The Age of Innocence

God I hate kids, I do! No because what they do when you don't see them of the street all pink and cute and wide eyed, which is poop and cry and kick and drain the life force out of you.
I hate them because they're small, and innocent and have no idea what's coming to them.
Now everything it's an accomplishment. Talking is an accomplishment, walking get them sweets, smiling makes their parents proud, but soon they'll grow up and disappoint their parents no matter what they'll do,
no matter how accomplished they'll be; their parents will never be completely satisfied with them and they'll push them harder and harder until they'll finally break.
And when that happens it's going to be just another disappointment for their parent.

In the light of all that's happened Part 1

Second week of sleepless nights for Dean. Since Faith blabbed her mouth about Castiel having feelings for him, Dean wasn’t able to close one eye or to even relax for that matter. The other day he went to a minimart for some pie, on his way back a cat darted out of a garbage can and he almost had a heart attack. He’s not afraid he just doesn’t know how to react and what to say to Castiel when he drops by.

Usually, these days, Dean finds an excuse to get out of the room the second Cas lands. Those long fictive trips to the bathroom should stop unless he wants Faith to take him to a hospital.

“Holly Marry, mother of Christ, I wish Sam was here” he thinks while brushing his teeth one morning. Of course as selfish as Sam is, he found a way to ditch the cause and went to Disney Land with Lana or Lora or Linda or whatever-the-hell-her-name-was. It’s true that there wasn’t much to hunt these days and they had 911-ANGEL on speed dial that could’ve zapped Sam from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and into the dusty motel room in middle-of-nowhere Kentucky where Dean was living for the moment.

Faith is a bitch. She sleeps with every greasy truck driver she can find. Dean thinks she’s a nymphomaniac but shortly ruled that out giving the fact that she never expressed the desire to sleep with him or maybe she just finds it creepy giving the fact that she had a small fling with their dad, not too long ago. But she flirts with Cas, I mean she flirts with Cas. She’s one step away from actually shoving her hand down his pants.

She’s a hot brunette, full dark red lips, big green eyes and she always dresses like in a rock video, black t-shirt, gray jeans, boots and leather jacket, her dark hair dangling below her shoulders in big, heavy curls. Faith laughs, a lot but you can see a spark in her eyes and you realize she’s not happy.

“What happened to you anyway?” Dean asked one day stretching as much as he could in the tiny hotel bed. After seeing Faith looking at him, puzzled he continued “Why did you become a hunter?”

Faith breathed her cigarette in and exhaled a smoky “Vampires”. She squashed the cigarette butt in the ashtray and continued “I was seventeen, making out with my boyfriend in my room, Goth music blasting from the stereo, my 5 year old little brother was in his own room playing. My mom was downstairs, cooking and from time to time yelling at me to turn down the music” she lights off another cigarette and breathes in hard, with thirst and pleasure, closing here eyes and letting the effect make her a little dizzy. “My dad was watching TV, there were three of them, two jumped my dad and one mom, because I was used to screams from downstairs I didn’t understand at first what was going on but my boyfriend thought there was too much ruckus, he jumped out of bed, turned down the music and opened the door. That’s when one of the vampires torn his throat out. I yelled and did the first thing I could think, regarding of the people that might’ve still been alive in that house, and jumped out the window cracking my sternum, breaking four ribs both my arms and dislocating my jaw. They tortured my little brother for sheer pleasure while I was lying there, unable to move, unable to scream unable to do anything but hear him sobbing and being torn apart by those animals. A neighbor who was out to get his paper, the next morning saw me lying on the grass and moaning. I don’t know why they let me live, maybe they thought I was dead or close enough or maybe they were to full from such a generous meal.” 

A deathly silence filled the small space of the hotel room and after a few seconds of pondering Dean asked: “Did you at least get them back?”

Faith nodded and spitted out tobacco “A year later.”

A small flutter of wings and Castel was standing at the foot of Dean’s bed. Dean jumps out of bed and mumbles something about him being a foot out the door and asking if anyone wants anything.  They might’ve wanted something if Dean would’ve said where he was going but before Faith could ask, Dean was already down the street. She closes the door and turns to Castiel who sat in the uncomfortable chair tugging at his tie trying to slip it loose.  Faith takes two giants steps and faces Castiel pulling his tie loose with long fingers and touching his neck in the process. Her hands are cold and smelling of cigarettes and Cas flinches. “Sorry” she mumbles and when she steps away Castiel sighs. Faith’s face changes and Castiel can read pity in her eyes. She sits at the end of Dean’s bed “He’ll come round Cass. He wouldn’t be panicking like this if there wasn’t something inside him, something more than friendship for you, just have patience.” Faith whispers, her voice al butter and honey but Cas sinks deeper in the wooden chair and breathes out an “I’m tired” closing his eyes and remembering his favorite spot in heaven. He had been cast out from Heaven, reneged by his own family and now by the one person he was truly caring for, real human feelings of love, the ones that hurt and make your stomach rumble and make you jump in front of a train. The angel snapped his eyes open “Anna Karenina was a fool.” He states with a serious look on his face.

“Well, that’s random” Faith snorts out a laugh but Cas was too exhausted to explain instead he covers his face with his palm and makes and annoyed sound. Faith jumps of the bed and grabs the angel by the lapels of his coat pulling him upright and then sliding his trench on to the ground while pushing him to the bed. She does the same with his jacket and belt and until Castiel was face up on the tangled pile of sheets he was half naked. She kicks away his shoes, pulls the cover off of Dean’s bed and tucks him in. “Get some sleep dude, you need it.”

Castiel was sleeping a lot these days. He was able to “zap” as Dean used to say, but that was all that his so called heavenly powers were letting him do. He was eating and felt like he was always hungry; at one point he asked Faith how people found any spare time to do something else between sitting at a table and sleeping. The angel was slowly slipping into humanity and it was freaking him the hell out and needed a friend to talk this out with. Faith helped as much as she could, he tried to reason with Bobby once but the guy was drunk and all that he could got out of him was “Scotch is the answer to all of your problems.” and a pat on the back. Sam was talking way too much when an existential problem would come up and he was bouncing from one subject to another and Castiel would leave even more confused than he was when coming in. Maybe he was too picky, maybe all that he needed was to talk to Dean, just to hear him talk in that cocky tone of voice of his, maybe ….Castiel felt the warmth of the blanket slowly invading his body and soon dozing off.

When he woke up, four hours into the night Faith was whispering annoyed at Dean and waiving her hands in the air, Dean turned away from the one way conversation an darted for the bathroom but Faith grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tried slapping him, but Dean dodged with a grin and the force of Faith hand spun her round. Dean giggled silently. “FINE!” She finally said, loud enough for Castiel to hear, and bolted thru the door slamming it behind her. Dean looked at Cas to make sure he’s still sleeping then sighed and leaned against the bathroom wall with a loud thump then his legs gave and he let himself slip on the floor sitting there until his but cheeks got numb.

“Damn it!” he hissed and went in the bathroom, almost stepping in the shower with his clothes still on. He smiled at the though and slapped his forehead with his palm. The water is hot and makes his muscle relax until he forgets whether he locked the door or not then remembers that it doesn’t matter, locked doors are not really Castiel’s kryptonite nor it’s Faith’s. She blasts her way thru any locked door with a kick. At first Dean fund it hot but now it’s just annoying especially because of her constant nagging “Talk to Cas, talk to Cas, talk to Cas” but she’s right, Dean knows she’s right he must summon up the nerve to talk to Castiel once and for all, to tell him he doesn’t feel the same, to squash the angel’s fantasies once and for all to tell him that is not natural for two men to be in love with each other. That’s it god damn it, that’s it, he’s gonna march in there shake Cas up and tell him to stop the nonsense he’s done flinching with every wind breeze and to be honest he misses his friend. He gets out of the shower soaking the little carpet in the bathroom thru, pulls on his t-shirt and jeans without even bothering to wipe himself out, shampoo still in his hair and forcefully pushes down on the door handle but something stops him, a deep sadness or such crawling thru his body and memories from hell invading his brain, he’s used to them by now and he braces himself, hand tight around the door handle but it’s not the same as always. He’s standing over a soul, holding a bloody blade. The woman beneath his hand it’s screaming and twitching but there’s no mercy left inside him. She was a murderer back in her human life, she killed her 4 months old son because he was crying too much after which she went on a killing spree emptying round after round in everyone who walked into her path. When the police finally cornered her she shoved the shotgun in her mouth and blew her brains out. Alistair was behind him, patting his shoulder and telling him what to do, where to cut. A soft dim, white light appeared out of nowhere and was growing closer and brighter, Alistair evaporated and demons everywhere were vanishing just by looking at it. A warm soft hand was cupping his cheek and another was holding the hand in which he had the blade.

“Don’t do it, Dean” the light said softly and he had to turn his eyes way. “You’re done, it’s finished, you’re saved.” At the last word made his teeth greet and he tried to free his hand tugging and pulling, he felt like he was supposed to be terrified, to slice and cut and shoot in every direction until the light would go out, but he didn’t because peace and warmth was filling his lungs and the hand was so … forgiving against his cheek and it made him weep. Dean dropped the blade and fell to his knees pleading and sobbing and he saw or felt a smile coming from the light. “I’m here to take you back, your brother needs you, your world needs you. You’re loved Dean Winchester, you have no idea how much.” And the hand fell down from his cheek and onto his shoulder grabbed him tightly and… When the memory ended Dean gasped, he was breathing heavily like he just ran 100 miles and sometime during all that he fell to his knees, streams of water and tears and shampoo running down his face. “Cas” he breathed and let go of the door handle pressing his forehead to the door and staying there for what seemed like an eternity.

“Yo! Did you drown in the toilet bowl?” Faith was knocking franticly at the door and yelling. “C’mon Dean I have to pee.”

Dean got to his feet, unlocked the door and bolted past Faith who was looking like a cartoon character holding her stomach, legs crossed. He grabbed her pack of cigarettes of the table and darted out the hotel door leaving it opened and determined not to stop walking until he hit oncoming traffic. He sits on the dirty sidewalk; wet jeans leaving ass marks in the dust, flings open his Zippo and lights up the Lucky Strike. The smoke it’s heavy in his lungs and his throat dry, the taste it’s strong and dirty and makes his head spin. He remembers not seeing Cas in Faith’s bed when he walked out.

“I’d pull your fingernails out one by one for even touching my cigarettes but something’s messing with your head and it’s good enough for me” Faith said from behind him before dropping a heavy jacket on his shoulders, it was cold outside and the fact that he was still wet didn’t help his cause. “Spit it out droogie, what had you rattled like that?”

“Cas?!” he says, more like a question then like a statement.

“He’s been called out; Bobby needs his input on some enochian spells.” She runs her fingers thru his hair but Dean pulls away and she drops it on his back “What the hell is that? Soap?”

“Look man, I don’t know much but I know that face. What’s up? Is it hell?”

Dean winches under her hand, takes in a deep breath “I’m in love with him.” says soft and quietly like it would make it untrue if no one heard it.

Faith is taken by surprise, she backs away, her eyebrows raised, like she wants to take a better look at Dean, and he looks … resigned, dim traffic light hitting his face and underlining the dark circles around his eyes. She softens, relaxes her shoulders and sits next to Dean pulling his head on her chest and holding him like he was never been held and he tells her everything about the vision, that foggy memory from hell he shoved deeper and deeper inside and forgot about it, until now . She’s been pushing him to talk to Cas all this time, she’s been pushing him to explain to the angel that what he feels can never be put to practice due to the fact that he wasn’t gay but obviously this was much more than physical attraction. A cold chill went thru her spine and Dean was shaking too.

“C’mon you crazy gay bastard you need to rinse that hair and I need to get inside, I’m fucking cold.” Dean huffed out a laugh and climbed to his feet.

Mami, mami, vreaaaaau

Deci ziua mea de nastere se aproprie cu pasi repezi. In nu mai putin de 25 de zile voi implini fabuloasa varsta de 25 de ani si in sfarsit faptul ca ma simt batrana este in sfarsit justificat.
Pentru mine e un chin si jumatate mersul la cumparaturi de cadouri asa ca m-am gandit sa-i crut pe cei care vor avea buna intentie de-am lua ceva de ziua mea si sa le ofer o lista de optiuni o data sa-i scutesc pe ei de a se consuma pe tema asta si a doua oara fireste sa ma scutesc pe mine de a spune "cee draguuuut" atunci cand tot ce vreau sa fac e sa pun pe foc cadoul so here it goes.

-Carte "Please kill me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk" gasita pe Karte.ro care arata in felul urmator

-O cana d-aia portabila cu capac pentru cafea 
-Viniluri pentru pick-up

-Postere cu filme, bune, proaste, vechi, noi, numai frumoase sa fie 

-Un fular caramiziu

-O bratara cu atarnici de pus la colectia de pe mana stanga

-Cactus (n-am nicio planta in camera, vreau o planta!)

