It was a long night, waiting for the angel siren I'd drawn up on the wall to bring in the scattered angels who would answer.
All the while I knew there was a chance that sleep would not reset Hazel to her relatively normal state. I tried to see into her dreams, but was chased out by nightmares.
I laid with her for some of it, but she didn't instinctively curl up closer the way she always did before. In fact she'd roll away. I gave up.
When she finally did wake, she had nothing to say to me. Just excused herself to take a shower and then quietly sat down with coffee that I brought as always. I could already tell by the calm, slow grace with which she moved, it was not exactly my wife I was dealing with.
I sat down beside her in the silence, admittedly a little awkwardly watching her face.
"Take a picture, it will last longer," she jested grumpily, still not making eye contact with anything other than her coffee or the floor.
I touched her leather clad knee.
"How do you feel...?"
She hunched her shoulders slightly.
"Just fine, sir."
Such a small word, spoken so casually and yet with such subordination...It hurt.
"Don't do that..." I said sadly, getting confirmation that this was War, one hundred percent, that I was dealing with. "I am not sir to you."
She scoffed ever so lightly.
"Alright then."
"Hazel..." I began, not knowing what I could possibly say to fix this.
"I want to talk to another castle. Please."
She shook her head slowly with a very dry chuckle.
"They don't want to talk to you," she informed me with very little feeling, "and you can't make them."
"What do you mean they don't want to?"
"I mean every last one them locked themselves in and I was the only left to come out. So, sorry, sir- I mean...Cas, but this is it."
My heart felt like it was knocked off a shelf and crashed and burned to the floor. All the peices of Hazel that were capable of loving me were hiding. Shutting me out. This was her way of disassociating the pain while still helping me. I still knew very little about this one...Other than she was terrifying and sassy in a quiet, jaded sort of way.
She suddenly stood up, disregarding the coffee that fell to the floor, blade out and ready in an instant.
"They're here."
Shoving my hurt down as far as I could cram it, I straightened up and mentally prepared myself to be the thing I never wanted to be again. A leader.
I gently laid a hand on Hazel's wrist and lowered her weapon.
"Put that away."
"It could be an attack," she argued respectfully, though doing as she was told.
"Its not," I assured with confidence as I let her step outside in front of me after she grabbed a bag for whatever reason.
Over twenty angels gathered outside our motel, some just now getting out of the their cars. They collected like sheep, rippling in the ranks slightly at the sight of Hazel coming out first like a personal guard. But then they all beamed with hopeful smiles.
Hannah in the lead.
"Castiel," my sister addressed with a slightly bow of her head, "we answer your call."
It made me uncomfortable. But unfortunately Metatron was right. This was how it had to be. I motioned them inside but Hazel stomped in front of the crowd with purpose.
She held open the bag she brought out.
"Blades," she ordered calmly, "one at a time."
Another ripple of anxiety passed over the angels, but they happily obliged, dropping their knives and coming into the motel room in single file.
It was crowded, to say the least, a couple dozen bodies cramming into a one bed bedroom, but they managed to pack in tightly, sitting wherever they could and leaving a small space in front of the wall I'd drawn the sigil on. Which faltered and stopped glowing.
