Chapter Text
Cas never did respond, of course.
Dean checked his watch. Just a little after six a.m. He had about an hour till Sam showed up.
He gave Cas one more gentle pat on the head and rearranged a little bit, taking hold of Cas's hand again, and then he turned the page.
November.
Dean realized he was gritting his teeth a little. He knew what was coming, after all. He knew exactly what was coming.
November was when Dean had found Cas at the Gas-n-Sip.
Friday the first day of November.
Today is All Hallow's Day. The day when hallowed saints, and sometimes we angels too, used to walk upon the face of the earth to drive away the demons who cavorted on the previous night, Hallow's Evening ("Halloween," now).
Well, here I am walking upon the earth, like it or not. And not just for one day. And I didn't really do anything about driving the demons away last night.
I had the afternoon off today and I finally managed to convert my paycheck into cash, at a financial establishment along route 20. After all the taxes and fees I now have $189.25. Maybe not as much as I had hoped; not enough for housing, true; but it seems a huge amount nonetheless. It's immensely reassuring to feel it in my pocket. And though I still can't afford a room, maybe I do have some more options now.
While walking back from route 20 I spent a long time thinking about what to do.
I can do this on my own. I don't need Dean's help. I don't. It's perfectly okay that he isn't going to call.
It's perfectly fine.
He's busy anyway. He's undoubtedly got many things he needs to do. He's always busy. He's always got lots of difficulties and complications in his life. (A ridiculous amount, actually. I worry about him a good deal, in fact.) That's probably why he hasn't called, actually, now that I've had a night to consider things. It would have been nice to talk with him, certainly, and it would have been good to hear how Sam and he are, but it's really perfectly fine if I don't hear from him.
It's completely fine. I can do this on my own.
I should perhaps think about something else now.
I can go to the town library to get most of my remaining questions answered. Audrey at the library, and Bryce as well, have been most helpful. Everything's working out very well in my job; Nora is teaching me most of the details that I need to know and I've managed to pick up additional things on my own. For example, I've even managed to learn to prepare food, something I've never even attempted before. I'm really doing fine now. So it's really quite okay if I don't hear from Dean, or if Sam doesn't want to talk to me either. It would have be nice to hear from them, but really it's okay.
It's absolutely fine.
I'm going to think about something else now. It's afternoon now and I'm sitting on a bench in the park near my old bushes. My next step should be to plan out what to do with my $189.25. I'm so tempted to go sleep in the motel room, just for one night, but I'm trying to remind myself that that would provide only temporary comfort, and at the substantial cost of possibly not being able to afford a room at all in December. So I'm trying to resist. I have decided though that it's time to invest in some of the Less Immediate Vessel Needs, particularly extra clothing. I rather wish I had somebody to ask for advice. One reason I never changed the wardrobe I acquired from Jimmy is that human clothing can have a great deal of complex social nuances that are not obvious at all to an outsider. I knew only that Jimmy's outfit was what he wore to work, what he wore to meet strangers when he wanted to appear respectable and convincing, so I never changed it.
I wonder if Dean or Sam would have any advice about clothing?
I finally managed to make some decisions on my own, and I've purchased an extravagant assortment of items. Some are for cleanliness but actually most are simply for insulation! It's really quite absurd that these humans, which are of course tropical primates, have for some reason decided to live all the way up to the Arctic despite having no feathers at all and not even any fur to speak of. Anyway, I've purchased:
- Two more underwears. Pack of 2 for $10.59. Now I have four. I can wash one every evening, let it dry above the Gas-n-Sip heating vent overnight, and always have 3 that are clean.
- Two more socks (a matched pair). I nearly made a mistake here - there were some lovely ones with flowers on them but then I realized that I was in the women's section. So I looked for ones with flowers in the men's section, but all were just black or grey or white. I now realize I've never seen Sam or Dean wear anything with flowers. Some gender-role difference, I suppose? (It doesn't seem quite fair to the men; can't they enjoy flowers too?) Anyway, I decided to invest in two very thick wool socks at the immense cost of $17.49 for the pair. So expensive! I spent a long time pondering it, picking them up and putting them down and picking them up again. But even though I'm sleeping indoors, I do have to walk around still in the evenings before midnight, and I can't risk frostbite. So I decided to get them. My most expensive purchase! I'm wearing them now and they do feel wonderful.