-Bilete la teatru

-Un pandantiv in forma de cruce celtica cu coada lunga (nu cu toate bratele egale) 

-O chestie super misto de pus la baza gatului (eu sunt prea fitzoasa cand vine vorba de cumparat dar daca mi-o da cineva cadou ma vad obligata sa-o port :)) )

- Un Jaguar Roadster 1956 - marime naturala ar fi ideal dar acept si miniaturi 
-Un hamac (fireste asta poate sa astepte pana la vara, nu ma supar)

-O bicicleta noua (mai mult dorinta de spus la parinti sau la zana maseluta dar nu strica sa ceri)

 -Un polaroid (nu-mi azunge sa va bag blitzu’n ochi de fiecare data cand ne vedem, vreau sa va am si pe hartie:D)

-Lectii de chitara
-Carti carti si iar carti (Hemingway if possible, ma gandesc de mult sa ma iau la tranta cu el dar nu ma tine, asa daca il am in casa o sa ma indemne in fiecare zi "citeeesteeee-maaaaa")  

-Si last but not least: Love, love, love…all you need is love.

Prostimea noii generatii intre mit si realitate

Am avut neplacearea sa dau peste aceasta minunata fotografie, insotita de un cometariu la fel de minunat:

"Copii din ziua de azi au luat o razna... Si cand ma gandesc ca ei o sa mi plateasca mie pensia..Se duce tara asta de rapa..I au prostit internetul."

Asta zic si eu dar sa stii ca nu-i asa.
Generatia tanara intoteauna a avut merelei ei stricate doar ca nu au fost atat de publice. Acum ca avem postari pe FB si twitter, tot felul de poze traznite publicate pe "wall"-uri sunt acolo sa le vada o lume intreaba si d-aia avem impresia ca generatia tanara e prosta dar noi la randul nostru am fost judecati de cei mai mari decat noi pentru ca ne placea un anumit fel de muzica si o anumita vestimentatie, parintii nostii la randul lor au fost priviti cu acelasi ochi critic de parintii lor, hipiotii erau priviti drept niste drogati care nu aveau nici un scop in viata doar pentru ca cei care criticau nu stiau de unde vine miscarea si ce inseamna, punkerii erau vazuti ca niste infractori fara sa se ia in considerarea ceea ce insemna la baza anarhia.
Nu spun ca poza asta e o dovada de rebeluine care are la radacini o influenta sociala sau o miscare revolutionara viitoare dar pentru numele lui dumnezeu nu mai spuneti ca sunt prosti pentru ca o sa creada in chestia asta si o sa se resemneze. 
In loc sa ne vaitam ar trebui sa facem ceva pentru ei, sa ii invatam cum sa imbine minunata asta lume virtuala in care vrem nu vrem, ne aflam, cu cunostinte, cum sa exploateze internetul pentru a afla ce inseamna muzica buna, sa nu-i mai incurajam sa se dezmete in halul asta ...si vrei sa recunosti sau nu si in timpul nostru bluzele cu buricul gol si maneci foarte lungi erau la fel de constroversate cum este acum machiajul excesiv la fetite de 13 ani. Dar noi am crescut din asta, si multi dintre noi sunt acum pe o cale buna, multi stiu cine e tolstoi si kerouac, churchil, mousolini si familia romanov, mozart si metallica ...tot ce trebuie sa facem e ca noi, cei care suntem modelele lor sa incetam sa admiram mondenitati cum ar fi kim kardasian si paris hilton sau sa dam in plina zi la televizor videclipuri in care rihanna, o fetita de 24 de ani, apare in sanii goi, si trage K pe nas. 



 Nu e vina lor, e vina noastra

Retrospectiva

Mie nu mi se intampla lucruri care merita povestite, sau nu stiu eu sa apreciez ceea ce se intampla indeajuns incat sa le pun pe hartie...digitala.
Aseara insa s-au intamplat cateva lucruri care merita povestite.
Asadar: am vazut nu unul, ci doua MC, primul era in majoritate dominat de sportster-uri si cruiser-uri, nu neaparat Harley...martorii la criza pe care am facut-o si aporoape infarctul meu pot sa jure acum cu mana pe inima ca sunt dereglata mintal si ca, cu prima ocazie ma vor interna la balamuc.
Cred ca e imperios necesar sa incep dezintoxicarea de pe acum. Cum primul pas este sa recunosti ca ai o problema, ma voi ridica in picioare si voi declara " Buna, sunt Laura si sunt dependanta de motociclete!"
Planul initial a fost sa vedem "oreonidele" (shoot me if i got it wrong) stele urmau sa cada din cer, noi sa le vedem si sa ne punem dorinte care nu s-ar fi implinit nici in ruptul capului pentru ca o bucata de piatra in flaca nu are in niciun caz puterea sau vointa necesara sa asculte cinci nebune punandu-si dorinte.
Am migrat de la unirea pana in parcul Izvor unde ne-am infiintat fix in mijloc si-am inceput sa ne zgaim la cer. Toata activitatea asta a durat in jur de jumatate de ora timp in care Dana, zice ea, a vazut o stea si noi, ceilalti, mai putin privilegiati, doar am inghetat.
A doua activitate in minunata seara de 20 octombrie 2012 a fost sa cutreieram barurile in cautare de... bauta pe moca (pur si simplu nu pot sa gasesc o exprimare mai academica de atat). Primul bar in care ne-am oprit ne oferit niste minunate shot-uri de culoare albastra care contineau, cel mai probabil, apa rece si colorant, alcool cred ca au pus cu pipeta in fiecare pahar.
In al doilea bar am dat pe gat shot-uri de Vodka si-am concluzionat ca a fost suficient alcool moca, ca ne dor picioarele si mai ales ca-i mult mai comod sa stai jos si sa te alcoolizezi decat sa topai din bar in bar prin noapte si frig asa ca ne-am tarat frumusel fundurile pana in centrul vechi unde ne-am instalat in Open Door.
Printre bere, Long Islad-uri, Pina Colada-uri si Jagermeister, a da, sa nu uit de ..limonada (!!!!) am ajuns sa-mi ador prietenii, pentru ca, desi sunt instabili psihic si vorbesc despre consistenta cacatului cel putin nu ma polueaza fonic cu discutii despre apps si jocuri. I-am declarat iubire eterna Danei pentru ca in timp ce baietelul care era pasionat de jocuri si Facebook, urla despre nu stiu ce aplicatie, ea m-a tinut pe linia de plutire c-o discutie despre scriitori americani.
Totodata am inteles de ce imi plac barbatii mai in varsta. In conditiile in care unul de 25 de ani macane fara intrerupere despre de ce e mai bine sa dai "check in" pe nu stiu ce site, in loc sa dai "check in" pe Facebook...nu atat, unul de 25 de ani macane neintrerupt depre o porcarie ca asta si-mi afirma ca jocurile sunt mai bune decat cartile, fara sa dea vre-o explicatie. Am concluzionat aruncandu-mi mainile in aer "I'm 25, he must be 50!" Desigur nu sunt 100% sigura ca trebuie sa aiba chiar 50.
Seara mea de ieri s-a incheiat cu taximetristul cerandu-si scuze ca a incercat sa ma fraiereasca cu ruta. Sunt sofer, tampitule, stiu pe unde e mai scurt!

Arta pentru tehnologie

Si-am trecut pe la Muzeul de Arta unde in urma cu vreo trei-patru saptamani mi-am gasit locul. Puteam sa jur cu mana pe Sfanta Biblie ca acolo e locul de care apartin. Dupa trei ore de holbat la tablouri am iesit afara intr-un aer relativ curat, sub bataia calda a razelor unui soare de toamna si tot ce voiam era sa ma dezintegrez si sa ma imprastii in aerul din muzeu unde, sub forma de praf as fi putut sa ma asez pe picturi ca sa pot traii vesnic in mediul ala, in cladirea aia mai mult decat incredibila.

Si totusi, cu chiu cu vai, m-am urcat din nou pe bicicleta cu care venisem la muzeu si-am plecat. Tot drumul inapoi spre casa am avut in fata ochilor cabinetul de grafica, in special o lucrare de-un metru patrat , poate mai mare, pe care o sa evit sa o descriu pentru ca niste cuvinte adunate laolalta nu o sa-i faca dreptate sub nicio forma.

Am trecut peste starea mea de reverie, cel mai probabil nu definitiv, si mi-am continuat viata si activitatile zilnice.

In urma cu doar cateva zile m-a rugat mama sa-i duc niste bani la Apa Nova ( rugat sub forma “Du-mi niste bani la Apa Nova”). M-am conformat, am incalecat pe bicicleta si-am pedalat pana la Apa Nova care se afla in zona Sala Palatului.

Mare mi-a fost surpriza cand am trecut pe langa Muzeul de Arta si-am vazut niste panouri care intruchipau nu altceva decat ….(drum roll please)…. coduri QR! In spatele carora se aflau cel mai probabil niste lucrari artistice, n-am stat nici doua minute sa admir porcaria.

Norocul meu, zic eu, ca ma uitam o data la CSI-NY si au avut aia un caz in care au scanat un patratel d-ala cu telefonul, de unde mi-a ramas in cap ca trebuie scanat cu telefonul; asta era singura informatie pe care o aveam referitor la aceste minutnate coduri, dupa care am venit acasa, am cautat despre ce e vorba, am aflat ca sa numesc “coduri QR” si ca pot fi scanate cu telefon/tableta sau  PDA (whatever that shit is) si aplicatia care iti permite sa scanezi recte coduri este, fireste pentru android in consecinta “NO SMART-PHONE, NO ART!”   

In principiu am crezut ca ma enerveaza situatia aste pentru ca n-am eu parte de un smart-phone, apoi m-am uitat la aparatul care-si joaca rolul de telefon mobil din buzunarul meu si m-am gandit ca-i mai mult decat sufficient apoi mi-am dat seama ca problema nu-u la mine, problema e la restul lumii.

CUM sa-ti traiesti viata intr-un telefon? CUM sa renunti sa emotia pe care o ai atunci cand te uiti la un tablou pe viu doar ca sa il scanezi cu telefonul? Scanezi cu telefonul, ma jur, chestia asta devine din ce in ce mai ridicola pe masura ce-o repet. Si CUM un eveniment care se vrea cultural isi poate permite sa faca o astfel de discriminare in randul iubitorilor de arta? 

Poate ca m-am nascut in epoca gresita, cine stie. Ma simt indignata atunci cand mama nu stie sa salveze un numar in mobil pentru ca sunt lucruri care mi-au intrat in reflex. Daca stiu sa operez cat de cat tehnologia asta nu inseamna ca o imbratisez. As da orice sa scriu randurile astea pe o foaie de hartie, cu un creion hodorogit as da orice sa trec pe langa Muzeul de Arta si sa vad pe gard lucrari ale unor tineri artisti care n-au avut pana acum sansa sa se afirme. 

Avem locatii si avem posibilitati sa punem in ochiul public arta si alegem sa-o facem intr-un mod atat de discriminatoriu.

The powers of the universe don't want me to drink coffee in the morning

This is the second time I try to make coffee and everything goes to bloody hell.
The first time the equation was simple, no coffee in the coffee box, no coffee in my mug.
This time instead there was a lot of coffee in the coffee box and sugar and water but no gas and so my brain had the brilliant idea to microwave the damn coffee. I poured the composition from the kettle into a mug and shoved it into the microwave, I even put a small plate on top of the mug, for good measure and waited.
When I got it out all that water and coffee was just that, warm water and coffee, not the sweet nectar of love in the morning. So I shoved it's muggy ass back into the microwave and a few seconds later all hell broke loose.
My brilliant idea turned so very wrong, my precious nectar of life poured out of the mug and onto the microwave's plate.
I was sad for a short moment but when i saw that there still is some coffee in the mug I jumped up and down, took it out, cleaned the plate and transferred the liquid of awakeness into another mug, cleaned the first one and now I'm drinking microwaved coffee.
Of course, with my luck I'll get cancer from the microwaves but I don't care...COFFEE

In vis mi se indeplinesc visele

Am avut cel mai ciudat vis...eram pe langa un lac, era dimineata pt ca era racoare si un pic incetosat, dar soare. Eram impreuna c-o prietena mai mult ca sigur, desi nu-mi amintesc cine sau cum o chema dar aveam sentimantul ala de mailiaritate pe care-l ai cand esti pe langa prieteni.
La un momentdat, niste avioane de lupta brazdeaza cerul, erau in formatie, gata pentru o parada sau pentru un spectacol aviatic. Erau mai mult ca sigur de culoare alba insotita de-o alta culoare dar nu-mi amintesc, as spune rosu dar nu bag mana-n foc.
Unul din avinoane aterizeaza pe apa ... o abominatie desigur, avant in vedere da erau aviaoane de lupta dar treaca de la mine.
Ma arunc in apa spunand ca e singura mea ocazie sa pun mana pe-o astfel de masinarie, ma agat de aripa si ajungem amandoi la mal.
Acolo astepta nu altul decat....... Stephen Hawking!!!!! Care era si el la randul lui, foarte vesel sa vada avionul.
"Nu pot sa cred ca am pus mana pe-un avion d-asta!" am exclamat eu plina de entuziasm la care prietena mea m-a corectat spunand "Nu pot sa cred ca am atins acelasi avion pe care l-a atins si Stephen Hawking!"



