Soldier Boy

Chapter Three

There was a good reason Castiel hung out with Dean so much- he hated coming home.

After stuffing Balthazar and Anna back in their car, he clambered into the driver's seat and drove them home as the responsible sibling. He hadn't really gotten much studying done, but after his older siblings' drunken conversation and Anna's outburst, he felt it was best to take the bottle and get them home. Bobby would've been at the house soon to start dinner, and he didn't want the older man seeing his siblings like this.

After carrying Anna in and putting her in bed, he helped Balthazar stumble in and laid him on the couch. Their father was in the seat nearby, clad in his grey, striped bathrobe, drinking some unknown liquor from a bourbon glass.

"I wish they wouldn't drink," Chuck mumbled, barely audible above his two sons' screaming match upstairs. Chuck tried to ignore the fact they were talking about him, but it was difficult when they screamed it so that the neighbors could hear. In such a nice neighborhood, they were the family that everyone wondered how they got in.

The money as a surgeon is great like that.

"Say something to them about it. They'll listen," Castiel implored, desperate to get that caring father he once had back. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen that man in years. Barely ever met him, really.

"I can't exactly do that when I'm no better. Besides, they'd never listen to me. Only you and Michael really listen," their father slurred, taking a big gulp of his drink.

It was very much debated among the three youngest siblings why their father drank. They couldn't quite remember which came first- Lucifer leaving or the drinking progressing. He'd always drank; Balthazar believed that he does it just to relax. Anna thought he did it so he could ignore them better.

Castiel believed it was to forget. Now, forget what, Castiel wasn't sure. It could be just the surgeries, the ones he lost on the table, or what- who- he missed most. Their mother.

Castiel and Anna had barely known her, too. She'd died when they were so young... Only six. Castiel had already skipped a grade, and she'd been so proud. She'd grinned and would tell anyone who'd listen, and Castiel would blush and try to get his mom to not talk about it.

Now, he wished he'd let her tell everyone if it would've made her smile more.

Castiel couldn't remember when the drinking started. He'd only been six. He was just starting second grade, having skipped kindergarten to go into first grade. Balthazar could describe in detail how, when the light hit her hair just right, it looked like there was a fire atop her head, or that when you looked into her blue eyes, you could get lost in the sensation of staring into those ocean blue eyes; almost like you could feel the waves hitting you legs, pulling you further and further in.

He'd only been seven, but he'd committed it all to memory. He'd known what they'd lost, unlike Cas and Anna. He'd known that he had to remember everything he could think of about her and put it all somewhere safe in his mind. He knew what everything around him meant, while Cas and Anna had just cried and asked when she would be coming back.

They hadn't understood why their big, strong father was crying, or why Raphael glared at Lucifer so hatefully or why Lucifer was crying over the big box for an hour because wasn't Mommy coming back? She wouldn't leave them. The six-year-olds didn't understand Michael's disappointed look, or why Gabriel looked as if the world was ending, or why Balthazar held their hands so tightly on the car ride to the church, and why they'd had to dress up.

They hadn't understood any of it, couldn't comprehend it if someone had tried to explain that no, in fact, Mommy is never coming back to you. When someone had uttered those words to them, the six-year-olds had instantly begun wailing, clutching their father and begging him to call her, that they'd be good and would try their best in school and would clean up their rooms if only she would come back to them.

Chuck had had to console them for what felt like hours, telling them that they were good children and that Mommy hadn't left because of them. He'd glared at the woman, who looked guilty, and had ushered them away. But still, the twins hadn't understood.

So, Anna and Cas waited for weeks, waiting for her to come home. They knew they shouldn't, so they had only told each other of their secret vigils, staying up as long as their tired bodies allowed before passing out at their window. Their dad never asked.

Castiel couldn't argue with his father on his siblings not listening, though. Anna and Balthazar probably wouldn't listen. Anna was too resentful, and Balthazar loved a bit of rebellion.

"He's done more for us than you'll ever know!" Castiel heard Michael scream from upstairs.

"He's a hopeless drunk! He's about as useful as a cat! Oh, I'm sorry, the cat would actually be there for us more than he is!" Raphael screamed in reply, and then Castiel heard a lot of crashes and bangs.

Castiel went into the kitchen and got his father a glass of water. He brought it out to his father, who was already rubbing his head as the onset of a headache hit him. His father thanked him in a small voice, taking the glass, and Castiel set about making dinner as the fight raged on above him, his twin passed out in her room, Balthazar partially dozing on the couch- he'd guzzled almost half the bottle while Castiel had gotten Anna in the car- and his father nursed the water and his drink.

Sometime during the process of making dinner, Michael and Raphael literally rolled down the stairs, still wrestling. Michael retained the upper hand- which he always had in these fights- and rubbed Raphael's nose into the carpet.

These are the times that reminded Castiel why he never requested a cat for his birthday.

When dinner was done, he woke up Balthazar and Anna, helping the latter to the table, and their dad stumbled to the table on his own. Michael finally released Raphael after the third oldest tapped out, and the group ate in silence.

You'd think the two wouldn't have the energy to wrestle like they did every night, or that maybe Raphael wouldn't pick a fight he knew he'd lose, but it happened every night when they came home. They'd argue until it escalated to screaming and then to physical violence.

Castiel helped Anna up to her room and fell asleep as soon as his head it the pillow.