Author's Note: So this is the end of Episode 4! (Thank God!), and things are already hotting up! Don'cha think? Anyway, I've already have plans for what's going to happen in Episode 5 and the beginning of it is reminiscent to that of the episode "Metamorphosis". So, expect Ruby and a scuffle between herself and Dean! Oh yeah! So, until that's posted, I guess I'll see you then! Chow for now! xxx
When Dean pulls the glass door open to enter the small cafeteria, he's instantly bombarded by the mixed aroma of instant coffee, sizzling bacon, and fresh cream cakes, as he makes his way over to the booth by the window, taking his seat opposite the dispassionate angel. Leaning back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, Dean finally responds, voice sounding weary, "Alright, let's cut the BS and get straight to the point. What the hell happened t'me back there?"
The angel stares back at him with a confused expression on his face, eyebrows curved, no emotion showing, as though Dean's words were too unfamiliar for his celestial mind to comprehend, but he eventually answers him in his usual, vacuous voice, "To explain that, I'd have to start from the very beginning…"
Dean glances out of the window, eyeing the vacant-looking motel across the street, the door with the no. 12 on it that leads into his and Sam's room, hoping against hope that Sam'll be asleep when he eventually gets round to coming back.
He then glances back at Castiel, gesturing him to start his explanations, "Go on, I've got plenty of time."
However, before Castiel can even start, a young waitress appears from behind them and asks, in her sweet, almost hypnotic, voice what they'll be having.
"Err…" Dean utters, thinking about whether he should have a nice, honey-glazed ham sandwich or a piece of their nice-looking apple pie before rejecting it, "…Can I just have a cup of coffee. Black. Two sugars. Thanks."
The petite blonde, with her long hair tied up in a bun, then looks to her right a Castiel, "And you sir? What would you like?"
The angel just stares at her, not knowing what to say for angels didn't have the need to eat or drink or even breathe for that matter. Being immortal and all. So he just shakes his head, "Nothing for me, thank you."
"All-righty…one black coffee with two sugars comin' up." And with saying that, she's gone, disappearing to ask the other customers whether they need anything else before she heads back into the kitchen.
"So?" Dean replies, having returned to leaning up against the spongy seat, "You were just about to tell me everything before that nice lady showed up." Oh, and wasn't she nice in all the right places? Dean asks himself, smiling at the thought of what could've transpired if he wasn't gay and heavily involved with Sam. Only in an alternate universe, if one even exists, would I like to tap that!
Castiel smirks, actually smirks as his clairvoyant mind picks up on what Dean had been thinking about just then, "If only you knew Dean…," but before Dean can ask him what he essentially meant by that, Castiel cuts him off, "…Anyway, you've got a lot of questions floating around in your head and, for the time being, I can only answer a few of them. First I like to say I'm terribly sorry for what I bestowed upon you. It was the only way that was safe enough to bring your soul back into your body without any inconveniences."
"What did you bestow upon me, Cas?" Dean asks, his voice now a whisper for the waitress' returning with his black coffee, "Here you go…one black coffee. Are you sure you wouldn't like anything else? Elsie does a real nice pumpkin pie." She offers, even thumbing in the direction of the kitchen where the two guys can see a biggish woman, probably mid-to-late 30s, black thinly-rimmed glasses, her hair bunched in a hair-net, mixing the bowl, tucked in one arm, busily with a plastic spoon. Dean's surprised she didn't spill any of it on the floor.
Dean shakes his head, "No, thank you. Coffee's enough."
She bows her head slightly before she's disappearing back into the kitchen, chatting amongst her work-mates about the two cute guys sitting by the window, making a game out of guessing if they're an item, if one's of them gay, etc.
"Dean, it's been known to us since our creation that whenever an angel, no matter their rank on the hierarchy, physically pulls someone out of Hell, not only do they imprint their "mark" upon them, they…" Castiel stops for a moment, wondering if he really should tell him this now, but then again he really needs to know this, "…they "pass on" a little of their power. To help with the process, so to speak."
For a full minute, there's total silence between the two. Dean's mouth slightly agape at what Castiel's trying to tell him. Then comes the laughter, "Cas, are you trying to tell me that," more laughing, "That I have some of your "angel" powers?! Like manipulating time and TK?"
Castiel didn't find this at all amusing, "Technically, yes, but that's not what's troubling me. You see, Dean, once the transference had occurred, you were only supposed to have those "gifts" for a few days but…it's been nearly 2 months since I pulled you out and they're only just starting to manifest."
Dean cuts the smirking instantly, his serious face on again, "So? What's happening to me? Am I turning into one of you?"
"No, that'll be impossible," Castiel corrects quickly, "No-one on this earth can be transformed into an angel, by any way, shape or form…but something is happening to you. I don't know what exactly, but I'm going to find out after I leave you."