Si m-am trezit!

And I woke up blind, like my dreams wre to bright

As an excuse for what comes next I'll say this: "this is my little corner of heaven and I'm allowed to dream at whatever shit I want so here it goes."


Jimmy Novak knew something was wrong the second he woke up.

Mostly because he shouldn’t have woken up at all.

His possession by Castiel was like one long, endless sleep, only his dreams were freakier than any dream he’d ever had during his lifetime. There were dazzling lights and the sensation of flying; wind on his face and air in his lungs that was purer than air had any right to be; horrifying, immense noises and beautiful, spiraling echoes. But, being dreams, they were hard to decipher, and he had no idea if they were real. On the rare occasions when he actually snapped awake – usually after some kind of fight, when Castiel was healing his body and had lost control of him for a few minutes – he’d spare a few seconds to wonder where the angel had taken him during their time together. Had his body seen Heaven? Had it seen Hell? Had it flown, or hovered, or swooped?

But this was different.

He was in pain, yes, so nothing new there; he was rarely awake these days without it. Like always, though, it was a muffled kind of pain, as if it was being filtered through someone else before it got to him, but it was enough for him to gather that his left leg was broken and something was horribly wrong with his chest. He could feel blood on his face and his ears were ringing. His eyes... well, they stung and watered, but they were closed and he couldn’t open them, because of course he had no control over his body.

It was no longer his. It belonged to the Lord. Damn Him and all His winged followers; the ones who’d been responsible for fucking up his life and stealing him away from his family.

Oh yeah. Jimmy had been asleep for what felt like months, but he was still angry.

What now? he thought wearily as he heard noises from above him, and he slowly came to realize that he was buried under a pile of rubble. He could feel hard concrete digging into his back, hear the scrape of metal and the bark of dogs from somewhere nearby.

Dogs? Why were there dogs?

“Down here,” a voice yelled, and the pressure on his chest began to ease.

Ah, rescue dogs. They’d sniffed him out. He was buried and they’d found him. But why was he buried? Why wasn’t he moving?

“Castiel?” he queried timidly, suddenly aware that he couldn’t sense him. Which was wrong on so many levels Jimmy could barely even process it, because Castiel was inside him, and Castiel was always there. Jimmy was a guest in his own body these days. He couldn’t read Castiel’s thoughts, and nor did he want to, but he soaked up his emotions – what few emotions he had, anyway – as though he was a sponge, wondering how the hell such tiny, eggcup-sized feelings could drive such a powerful being to do anything. But now? Nothing.

And yet he couldn’t move his body in any way, and he could feel that fuzzy, once-removed feeling that signaled he was still harboring the angel inside him. So why was he so quiet?

“Cas?” he said again, scared. “Are you there?”

A sudden, shocking surge of awareness inside his body meant that the angel had woken up. Which was wrong, wrong, wrong, because Jimmy knew Castiel never slept. How could he have been unconscious? Angels didn’t pass out, did they? Did this mean he was badly hurt? They were under a pile of rubble, so something hugely destructive had obviously happened to cause it. Had there been a battle?

Then an overwhelming feeling of panic swept over him and his body shuddered, the movement making the rubble around him shift a little. He coughed, then gasped, and then the panic was replaced by Castiel’s usual sense of implacable, rational calm. Jimmy was thrilled to feel it; Castiel was back. Whatever had happened to him, to them both, the angel was in control again.

Except...

“H-hello?” Castiel called out, and opened his eyes. Jimmy saw darkness before he was almost blinded when the concrete blocks above him were shifted aside and a fine rain of dirt and dust hit his face. A man in a fireman’s uniform leant over him, blue sky behind his head turning him into an incomprehensible silhouette, and the world grew louder in his ears.

“You okay there, sir?” asked the fireman.

“I d-don’t know,” Castiel replied, and Jimmy was shocked. No way should the angel have sounded that lost, or that confused. A ripple of fear swept over him, filtering into his mind from Castiel... from Castiel, he thought, stunned. Since when was he scared of anything?

And then... nothing.

Castiel shut him down.


~ ~ ~


He woke up inside an ambulance, with paramedics radioing in their ETA to whichever hospital he was headed to. He heard Castiel ask shakily, “What’s happening?” and the female paramedic reassuring him that he was going to be fine.

And Jimmy was gone again.


~ ~ ~



The next time he came to himself he was standing in the corner of a white emergency room filled with panicking, shrieking people. A male nurse was on his knees before him, cradling his right wrist to his chest and wailing in terrible pain, and behind him two pale security guards had guns pointed at Jimmy’s face.

“Don’t move!” one of them shouted, and Castiel lifted his arms out in front of him placatingly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,” he said, and Jimmy could feel the confusion coming off him in waves. “I just wanted him to let me go – what did I do?”

“You broke his wrist, you son of a bitch!” snarled the guard, and he clicked the safety off his gun.

“Whoa,” Jimmy said, utterly freaked. “What the hell is going on here, Cas?”

Castiel jolted with surprise. “Who said that?” he asked wildly. “Who’s Cas?”

Jimmy barely even had the time to wonder what the hell kind of response that was before the guard started yelling, “Get on the floor now!”

“He’s gotta be on PCP or something, that’s the only explanation,” said someone standing off to Jimmy’s left, but he couldn’t move his head to see who’d spoken. “Sick bastard, faking all those injuries! Who the hell would do that? What the hell for?”

Jimmy thought quickly. Castiel had been brought into the hospital with some serious wounds – he’d felt them himself, and he knew they’d been bad. They weren’t there any more. They’d healed, and the doctors had accused him of wasting their time. And, somehow, things had gone to hell. Badly.

“Get on the floor!” the guard said again, and Jimmy sensed Castiel weighing up his options. He expected him to disappear, or use his mojo to take the gun from the guy’s hand, or even for him to just stand there and get shot – bullets couldn’t kill him, as Jimmy knew from experience. But instead Castiel slowly fell to his knees, arms raised above his head, and the guards darted forwards and one of them pulled out handcuffs from his back pocket.

“Fucking freak,” said the unidentified person off to his left, and Castiel turned his head to look, allowing Jimmy to see who it was: a doctor, staring at him with horror and rage. And then everything went white, and Jimmy was asleep.

~ ~ ~


This time, when Jimmy became aware of his surroundings again, he knew things were really, really bad.

Castiel was in a police cell. In and of itself, this wasn’t a problem; he could leave any time he wanted, because he was an angel and bars meant as much to him as they did to dust motes floating in the air. But the very fact he was there, and had apparently been there for some time – the tiny window showed it was night outside – was enough to give Jimmy the heebie-jeebies. As he stirred into life inside his own mind, Castiel dropped his gaze to their hands and stared at them, flexing his fingers over and over. It was as though he’d never seen them before.

Jimmy kept silent for a while, trying to understand what was going on. They’d been in some sort of fight; that much was clear. Castiel had been injured, severely enough to black out, and despite his angelic healing powers he apparently still wasn’t himself. This meant the battle must’ve been with a formidable opponent. After all, who the hell had the power to knock out an angel?

There were two options: Lucifer, or another angel. Or worse, a group of them. Jimmy hadn’t been conscious much over the last few months but occasionally Castiel had talked with him, keeping him appraised of the situation. Jimmy knew he’d disobeyed. He knew it was a Big Deal. He also knew that he’d done it for all the right reasons, and he was grateful, and he was saddened that his change of allegiance hadn’t come in time to prevent Sam Winchester from killing Lilith and freeing Lucifer. But all of this meant that Castiel – and, by association, Jimmy himself – was in a shitload of trouble, not only with the demons of the world but also with the angels. It wasn’t fair, but there wasn’t much either of them could do about it.

Apparently something had caught up with them. Jimmy pondered for a while, then decided the best course of action was to ask. After all, he had nothing to lose.

“Castiel?”

His head snapped upright. Eyes scanned the cell, resting on the two youths in the far corner who were talking quietly among themselves – drug dealers, most probably, judging from the look of them, not that Jimmy was much of an expert on such things. Castiel stared at them through narrowed eyes, then dropped his head again.

Jimmy had no choice. He tried again. “Cas? It’s Jimmy. I know you can hear me.”

This time Castiel jumped to his feet, staring around him. “Who said that?” he snapped.

One of the youths nudged his partner, breaking into a wary grin. Jimmy wanted to scream, but he held his temper in check and remained calm. He had no idea if Castiel could sense his emotions in the same way he could sense the angel’s, however weak they were, but losing his temper probably wouldn’t help matters.

“It’s Jimmy,” he said again. “There’s no point looking around you. I’m in your head. Well, technically you’re in my head, actually, but that’s just splitting hairs. Look...” He paused, as Castiel was still glaring around the cell suspiciously. His fellow prisoners were gazing up at him with expressions that were half this dude’s a nutjob and half we can take him if we have to, and Jimmy had a sudden image of them rushing him and Castiel killing them both, unaware of his own strength. He had a feeling whatever had happened in the emergency room with the nurse and his broken wrist could be repeated here, only far worse.

He had to think quickly before he spoke again. “Look, Cas, I need you to tell me what’s going on here,” he said urgently. “You were in some sort of fight, weren’t you? Can you remember it? Can you remember anything?“

“Where are you?” hissed Castiel, placing his hands over his ears. “What are you saying to me?”

“Dammit,” Jimmy cursed, forgetting his resolve to stay calm. “It’s me, you stupid idiot! Jimmy Novak! You hijacked my body to use for your big angel plans, remember? What’s the matter with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“Shut up!” Castiel commanded, spinning around to check there was nobody standing behind him. He shot a glance over at the two youths, who shifted uncomfortably and stared back at him with a threat clear in their eyes.

“Got a problem, man?” one of them said, and Castiel took a step backwards, holding himself against the concrete wall.

“Who’s Castiel?” he asked. “Who’s Jimmy?”

“What the fuck you on about? You a fuckin’ schizo or somethin’?”

Jimmy could feel it now – that confusion he’d felt earlier, mingled with something else, another emotion that took him a while to identify. Fear. Castiel was keeping himself together, whatever natural serenity that came with his personality stopping him from freaking out completely, but Jimmy could tell that he was totally lost. He didn’t know anything: who he was, where he was... or, most importantly, what he was.

“Shit,” he said without thinking. “Castiel, what happened to you? Why don’t you remember anything? Did they wipe your memories or something?”

Castiel jammed his hands over his ears again, breathing hard. Their companions laughed, then turned as a cop came to the door and peered into the cell. “Everything okay in there?” he asked, and Jimmy was surprised when he felt Castiel gather himself together and step forward.

“Something’s wrong,” he told the police officer. “You’re someone with authority here, aren’t you? Can you tell me what’s happening? Who keeps speaking to me? It sounds like they’re inside my head, but that’s impossible, isn’t it? Can you help me?”

The cop raised his eyebrows, regarding him seriously.

If Jimmy could’ve sighed, he would have sighed right then.

“Not a good idea to tell a cop you’re hearing voices, Cas,” he said flatly. “This isn’t going to end well.”

It didn’t.


~ ~ ~


They asked him what drugs he’d taken so many times that Jimmy wanted to slap them. They asked him his name, where he was from, who he was, what he’d done that day, and most of all why he’d faked his injuries and buried himself in the rubble of a disused mattress factory which had been flattened by a suspected gas explosion.

“I don’t know,” answered Castiel to every single question, and by the end his voice was starting to crack.

Jimmy was scared. This was big, bigger than he could imagine. Castiel was an angel trapped inside his body with absolutely no knowledge of what he was capable of. He was surrounded by humans – frail, easily injured humans – and had no concept that he was different from them, unless you counted the fact he could hear a voice talking inside his mind, and had crushed a nurse’s wrist with one accidental squeeze.

And because of this he was in the system now, having been paraded before psych consultants before being carted off to some kind of institution to be locked up and evaluated. Jimmy didn’t know where, as he’d faded out again while Castiel was being moved. And that was another thing – the way he was tuning in and out, as though Castiel was turning him off and on again like a lightswitch. It was horrible, having no control over himself like that. Unbearable. He’d gotten used to the fact that someone else was controlling his body, but popping back and forth between wakefulness and oblivion with no rhyme or reason was enough to drive him crazy.

Then again, he was in the best place for that if it happened. It was exactly how he’d pictured the inside of a mental institution to look: white walls, squeaky linoleum floors, barred windows. It stank of antiseptic and urine and bleach. The staff looked bored and the residents were straight out of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.

Jimmy knew he shouldn’t be freaked out by mental illness – it wasn’t something anybody could help, and he’d always been careful not to use insulting words like retard, particularly in front of Claire. But when confronted with old men who screamed for hours on end, or who wandered in circles, or who sat and happily pissed themselves with a beatific smile on their face... it was too much.

Jimmy was an ordinary guy, a family man. He wasn’t crazy. Okay, so he happened to be carrying an amnesic angel of the Lord inside him, but that didn’t mean he was nuts. He didn’t belong in a place like this. But he was locked in twice over: once inside the building, and once inside his own body. It was terrifying.

