinge again. Castiel fishes a couple of pills out of his pocket (without seeing to give much of a care for what they are) and dry swallows them before going on.
"If you insist on shooting something, though, that bedside lamp has been looking shifty for a while now."
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"What, a djinn, a reaper, a -- if you tell me it's an angel I'm gonna be so pissed off -- "
Unlike all the rest of the time.
Yeah.
Sure.
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"Ah, the good old days."
Back when they saw any of those things. Well, presumably plenty of people still saw reapers, but they weren't exactly in a position to report on it.
"No. No, nothing like that."
Or, conversely, everything like that. But he'd rather get Dean there, assuming there is any there, there.
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"In case you were wondering, I still hate your cryptic bullshit."
He just hates it a lot more now.
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None of the cabins in the camp are very far apart. There's just not the space for that, and it's safer than having people far flung.
So, Castiel's cabin is already in sight.
"Just call it a surprise."
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He'd make no apologies even if there weren't a surprise.
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Hopefully, if Milliways has stuck around, Dean won't open fire on it.
Castiel stumps his way up the steps.
"Did you want to go first?" he asks, nodding at the door.
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(Hypocrite.)
Castiel is wounded, dammit. Even if he is an idiot.
"Of course I'm goin' in first."
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How long have they known each other, now?
"After you."
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But now is clearly not the time for banter.
He draws his gun -- just in case -- takes a moment to run through the layout of Cas' place and any contingency plans he may have put in place --
Then bursts through the door and . . .
Into somewhere else.
Goddammit.