What can I say; I love the very brief moments these two characters share. And I just had to expand on the scenes they had together in "Frontierland"! Be warned, there's spoilers!
The fading sound of the Impala's engine as it drove away could still be heard as Bobby returned from the kitchen with two glasses of water in his hands. One of which he handed to his remaining guest, who looked far more exhausted than the hunter had ever seen him look before. "Drink that up with these." He tossed a couple of Aspirin at the angel, who quickly swallowed them without any questions. Apparently, the boys had introduced their winged friend to the drug already. "I don't know if those will really help you much, but it doesn't hurt to try."
"Thank you." Was the quiet reply, as Castiel continued to stare out the window. His eyes were fixed on the spot where the Impala had been parked; mind wandering.
Feeling the awkward silence beginning to fall over them, Bobby decided to instead turn his attention back onto the book he had been reading earlier that day. He wasn't reemerged for too long before he noticed the angel stand up and begin to walk out of the room; looking as though he were about to suddenly pop out of sight, prompting the man to quickly get up and follow him.
"Where do you think you're going, idgit?"
Castiel paused at the question. He glanced over his shoulder at the middle-aged hunter, surprised by the gruff concern shining in the man's eyes. "I should return to my duties; I'll be back when you need my assistance with The Mother of All."
"You shouldn't be leaving, you're still hurt." Bobby insisted, glancing at the wound peeking through the tear in the angel's shirt.
"It's healed enough," Was the stubborn reply. The soldier of God bit back a grimace of pain, refusing to display his weakness any more than he already had in front of the human. He was well enough to fight, that's all that mattered. "I'll be fine."
An annoyed huff escaped the hunter as he rolled his eyes, pointing at the ceiling in emphasis. "Not if you're running around upstairs duking it out with your family, you won't be!"
"What would you have me do?" Castiel asked heatedly, taking an impatient step forward. "Sit around and be useless as I waste time watching the three of you prepare to take your stand against Eve? How is that beneficial?" He shook his head, dismissing the idea of staying. "I can return to Heaven to continue the fight there, and still be back here in time to aid you in your own battle. I've always been here when you've needed me. Why are you so worried?"
"Because you're wearing yourself thin, boy…"
The statement took the angel aback, and he looked away from the man. He didn't understand. "You …doubt my ability to fight?"
"No, you moron!" Bobby growled with another huff, turning away and storming back to his desk. "Nevermind, just forget it..." Much to his surprise; instead of pulling a disappearing act, the celestial being actually followed him back into room. Staring at him in that unnerving way, making it clear that he really did need to have the man's frustrations explained to him. "You really don't get it, do you?"
Castiel simply tilted his head; squinting his eyes a little as he did so. "No, I don't. You're outburst doesn't make sense to me."
The old hunter chuckled at the gravelly statement; amazed by how far over the angel's head his blatant concern had gone. "You really are an idgit." He closed the book of lore he had been reading, and tossed it atop the pile of hard-covers next to his desk. After taking a breath, he looked up at the worn face staring back down at him. "I'm not worried that you're losing your touch, or that you're incapable of helping us out…I'm worried about you."
Bobby sighed; it was like explaining the birds and the bees to an inquisitive seven-year-old Sammy all over again. "Because you're my friend, and you're clearly tiring yourself out hopping back and forth between our mess and yours. It's bad enough those two idgits of ours nearly give me a heart attack every other week, with all the crap they carelessly dive head-first into. But then you have to go and pop up in my kitchen looking like death's knocking on your door!"
Castiel was going to comment that he had not been paid a visit by the lord of the reapers, but was silenced before he had a chance to open his mouth.
"I ain't done yet, so don't even think about opening your pie-hole!" The man barked, pointing at the couch in front of his living room window. "Park your feathery butt down, now!"
The angel, like an obedient child, did as he was told, and suddenly understood why Sam and Dean feared their friend's temper. Voice booming, face reddened, and the occasional vein popping out in an almost theatrical effect; Bobby Singer was indeed a force to be reckoned with when he was angry.
"Now…" Bobby began, his expression softening a little. "I ain't going to pretend to act like I understand what it's like being a commander in a war; but I do know what it's like to be tired as all hell, and then being tugged at in about a hundred different directions by people who are looking to you for help. It ain't easy, and it wears down on a person after a while." He took in the other man's ragged appearance; the deep circles under his eyes, the sag of his shoulders, the bloodstain on his shirt…all the little things that screamed out the fact that the soldier sitting across the room from him was in desperate need for a break, even if it were for just another couple of hours. "From what I've gathered, you've been at it non-stop since Lucifer first hopped out of his cage. You gotta give yourself a breather, Cas, or you're gonna dig your own grave."
"I think I may have already…" Castiel whispered, more to himself than to Bobby.
The angel didn't answer him, and instead stared gloomily at his hands. A look of shame and grief crossed his face, unhidden by the mask he usually kept up in the presence of his human friends.