He tried explaining things to Castiel any time someone left them alone that day, but it was difficult. Castiel couldn’t understand who he was, and how the hell do you explain to an angel who thinks he’s a human that he’s actually an angel?

“Please, you’ve got to listen to me, Cas. You’ve got to be careful. You’re not like everybody else in here. You’re stronger than them. You can hurt them. Just try to rein it in, okay?”

“Leave me alone.”

“You need to call a man named Dean Winchester, you got that? Except... I don’t know his number... shit, I wish I had it. That’s damn annoying. But you can appear and disappear, you know that? You could go straight to him if you wanted to.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, Cas. I’m on your side here. You shouldn’t be in this place. You can go anywhere you want to, okay? You’re an angel. I’m just the human carrying you around. You’ve been brainwiped or something, I don’t know, but at least you’ve got me to tell you what’s going on.”

“Get out of my head!”

Castiel shouted at him, jamming his palms over his ears and bending over, moaning, and Jimmy fell silent. He wasn’t accomplishing anything. All he was doing was freaking Castiel out. As far as Castiel was concerned, he was human, and humans didn’t have little voices in their heads telling them crazy shit about angels.

As the hours passed he realized he could feel Castiel starting to come apart around him, his rational, emotionless mind unable to cope with what was going on. If Jimmy wasn’t careful, he’d completely go to pieces.

It didn’t help that Castiel told everyone that he could hear his voice in his head, either. “He says he’s called Jimmy,” he explained to one of the doctors earnestly, as Jimmy debated whether or not to tell him to shut up. He decided it wouldn’t help. He’d just make him more determined to speak.

“Does Jimmy tell you to do things?” the doctor asked, and Jimmy instantly knew what he was getting at: does he ask you to hurt people? Hurt yourself?

“He wants me to contact a man named Dean,” Castiel revealed. “He says I should go to him. That I can fly. That means I’m crazy, right? And he wants me to be careful, and not to hurt anybody. He says I’m an angel. Why would he say that? Why is he in my head?”

“He’s not really there, John,” said the doctor, and Jimmy winced because he hated the fact these guys were calling him that. John Doe. Ridiculous. Like something out of a crappy TV cop show, or a cheap crime thriller. He’d told Castiel over and again what his real name was, but he’d refused to believe it.

“Oh, he’s here alright,” sighed Castiel, sounding surprisingly human. “How do I shut him up?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

Castiel fell silent, pondering. “I don’t... I’m not sure. I don’t remember ever sleeping.”

“You need a good night’s sleep. Lots of rest. Tomorrow we’ll get you started on a drug regimen that’ll keep Jimmy under control, and then we’ll try to figure out who you are and how you got here. How does that sound?”

The relief that spun through his body made Jimmy recoil in shock. Castiel’s emotions were getting stronger by the hour; from the moment he’d opened his eyes under the rubble he’d been trying to process events like an angel and failing miserably. It seemed if you took the memories out of the angel, all his tiny emotions rushed in to fill the space, growing and adapting to their new environment.

With a rush of horror, Jimmy realized Castiel was so powerful that anything could happen if he lost his temper. Jimmy had once told Dean that having an angel inside him was like being chained to a comet. Now he felt as though he was strapped to a nuclear bomb.

“Keep calm,” he said softly, as two male nurses led him down a corridor to the room that was apparently going to be his home from now onwards. “Just keep calm, Cas, okay?”

“You’re not here,” Castiel muttered.

I wish I wasn’t, Jimmy thought.


~ ~ ~


Castiel didn’t sleep a wink that night, of course, because angels don’t need sleep. Jimmy didn’t sleep either, but it was because he wasn’t there physically; only his consciousness remained. He couldn’t sleep unless Castiel made him.

It was a long, long night.

Jimmy talked at first, trying to be as soothing as possible, but after a while Castiel started shouting at him to be quiet again and the distress that surged through his body made Jimmy give up and shut up. The commotion brought some nurses to the door, who noted that Castiel wasn’t sleeping and, for a moment, it looked as though they were going to sedate him. Jimmy had no idea if that would work or not, but either way Castiel calmed down enough for them to leave him alone.

They both lay in the darkness, unmoving, and Jimmy realized this was the longest he’d been conscious since the two days when Castiel had left him. That in turn made him think about Amelia and Claire, and how they were on the run right now, hiding not only from the enemies of the angels but also from the police. He wondered if anybody was searching for them, and if the dead bodies had been found in their house. He hoped the cops would think he’d killed them, and that he’d taken his wife and child hostage and gone on the run with them. He didn’t want anybody thinking that Amelia was a murderer. He didn’t want anybody thinking he was a murderer either, of course, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

Dean Winchester had slit the throat of his friend Roger right in front of him. Roger had been possessed by a demon. Poor, poor Roger. Jimmy remembered playing baseball in the back yard of Roger’s house when they were kids, and the time they’d accidentally smashed the window of his dad’s garage, and how he’d called Roger after his first date with Amelia and told him she was the one.

He missed his old life so much, it was almost like a physical pain inside him.

“I’m not crazy,” whispered Castiel into the darkness, as Jimmy brooded within his mind. “I’m not crazy. I’m not.”

You’re not, Jimmy thought coldly. It’s the rest of the world that’s nuts, not us.


~ ~ ~


As the next day wore on Jimmy found himself being shut down every few hours before jolting back into wakefulness with no warning. It was highly unpleasant, adding to the sense of disjointedness he already felt from his new surroundings, and Castiel seemed to have no control over it. Perhaps it was a side-effect from whatever had happened to him. Whatever it was, it meant that Jimmy got to watch in intermittent bursts as Castiel was assessed, re-assessed, questioned and re-questioned, examined and studied and, finally, drugged.

The drugs, Jimmy discovered, were a problem.

They made Castiel sleepy. Well, technically they made Jimmy’s body sleepy, but somehow they affected the angel too, even though they shouldn’t have. He zoned out, sitting in a chair by a window in some nameless, barren room, while inside his head Jimmy was wide awake and desperate to do something. But he was stuck, imprisoned inside a shell of a body that didn’t respond to his commands, and as the hours wore on he gradually realized that he was well and truly fucked. With Castiel – with his body – like this, there was nothing he could do to help himself. He couldn’t contact the Winchesters, even if he’d known how. He couldn’t talk to the angel, get him to pull himself together. He couldn’t protect himself if anything evil came a-calling. He was just a patient in a psychiatric hospital who’d been doped up to stop him lashing out and hurting anybody – a good thing, in a way, given Castiel’s strength, but also the worst thing anybody could possibly do to him.

Jimmy was well aware that Lucifer was out there, and Castiel was an important soldier in the fight against him. He had to be cured so he could bring down the Devil. Jimmy had given up caring about himself, but Amelia and Claire were vulnerable and alone.

“What happened to you, Castiel?” he asked mournfully, as they both stared out of the iron-barred window at the sunset. “Will you ever come back?”

Castiel didn’t react, and Jimmy felt despair wash over him.


~ ~ ~


Amazingly, days began to pass. Any hope that Castiel would snap out of whatever was ailing him started to fade, and Jimmy realized that unless something drastic happened, this could be his existence from now on. And the crazy thing was that he knew it would go on and on – Castiel wouldn’t age, wouldn’t change in any way, and he’d sit and drool in the corner of a mental ward for as long as the universe saw fit to keep him there. The whole time, Jimmy would be trapped inside his mind, watching the world go by and being completely unable to do a thing.

It seemed ridiculous to worry about the years and decades ahead, but it wasn’t as though Jimmy had anything else to distract him.

He couldn’t talk to anybody. Every time he spoke to Castiel he could feel the horror radiating from the angel’s mind as he struggled to suppress the voice in his head. Even when Castiel was lucid – the doctors didn’t keep him drugged all the time, thankfully – he was still almost catatonic, as though he’d decided that keeping quiet and still was his only option right now. He hunkered down in his chair in the ward, trying to keep off everybody’s radar, and Jimmy thought sadly that he was like a rabbit scared of attracting the attention of a hawk. He had a horrible feeling he was the hawk.

There was a daily routine to the hospital and Castiel followed it calmly. He ate breakfast in the canteen as though it tasted of sawdust (Jimmy’s taste receptors were as dulled as the rest of his body’s sensations, but he had a feeling it probably did). He had a consultation with whichever doctor was on a rotation that day, most of which was spent with him saying “I don’t know” in answer to their questions. He sat around, sometimes in the ward, sometimes in the institution’s leafy garden, although the staff watched him so closely when he was out there that it made Castiel feel paranoid. There’d be lunch, some half-hearted attempt to keep everybody entertained in the afternoon that usually consisted of board games or television shows; Castiel participated in neither. And finally there’d be an evening meal, more sitting around, and then bed.

Nights were the worst. By the third night the nurses had come to realize that Castiel was awake every time they looked in on him. The doctor informed him the next morning that insomnia was a symptom of schizophrenia, and that he needed sleep so badly he was going to sedate him every night from now on. Castiel didn’t react; he was responding less and less to whatever people said to him. Jimmy, however, wasn’t happy at all.

“Aren’t you pumping my body full of enough crap as it is?” he asked petulantly, ignoring how Castiel stiffened in shock at the words. “You’re already giving me mood-altering drugs and god knows what else. Why can’t you just leave me alone? I don’t need sleep!”

“Jimmy doesn’t like the idea,” Castiel told the doctor morosely. They were the first words he’d spoken all day. “He’s protesting.”

“Well, I’m afraid Jimmy isn’t in charge here,” the doctor replied with a wry grin, and Jimmy willed his fist into his face as hard as he could.

Nothing happened, of course.

Jimmy faded in and out during the course of each day, but once Castiel was in bed and the sedatives were in his system he found that he was trapped there until he woke up again. Castiel slept. Jimmy lingered. Not only was it boring, it was also deeply, deeply disturbing, because all he could do was think the whole time. He thought about his life, everything that had led up to this. He thought about the day Claire was born and how he might never see her grow up. He thought about Amelia, and his parents, and how they must be feeling without him. He thought about the world being burnt to the ground by the Devil, and how the only ones standing in his way were two young men from Kansas who were living so out on the edge he was amazed they’d made it this far.

He thought a lot about Sam and Dean Winchester, mostly because they were his only allies in this, even if they didn’t know it. He hadn’t spent much time with them, true, but it had been long enough to know that they were trying to do the right thing. And his impressions were reinforced by Castiel – over the past year he’d seen glimpses of the Winchesters through his eyes and he knew how much hope the angel had in them. Well, in Dean, anyway. Sam was always more of a puzzle, and he’d let Lucifer back into the world so Jimmy really didn’t know what to think of him. Castiel had forgiven him, though, and Jimmy was inclined to follow his lead. It was the Christian thing to do, although Jimmy wasn’t sure what he thought about that.

Religion felt like a joke to him now, and he was saddened by the way his life had changed.

The nights were unbearably long. Jimmy couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t move. He could only listen to the sounds of the hospital – clanging doors and muffled shouts – and wish, wish, wish this wasn’t happening. He could feel Castiel slumbering inside his body, everything about him wound down and peaceful, and he resented him with everything he could muster, even though he knew it wasn’t the poor bastard’s fault. Whatever had slammed the memories out of him had turned him from an angel into a confused psychiatric patient with extra-special strength. He couldn’t help what was happening to him; he was as much as prisoner as Jimmy was. If only he’d listen to him, though. If only.

If only.


~ ~ ~


Castiel rarely spoke unless somebody asked him a direct question he couldn’t avoid answering. And so, when he turned his eyes up to look at the nurse pouring him a plastic glass of water as he sat in the day room, the fact that he said her name made Jimmy wonder what the hell was going on.

“Yes, John,” she replied, with a friendly smile. “My name is Wendy. How did you know?”

Her badge said only ‘Nurse Turner’.

“You are a good person,” Castiel told her earnestly. Jimmy could sense that he was trying desperately to connect with her. Maybe he’d had enough of sitting around doing nothing and fancied a chat.

“Why, thank you. I try to be, like most folks in here, I guess. Would you like some juice instead of water?”

“Water is fine,” Castiel said. “You will be a good mother. You should stop worrying about it. Your child will be healthy and beautiful, just like you.”

Wendy dropped the water jug she was holding. It was plastic, like everything in the institution, so it bounced after spilling its contents across the floor, but the noise it made was terrific in the otherwise quiet ward.

“How did you know that?” she gasped, her eyes rounding into wide little ‘o’s. “There’s no way you could know that! I only took the test last night!”

Castiel tilted his head and Jimmy felt puzzlement coursing through him. “You wanted it kept secret?” he asked. “But you’re with child. That’s something to celebrate.”

Jimmy couldn’t keep quiet. “Cas, this isn’t the Bible. Nobody says ‘with child’ any more. She’s pregnant.”

“Be quiet,” Castiel said forcefully, and Wendy stepped backwards.

“I don’t know how you knew that, but I don’t appreciate having my personal life discussed in public,” she snapped, looking thoroughly shaken. “Keep your opinions to yourself from now on, okay?” She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving Castiel staring after her.

“Well, pregnant women do get very hormonal,” Jimmy said apologetically, but Castiel ignored him. He lowered his head and stared at the water on the floor, and Jimmy would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking.

