Strings Attached

Chapter 74

The author doesn't know shit about medical stuff, so let's just say that Castiel gets out of the wheelchair in the beginning of March. Chuck drives Castiel home, and as soon as they step inside the house, Chuck walks away.

"Not dealing with that today," he announces as he leaves.

Castiel can't blame him. Lucifer and Anna are screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. It appears to be an argument about the tv remote, maybe? It's sort of hard to tell. They might just be yelling because they can.

Castiel has to side with Chuck. He's definitely not sticking around for this. Gabriel and Samandriel are with Sam and Adam, so Castiel doesn't have that escape. He has no clue where Michael is, as usual. It's a Friday, so Dean has practice, and Castiel can't go hang out with him. Charlie said she was forcing Garth and Kevin to watch the new Star Wars movie with her, and it's too late to go to that, too. How did Castiel just happen to miss every single possible escape?

As a last resort, Castiel sneaks upstairs and to his room to grab his guitar and case and hurries out of the house before his eardrums burst. He walks to the park, knowing it's the one place that always has open seats that you can't get kicked out of.

Sure enough, there's an empty bench. He takes a seat and pulls out his guitar. God, it's been too long since he's done this. He's glad people are warming up to him at school now, not because he really cares what they think, but because he probably won't end up in a wheelchair or casts any time soon. Then again, with his luck, that's not necessarily a given.

Castiel doesn't know how long he plays for. It's all sort of a blur for him. He doesn't look up from the fret board until he hears someone ask, loud enough to grab his attention easily, "Did you write that?"

Castiel takes a moment to take in this person's appearance. He's older, much older than Castiel, but definitely not elderly. He wears a business suit, his hair combed back neatly. He looks very official, and Castiel can't help but wonder why such an official person is talking to him.

"Uh, no," Castiel answers, still strumming absentmindedly as he talks. "I'm just sort of messing with things right now."

"Ah," he replies. "Do you write music, by chance?"

"I do..." Castiel says uncertainly.

"Great. We've been needing a new hit for months, but no one's pitched a good one our way," he tells him as he pulls out a business card. "If you get the chance, call me. I'd love to hear what you've written."

"Oh, no," Castiel protests. "I'm not —"

"Take it," he insists. "In case you change your mind." He gives Castiel a smile and drops the card in Castiel's guitar case, the bottom of which is now coated in dollar bills. "I hope we hear from you soon." He walks away, leaving a very frazzled Castiel behind.

~~

Wayward Records
Eric Kripke

Castiel stares at the card in wonder. He's sitting at the kitchen table, finally back home after a long time sitting at the park. Is this the real deal? He feels like he should be flattered, but he's really just confused. What type of record label is so desperate, they ask anyone on the street for a song?

"What's that?" Lucifer asks, walking into the kitchen. Without waiting for an answer, he plucks the card from Castiel's hands. "Hmm... 'Wayward Records'?" Lucifer looks down at his brother approvingly. "Nice." He hands the card back. "Where'd this come from?"

"Uh, some guy at the park," Castiel replies with a shrug. "Looking for a songwriter, I guess. I bet it's crap."

"I doubt it," Lucifer says. "I mean, maybe, but no. Okay, Google time." He whips out his phone and searches something. "Ah ha! 'Wayward Records in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, was founded by Eric Kripke in 2005.' And the phone number... Matches up. I think that's the real deal."

"Real place, sure. Not necessarily the real deal, though."

Lucifer frowns and searches something else. He shows the phone to Castiel. "Look familiar?"

Castiel nods slowly. "Uh, yeah. That was the guy at the park. Who is that?"

"Eric Kripke," Lucifer replies confidently. "You, my friend, have been noticed by the founder of a record company. So, when you gonna call?"

"I'm not," Castiel replies.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," Castiel replies vaguely.

"Uh, yeah, you do. Come on, Castiel! You could be famous!"

"Exactly," Castiel says. "I don't want to be famous. I don't want anyone to know I exist. I'm surprised you haven't figured that out yet."

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Right, and that's why you're writing an article for the school paper every week."

"I'm just helping Donna out," Castiel protests.

"Sure, whatever," Lucifer replies. "How about a bet?"

Castiel groans. "No, no more bets."

"Something simple that neither of us can rig," Lucifer continues as though Castiel never spoke. "If it gets above freezing tomorrow, I win. If it's below freezing, you win. Hell, you can win if it is freezing. And the news said it would be freezing, so it could go either way. If I win, you gotta call them. If you win... Well, what do you want to win?"

Castiel is about to pass it up, but thinks better of it. "If I win, you can't mention The Bee Movie ever again."

Lucifer purses his lips, and the conflict is clear in his eyes. Finally, he says, "I guess we'll see who wins, huh?"