Finding May

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Getaways and Games

Hello all

I didn't have school today or on Friday and it was homecoming weekend so I've been doing just fine.

This chapter is long as well.

Warnings: physical torture, audism, mention of smoking

Feel free to comment your comments, questions, and concerns below!

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Castiel's POV
January 25, 10:10 am

"Have you heard from Dean yet?"

"No." Cas sighed and took his seat at the library table, pulling Dean's laptop toward him. Dean hadn't been home since their fight yesterday, and he was beginning to worry. He knew how much Dean had been drinking the past couple weeks, and Cas couldn't help but think the worst.

A few hours passed, and Cas got up to stretch his legs. He wandered aimlessly through the halls of the Bunker, then stopped outside a door. May's bedroom door. Ever since May had been kidnapped, no one had set foot in the room. It was like no one wanted to disturb the peaceful atmosphere, keep it shielded from the chaos of what was happening outside.

Cas pushed the door open. Everything looked the same, but it felt different. Lifeless. He walked slowly around the small room, stopping in front of her desk. Her homework was in a stack on her desk in a neat pile. Cas remembered when May had explained to him that she organized it by class: she did her first period class's homework first, then her last period class's homework last. He glanced over the paper on the top. Geometry. May had pleasant handwriting: not perfect, but not too messy. There was a note written sideways in the top corner: Hi –Thomas.

He turned to her bed. The white sheets dotted with black spots and the purple comforter were neatly made. Upon further inspection, Cas realized the black spots were actually stars. He smiled to himself, a new wave of sadness washing over him. May's little Hawkeye doll and purple star plushie sat in front of her pillows. He wanted to touch them, but something inside him told him to leave everything exactly as it was.

Cas moved to the bookshelf next. He didn't know the names of most of the books, but he recognized a few that he had found May reading while sitting in the library or the living room. Some of the titles were strange, like Love Letters to the Dead and Marie Antoinette, Serial Killer. But they made May happy, so it didn't bother Cas much. He found the book series he, Dean, and Sam had bought her for her birthday. The Mortal Instruments. The memory of May's fifteenth birthday almost brought tears to his eyes. She had lived with them in the Bunker for barely a week, but she loved them like she had known them her whole life. Everyone had been so happy that day.

Cas stood in the center of the small bedroom. He looked at the periwinkle walls, remembering how Dean made an impromptu decision to take May to the local hardware store to pick out a new color for her bedroom walls one July afternoon. They had returned an hour later with the light purple paint and painting supplies. Cas had watched from the doorframe as the two got to work moving May's furniture to the middle of the room, then Dean had handed May a paintbrush and let her make the first stroke. Cas remembered the small sound of delight that came out of her as the vibrant purple covered up the dark green color of the walls. He had watched throughout the whole afternoon as his husband and daughter worked diligently to paint the walls. They ended up working through dinner, and Cas had gone to get some food for them from the diner that they took May to the first night she stayed in the Bunker.

Cas didn't realize Sam was standing behind him until he felt a hand on his shoulder, which jolted him out of his reminiscing. "You okay, Cas?" Sam asked.