He got his wish that night.


~ ~ ~


It was the end of his second week in the institution, and Jimmy had been asleep for roughly two hours when he snapped awake again. When he’d last been there Castiel had been sitting on a couch in front of CNN with another patient who was rocking so hard Jimmy was amazed he wasn’t seasick. Now he was in bed and everything was black. Castiel had clearly just succumbed to his sedative. Jimmy was awake for the night.

“And here I am again,” he muttered to himself.

Nothing could ever have prepared him for this kind of boredom; he’d even graduated beyond worrying now. Last night he’d counted non-stop from one in the morning until five am. After that he’d tried singing, and after that he’d daydreamed that he and Amelia were dancing on a moonlit beach in Hawaii, just as they had on their honeymoon. It was probably a good job he couldn’t control his body, because Castiel would’ve woken up with tears on his cheeks.

Jimmy couldn’t help wondering how long he’d stay sane if this went on. Hours were bad enough. Weeks were unbearable. The thought of months or years of this endless, helpless isolation…

From nowhere, a jolt of something hit him and he recoiled, shocked. Castiel was angry. He felt it as clear as day, and yet Castiel was fast asleep; his body wasn’t moving, his breathing hadn’t speeded up. He was dead to the world, but he was angry. What the hell…?

“You’re dreaming,” Jimmy declared, suddenly understanding. “Holy crap, Cas, you’re actually dreaming. I’ll be damned.”

Curious, he pushed with his thoughts against the sleeping mass coiled inside him. It was difficult – he’d never brought himself so close to the angel before, knowing how his presence freaked him out, but seeing as he was unconscious he assumed he could get away with it this time. He explored the hard edges of Castiel’s mind, almost grazing himself on some parts, feeling chilled by others. He knew it was just an illusion but the sensations were real. Having such a powerful being inside you was confusing on so many levels he couldn’t even count them.

And suddenly, surprisingly, he struck upon a section of Castiel’s mind that was spongelike and easy to sink into, so he did.

In a flash, he was in his dream.

It was confusing and fragmented, as dreams always were. Castiel was chasing something, moving through a forest that was indistinct and woozy in the edges of Jimmy’s vision. Castiel was wearing his body but he seemed to be gliding – was he flying? Jimmy couldn’t see what he was pursuing, but he could feel the fury towards whatever it was rolling off the angel in waves. The dream went on and on, trees shooting past them with dizzying speed, and then everything went black for a while.

Jimmy was just wondering whether he should leave when the dream started again. This time he was in a vast, barren expanse of nothing; all he could see were chains arching this way and that across the endless space around him. There were screams and wails, a sudden, horrendous heat and the overwhelming smell of blood.

Hell, Jimmy thought. Holy crap, he’s dreaming of Hell.

Castiel was searching for something. He could feel his desperation, even stronger than the anger he’d felt earlier. He flapped powerful wings Jimmy couldn’t see and scanned the expanse below him, soaring and twisting through the chains as they moved, almost as if they were alive and trying to snag him. He searched and searched, growing more and more panicked, and Jimmy started to feel as though he wanted to leave; as bored as he was, there was nothing pleasant about this dream, and he didn’t want to share it. But then Castiel narrowed his eyes and swooped, down and down and down, and Jimmy knew he’d found what he was looking for. It was Dean Winchester.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped, coming to stand before him.

Jimmy was thinking hard. He knew Castiel had rescued Dean from Hell. It was before he’d taken over his body, so the fact that he was wearing it now was wrong; this was dream logic, making no sense at all. But he couldn’t think anything else after that because Dean turned to look at Castiel, smothered in blood and with a snarl on his lips, and Castiel gripped him by the neck and pulled him to his – no, Jimmy’s – lips with a frantic, hungry groan.

Jimmy shot back out of the dream as though he’d been stung. Castiel moaned quietly into the darkness and he felt something he could only call yearning course through his body, spilling out from the angel and all around him, huge and real and totally and utterly human.

“Whoa,” Jimmy said in shock. “Well, I never saw that coming.”
Whether Castiel remembered the dream the next day or not, Jimmy had no clue. The angel opened his eyes as dawn broke and Jimmy was asleep a heartbeat later. He woke again mid-morning, as Castiel sat in the sunlit garden and stared up at the clouds. Jimmy tried to read the emotion coming from him and came to the conclusion it was wistful.

He decided to try to break the ice. “You dreamt last night, Castiel. Do you remember it?”

Castiel hissed out a breath, dropping his gaze to the grass. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” he murmured. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’m trying to help you. Please, Cas, you must believe me. This is my body too. Why would I want to hurt you in any way? It would affect me as well, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m sick,” Castiel replied sadly. “You’re just a symptom. I’m never speaking to you again. You’re not here. Goodbye, Jimmy.”

“Please, Cas. This is important. You can’t stay in this place forever. You have work to do – the Devil’s out there, and he needs you to stop him. You have to find Dean. You dreamt about him last night, Cas. I know you haven’t forgotten him.”

But Castiel didn’t say a word, just turned his gaze to the sun and closed his eyes.

That was the last he spoke to anybody for three weeks.


~ ~ ~


Surely, thought Jimmy, this was what going crazy felt like.

At times he wondered if Castiel could sense his emotions in the same way he could sense the angel’s, but it didn’t seem likely. Jimmy was often angry and impotent with rage, but Castiel’s mood never changed. He shut himself down, sitting and staring at nothing for hours on end, and the doctors discussed him sometimes as though he wasn’t even in the room. They used words like “catatonia” and “regression” and seemed to be of the opinion that their mysterious John Doe had experienced an event so traumatic it had caused him to close himself off from the world. They tried experimenting with his drugs, changing the dosages and prescriptions, letting him spend a few nights un-sedated (to Jimmy’s joy) before knocking him out again for his own good because he was clearly getting no sleep whatsoever.

Every single second he was allowed to be awake, Jimmy fought. He didn’t want to live his life like this. He shouted and screamed inside his own head, begging and threatening Castiel to do something. Nothing happened. Castiel ignored him. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know anything.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jimmy pleaded, over and over again. “I gave myself to you, and this is how you thank me, you son of a bitch?”

Castiel stared at the clouds and didn’t reply.


~ ~ ~


A new patient was brought into the rec room one afternoon. Castiel’s gaze fell on him instantly and Jimmy watched as the nurse left the wheelchair in front of the TV, noting how the guy looked as though he was half-dead already. He was in his seventies, maybe even eighties, his eyes milky-blue and unseeing. His mouth was open and he was drooling. Quite why Castiel was staring at him, Jimmy couldn’t fathom, but he’d given up trying to understand the angel’s motivations by now.

To his surprise, however, Castiel rose to his feet and walked over to the new arrival. Jimmy sensed the nurses watching him carefully as he pulled up a chair and sat himself down in front of the old man, staring at his face with an intensity that would probably have freaked the guy out if only he’d been aware of it. He wasn’t, though. He was gone. Somewhere else, somewhere not here.

“Your life was a righteous one,” Castiel said softly, his voice a little hoarse from lack of use. “You will be free soon, my friend.”

The old man blinked.

“Yes,” Castiel said, and Jimmy could have sworn that he was answering some kind of question. “I am what you seek.”

The guy didn’t move again, and neither did Castiel. He sat and gazed at him until Jimmy clicked out of his head, and when he came back Castiel was staring down at a bowl of soup and a nurse was trying to convince him to eat it. She wasn’t having much success.


~ ~ ~


Castiel kept staring at the old man, who Jimmy eventually discovered was named Bill. Castiel called him Billy. He sat beside him every night as the patients watched TV. He wheeled him into the garden each morning. Occasionally he would reach out a hand and stroke the back of Billy’s wrist. Jimmy was completely baffled by the whole thing, as were all the staff, although they seemed pleased that ‘John’ was interacting with somebody again.

On the fifth day, Billy died.

Castiel was in bed. He wasn’t sedated that night and when he sat up in the darkness, climbed out of bed and walked into the corridor, Jimmy had absolutely no idea what he was up to. He found Billy’s room and sat on the mattress beside him. It was clear from the old man’s breathing that he was in trouble, and Jimmy couldn’t help but break his silence at the sight of him.

“You need to get one of the doctors.”

Castiel simply stroked Billy’s forehead, then wiped a lone tear from the old man’s eye.

“He’s dying, Cas. They might be able to help.”

“He is already lost,” Castiel whispered. “I can ease his passing.”

So he was talking to him again, was he?

“You’re an angel,” Jimmy said gently, deciding that this wasn’t a good moment to discuss anything else. “Yes, you can.”

For once, Castiel didn’t argue. He sat and continued to stroke Billy’s skin, and when Billy breathed his last, he bent and kissed him gently on the lips. “Rest now,” he told him, and Jimmy was genuinely moved.

Five minutes later, the night staff found him sitting on the dead man’s bed. Nobody knew what he was doing there; he wasn’t supposed to be out of his room. Jimmy heard them a few hours later as they discussed the fact John Doe had gone wandering for the very first time just as Bill had died, and whether there could be a connection. They think Castiel smothered him or something, he thought angrily, but the next day everything was fine and it Castiel’s nocturnal adventure wasn’t mentioned again.

They made sure he was sedated at night from now on, though.


~ ~ ~


Castiel was dreaming again. He didn’t do it often, and after the first time Jimmy had made a point of staying away from the angel’s mind. Tonight, however, he was so bored he simply couldn’t resist. He braced himself and fell in, not knowing what to expect but confident that nothing could shock him quite as much as the sight of Castiel and Dean kissing in Hell.

He was wrong.

At first it was all quite peaceful. He was among the clouds, moving through them like a bird, and the sight almost made him laugh because he suddenly pictured Castiel sitting on one of them with a harp and a halo, doing what angels were supposed to do. It was beautiful, too, and he could sense that Castiel was happy, high in the sky and close to Heaven.

Then he was falling, terror clutching at every inch of him as the clouds disappeared and a red, fiery inferno waited to catch him below. Castiel didn’t hit the ground, though; instead he found himself standing in a dark parking lot surrounded by piles of ruined cars, the rain pelting down around him as he walked over to a beautiful woman lying dead on the floor. He crouched beside her, infinitely saddened but unfamiliar with the feeling, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.

She’s an angel, Jimmy thought. Is this a memory or is he making this up?

Somehow, in that murky way that sometimes happens in dreams, the events changed. Castiel turned to stare at a gaggle of police cars approaching the parking lot. When he turned back, the angel was gone. Dean was lying there instead, his eyes fixed on nothing, staring up at the black sky with horror in their depths.

“No,” Castiel moaned, a shudder running through his body. “No, this can’t be. This… this isn’t what happened...”

“It’s just a dream, Castiel,” Jimmy said loudly, reacting to the huge wave of grief that suddenly swept over him. “It’s not real, okay?”

“He’s dead,” said Castiel. “Dean… no, Dean!” He reached forward and pulled Dean’s body up to his lips, kissing him firmly. Jimmy wanted to look away, but he was transfixed. This wasn’t the same kind of kiss he’d seen before – he could tell that Castiel was trying to breathe life back into him, filling him up with himself, trying desperately to restore him, to bring him back from death the way he must have when he originally rescued him from Hell.

Nothing happened. Dean stayed dead.

Castiel bent his head over his body and wept pitifully. It went on for far too long; this was the kind of nightmare that wouldn’t end, that refused to release its clutches, that was shockingly, nastily real. Jimmy watched for a while, disturbed beyond all measure, before deciding he should leave.

When he came back to himself, Castiel was crying in his sleep.


~ ~ ~


Jimmy was pretty freaked out the next day, while Castiel seemed his usual enigmatic self. From that, Jimmy assumed he couldn’t remember his dreams. Fair enough. He could remember enough for the two of them.

It was becoming clear to him that Castiel felt a lot more for Dean Winchester than was probably prudent, given the fact he was an angel and all. Whether Castiel knew this was anybody’s guess; dreams had a way of churning up your subconscious desires and bringing them to the fore. Although Jimmy could simply be behind the times – for all he knew, Castiel and Dean could have been lovers from the moment they’d met. He’d spent the majority of the last year asleep. Anything could have happened while he’d hibernated inside his own head.

And if that was true, then he was pretty pissed about it. If Castiel had been sleeping with Dean… well, it wasn’t his body, was it? Jimmy would have liked to have been asked, at least. It was only fair. It was bad enough that the angel was dragging him everywhere and exposing him to all sorts of physical dangers – not to mention trapping him in a mental asylum for what could be the rest of his life, dammit – but this was definitely a step too far. Jimmy was married. He didn’t want to give his body to anybody else. He’d taken vows!

Then again, if Castiel had actually asked, how easy would it have been to say no? Whatever this thing was, whether it was purely subconscious and one-sided on Castiel’s part or not, it was still pretty huge. Castiel was an angel. The fact he had feelings for a mortal wasn’t something to be sniffed at. And Jimmy wasn’t prejudiced. He knew that love was love, and that sometimes it could happen between people of the same sex. If Castiel felt the same way about Dean as Jimmy felt about Amelia, how could Jimmy deny him the chance to do something about it?

