The weeks after Bobby returned from the hospital were difficult.
Despite protests, Dean and Sam insisted upon sticking around and giving Bobby a hand while he sorts everything out and gets used to the wheelchair.
It took a couple days, but Cas soon found out the boys were with Bobby, and went to check up on them.
He fluttered to the front door and hesitated, unsure if he should even be here.
Perhaps Bobby was still angry Castiel could not heal the wound?
Under all circumstances, he would just appear inside, but today he figured it appropriate to knock.
He did so, and Sam answered the door, surprised to see Cas wait to be let in.
"Hey, Cas. You wanna come in?" He gestured the angel inside, and Cas found his movements more stiff and foreign than ever.
After brief small talk, and little eye contact, it was made clear that Bobby did not blame Cas. After, Castiel visibly relaxed.
The night went on, and everyone tried to be happy, despite the unfortunate state of Bobby's legs.
Around midnight, the Winchesters excused themselves to their rooms on the second floor, leaving Cas alone with Bobby.
"Well Feathers, I think I'm going to hit the sack too. You can err, stay if you like, or read or go. You're welcome to anything."
"Thank you Bobby. Do you require assistance?" Bobby rolled his eyes.
"Don't ask stupid questions. Good night."
"Good night." Bobby rolled to his study, and Cas sat quietly in the kitchen.
He sat and stared out the window deep in thought when around 2:30, Bobby rolled into the kitchen.
"Hey, uh, Feathers?" Castiel turned his attention to the hunter, unperturbed by the nickname.
"Do you think you could reach for a glass for me? They are in that cupboard." Bobby gestured and seemed awkward in asking for help.
Cas did as he was asked and filled up the glass with water and handed it to Bobby, who mumbled a thanks. Bobby gulped his water and Cas extended a hand to take it from him, but Bobby shoved it aside and wheeled in front of the dishrack.
He was just an inch too short and had to teeter the glass over the top. At the last possible second, it slipped and shattered.
"Damn, that's the third already. In the closet there's a dust pan. You mind getting this?" Bobby couldn't exactly bend all the way over.
"Not at all." Castiel left the room to go to the foyer closet. Just as he walked out, the brothers walked in, commenting on hearing a crash.
"Just a glass." Castiel walked in with the dustpan, no broom.
"What do I do with this?" He looked perplexed at the piece of plastic.
"Are you kidding? You sweep the glass onto it. Don't be an idjit." This caught everyone off guard.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Just… just sweep the pieces onto there, boy."
"What was that name?" Sam shot a pensive look at Bobby. He's never heard Bobby call anyone and 'idjit' but him and Dean.
"You're being an idjit. Do angels not use brooms?"
"We do not. But I do not understand what you're calling me."
"It means you're being stupid, Cas." Dean chimed in.
"But what does it mean?"
"It means you're being stupid. It also means Bobby is fond of you." Dean teased.
"Oh shut it. I'm going back to bed. One of you, do yourself some good and clean this up." Bobby rolled out of the room.
"I've never heard him use it on anyone but us." Sam pondered to Dean.
"Aww look! Feathers is part of the family now!" Dean walked past Castiel, ruffled his hair, and returned up the stairs to bed.
Castiel and Sam looked at each other.
"But what is an 'idjit'? Is it a type of lame animal? And why did he call me one?"
Sam sighed. "Castiel, I don't know. It's just what Bobby says. If it makes you feel better, it means he doesn't hate you like he used to."
"But why would he call me a name that has negative associations, to show he doesn't hate me?"
Sam put his hands through his hair and walked out of the room, calling after him, "Just clean up this mess. I'm going to bed."
Cas looked at the pile of glass and just picked up the pieces with his hands.
Humans. Castiel couldn't tell them up from down.