- At the drugstore I got: another small stick of deodorant ($1.69), another toothpaste ($1.99), a new razor ($1.99), and small travel-sized pouch of laundry soap for clothing ($1.59).
- Then from the thrift store I got: One pair of pants ($13.50), one sweater with purple and grey stripes ($6) - I was a little worried about this choice but the girl at the counter assured me that stripes are appropriate - and also a white shirt for work ($4.50), a thick scarf ($5), a hat ($8), and a pair of gloves ($7).
- Then I went to the YMCA and had a shower. $1.00. It felt quite wonderful.
All in all I spent eighty dollars and thirty-four cents! Quite a lot of money! And I still don't have a warm coat. But I'm delighted with the scarf and hat and gloves. I'm sitting on the park bench again, wearing everything all at once. It's a little hard to write with the gloves on but it's so nice to feel warmer. I'll be so much better insulated now for walking around in the evenings. And I still have $107.91. I absolutely must save $100 toward housing next month, but I decided maybe I can spend the other $7.91 on something pleasant. I feel determined to have a better evening than I had last night. But what should I do?
I've decided.
The movie theater. Tonight is a Friday! I'll go to the movie theater for the midnight show, for $2.50. I missed "The Great Escape" last week, but tonight they're showing something else called "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure".
That will leave me $5.41 and I already know what I can buy with $5.41: 2 slices of pizza at the pizza place, and a slice of baklava at the Greek restaurant. I'll be able to buy my own food! I won't be able to do this every night, not if I'm also saving for a room, but I'm quite taken with the idea of doing it just this once. I'll have forty-three cents left over and I'm planning to put it in Bryce's tip jar.
That was a very confusing movie. Time travel doesn't work at all like that. And that wasn't Socrates at all. I strongly suspect that the movie-makers did not actually travel through time to do the filming. It's a bit annoying that they would cut corners like that.
It was delightful experience nevertheless, though. First off it felt so good to be able to pay for my own pieces of pizza for once (and my own baklava, later). Bryce noticed my new clothes and said my sweater looks "rocking" (is that good? I should check with Dean when h
I've really got to get out of that habit of mind. Anyway I told Bryce about the Gas-n-Sip job and thanked him again about the cash register training, and he seemed genuinely pleased on my behalf. And he smiled about the forty-three cents! It felt so nice to be able to give him something back, after all the slices of pizza and all the help.
And then I went to purchase the baklava (the Greek man was quite nice too - he almost smiled) and then to see the movie. The padded seats are astonishingly comfortable! They're the most comfortable chairs I've sat in since— well, ever, actually. They're so well padded it's almost like sitting on pillows, and they tip a little backwards, and even have a little holder for food. I put the baklava in the little holder and ate it in little bites while I watched the movie. It was absolutely luxurious.
I wonder if the people in the theater realized they were sitting in more comfortable chairs than even the pharoahs of Egypt or the kings of ancient Minoa ever sat in. (I know; I saw their thrones.)
And the movie was so BIG! I've always been fond of the television shows but I've never realized how much more dramatic movie theaters are. The entire room darkens completely, and the screen is immense, and the sound seems to come from all around. One can hear all sorts of other people nearby, eating popcorn and laughing at the jokes and even cheering at the end. It's quite an experience. It was definitely worth $2.50. Even though I didn't understand most of the jokes.