Lord only knew how Dean felt about the whole thing. Castiel scared the crap out of Jimmy at times. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have him declare his undying love to you.

“This has been one of the most confusing days of my life,” he told Castiel as they sat in the rec room that night. “I have to stop nosing around your dreams, Cas. They’re totally freaking me out. You have some pretty horrible nightmares, you know that?”

Castiel said nothing, gazing at the TV screen. They were playing CNN again. For some reason the fact the hospital staff kept news channels broadcasting instead of cheap soap operas or game shows restored Jimmy’s faith in humanity. He didn’t want to be treated like an idiot, and didn’t feel anybody else should be. Although the headline news story right now was hardly comforting: apparently a train had derailed in Michigan, and several hundred people were missing in the river beside the tracks. Ouch.

“That’s a tragedy, a goddamn tragedy,” said Wendy the nurse, coming up to stand beside him and staring at the screen. She was talking to one of her colleagues, not him. She’d barely said a word to Castiel since he’d spoken to her weeks beforehand. Her tummy was starting to show now.

“I heard it was the cultists,” theorized Simon, one of the male nurses who worked the evening shift. “They put something on the tracks, made the train go flying. Damn idiots. Someone should shoot the lot of ’em.”

“You talking about the Satan freaks? Do you really think they’d do something like this?”

Simon barked out a laugh. “They murdered those kids in Utah, didn’t they? And they’re all convinced they’re following the Devil. Do they sound right in the head to you?”

A bolt of energy shot through Jimmy’s body. If he’d been able to he would have gasped: it felt electric, like he’d just stuck his finger in a plug socket. Even before he’d recovered from it he felt a surge of unbridled, unmitigated fury flow out of every one of his pores as Castiel clenched his hands so tightly that his fingers tore holes in the fabric-covered arms of the chair he was sitting in.

“What is it?” he queried, worried, although he was sure he already knew – Lucifer. Lucifer had a cult behind him, and was starting to make his presence felt.

“I need to stop him,” Castiel growled. The anger hitting Jimmy was so strong now that he almost felt angry himself.

“What’s that, John?” asked Simon, stepping in front of him. “You with us again?”

Behind him, the TV crackled and flickered.

“Uh-oh,” said Jimmy. “Cas, be careful here. You don’t want to…” But his words were lost as the TV exploded in a shower of sparks, its screen shattering into a thousand pieces and spraying half the room with glass. The lights buzzed on and off above their heads as Castiel started breathing heavily, his eyes flickering and his body breaking out in a sweat.

“What the fuck…?” breathed Simon, as Wendy shrieked and ran for cover.

Jimmy was awestruck. Was Castiel back? If he was wielding his angel powers, surely that meant he was himself again? But his joy was premature. Castiel suddenly slumped, his whole body slackening under some unseen weight, and everything in the room returned to normal.

There was a long, awkward silence, and when Castiel looked up again he saw Simon staring at him with a totally baffled look on his face. “I don’t know what happened there, dude,” he said slowly, glancing around him at the fragments of glass littering the floor, “but either I’m going nuts myself or you had something to do with it.” His eyes fell on the rips in the chair arms. No way could anybody have done that with their fingers unless they had super-strength.

“Lucifer is here,” Castiel said weakly.

“Right,” Simon replied, nodding. His eyes were wide. “Sure he is.”

The next day, both Wendy and Simon treated him with suspicion, as did a few of the other nurses they’d obviously told about his weird behavior. Oblivious, Castiel went back to his usual silent self, and Jimmy wondered if what had happened had been a breakthrough after all.


~ ~ ~


Jimmy wasn’t going to look. He wasn’t. He’d been horrified the last two times. Just because Castiel was radiating happiness right now didn’t mean he’d stay that way. There was no third time lucky here: his dreams were crazy, and Jimmy wanted none of them.

…He looked.

What else did he have to do except lie in the darkness and think about how much he missed Amelia’s lips, or Claire’s smile?

The first thing he heard was laughter. He was standing in a park, surrounded by playing children under a clear blue sky. It was cold, but nicely so; the kind of cold that makes you take deep breaths to cleanse your lungs. Jimmy marveled at how real this dream was, so pristine, unlike all the others he’d visited. He wondered if it was because Castiel had been here more than once.

He turned, spotting himself – no, Castiel, get it right – sitting on a bench with Dean by his side. They looked relaxed, both of them staring at the children with half-smiles on their faces. They seemed… peaceful. Jimmy felt calm just looking at them.

“So you’re not following orders any more, huh?” observed Dean, glancing sideways at him. Suddenly Jimmy was inside himself again, and it was only then that he realized he hadn’t been. Weird.

“I’m free,” Castiel said simply, meeting his gaze. “I chose you over God.”

“It wasn’t really God, though, was it?” Dean asked. “You chose me over a bunch of whackjobs who’ve been making up their own rules. God had nothing to do with it.”

“I disobeyed. In the eyes of God, that is unforgivable, whether I disobeyed for the right reasons or not.” Castiel looked down at his hands. “I wanted you, Dean, and I couldn’t say no to you. Not when you needed me so much.” He sighed. “I could never say this to you in reality. Dreams are my only refuge.”

Aha, thought Jimmy. So Castiel and Dean weren’t an item. Thank goodness for that.

“You can tell me anything you want, Cas,” Dean was saying. “You’ve been inside my head, remember? You Six Million-Dollar-Manned me when you put me back together. You know every inch of me now. You can read my mind. You know I’ve got feelings for you, man. I just don’t know what to do with them. It’s like… it’s like I’m a bird, but you’ve gotta show me how to flap my wings.”

Castiel turned back to him. “I’m trapped,” he said sadly. “My wings have been clipped. I miss you, Dean.”

Things went blurry for a few moments. Jimmy guessed that this was a dream thing, that perhaps Castiel was sinking into a deeper level of sleep. When his surroundings coalesced again, he found himself staring into Dean’s eyes so closely that it almost made him yelp out loud.

He was kissing him. Dean was naked and so was he, and they were absolutely, one hundred per cent having full-on sex in a bed in some random hotel room that shimmered at the edges because it wasn’t real. Castiel was inside Dean and Jimmy could feel it – dear lord, he could actually feel it – and Dean was biting at his neck and making mindless, guttural groaning noises that Jimmy could hear his own throat echoing back to him (and since when had he ever made sounds like that?). He lingered just long enough to feel the sensation of total, unmitigated joy smack into him from Castiel before he was out of the dream so quickly it took him a moment to recover from the fact everything went black so abruptly.

Even back in bed, ensconced in the real world again, he could sense how hungry Castiel was, how needy. For the first time Jimmy could feel him as though he was a proper human being: conflicted and driven by primal desire, led by passion and lust. But underneath it there was something else – affection for Dean, possibly even love, although Jimmy had no idea how to read such a thing.

All he knew was that Castiel wanted Dean. At this very moment, he was dreaming that he was fucking him using Jimmy’s body.

Oh my, he thought. My angel’s all grown up.


~ ~ ~


As ever, Castiel was totally silent the next day. And the day after that. And again, and again, and again, until Jimmy completely lost count of how long he’d been in this miserable place. It had to be at least two months now, if not more. All those nights lying awake and mute inside Castiel’s sleeping body. Day after day of nothingness.

He had a feeling purgatory was probably something like this.

Thanks to Father Moreno, it was about to get worse.


~ ~ ~


There had been rumors that a priest was going to visit the institute; Jimmy had heard one of the day nurses discussing it. Frankly, it surprised him that one hadn’t been by before. With so many souls in need of spiritual guidance, this place seemed like it should be a magnet for people of the church. It was kind of sad that it wasn’t.

“We’ve had a few new residents since you were here last, Father,” said Doctor Palmer, who Jimmy held an unreasonable hatred towards because he was the one who’d first suggested sedatives to help Castiel sleep. The voice came from behind him and, as ever, he couldn’t turn of his own accord to look. Castiel was staring out of the window and that was that.

“Here’s the guy I think you’ll be most interested in,” continued the doctor, coming closer. “Arrived in June with absolutely no idea who he is or what brought him here. Doesn’t say much, but we think there’s a lot going on underneath his surface catatonia.”

“And you call him John?” asked another voice, sounding a little amused. Probably the priest.

“Oh yes. It’s been a while since we had a John Doe. I was wondering when we’d get the chance to use it again.”

“Very imaginative,” laughed the priest, and suddenly he was standing in front of Castiel, blocking the light from the sun.

“Hello, John,” he said.

Castiel flipped out.

It was so sudden that Jimmy couldn’t even process it. One moment he was just sitting there, senses deadened with drugs and his body limp and pliant. The next he was running across the ward like a champion sprinter, heading for the exit with wild terror flowing through his veins. He didn’t get far, though: he was wobbly from the medication, and his knees buckled before he made it to the door. He hit the floor with a cry of alarm and tried to get up again, but Simon was at his side before he could, holding his arms and trying to keep him still.

“It’s alright, man, hey – it’s alright, calm down!”

“Don’t hurt him!” Jimmy yelled, suddenly realizing what could happen here. “You’re stronger than him, Cas! Don’t hurt him!”

He had no idea if his warning stopped Castiel from ripping off Simon’s head or not, but he did feel his muscles tense for a second before relaxing. Instead of punching him, Castiel twisted so that he could reach up a hand and touch two fingers to Simon’s forehead. The nurse slumped to the floor in an instant and Castiel staggered to his feet, shooting a panic-stricken look back across the ward at Father Moreno, who hadn’t moved.

“Stay away from me!” Castiel shouted.

“It’s alright, John,” said the priest, taking a step forward. His expression was unreadable because the sun was shining through the window behind him, making him nothing more than a silhouette. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It hit Jimmy that perhaps Castiel was reacting to something about him that nobody else could see. Maybe he was a demon? He felt the fear arcing through him and couldn’t help but be affected by it. Suddenly he was scared, too.

“Don’t come near me!” Castiel screamed, backing up until he reached the door. There were shouts outside as somebody corralled the institution’s security team into action. Jimmy had no idea where the rest of the staff were because Castiel wouldn’t take his eyes off the priest.

“I won’t, it’s okay.” Father Moreno stood still, his face still shrouded in shadows.

“You’re not going to take it!” Castiel cried, his voice almost a sob. “You’re a traitor and I’m not! You can’t have it!”

His Grace, Jimmy thought with a flash of insight, suddenly realizing what was happening here. The priest was associated with the church. God. Angels. He represented everything Castiel was running from, and it was enough to scare him senseless. In his mind, the Father was probably Zachariah, or another angel sent to punish him. No wonder he was scared.

With no warning, hands fell on Castiel’s arms from behind him and tried to wrestle him to the ground. Bad idea. Every lightbulb in the room exploded, showering them in shards of hot, sharp glass. The walls rumbled. As Castiel lifted his arms and threw off his attacker, the giant, barred windows lining two sides of the room shuddered in their frames until the glass split and cracked.

“No, no, no,” Jimmy pleaded, trying to calm him down. “Cas, stop it! You’re going to hurt someone! Please, keep this under control!”

Hands fell on his arms again, and it was too late.

The first nurse flew fifteen feet across the ward, landing in a messy heap in one corner with a yell that could only have come from someone who’d broken a bone. Several of the other patients milling around began to scream, sensing danger, as Castiel turned and picked up the security guard who’d just entered the room. He tossed him to one side easily, then blocked the blow from the man behind him by twisting his arm until he screamed.

“Stop it! Stop what you’re doing!”

Father Moreno was shouting, and Castiel turned to face him. The priest had stepped forward out of the sunlight and Jimmy could see his expression at last – it was one of horror and amazement, his eyes flicking to the four men on the floor and back up at Castiel in shock.

“I’m not yours to command,” Castiel told him firmly, but his voice hitched in his chest. “I’m not yours. I’m my own. I have free will, and will not follow your orders any more.”

Father Moreno stared at him. “Of course you have free will, my son,” he said carefully. “All of God’s creatures have it.”

“I chose Dean,” Castiel said shakily, and Jimmy gasped inside him. “I chose a human over my brothers. I’m an angel, Father, but I have free will now.”

“That’s right!” Jimmy hissed, thrilled beyond all measure. “That’s it, Cas! You remember!”

“D-Dean,” Castiel murmured, breathing hard. “I need to find Dean–”

There was a sharp, familiar pain in his neck. A needle. Jimmy cursed helplessly as he felt the drugs hit, and then Castiel was face-down on the floor and knew no more.
~ ~ ~


What the doctors did next came as no surprise to Jimmy. They placed him on a stretcher and wheeled him to a different part of the hospital; not that he could see where they were going, of course, because his eyes were closed. They lifted him onto a bed. They buckled restraints around his wrists and ankles. Jimmy wanted to laugh, because there was no way such paltry things could keep him in place when there was an angel inside of him, but then he felt a needle being inserted into his arm and his spirits fell.

They were going to keep him drugged.

Castiel had finally remembered who he was, and now he was going to be knocked out for God only knew how long while the doctors tried to decide what to do with him. Dammit.