Taking a minute to pick up his black coffee, drinking a few sips from it and putting it back down on its coaster, the hot liquid slithering down his throat, the sweet but strong taste soothing him somewhat, Dean leans a little closer, "Okay, so moving that aside for the moment, what about your "non-appearance" back at Lucas'? I could've really used your help back there."
"I would've been there for you and Sam, believe me, but they surrounded the entire place with protective sigils that warn off any angels within the area." Castiel clarifies, having not moved a single inch since the waitress had left them to talk, "I'm sorry."
"Figures," Dean huffs, taking another couple of sips before his eyes return to the motel, wondering what Sam's doing behind the closed door. Worrying? Sleeping? Pleasuring himself? Dean smirks at that tantalizing thought, cut short by the sound of Castiel's voice bringing him back to reality, "…fast asleep if you must know."
"What? Sorry Cas, I didn't quite catch what you said."
"I said, Sam's fine and currently fast asleep if you must know. It's who you've been thinking about throughout our entire conversation."
Gulping down the last of his black coffee, Dean reaches into his back jean pocket and pulls out his wallet, taking out $5 which will cover it and also tip the nice lady who served them, "Well, thanks for the talk but I've gotta be heading back. I don't want Sam to worry if he wakes up and I'm not there, and I really need some shuteye. Today's just been one big pain in my ass!"
As Dean climbs out of the booth, he hears Castiel utter to him, "Until next time, Dean," and Dean turns, answering him with a nod, before exiting the cafeteria into the cool, starry night. Taking in a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air, his mind persists in playing out the conversation he just had with Castiel over and over again, still not believing the revelation of it.
What the hell's going on? If I'm not turning into a freakin' angel, then…what am I becoming? He asks himself, looking both ways before crossing the road, the door to his room at the motel directly in front of him.
As he quietly turns the doorknob, the darkness welcoming him, he can see Sam lying in bed, the duvet pulled up to his neck and his back facing Dean as he shuts the door behind him. Quietly again, of course. Before heading straight into the bathroom, Dean pulls off his leather jacket, resting it on the back of the chair in the "living area" of the room, and toeing off his boots…also placing them right next to said chair.
In the bathroom, he relieves himself, flushes, washes his hands and then this face in all quick succession, leaving to brushing his teeth last. Spitting out the toothpaste and washing his mouth out with mouth-wash, Dean slings his toothbrush into the plastic cup and heads out, turning off the light as he does. All that's on his mind now is cuddling, yes cuddling, up to Sammy and getting a goodnight's sleep.
Climbing into bed from his side of it, he slides up against Sam, spooning him with one arm wrapping gently around his waist while Dean carefully slides the other under Sam's neck, making it easier for him to pull Sam closer.
He smirks when he hears Sam mumbles something about Dean disturbing his sleep, but is soon back under as soon as his back touches Dean's chest, the feel of his heart beating against it lulling him back to sleep.
Dean kisses the soft, warm flesh of Sam's neck, arching a certain way to give him more access, loving the moan his little brother gives out when he dots it with several more kisses.
The conversation with Sam about what happened at Lucas' can wait. Now, Dean just wants to bask in the scent that is his Sammy, helping him to fall asleep, the soft beating of his own heart the only sound in the room. With the salt lining under every door and window, they're safe…for now, but for how long? How long can they stay safe when they've a little one coming in several months time?
Dean knows that, for as long he's still breathing, he'll make damn sure to protect Sam and the baby with all of his worth. He did it once; sold his soul to Lilith, was torn apart by her hellhounds, spent 40 years (4 months in Earth time) being tortured in Hell…and all to insure that Sam would be safe. Didn't go according to plan, but he'd happily do it again in a heartbeat, no questions asked.
Elsewhere, many miles away from the town Dean and Sam are currently in, at an unknown location, Ipos, still residing in the body that he'd possessed a while back, stumbled into the darkened room, his fight with Dean having damaged his 'vessel'.
"Lilith…Lilith, we have a slight problem," Ipos hissed, clutching the wound on his upper right arm, it bleeding through his fingers. He also had a nice "shiner" on his left cheek, and also a cut lip. Paradoxically, Lilith can't help but find Ipos' vessel quite attractive.
From the shadows, the "destroyer of children and seducer of men" emerges, now embodying a twenty-something blonde woman and showing off her slender features by wearing a white cotton blouse, dark blue jeans, complete with 3in black sandals.
Lilith places her hands firmly on her slender waist, smirking down upon the wounded demon, "What? That Raum can't even do one…simple…thing right!" She waved her hand, as though to say 'forget about it', "No matter! What's done is done and it's worked to our advantage."
"How?" Ipos seems confused, "We didn't kill the Winchester's child!"
"No," She replies simply, that smug look still plastering her face, "But it's enough for him to do what must be done, when the times comes. Believe me, when it does occur, he's going to have no problems getting it done."
Before Ipos can question her, Lilith disappears back into the shadows, leaving behind the wounded demon who's starting to wonder what he's got himself in for…