I know I won't always be able to splurge like this, but it was a good day. I've purchased clothing I needed, and bought my own pizza and baklava and gave Bryce forty-three cents and he said my sweater was "rocking" (still must check on that) and saw a movie, all on my own. Perhaps it was a good day because it was All Hallow's Day? Supposedly today is the day of those who have experienced beatific vision, which is to say, those who have attained direct personal communication with God. But I've actually never experienced that myself. Which is odd considering how many eons I spent flying around the Throne of God participating in the triple invocation of holiness, one of the major duties of seraphs of my tier, and a task I've spent much time at. It actually gets quite dull to sing the holiness invocations for so long like that. Come to think of it, this may be blasphemy but it was actually much more enjoyable to go to the movie theater and see Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure for $2.50.
Anyway, today was a good day. The best day in a long time. This proves, I think, that it's really ok that Dean won't be calling. It's all right.
Yet during the movie I kept thinking of him and Sam just the same. The movie was about two close friends, nearly brothers really, on a long journey through time and space, so inevitably I thought of them repeatedly. And also I know I was not understanding a lot of the jokes and I felt sure that Dean could have explained them.
If he'd been here, I mean.
Saturday the ninth day of November.
It's a week later. Today I got my second paycheck! This was my first "full pay period" and this one was bigger - over three hundred dollars! After the conversion to cash it came to $322.09, which is truly astonishing. I am setting $300 aside and with the remainder I purchased another two of the thick wool socks (I realized I need a pair to wear while the other pair is being washed). And also a small towel at the thrift store. And also I decided to spend $1 every single week for a shower. NOW I believe I have covered all the vessel needs.
Everything is still going fine. I'm warmer now with the extra clothing. Still sleeping in the stockroom. I wash my underwear and socks in the bathroom every other night and dry them overnight by the room heater. I work all morning, and some afternoons, and I spend my extra hours sitting in the bookstore reading. Or going to the seminars - and this week I made a huge breakthrough regarding seminar cookies. It turns out there are frequently cookies at the university, but scattered in different buildings on different days. One has to track them down. It's like a quest. The new development is, the physics students told me that the biology department also has free cookies, on Wednesdays, at the biology seminars; and then the biology students told me about the psychology department cookies on Thursdays, and then the psychology students told me about the history department cookies on Fridays. That's free cookies four days a week. Though, sometimes there's just tea, or sometimes students have eaten all the cookies already, and then it's an awful disappointment. Also, some of the professors are starting to look at me a little suspiciously (it turns out they notice if you put too many cookies in your pockets), so I'm trying to keep to just 4 cookies per seminar, and I'm making sure I actually attend the seminars. Though both the history and the physics department seminars had errors this week (about the translations of the Aztec glyphs and functioning of gravity inside black holes, respectively) so I spoke up with a few suggestions. I'm not entirely sure that they understood what I meant.
My diet now is 4 cookies almost every afternoon, supplemented with the food the Gas-n-Sip throws out - primarily the occasional unsold hot dogs, and any nachos that accidentally got burned. (During my first week it was a tremendous temptation to burn nachos on purpose, but it turns out they can catch on fire quite dramatically so I think maybe I won't try that again.) And the usual assortment of cheese and moldy bread and whatnot from the supermarket dumpster. I've almost got enough to eat now, pretty reliably. In addition I've decided that every 2 weeks I can spend another $5.49 every Friday for a piece of pizza, a piece of baklava and the Friday midnight movie.
So everything's completely fine now, really. Everything's fine.
Everything's really going fine.
Everything's fine.
It's later. Everything's not fine. I'm still not getting enough sleep. I keep dreaming about flying, and I'm still having the dream of the wolves, and the drowning dream too, and others that are even more disturbing. I can never get back to sleep, and every morning I feel so very tired. Also I feel increasingly unenthusiastic about eating more moldy cheese or old hot dogs. Even the cookies are getting a little tiresome. I keep wondering how Sam and Dean are, and I keep wondering if I could ever get my grace back. Also the stockroom floor is very hard. I keep thinking about that motel room with the 4 pillows and the towels and blankets.
I'm confused about why all these things are bothering me. The vessel needs are all taken care of. I should be completely fine.
Perhaps it is not quite enough just to satisfy one's vessel needs.
