Solidarity

Castiel

The remainder of the ride to Bobby's was silent. Imagine that. Silence. The stranger remained unconscious, cuddled up in the back seat under a stained blanket Dean had provided. Sam was furiously searching the internet for some sort of explanation the entirety of the drive and still came up empty handed. With those two busy, that left Dean to his own devices; Jamming out to old rock songs and getting lost in detailed, heart wrenching flashbacks. But soon enough they pulled up to the familiar iron gates of Singer Salvage Yard, loose tires and metal scraps strewn about the entrance to really complete the aesthetic. "Sam, were you ever able to get a hold of the man?" Dean asked as he pulled into a makeshift parking spot. It was really just the only area remotely close to the house that wasn't piled up with junkyard junk.

Sam looked up from his computer and shook his head slowly, slipping the electronic back into his bag. "Uh... no. No I never actually called him again." He looked up, meeting Dean's judgmental stare and holding it for a moment. "Whoops... Let's get the cripple out of the car, yeah?"

Dean nodded and looked back to the man in the backseat, sighing softly. He waited a moment before slipping out of the car, pulling the abused man out of the Impala carefully and into his arms. "You think Bobby will be able to crack this one?" He asked his brother as they walked the distance to the house. The stranger shifted in his arms, mumbling something or other. He looked so adorable and peaceful despite the circumstances. Wait. Adorable? Had Dean really thought that? "No homo."

Sam furrowed his brows and looked over. "No homo?" He questioned, shifting his laptop bag on his shoulder. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He signed and rolled his shoulders. "Who knows what Bobby knows."

Dean blushed lightly. He didn't mean to say that out-loud. Fuck. He looked up as they arrived at Bobby's door, watching as Sam knocked. It was a few minutes before the older gentleman stumbled forward, throwing the door open, shotgun in hand.

"Who the-" Bobby paused, lowering the shotgun as he saw the boy's standing there wide eyed. "You fuckin' idgits get the hell in this house." He stepped to the side, setting the gun down by the door.

Dean smirked and slipped inside, looking down at the precautionary demon trap on the floor. "Nice to see you too," He chuckled deeply, setting Cas down on the couch.

Bobby looked to the boy curiously, moving over to him. "What the Hell happened to him?" He asked, his southern accent prominent.

Sam spoke up, moving over to Bobby, showing him the pictures he had taken of the destroyed forest. "We have no idea. We were driving and we just found him in the middle of this... blown up section of forest. He has no idea what happened to him, do you?" He looked over as the man stirred on the couch, sitting up slowly.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Dean you stay here with him. Sam and I'll look into this weird crop circle thingy magiger."

Before Dean could protest, Bobby and his brother had already left the room. Dean sighed and rubbed his stubble, leaning back against the dirty couch as he looked over the dazed man beside him. There was just something about this stranger... something that made him seem so warm and inviting. He had this adorable innocents about him that Dean just wanted to tap into and an ass Dean wouldn't mind also tapping into.... wait. Dean shook his head frantically. He wasn't gay. He just had these... homo-ments. Ya feel? "No homo...."

The stranger furrowed his brows and looked to Dean quizzically. "What is... a homo?" He rubbed the back of his neck, whimpering as he sat up fully.

God damnit. Why did he keep saying that out loud. "Oh uh..." he blushed lightly. "Nothin'. How ya feelin?" He stood up, moving over to the fridge and pulling out a water, handing it back to the man. "Can I get you anything else? Maybe a rag for your-" he paused as he looked back over the man. Almost all his wounds were... gone. His bruised still stood out against his pale skin, and his lip was busted, but other then that... all the previous cuts were scars. "W-what..." dean shook his head slowly and wiped his eyes. He was just seeing things. He'd been doing this for so long you would think by now he knew to expect the impossible, but no. He was still heavily in denial. "Do you... do you remember anything?" He asked hesitantly.

The stranger looked up to Dean and bit his lip. "I... I believe I do." He looked down at his hands, bending his fingers at the knuckle hesitantly. "My name... My name, Dean, Is Castiel."