Daughter of the Legend: Soul on Fire (#Wattys2018)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Little Grace

The good news was that we were fairly close to home, and by that I mean that we were in North Dakota, which is only one state away from home. We were at Golden Hill Lake to be exact, which was only about three hours from Sioux Falls. The bad news, was that Cas was still drifting in and out of consciousness. The bleeding had stopped, but the ragged puffs of air that left his chest had me worried.

Thankfully the old man on the lake had indeed had a cell phone, and was kind of enough to let me use it. "Flying" from Heaven had drained all energy from my body so I  sat on the tailgate of the old man's F150, wrapped in a worn out, wool blanket. He sat quietly across from me in a lawn chair. His bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows furrowed, examining the various white scars that were visible on my skin, and let me tell ya, there were a lot of them to look at.

"You said you were with the FBI?" He asked finally, leaning forward, I nodded my head in response. "And this was a training exercise?" Running my hands through my sopping hair, I nodded again.

"Yep. Academy stuff." He definitely didn't believe me, but he at least didn't call the police on us. Shit, the guy had helped pull me and Cas out of the water without much question.

"And your friend?" My gaze fell on Castiel.

"He doesn't do the air stuff very well," Ha, an angel that doesn't do air stuff. Yeah right, "The jump made him pass out." He looked down at his hands.

"Well, I think you're full of shit, even if you are an agent." I straightened up a little at his response, "I did two tours of Vietnam, and never in my life have I seen whatever it was that just happened," he motioned towards the water. It was my turn to avert my eyes. "I'm not saying you got to tell me the truth, I don't think my pacemaker could handle that, but I'm just telling you, you're full of shit."  This guy reminded me of Bobby, and the fact that he was calling me out on my lie made me feel sincere respect for the stranger.

A smile crept onto my lips, "Well, I appreciate that you didn't whoop my ass then." He laughed a little at the statement.

"I wasn't too worried," He had one of those contagious belly laughs, kind of like Cassidy's, "Besides, it's not my style to hit a lady. That and I was more worried about what you could do to me."

"Nothing to worry about here," I giggled, "Besides, it's not my style to hit an old man." I winked, gaining another laugh. We talked for a while longer, mostly about fishing.

It wasn't too long after that that Sam and Dean pulled up to the camp in the Impala. Dean didn't even have to shut off the engine before he was sprinting down the hill. He wrapped me in a chest crushing bear-hug, and I was so grateful. When he let go of me, he gave me the "You're so dead," look and turned towards the man, whose name was Arnold Harris, and thanked him for helping us out.

Dad's green gaze locked onto the unresponsive angel. Nodding at Sam, who was busy giving me a riot act of his own, informed his brother that it was time to go, and that he was worried. Hell, I was worried. There was a lot that was unanswered, and it would only take the closing of the doors to the Impala, before the second interrogation began.

Since Castiel was comatose, we figured it would be better to just give him the whole backseat. Which meant I was upfront on the bench seat with the guys...great...

Both men were silent as we drove out of the woods. There was no music and the rumble of the engine was barely louder than the sound of my thundering heartbeat.

"So," Sam began, breaking the silence, "Wanna tell us what the hell happened?" I looked from Sam to Dean, and took a deep breath.

"Where do you want me to start?"