In fact an odd new sensation has arisen. As day after day goes by, and night after night in this dark quiet little stockroom, a sensation of solitude has arisen that can become quite oppressive. An emptiness. In the middle of the night it becomes especially powerful. It seems it becomes almost a feeling of grief, perhaps, or of loss. It's very peculiar; solitude never felt this way as an angel. Sometimes when I am awake a long time, I can almost feel it pressing on me, like a heavy weight.
This solitude feeling has gotten progressively worse since I realized Dean is not going to call.
Sunday the tenth day of November. The dreams kept me awake most of the night and at last I had an idea: I wonder if any of the birds at the park would like to share one of my cookies today?
Found the birds. The jays. But they were skeptical and didn't want to come close. I left a cookie for them anyway. It's actually my last cookie - I was supposed to have it for breakfast, but I crumbled it up and put the pieces around the bushes for them. I hope they find it. It would be nice to feel useful, to somebody, if even in a very small way.
Tuesday the twelfth day of November.
Something has happened.
I'm writing this during a lull in the morning shift. I just saw a story in the newspaper today; four people have died mysteriously, all locally, in or near Rexford. "Pink substance" at the scene.
I've read the article a dozen times over. This has all the earmarks of something bad. It's not natural; I feel certain. Something's wrong. Something's come to this town.
I ought to investigate this myself.
It's a little later. I find I'm a little ambivalent about the idea of trying to investigate on my own. I have none of the equipment and little of the training for non-angelic combat that Dean and Sam have. I have no guns, no ammunition; I have no partner for backup. I do still have some hand-to-hand combat skills of course, but, I have to confess, it's actually quite unsettling to know that I have no smiting capability at all anymore, and no other powers, and no wings either.
I'm even rather worried about missing shifts at work. (What if I missed a shift and lost my job?)
I do have my blade still, but I feel surprisingly uneasy about this.
I wonder if Dean and Sam might be interested.
I think I should call Dean and let him know about the potential case.
I've decided. I'm going to call Dean. I'll call him now. Now's my mid-morning break; Nora's here to cover for me; it's a good time.
My morning break's almost over. Haven't quite called him yet. I'll call him later.
Now it's my lunch break. I'll call him now. I've got the phone out.
Break's ending. I'll call him later.
I finally called him. I don't know why I didn't call him when I actually would have had time to talk; somehow I couldn't, and then I had to call him while I was in the middle of work. Then for some reason it was instantly irritating to hear his voice, which I really didn't anticipate at all, and it distracted me and I made a mistake with the blue drink machine. It took a half hour to clean it up afterwards.
But I did manage to tell him of the case, and then I ended the call immediately. I did not tell him where I am or where I work or where I sleep. Dean and Sam will take care of the case and I will not see them.
I didn't ask any of my questions.
And then things got even more confusing. First Nora found my sleeping bag and toothpaste and toothbrush. This was very alarming; I'd forgotten to hide them as I usually do, because I'd been so distracted about calling Dean. I told her I'd just left the sleeping bag there temporarily but I'm very worried now that Nora might figure out that I've been sleeping here. If I lose this place to sleep, I'll really be in trouble.
Thank goodness she seemed to accept my explanation, but then matters became much more confused immediately, because next Nora seemed to be asking me to join her in some sort of romantic social activity, a "date" if I have the terminology right. I hope I'm understanding it correctly. She said she "didn't want to take advantage of you as my employee" and "didn't want to jeopardize our working relationship" and "it's hard to meet a really great guy" and "tomorrow's my night off and I know it's your night off too and I was wondering if there was any chance you're free tomorrow night?" Am I interpreting this correctly? That's a request for a date, isn't it? I believe so. I don't know. I hope so. Dean would know, but— Anyway. I'll assume it's a date.
I hope she isn't planning to kill me like April was. I'd better keep my blade close by.
It's evening now. Well, the next morning actually. I've had some difficulty falling asleep. It almost seems I can feel that Dean is closer; am I imagining this? It seems I can feel his presence, just slightly. It's so peculiar to know he and Sam are probably very close to this town, but that I won't even see them.
