daylight_darknight: (Team Free Will)
[personal profile] daylight_darknight
I'm finally finishing things! I've been wanting to write this missing scene ever since the episode aired, but I kept getting stuck. I ended up scraping everything and restarting from the beginning twice. Hopefully, it's good now though admittedly it could be longer. I only seem to be good at writing short stuff.

Title: Hang in There
Characters: Bobby, Castiel, Sam, Dean
Rating/Warnings: PG for mild swearing and a bit of blood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama
Word Count: 1925
Spoilers: Up to and including 7x01
Summary: It's a long trip from Sioux Falls, South Dakota to Bootback, Kansas especially with an ailing god in the back seat. (Missing scene from 7x01)

Hang In There
By Daylight

When your friend goes loco, turns to the dark side, and sets himself up as your new and not so benevolent god, you don’t expect to suddenly find him weak and bleeding on your kitchen floor, your adopted, though not officially, sons watching as dark red blood falls onto the green and white checkered linoleum. But that’s what Bobby found when following Dean’s yell, he’d raced up the steps from the basement and into his suddenly crowded kitchen.

“Oh, hell…” he manages to say when his brain starts working once more. “What…?”

“I think the warrantee on Cas’ vessel is just about to run out,” Dean declares bluntly. “We need to get to Kansas, now.” The older Winchester grabs his coat. His movements are confident and sure, but his expression is lost as if he has no clue what on earth he’s supposed to be feeling.

Sam moves to Cas’ side and slowly helps him to his feet. The former angel clings to him with his blood stained fingers weaving more than Dean at his drunkest.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

Bobby wonders how that boy can still have a heart that large after all he’s been through.

“Do we have everything we need for the ritual?” he asks making ready to leave. He doesn’t need much, just his coat, his keys, and his shotgun.

It’s Castiel who replies, his gravelly voice even rougher than usual. “Everything we need is at the lab.”

Castiel’s normally vivid blue eyes are dull and glassy, but they still stand out against the red moulted skin of his face. Bobby’s own eyes meet them for a moment before Cas looks away.

Bobby turns to Dean. “Are we sure we can trust him?” he asks, because it has to be asked. He can’t just the forget the image of Ellie dying in that alley, or the insane grin on Castiel’s face before he massacred every single person in that campaign office, or the fact their supposed friend had proven he can and was willing to just smite them with a snap of his fingers.

Dean shoots him a look that says he’d really rather not think about that right now.

Sam looks like he wants to protest but doesn’t say anything.

Castiel remains gazing at the floor.

“We have a choice?” Dean eventually says. He goes over to Cas, and with Sam, helps the stumbling angel out the back door to the scrap yard and the waiting car.

Bobby follows.

They awkwardly get Castiel settled into the backseat of the impala propping him up so he can lean against the window. Sam is about to get in next to the angel when Dean stops him with a hand on his arm.


The brothers stare at each other, their eyes having a silent argument.

Bobby shakes his head as they waste precious seconds. Dean will be driving. They all know this, because no way in hell would he let anyone else drive the impala in this situation. But though he’s all gung ho for the plan, apparently having his little brother with his broken brain and hallucinations sit next to the friend who was the cause of those problems is a bit too much.

And Bobby gets it. He does. He’s uncomfortable with the situation too, not to mention pissed as hell. But they don’t have time to air their many issues. Right now it doesn’t matter who threatened to kill who, who messed with whose noggin, or who stabbed who in the back. Right now they need to get on with saving the damn world.

“I’ll take the backseat,” he says getting in before they have a chance to argue. “Move your asses,” he adds when they hesitate for a moment longer.

They both get in. Wheels squeal against dusty asphalt as Dean pulls the car out of the yard breaking speed limits before he even hits the road.

Well, weren’t they a merry ship of fools and crazy idjits, thinks Bobby as they head south to the highway to start their eight hour journey, though it may take more like seven at the rate Dean’s driving. Upfront, the boys are sharp contrasts of one another. Dean sits completely still, jaw clenched shut, hands clamped on the wheel. The tension threatens to snap his body in half. Sam is fidgety. His fingers weave and unweave and tap out various tunes on the dashboard. His knees jiggle up and down. Every few minutes, his head jerks back to check on Castiel.

The mutant angel/god-like thing/whatever continues to rest his head against the window, eyes closed. Bobby wonders if he’s sleeping, but he doubts angels or gods or whatever sleep. He grimaces as he realizes most, if not all, of the splattered blood on Castiel’s clothes is not his.

The newly restored impala smells of fresh paint and recently soldered metal, but the engine seems to be tuned as good as new. Dean doesn’t bother turning on the music. It’s not that sort of road trip. There are things that need to be said, but no one’s in the mood for talking so the trip goes on in silence.

Outside, the sun sets.

They’ve been on the road a little over an hour when the first attack occurs.