The whole time the staff members discussed what had just happened in shocked tones. The consensus seemed to be that Castiel been able to take some kind of drug that made him stronger – nobody was that powerful in real life, and it was the only explanation they could think of. Some of the nurses, however, were a little more superstitious. One claimed Castiel must have superpowers. There seemed to be a lot of debate as to whether he’d somehow caused the power surge that had blown the lights, but nobody could explain why all the windows had broken. All the other wards were okay. The earthquake, if that’s what it was, had been centered around him.

Jimmy lay there for hours, wide awake as Castiel slept the sleep of the dead, and could do nothing but listen. Simon passed out when he touched him, like he just told him to go to sleep… That jerk Ricky had his arm broken. Serves him right if you ask me…. Father Moreno said he’s coming back, but I ain’t gonna be here when this guy claps eyes on him again… Did you hear he knew Wendy was pregnant before she’d even told anybody?... That old guy who died here a few weeks back – do you think John did something to him?

It went on and on as Castiel slept right through the rest of the day and clear into the next afternoon. Jimmy was helpless, shouting in mute frustration as he heard doctors prescribing more sedatives and sensed nurses injecting them into his IV line every time Castiel showed the slightest sign of stirring awake. The drugs felt different this time. Stronger. Jimmy listened hard to conversations that were going on outside his room, out in the corridor by the nurses’ station, and deduced that the doctors had had to double the dose they’d give a normal patient because John Doe simply wouldn’t stay under.

Great.

It was pure chance that nobody was in the room when Castiel finally started to come round. He opened his eyes and Jimmy could have sung with joy to see daylight again, although, to his surprise, his vision was blurry and unfocused. He felt nausea roil in his stomach and his mouth was sawdust-dry. Whatever they’d given him was seriously heavy duty. He hadn’t so much been ‘put to sleep’ as ‘knocked out extra cold’.

There was a brief moment of confusion as Castiel lifted his head off the pillow and realized he couldn’t move, before sinking back on the bed. He closed his eyes again and moaned.

“Shhh,” Jimmy told him, nervously. “Don’t let them know you’re awake. They’ll give you more drugs. You need to pull yourself together and get the hell out of here, Cas.”

“Jimmy… Novak…” Castiel managed to gasp, and if he’d had any control over it, Jimmy’s heart would have leapt.

“Yes! Yes! It’s me! Are you back, Cas? Can you remember everything?”

“Why am I… what is this?” He pulled at the restraints on his wrists, frowning. His head was spinning. Jimmy could feel how bewildered he was, but they didn’t have time for this.

“You can get free, Cas. Just pull them, it’s all you need to do. You need to use your angel tricks and get out of here. Twitch your nose and pop away.” He stopped, accepting that a reference to an old ’60s TV show probably wasn’t going to make much sense, and added, “Concentrate. You’re an angel. You can escape.”

“I’m… I’m… Dean. I need to find Dean.” Castiel tensed his muscles and the leather straps on his arms ripped through like tissue paper. After a brief moment of disorientation, he did the same to his ankles. He sat upright, the action pulling the needle out of his arm, but he didn’t notice. His head went straight into his hands and he sat for a few moments on the edge of the bed, trying to collect himself. Jimmy could feel the nausea growing worse, filtered as it was by Castiel’s presence. He really, really didn’t want to throw up.

“Take it easy,” he soothed, still unable to believe that all this could be over soon.

Castiel straightened, determination seeping through his pores. “I need to find Dean,” he said again, and rose to his feet. Jimmy felt a familiar rush of power burst through him as he concentrated, preparing to disappear…

…only to reappear again in the corridor, where he promptly collapsed like a sack of potatoes on the floor.

“What the…? Security! Somebody get security!” someone called, and there was a flurry of activity around him. Jimmy couldn’t see what was happening as Castiel’s cheek was flat on the linoleum, but he had the weirdest sense that nobody wanted to touch him. Nobody knew what Castiel was capable of. They were scared of him, and rightly so.

“Jimmy,” panted Castiel, his fists clenching and unclenching on the floor. “What’s… happening? Why can’t I…”

Jimmy felt the unmistakeable pinprick of another injection in his arm and almost screamed in rage. No! He’d been so close! After everything, after all he’d been through, and now this? How could anybody be so unlucky?

“Dean,” Castiel groaned as he passed out.


~ ~ ~


Oh, this was bad. This was really bad. They weren’t going to let Castiel wake up. He was the institution’s very own monster and they didn’t want to come face to face with him again any time soon. He’d torn off his restraints as though they were nothing. He’d somehow escaped from a locked room and appeared in a corridor without anybody seeing how he’d gotten there. He was crazy-strong and thought nothing of throwing people around like toys. Everybody was so threatened, not to mention baffled, by his behavior that all they could do was put him to sleep and defer the problem.

The thing was, Jimmy couldn’t sleep as well. He had to stay in the dark and fume away, knowing that he was so close, so motherfucking close, but Castiel was a prisoner of the medications they’d put him on. Jimmy still didn’t understand how they could work when nothing else affected him – not bullets, not knives, nothing – but came to the conclusion that Castiel was sick anyway, so it made sense that his defenses were lowered. Not that it mattered. He was effectively Sleeping Beauty until the doctors changed their minds, and all Jimmy could do was wait.

Waiting was all he ever seemed to do now.

As ever, he spent his time thinking. He was still trying to come to terms with Castiel’s last dream, with the knowledge that the divine, unknowable, endlessly powerful creature that had poured itself into him was having such base, carnal thoughts. It didn’t freak him out any more that they were towards Dean Winchester – to be honest, that made a twisted kind of sense, seeing as Castiel had been assigned to watch over him. What other human could he possibly have a bond with, other than Jimmy himself? What amazed him was that Castiel could even think of sex. Recent events had proved that angels weren’t as pure and innocent as everybody seemed to think they were; they were actually scheming, misguided assholes. But sex? For an angel? Not something Jimmy would have ever ascribed to being part of their make-up.

Well, apparently it was. Jimmy kept having flashbacks to how Dean had looked when he’d kissed him in the dream… how it had felt to be inside him… the noises they’d both made, so alien and new to him. He knew he had no feelings for Dean himself, but he’d felt Castiel’s, and they were intense.

What the hell would Jimmy say if Castiel asked him for permission to act on them?

But then, would Castiel ever admit his feelings? Would Dean reciprocate? He could sense that Castiel’s devotion to Dean was extraordinarily strong. What if he had to leave him? What if Dean told him to go fuck himself? What if? What if?

Not for the first time, Jimmy found himself feeling sorry for the angel inside him. At least humans knew what to do with their feelings. At least they were the same species as the people they fell in love with.


~ ~ ~


He’d been waiting for a week, quietly going insane in the darkness behind his own closed eyelids, when he heard the voice of the priest in the corridor. It was muffled, like he was keeping it low on purpose, and something about his tone made him focus on it as hard as he could.

“It’s not a demon possession, I’m sure of it. There’s something going on with him but it’s not evil. Call it a hunch, if you will. I’ve been doing this longer than you guys, after all. You get a feeling for evil.”

Who are you talking to? Jimmy thought, frustrated.

“And he definitely mentioned angels?” asked Dean Winchester.

Jimmy didn’t hear the reply. All he could think was oh, thank God, thank God, thank God, over and over again, joy filling up every inch of him as he realized he wasn’t alone in this any more. The Winchesters were here! He was going to be saved!

“Sure sounds like a possession to me,” he heard Sam say doubtfully, and Father Moreno chuckled.

“Well, see what you think. Here he is. He’s unconscious, of course, as they’ve been sedating him pretty heavily for reasons I’m sure you can understand. Be on your guard, though. He could be faking.”

Jimmy heard the door handle open. Footsteps squeaked on the floor. There was a silence, and then he heard Dean say, “Holy crap,” in a voice that was deep and rough with shock. Then: “Castiel? Cas?”

“You took your own sweet time getting here!” Jimmy shouted, knowing they couldn’t hear him.

He felt a hand on his cheek, patting it gently, before it fell to his neck to take his pulse. He couldn’t react to it, not at all, but he desperately wanted to shiver, to lean into it, anything to show that he was in there and awake.

“How did… why is he here? How did he get here?” Sam’s voice was thick with amazement.

He was standing somewhere by the foot of the bed, so Jimmy assumed the hand on his neck was Dean’s. His guess was confirmed when Dean replied from above him, “He’s out for the count. How the hell do you dope up an angel? What is this?”

“An angel?” said Father Moreno, incredulous. “You actually know this man, and he really is an angel?”

“He was,” Dean said gruffly. “I’ve got no idea what he is now.”

“He said your name,” said the priest, sounding amazed. “He said he chose you... that he had to find you. I didn’t make the connection. There are so many Deans in the world... I had no idea he meant you.”

“Jesus,” Dean hissed, and there was some emotion in his voice Jimmy couldn’t identify for the life of him. “Cas…”

“It’s definitely Castiel, isn’t it?” Sam asked. “Not Jimmy? Did Cas leave him?”

“We’re both here!” Jimmy yelled.

“He had powers,” Dean said stiffly. “We wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t angelled-out and smashed the place up. He’s Castiel.”

“Right.” Sam’s voice was stricken. He was clearly shocked. Jimmy wished he could open his eyes, but of course he couldn’t.

A hand caressed Castiel’s wrists, which had been secured to the bed using handcuffs as well as leather restraints this time. He heard Dean swear in annoyance and he started unbuckling the straps. A few seconds later, Sam did the same to his ankles. “This is insane,” Dean sputtered, sounding well and truly pissed off. “How the hell did he end up in a place like this? All this time and we had no idea?”

“He’s been here for over three months now,” explained Father Moreno. “Where did you think he was?”

“Dead,” said Dean flatly, and Jimmy was certain he could hear the remains of grief in his voice. “He got into a huge fight with some of his charming family and just disappeared in front of us. One of them told us a few weeks later that they’d dragged him somewhere and killed him.” He laughed bitterly. “Funny, you’d think we’d have learned by now that angels can lie as well as demons.”

Jimmy felt fingers gripping the cuff on his right wrist and wondered if Dean had the key; it clicked open a moment later and he realized that Dean had picked the lock. He leaned across him to unlock the other cuff and Jimmy could feel that his hands were shaking.

Must’ve been quite a shock, walking through that door and seeing a dead man lying there.

“What have they given him?” Sam asked. “Just sedatives?”

“I’m not sure,” said Father Moreno apologetically. “He’s been here a while now, so he’ll have all sorts of meds in his system. Days of them, I’d say. He’s certainly been asleep for the last week, ever since the incident.”

Dean hissed out a breath. “He must have been weakened somehow. No way would drugs work on an angel otherwise. Look, can you distract the staff while we get him out of here? He can’t stay like this. He needs our help. Sorry to put you on the spot, but…”

Jimmy felt a hand on his forehead, so gentle it made him want to cry. After so long, someone was touching him who wasn’t a nurse or a doctor or an orderly; someone who knew who he was and wanted to help. It was the best feeling ever.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Father Moreno replied brightly. “I’ll rustle you up a wheelchair. Give me five minutes.”

The priest left the room and in his absence there was a long, awkward silence. Dean’s hand stayed on Castiel’s forehead, and Jimmy found himself remembering the angel’s dream, when Dean had said You know I’ve got feelings for you, man. I just don’t know what to do with them. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was true.

“There was no way we could have known,” Sam said.

“All these weeks,” Dean said quietly. “He was locked in here, going through all of this, and we didn’t know. We should’ve been searching for him.”

Sam sighed. “When, Dean? In between all the searching we’ve been doing for Lucifer? Or maybe in those few hours when we’ve actually managed to catch some sleep? Between trying to save the world and all the regular hunts, we’ve been flat-out. And we thought he was dead. We had no reason to think the angels lied to us.”

“He’s still got his powers,” Dean observed thoughtfully. “He’s not fallen. He still has his Grace. Whatever they did to him, they didn’t do that.”

Jimmy flinched as Castiel suddenly started to dream. It was weird. He hadn’t had a dream all week, probably because the sedatives were too strong. But he chose to do so now, and what’s more, Jimmy could feel it was sad, that Castiel was grieving as he lay curled somewhere deep inside his body.

“Boy, are you ever dreaming the wrong dream right now,” he told him.

Dean’s hand disappeared from his forehead. Jimmy heard footsteps approaching the door and Father Moreno whispered, “I need your help. Someone needs to bring the wheelchair in while I talk to the nurses.”

“I’ll go,” Sam offered, and Jimmy sensed him leaving the room. Was Dean still there? He couldn’t tell. He wondered what was going to happen next, trying to ignore the powerful sensations of loss radiating out from Castiel’s slumbering consciousness. He had a fair idea he knew what he was dreaming about, too, based on past experience. Castiel only felt sadness where Dean was concerned.

“I can’t believe it,” Dean said out loud to nobody. He was still there, standing right beside the bed.

As if responding to his words, a small moan left the back of Castiel’s throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean shushed him.

“No,” moaned Castiel thickly, lost in his dream. “Dean...”