And of course then I had the worst sort of flying dream.
The dream of flying Dean out of Hell. I've had it off and on, and more frequently since Halloween.
This time was especially vivid. In the dream, I had my wings spread wide, and I had all my old speed and strength and agility. My feathers were fresh-molted; every feather perfect, the flight feathers at their absolute longest, every feather-tip still sharp, my speed at its absolute fastest. And, in the dream, I was in the midst of the great aerial battle to escape from Hell. My fellow angels were falling all around me, wounded and killed; the battle was desperate; the thousand bolts of hellfire were searing the air on all sides; and, of course, Dean was fighting me wildly. This all unfolded as it actually happened. Yet despite everything, despite my brothers dying, despite the battle, the hellfire, despite Dean's fighting — even at the point when he struggled so hard that he threw me off balance and that one awful bolt hit me and I felt my flight feathers begin to burn—
Even despite all of that, it was exhilarating.
So exhilarating. To fly again.
And with Dean's soul safe in my arms. Battered and torn and so terribly wounded, but safe in my arms.
When that hellfire hit my wings, I saw the Gate of Hell close before me and realized I was nearly there. I was almost out. I knew at that point that I would get Dean out. Even though my wings were burning. I wasn't sure I would survive myself, but I knew my feathers would at least last long enough to get him past the Gate. I called to Balthazar to be ready to take him, if my wings failed; but in the end only my outer feathers burned, and though it was painful and I was pretty slow on the final leg of the journey, I did manage to get Dean all the way back to Earth by myself.
By the end Balthazar was begging me to let him help me, but I wanted to see it through.
This time the dream followed my memory exactly. Sometimes it doesn't; sometimes Dean struggles free of my grip, or sometimes I have to pass him to Balthazar and I fall alone, or sometimes I feel my wings burn to ash while I'm still carrying him and we fall together. This time though it followed my memory exactly and I got him all the way back, and reassembled his body, and brought him to life once more.
When I awoke, I was gripped by an intense desire to spread my wings and shake them out, let the power and the light stream through them, and fly away somewhere. I looked around the stockroom and I thought "This room is too small to spread my wings fully— I'll have to step outside." I actually stood up and had even opened the back door before I remembered.
I'm back inside now with the sleeping bag wrapped around me. There's no point trying to sleep now. It seems extremely quiet in this room. And extremely dark, so I have turned the light on to write for a little bit.
Dean and Sam are likely in this town even now, perhaps at one of the motels along route 20, but I won't see them. I'll just work at my job here and try to be a good Sales Associate.
I should think about something else. That solitude feeling has come over me again. It's not a good sensation.
I wonder how the little screech-owl is doing.
Tomorrow morning maybe I'll go bring another cookie to the jays. Maybe they'll accept it from me this time.
Thursday the fourteenth day of November.
Dean found me yesterday
It's later. A lot happened yesterday and I can't seem to think of how to summarize it or even what to think. I'm starting here on a fresh page.
Dean found me yesterday. I'd been so careful not to tell him where I was. I should have realized that he might find me. It startled me greatly. I was selling someone a lottery ticket and practicing the thumbs-up sign and suddenly there he was.
For some reason he'd come alone. He says Sam has stayed in Kansas. He didn't say why.
He did not understand why I am working here. He thought I am working in a menial occupation that is beneath me. This concept had never occurred to me till that very moment, and at once it made me angry. Surprisingly so. Once again, just like last night, I wished so much that I had my wings back - simply so that I could have flown away.
I tried to explain how complex the job is and how much there is to do, that I am a Sales Associate now, how much responsibility I have for the whole store, how difficult it has been, all of it; but he didn't seem to understand. He wasn't even interested.
All along he had that slightly mocking tone. He thinks I don't notice; but I do. I always have. It never mattered much to me before. Before, it was of little import.
But now it matters. I'm not even sure why.
Eventually he did convince me to come to the scene of the latest death. There's been a fifth. A girl at the high school.