When Bobby first hears the sound, he doesn’t know what it is let alone where it comes from. When he hears it again, he realizes it’s coming from the previously quiet angel beside him. When he hears it for the third time, he realizes it’s a stifled grunt of pain.


Both brothers’ heads spin around at Bobby’s question, but Castiel doesn’t even open his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says, and in that moment, sounds just like he used to, their good old, grumpy, often confused and exasperated, friend.

Then he cries out, wraps his arms around his torso, and bends over almost double in his seat.

The car swerves madly across the road a moment before Dean regains control. He curses and starts heading for the curb, but Bobby tells him to keep driving. They can’t afford any delays. Dean reluctantly obeys though his eyes seem to spend more time on the rearview mirror than the road.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Sam turns almost completely around in his seat and reaches out a hand placing it on the angel’s back.

Castiel says something but it’s mumbled between gritted teeth and they don’t catch it.

“You’re going to have to speak up,” says Bobby.

“Out,” Castiel manages to say. “Want out.”

“You want us to let you out?” questions Sam and the three humans exchange looks. If Castiel had changed his mind about going through with the ritual, they’re in trouble, not that it seems like he can do much to stop them at that moment.

“No…” With Bobby’s help, Castiel manages to sit back up. He’s breathing heavily, arms still wrapped tightly around himself as if his body would come apart if he didn’t hold it together. “They… They… We…”

Suddenly, the expression on his face changes from pain to anger and surging forward, he yells, “Let us out!”

The Winchesters and Bobby all jump. Outside a car horn blares as the impala almost swerves into the oncoming lane once more.

The expression on the angel’s face isn’t Castiel’s, nor is the voice. The thing that isn’t quite Castiel leans back and starts to laugh, a broken, empty laugh.

It’s the most horrific sound they’ve ever heard.

A wave of ice washes over each of them; then the laughs dissolve into coughs, and Castiel curls into himself, once more resting his head on the window.

“Cas?” Bobby says tentatively, keenly aware that they’ve effectively trapped themselves in the car with a creature who is not only the most powerful being on the planet, but who is also apparently more than a few nuts short of a fruitcake.

Castiel’s head slowly turns looking at him with tired, lidded eyes. There is confusion in them, and fear. Something dark and oozing trickles from his nose.

“I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t…” He shakes his head and turns away.

“What the hell was that?” demands Dean. The impala weaves slightly in its journey along the highway and Bobby doubts Dean is paying any attention to the road.

“The souls… The old ones… They’re too much, too hard to control. I can’t…” Cas grimaces as another shudder moves through his body.

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll watch what you eat.” Dean’s tone is biting, but there’s worry in his eyes.

“Just keep it together, Cas,” says Sam. “We still have a ways to go.”

Cas’ eyes are screwed shut once more, but he nods. For someone who’s supposed to be an all power being, he looks like nothing more than a lost child.

Bobby’s heart twists painfully in his chest.

Damn it. What Bobby really wants to do is slap Castiel upside the back of the head. He wants to yell at him, cuss him out, tell him off for doing business with a demon, call him an idjit for almost ending the world when his intention was to save it, but Bobby can’t. Against his better wishes, he let that damn angel into his heart. Even though Bobby promised himself he wouldn’t adopt another lost foundling, even though Castiel wasn’t even human, he found his way in, and all Bobby can think of now is that one of his boys is hurt and needs his help.

He beckons to Cas with one hand. “Come here.”

The look on Castiel’s face is one of familiar bewilderment.

“Come here, you idjit,” Bobby says again. Reaching out, he wraps an arm around the angel and guides him down until he’s lying on Bobby’s lap. He can feel the trembling going through Cas’ body as he pulls him closer. “Now, I know it’s hard and I know it hurts, but I’ve got you. I just need you to hang in there, okay?”

There’s no answer and the angel remains stiff in his arms.

Bobby squeezes his shoulder. “You hear me, Feathers?”

“I hear you,” is the hoarse reply. He sounds confused as if he can’t understand why anyone would be willing to offer him any comfort and Bobby’s heart breaks a little more.

The attacks come and go. Sometimes they’re mild and Castiel simply tenses up trying to stifle the moans of pain coming from his throat. Sometimes they get really bad and Castiel screams and convulses so hard Bobby can barely keep a hold of him. Sometimes Bobby thinks he can feel things moving beneath Cas’ skin, but he just swallows back his own fear and holds on tighter.

Upfront, the brothers remain silent. More than once Sam looks back and meets Bobby’s gaze with a helpless look on his face. More than once Bobby catches Dean wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

The drive extends on into infinity, the four of them trapped in the moment. Outside in the night there is nothing but the road and the shadows of fields on either side as if they’re the only ones in the world.

Between the attacks, Castiel lies still, his breathing ragged as he tries to regain his strength for the next assault while Bobby rubs a hand across his arm whispering useless words of comfort and trying not to think how unlikely it is Cas will survive what’s to come.
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