“I’m right here. I’m right here, Cas.” A hand took his and Jimmy felt his fingers curl around his palm. He tried everything he could think of to let Castiel know, to pass the sensation onto him, but the dream continued uninterrupted. The sadness emanating from him was palpable. He was quite clearly dreaming that Dean had died, as he’d done a few times now, and Jimmy could only marvel at his timing. Dean had finally turned up, but Castiel was convinced he was dead. Great.

Fingers brushed hair off his forehead. “I thought you were dead,” Dean whispered softly, so quietly Jimmy almost didn’t hear him. “Dammit, Castiel, I thought you were dead. Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Couldn’t you have popped up in one of my dreams or something? What the hell happened to you?”

Castiel didn’t answer, but Jimmy could sense his dream coming to an end. The grief died away, to be replaced by the blankness that he’d become accustomed to over the last week. Deep, deep sleep. Castiel was a long way away from all of them right now.

There was a noise from the doorway; Sam had obviously returned with the wheelchair. The fingers stroking Jimmy’s forehead vanished, as did the hand holding his. “Help me lift him,” Dean ordered, all business again – there was no trace of the softness that had just been there in his voice. “Let’s get him the hell out of this dump.”

It was surprisingly quick and easy. The brothers wheeled him outside, settled him in the back of a car Jimmy knew had to be their old Chevy because of the smell of the leather and the roar of the engine, and an hour later he was in bed in what he assumed was a motel room as the brothers thanked Father Moreno for his help.

He still hadn’t been able to open his eyes and actually see them.


~ ~ ~


Father Moreno hadn’t just managed to distract the staff while the Winchesters carried out their jailbreak. He’d also swiped John Doe’s medical files, in a feat that convinced Jimmy he was not so much a priest as a hunter who just happened to have other duties. He wondered idly how he’d be able to talk himself out of trouble, but assumed he’d done it before. Either way, he had him to thank for getting him out of the institution. One day he’d make sure Father Moreno got a little more in his collection box than a few nickels.

“Oh, this is classic,” Dean muttered from across the room, as Jimmy listened to Sam walking to and fro, possibly unpacking his bags. “Apparently Castiel spent the first month in that place telling the doctors he could hear a voice in his head telling him he was angel. A prize of your choosing if you can tell me what he said the voice was called.”

“Jimmy,” Sam answered flatly.

“Bingo. Poor bastard must’ve been trying to explain what was happening, but Cas thought he was just goin’ nuts. Wow, that’s pretty effed up. Jimmy must have been trapped in there with him, helpless to do anything.”

“Ouch,” Sam said sympathetically. “No wonder they dosed Cas up with everything under the sun. How do you shut out the voice in your head if it’s actually real?”

The room fell silent for a few minutes: Dean was clearly reading on. “After a while Cas just stopped talking,” he announced. “I suppose you can’t blame him. Must’ve been horrible, stuck between the doctors telling him he was a schizophrenic and Jimmy telling him he wasn’t. Talk about confusing.” There was a rustle of papers before Dean whistled. “Holy shit, Sam. You should see the crap they pumped into him. They doubled all his doses because none of them worked at first.”

Don’t I know it, Jimmy thought ruefully. He wondered how long it would be before Castiel woke up again. A few hours, at least. Would he remember everything, or would he still have gaps in his memory?

“So he was essentially a blank slate when they found him?” Sam asked thoughtfully. “He didn’t have a clue who or what he was?”

“Nope. Whatever the angels did to him, they left him so confused he didn’t even know he wasn’t human. Y’know, it’s a miracle he didn’t kill anyone. He could’ve burned the eyes out of all the guys at the asylum without even knowing he was doing it.”

“He told Father Moreno he was an angel,” Sam declared. “He must have remembered something. Maybe he knows who he is now?”

“Guess we’ll find out when his sleepy times are over,” Dean said wryly.

Hurry up, thought Jimmy restlessly. I want my life back.

And then it hit him: he wasn’t going to get his life back. Once Castiel was his old self again he’d be put back to sleep, wouldn’t he? He’d be completely oblivious to the world around him for as long as Castiel needed him to be. He still wouldn’t be able to control his body. He couldn’t see his wife and child. He was as much of a prisoner as he’d been in the institution.

He fought the despair that washed over him. Castiel had told him he could be his vessel for a hundred, maybe a thousand more years. An angel lived for so long. All that time, unconscious... but at least he wouldn’t know about it. It could be worse. He should be grateful for that. And hey, his body would be fighting the good fight in the meantime. Castiel was one of the good guys – it wasn’t as though Uriel had been the one to possess him. Things could have ended up far worse than this.

But what about Castiel himself? Jimmy hadn’t really thought about it before, but now he had some sense of how time worked. He’d been forced to stay awake, in the dark, for days on end with nobody to talk to, no way of moving, no way of affecting anything around him. A minute had lasted forever. An hour had been unbearable. A day, a week, a month… time had stretched on and on, unrelenting, lonely. An angel’s entire existence must feel like that. Endless, eternal, filled with nothing except orders to obey. Angels could only love God, nothing else. They had no free will. They were every inch the same kind of prisoner as Jimmy was.

Castiel had broken free, though.

Maybe that was why he wanted Dean. Perhaps this was his only chance to feel something, to share his life and his emotions with someone, if only for what would amount to an eyeblink in the annals of history. Dean would live, what, another fifty years if he was lucky? Castiel would live forever.

Oh shit, thought Jimmy. I really wish I hadn’t thought of that.

Because the knowledge just about broke his heart, and he found himself wanting to help.


~ ~ ~


Jimmy had no idea what time of day or night it was when Castiel finally started to stir inside him, but both the Winchesters were silent and he assumed they were asleep. Castiel’s eyes were flickering and Jimmy willed them to open, desperate to see something after so long. He felt cold and groggy, with that woozy, dry-mouthed feeling he was starting to become used to. It was horrible, but hey, at least it was coming to an end.

“Castiel?” he said gently. “Wake up, buddy. Come on. You’re safe now. You’re with the Winchesters again. It’s all over.”

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, battling to stay awake.

Jimmy was startled when Dean’s voice instantly replied, “Right here, man. Come on. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

A hand fell on his arm, squeezing it gently. Castiel responded by forcing his eyes open, squinting in the light from the lamp by the bed. Jimmy tried to stop himself from crying out in glee as he finally, finally got to see his surroundings after more than a week, although they weren’t really much to shout about: an ugly green motel room, torn curtains closed against the night sky outside. Sam was fast asleep on a bed on the other side of the room. Dean was sitting on Castiel’s left, leaning over him and filling up most of his vision.

Dean. Jimmy felt an indescribable wave of relief and joy wash over him as Castiel registered his presence. He smiled, making Dean blink in surprise; he looked tired, Jimmy thought. Older, somehow, as though the last few months had been really hard on him. But his eyes were sparkling as he grinned back.

“Hey you,” he said warmly. “Did you have a nice vacation? You could’ve sent us a postcard, you know.”

Castiel was struggling to shake off the sedative, and when he spoke his words were slurred. “I’m an angel,” he said slowly. “Castiel.”

“I should hope so, otherwise we just busted the wrong guy outta that hospital.”

Damn, the drugs were strong. Jimmy could feel their effects spinning around his body, muffled by Castiel’s presence but still enough for him to guess how bad they had to be for the angel himself. “How long…?” Castiel managed to ask, trying to ignore the way the world was warping at the edges of his sight.

“Long enough,” Dean replied, and his eyes were suddenly sad. “We had no idea where you were. We thought you were dead, man.”

A ripple of amusement tickled Jimmy’s consciousness and he embraced it happily. Castiel had to lick dry lips before he replied, “Rumors of my… death have been… greatly exaggerated.”

Dean laughed, but it was quiet; he didn’t want to wake up his brother. “You came back with a sense of humor, I see,” he observed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Relieved,” Jimmy said without thinking.

“Relieved,” Castiel said a moment later.

“Is Jimmy in there right now?” Dean asked. “Is he awake?”

“Yes,” replied Castiel. I am sorry for what you have gone through, he said in Jimmy’s mind.

It was the first time he’d spoken to him that way in months, and Jimmy was so surprised he almost didn’t respond. “You couldn’t help it,” he answered. “But you’re back now, and that’s all that matters.”

“You couldn’t have persuaded him to give us a call, Jimmy?” Dean asked with mock condemnation. “I mean, come on, how hard could that have been?”

“Cas, tell him to go boil his head.”

“Jimmy did his best,” Castiel told Dean honestly. “I was… not receptive to his advice.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you weren’t. You’re a stubborn SOB at the best of times.”

Castiel closed his eyes as the room span round him. Jimmy was surprised he could even talk, considering how bad he must feel. Dean seemed to pick up on the fact and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Get some rest, Cas. They messed with you big time.”

“My brothers wanted me dead,” Castiel said softly. “They should have killed me, but they were distracted by Lucifer’s army.”

Dean’s hand stayed on his shoulder. “You’ll be happy to hear we’ve done some distracting of our own in the last few months. And we can do lots more, now we’ve got you back on our side.”

Castiel opened his eyes again. Jimmy watched, fascinated, as Dean went from being a slightly blurry shape to one he could see with crystal clarity. Even in the dim light of the room he could make out every freckle peppering his nose.

“I will remain at your side, Dean,” Castiel said firmly, all trace of the slur in his voice gone.

Dean smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

Jimmy spent a few seconds basking in the warmth he could feel coming from the angel and made a split-second decision. All those weeks thinking and musing and over-thinking, and he made his choice so quickly he utterly shocked himself. But it seemed right, and it seemed good, and he knew he wouldn’t live to regret it.

“For the love of God, Castiel. Just kiss him and be done with it, would you?” he said.

Castiel froze.

He must have looked stricken, because Dean’s face instantly changed from one of amusement to one of concern. “Cas? What is it?”

Jimmy wasn’t going to stop now. “You have my permission, okay? Just do what you need to do. Life’s too short for some of us and too long for you. You can’t agonize over this, Cas. He feels the same way about you. I’m sure he does. You know it too. Come on, just kiss him, like you did in your dreams. I don’t have to look if you’re embarrassed.”

“Jimmy is telling me I need to do something,” Castiel said uncertainly, his words strangled in his throat. “But I’m scared he’s wrong.”

Dean raised his eyebrows.

“I should ignore him,” Castiel continued, easing himself upright until he was level with Dean’s face. His head swum for a moment, but he controlled it so quickly that Jimmy started to wonder if his angel strength was coming back with a vengeance.

“You’ve been ignoring him for three months now, if memory serves,” Dean said in a puzzled voice. “What’s he telling you to do this time? You should probably listen to him. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“I do,” Jimmy agreed. “Follow your heart, Castiel.”

“He does,” Castiel said in a small voice, and he lifted a hand to rest it on Dean’s cheek. “And I will.”

The moment his lips met Dean’s, Jimmy fell asleep.


~ ~ ~


When Jimmy woke up again, he was standing on a beach watching the sun rise through a cloud of swirling gulls. He looked down at himself. He was dressed in his old, familiar clothes, despite the balmy heat filling the air. He was somewhere tropical, somewhere unspeakably beautiful, but he didn’t really care where.

“How long was I out?” he asked.

A month, Castiel told him.

Jimmy stared at the golden ripples on the sea. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

Lucifer’s followers have been dealt a crippling blow. We joined forces with the angels. He was growing too powerful, and they were nervous.

“Fickle bastards.”

Castiel laughed. Jimmy was surprised to hear the sound, but he realized he already knew why the emotion came so easily to him now. “So things are going well with you and Dean, I take it?”

Would it surprise you if I said yes?

“Not in the least. You two make a good team.”

Thanks to you. I am glad I chose you, Jimmy. I’m sorry your life will not work out the way you’d like it to, but you have my gratitude, for what it’s worth.

Jimmy was silent for a moment before saying, “How are my family, Castiel? Are they happy?”

Castiel placed his hands in his pockets. At this very moment, Amelia is laughing at your daughter. She is playing with a kitten.

Jimmy tried to shake off his sadness. “Kitten, huh? I always had allergies. I guess at least she can have one now. That’s good.”

Claire has named it Cas, Castiel said, clearly amused at the thought.

Jimmy laughed. “Yup, that’s my girl,” he said proudly. “Not one to shy away from the things that scare her. I hope she knows that Cas sometimes bites back, though.”

I’m certain that Cas will try very hard not to bite anybody from now on.

Jimmy had a sudden image of Dean in his head, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I assume you’re not referring to your sex life when you say that?”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Jimmy couldn’t read the emotion he felt coming from him, but there was certainly some embarrassment in there somewhere.

He stared at the ocean wistfully for a while. Then he asked plaintively, “Promise me something?”

If it’s within my power, it’s yours.

Jimmy took a final look at the sunrise. “Put me to sleep, Cas. I don’t want to wake up again until you’re finished here on Earth.”

Are you certain?

He waited, weighing up his decision, but he knew it was the correct one. “This body is yours now, Castiel,” he said sadly. “Go out there. Save the world. Get the guy. Most important of all, though… never, ever let me wake up while you’re celebrating with him, okay?”

A warmth suffused his body. As you wish, said Castiel. You will sleep well, Jimmy Novak.

And Jimmy did.




~by strangeandcharm~