As soon as I saw the scene I knew it was a Rit Zien. Dean deduced that I was frightened; I was quite ashamed by that, and I wanted to help him. But as I was sitting there thinking about it, and realizing anew that I cannot smite and cannot fly and have no real powers and no guns, as I was right in the middle of all those thoughts, Dean spoke again and said he'd take care of it on his own.
I was further ashamed.
And the shame didn't end there, for later it turned out Nora was not asking me on a date after all. This was after Dean had even had to give me a whole set of instructions that I didn't understand at all (why would Nora "lie" about "going Dutch?" Do women become Dutch suddenly and then lie about it?) - and in the end it was all pointless anyway because it turns out I misunderstood the entire situation. Nora was only asking me to take care of her baby. I'm still trying to figure out how I misunderstood her. I've looked back at what she said and I'm quite baffled. But I really should know by now that I'll never understand this culture; or, humans at all, really. And furthermore, I also should know by now that nobody would be thinking of me as a romantic partner anyway. Only April has ever acted interested in me in such a way, and that was only because she was planning to kill me. It appears I make just as bad a human as I did an angel.
It doesn't really matter. Nora didn't even realize I'd misunderstood, and the baby certainly didn't care, and I found I didn't actually care much myself. I was only going on the date at all because it seemed part of the role I must learn to play here. And I suppose it doesn't matter that Dean witnessed my confusion about it. I can't fall any farther in Dean's regard anyway.
Actually I quite liked the baby. Her name is Tanya. I could talk to her. It's the first time I have been able to talk to anyone freely in a long time.
But then Tanya got sick while in my care and I could not heal her.
I could not heal her.
And worse still: the Rit Zien, whose name was Ephraim, tracked me down at Nora's house, so Tanya was put at risk too. That was bad enough, but also it turns out he came for me. For me specifically. He told me so. He said he could hear my pain from miles away. I believe this is why he came to the town in the first place, and that means the five other people in this town who died, likely died because of me. Five more to add to a long list.
Ephraim was trying to put me down as one would a crippled dog. His kind were created to end unbearable agony swiftly. I tried to tell him that I want to live, but it seemed he knew I was lying.
Should I have even tried to stop him? I'm still unsure.
Dean had to help me in the end; as I feared, I was not strong enough to fight Ephraim on my own. Ephraim is dead now, but my wrist was damaged in the fight. After all that I still had this idea in my head to try to conceal from Dean where I'm sleeping, so I asked Dean to take me to a hospital and leave me there while he went to deal with Ephraim's body, which he'd put in the trunk of his car. I think he burned it somewhere; he didn't return till hours later, near dawn. By then the hospital staff had concluded that I have a "hairline fracture" and damaged tendons in my wrist, and they were fitting me with an arm brace. It was sunrise by the time I got out of the emergency room, and indeed I was able to hide from Dean the fact that I still don't have a home. At dawn I simply told him to drive me "to work."
But I now realize it was completely pointless to even bother trying to hide where I am sleeping. Yesterday Dean was scoffing at my job, which was infuriating but at least implied that he thinks I'm capable of something more. Just a single day later, just this morning, Dean had concluded that I should stay here and work as a Sales Associate after all.
He'd already given up on me. In one day. In a single day.
He did say I'm "adapting". Whatever that means.
I think he was trying to be kind.
I cannot seem to get my last image of Dean out of my mind. As he was about to leave, I leaned to the car window to say goodbye and as I looked at him there, sitting in the driver's seat of his black car, ready to head off, all at once I was overwhelmed with the desire to tell him everything. To confess how difficult it's been, how cold and hungry I've been, how hard I've worked, what a struggle everything is; even the little things like how hard the floor of the stockroom is, how much I wish I had even 1 pillow, how sick I am of burned nachos and dried-out old hot dogs, how empty and dark and quiet the stockroom is at night; that awful solitude feeling that keeps haunting me. And all the bigger things too, how desperately I miss my wings, how stunningly bewildering it is to not be an angel anymore. How dearly I wish I could undo all my mistakes and set things right. All the hundred things I wanted to say to him all came running through my mind at once.
