Until We Meet Again, My Angel

Chapter 3: My Angel

   Cas stammered, all words were lost to him. Dean took a step forward, forcing Cas to back against the door, and repeated, "Why did you save me?" Cas hated Dean being angry with him, it was an entirely new, entirely upsetting sensation. As Dean's gaze grew fiercer, Cas had no choice but to tell him the truth, "I HAD TO PROTECT YOU!" Dean was taken back, surprised at Cas' outburst, but recovered quickly, "Why? Why me- Why not Sammy?!" Cas wanted Dean to stop yelling. "I didn't know how, okay? If Sam's contract was binding, yours was Iron-clad! I couldn't let Sam die, so I waited until your year was up. And when enough of my brothers and sisters agreed to help, I went on a rescue mission!" Dean had stopped talking. He took two steps back, and leaned against the counter. "You were my responsibility," Cas continued, "I couldn't let you burn."
   Dean had his face in his hands, but looked up at Cas and said, "How dare you?" Cas asked, "What?" Dean became angry again, "Use the name 'Angel.' I don't know what kind of mojo you got going on, but you're obviously a pretty high-class demon."  Cas stared at Dean in shock, "You think I'm a demon?" Dean pulled up his sleeves, revealing the two handmark burns on his shoulders, and inquired, "What could leave these except the touch of a demon in it's true form? What could-?"
"Heavenly fire," Cas interrupted him, "Heavenly fire left those marks."
   Dean stared at Cas, then let out a large, fake laugh, "Ha-ha. Why would anyone in Heaven save me? I sold my soul!"
"It's true, Dean Winchester."
   Dean's eyes widened with the realization of Cas knowing his full name. Cas went on, "Dean... it was me that saved you. You're right about that. And you're right about my name not being Angel."
   Dean stood up straight, walked to Cas and asked, "Who are you?"
"I can't tell you that," Cas answered. "Okay," Dean rolled his eyes, "What are you?" Cas was cornered, but telling Dean his origins would induce "dire consequences." So, Cas did the only thing he could... he vanished.

   Dean sat on his motel room bed, watching Sam pacing up and down the room, a stained look on his face. Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore, bursting, "Sammy, for the love of God will you please just say something?"
   Sam stopped, laughing stressfully, and replied, "Say something? Where do I begin, Dean? You met the thing that pulled you out of Hell!"
"I know." Dean interjected.
"And he's not a demon?" Sam asked.
"If he is, it's no demon I've ever seen. He didn't smoke out, he just vanished, and he knocked out the guy who hit me, but he didn't kill him. No black eyes, no sulphur or flickering lights, no anything."
   Sam turned around to stare out the window, as if he could find the answers etched into the brick wall that faced the glass. Instead, he investigated further, "Did he say anything else?" Dean dragged his hands down his face, moaning in frustration, "That his name was Angel, but after that he told me it's not his real name." Sam placed his palms on the table, his head down and shoulder blades out, "Why would he pull you out of Hell if he didn't want you to meet him?"
   Just then, there was a loud whoosh, and a rush of wind. Both boys spun on the spot and saw a black-haired man standing there, his trench coat soaked in blood. Dean yelled "You!" and began to advance, but the man coughed up blood and collapsed onto the floor.
   Sam blurted out an alarmed "Jesus Christ!" and ran to help him. As Sam hoisted the bleeding man onto one of the beds and laid him down gently, he noticed Dean's hostile expression, and pleaded with his brother, "Dean, please! We don't know who or what this guy is, but he pulled you out of Hell!" Panting from the excitement and the weight of throwing Cas onto the bed, Sam went on, "Look, we can't interrogate him if he's dead." Dean let out a frustrated roar and answered, "Damn you and your puppy-dog eyes. Fine! Let's get this walking blood bag talking."

   After they'd cleaned the blood off of him, thrown all his clothes (except his underwear) in the wash, and sewn up the large abdominal gash the boys had found as the source of the blood, Dean's savior had woken and dragged himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. Wiping his face hand down his face, Cas groaned in pain and began muttering, "They lied to me. They said one of us would suffer dire consequences, not that THEY would be the ones to dole it out. They lied to me."
"Who did?"
   Cas turned his head and found the source of the question to be Sam Winchester, sitting on the second bed, beside his brother.
   Cas began to speak, but was sidetracked by Dean reciting in his head, "If there is anything Holy in this damn world, help me resist the urge to stare at his abs!" Cas chuckled, turned to Dean and said, "It's okay to look, I don't mind." Sam gave Dean a confused look, but Dean's alarmed face was focused on Cas as he asked, "How did you-?"
"You sent out an open prayer," Cas interrupted him, "unless you direct it to a specific one of us, we'll all hear it."
   Dean began to speak, but Sam was already questioning, "Who lied to you? What was the lie?"
   Cas grunted and straightened his posture, "My brothers and sisters. They said if I ever contacted Dean there would be dire consequences. They failed to mention it would be at their hands."
"Okay," Dean began, "What about this?" Once again, he pulled up his sleeve to reveal a burn in the exact shape of a handprint on each of his shoulders. "I apologize," Cas said solicitously, "when one of my kind claims someone's soul, it leaves a mark. A brand of some sorts- like you put on cattle." Cas offered a small smile.
"One of your kind?" Sam asked, "Who are you?"
"And WHAT are you?" Dean added.
   Cas looked back and forth at the boys and said, "My name is Castiel and I'm an angel of the Lord."

"You're a what?" Dean asked.
"An Angel of the Lord." Cas answered as he began redressing himself, thanks to Sam bringing his clothes back from the dryer.
"And your friend Dan?"
   Cas stared at the ground, "There is no Dan. I was buying the shirt for you."
   Sam laughed. As Dean turned and glared at him, Sam asked, "What? It's funny. Dan for Dean, Angel for an Angel." Cas spoke up, "I admit, my creativity is quite limited." Dean, irritated, bursted, "Enough about the names! Castiel, why were you attacked?" Cas' eyes met Dean's, full of sadness, as he said softly, "I care about you, Dean. But Angel's are meant to be emotionless, solid, impassive. They fear my opinion towards you will compromise me. A corrupted Angel has no place in my Garrison, so they felt it best to eliminate me before I even became corrupted. However, I escaped, and fled here."
Dean looked shocked, "You escaped an entire Garrison of Angels?"
"I also incapacitated them."
"Wow," Dean smiled, "that's pretty badass."
Cas chuckled, smiled, and replied, "Thanks."
   After a few moments, Sam realized they were still smiling at each other. Looking around for an easy exit, Sam's eyes landed on the door and he hastily murmured, "Well, now that we know he's not dangerous to us, I'm gonna go for a walk." With a short wave from Dean, Sam hurried out the door to give them privacy.