It was a look that worried the old hunter, tugging surprisingly hard at his heartstrings. "Cas, wha-?"
"Rachel attacked me, because she learned of the lengths I've been forced to go to in order to try and win our war." Said Castiel quietly, his voice thick with regret and self-loathing. He kept his tired eyes downward; continuing to stare at his bare hands, seeing the blood that had stained them earlier. "Last week I allowed Balthazar to alter-history, because the fifty-thousand souls that would have been gained from that, if Fate hadn't intervened, would have given us what we needed to defeat Raphael once and for all."
Bobby stared at him, dumbstruck. Trying to make sense of what the angel was telling him. "You…you've been using souls as weapons?"
"Unfortunately…" A pained look crossed the soldier's face. "…yes."
The silence weighed heavily in the air for another moment more, before Bobby stood up and walked slowly across the room and out into the hallway. Not once looking down at the man sitting hunched over on his couch when he passed him by.
Castiel waited for the outrage to bubble out of the hunter, and braced himself for the stinging words. When they never came, the overbearing silence became too much. And he, too, stood up; absentmindedly brushing his fingertips over the slowly-healing injury on his chest. "I just want to keep all of you safe…" When he received no reply to his confession, the angel rubbed at the bridge of his nose. The shame and anxiety was closing in on him even more than it had before, so much so that it was suffocating. He didn't have to be told; he knew he would no longer be welcome in this house. "I'm sorry…Thank you for your hospitality…"
"Who said you could leave?"
Surprised, Castiel looked up to see Bobby approaching him. Returning to the room with two shot glasses in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other; motioning for the angel to sit back down on the couch. This was far from the reaction he had been expecting. "I…I don't understand."
"What, did you think I was going to rip your head off?" The hunter asked, pouring the strong liquid into one of the small glasses and handing it over to his stunned friend.
"I doubt you have the physical strength required to achieve such a feat…"
Bobby rolled his eyes, making a mental note to phrase things better around the angel. "Just drink the shot, ya idgit."
Castiel did as he was told, momentarily marveling over the warmth that trickled down into the gut of his vessel. Then he watched, remaining surprised, as the hunter sat down next to him on the couch, and swallowed a shot of his own. Why was the human acting so calm?
"Look, Cas…" The man began uncertainly, trying to find the best words to express himself. "The situation you're in right now…I get it, and I sure as hell ain't going to judge you for it."
The angel's frown deepened, because he couldn't comprehend what he was being told. "Why would you be so willing to overlook my immoral actions?"
"I fought in Nam, boy." Bobby grumbled, with his own voice laced with regrets from all those years ago. "Both back then, and during my time as a hunter, I've done things that I wish to high heaven I hadn't. But; as horrible as they were, I wasn't left much of a choice. So what gives me the right to shun you for what you've been forced into a corner to do? You're fighting a war to protect us."
A sympathetic expression crossed Castiel's face, and he wondered once more how his father could be so cruel to such good people like the Winchesters, Ellen and Jo, and Robert Singer. "I'm very sorry for the suffering you've endured."
The whiskey was poured once again, and the two tired souls partook in another drink. Both of them staring off into space as their minds took them deep into the dark corners.
The angel looked into his friend's questioning eyes, and silently encouraged him to speak.
"Why did you come here today?" Bobby asked; glancing once more at the injury the other man bore on his chest. "Don't you have a camp or something you could've have gone back to up there, with healers to treat your wound?"
"Your home is a safe haven." Castiel said quietly, allowing a small smile come to his tired face. "Even more than in Heaven, I've felt safest here…I trust you three more than any of my brethren."
The man smiled back, happy to know that he could at least provide that small comfort for the angel. But at the same time, he felt pity swell up within him for the broken man sitting by his side. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like, being unable to trust your own kin. He noticed Castiel's eyes droop on their own accord, and took the small glass from out of his friend's hand. Giving him an encouraging pat on his shoulder before standing up; he gathered up his own glass and the whiskey bottle, and made a move to return them to their cupboard. "Rest up a little more; you're still dead on your feet."
Castiel simply nodded in reply, he wasn't about to argue with the gruff hunter. He closed his weary eyes, and lay back down onto the old yet plush cushions. Slowly allowing his aching body to relax as the afternoon's light shone down on his face.
The angel opened his eyes again, and blinked up at Bobby. "Yes?"
"If you ever feel like the walls are closing in on ya, and you need someone to talk to? You've got my ear. Alright?"
Another silence swept over the room, but it didn't bother either one of its occupants. An understanding had been forged, and Castiel was grateful for it. "Thank you."
Poor Cas really could use a shoulder to cry on, and aside from maybe Balthazar…he doesn't really have the true support of the angels who claim to be his friends. I would love it if something like this were to happen in the show, but considering how Team Free Will walks all over Castiel and doesn't seem to notice or care about his problems…I doubt I'm going to see a moment like this play out on my tv screen. Oh well, a girl can dream.