Yet most of all, above everything else, I wanted to ask him to take me with him. Back to Kansas. The sentence was all framed in my mind. But I could not speak.
He waved goodbye; I turned away; he drove off; and that was that.
I doubt he'll return.
And Sam never came at all. Dean came alone. Dean said Sam was busy; but I know that Sam doesn't stay behind on hunts. I can only think that Sam didn't even want to see me. Not even just to say hello.
Dean said he was "proud" of me. It's funny; he's so certain that he's a good liar, but I can tell when he's lying.
It's the next day, Friday the fifteenth day of November. Today's the day I'd been planning to go see another movie but I'm worried about money. I had told Dean I could afford to buy the pain medication for my wrist injury - he offered to purchase it but I really wanted to seem, and be, self-sufficient, so I said I would buy it myself later. That was a mistake. It turns out it's quite expensive if one has no "health plan". It would be forty-five dollars and then I might not be able to afford a room for December. I wish I'd taken Dean up on the offer.
So I didn't do the movie, or the pizza or baklava. Instead I went to the university to get a couple of cookies. Then, this was foolish but, I found myself going immediately to the park to give both the cookies to the birds - which wasn't what I'd planned at all, but they have started coming toward me to pick up the crumbs. So that made me feel a little bit better at least. Then I just sat in the park till late at night, to listen to the little owl, and then came back here.
I wish I had a pillow to prop my arm on. It hurts when I just let it rest on the floor. I've put it on a stack of paper towels but it's aching so strongly, and the throbbing is keeping me awake. I've put some ice on it. I wish the pain would stop. I wish all the pain would stop.
Same night. Still can't sleep. Maybe I could get to sleep if I write down what I could not say?
Things I wish I had said to Dean:
1. are you ok / is Sam ok. It strikes me now, looking back, that though he spoke about Kevin somewhat, he was reluctant to speak about Sam. It strikes me, actually, as I look back on everything, that there may be something wrong. He had that shuttered look that he gets sometimes. Brusque, cool, a little withdrawn. That look has never been a good sign and often it means he's hiding something.
2. Why didn't you ever call?
3. Do you still consider me to be "family?" I suspect not. But I would like to know.
Do you still consider me a "friend" at least?
Maybe someday I could buy you, and Sam, a bottle of beer? I'd like to do that, if it were okay.
Saturday the sixteenth day of November.
Hand still hurting quite a bit. It's better if I walk around (the walking distracts me) so I went to the park to give some cookies to the birds again. I was going to give them two and save two for myself for dinner but they were waiting for me this time and they'd brought some friends, some additional birds; and I ended up giving them all four of today's cookies.
Sunday the seventeenth day of November.
This is ridiculous. I keep giving all my cookies to the birds. I've got to stop this. I don't have any food left.
But they seemed so happy to see me.
Monday the eighteenth day of November. I'm at the pharmacy. I've decided to buy the pain medication after all. Then I saw they had sleeping medication too, "over the counter" whatever that means, and suddenly I asked for that as well. I've had such trouble sleeping.
I'm very annoyed with myself. It's a huge amount of money and also I've been giving away all my cookies and I have nothing to eat but half a plate of burned nachos now. But it'll be so good to get some sleep.
Dean forgot to take the FBI badge. The one that has my picture that he loaned me for the Rit Zien case. I found it in the side pocket of my bag just now while at the pharmacy.
Thursday the twenty-first day of November. I keep looking at the FBI badge. It seems like a sign. Dean doesn't usually forget that sort of thing. I keep looking at it and I could not stop thinking of the way Dean was looking at me when he left, and the way he was advising me to be just a Sales Associate, and the way his voice sounded when he said "You're scared."
I keep thinking about everything I've been through, back millennia; that I was a seraph of the Lord, that I flew out of Hell with my wings aflame, that I once led the armies of Heaven.
I've come to a major decision. I think that Dean leaving the FBI badge with me is a sign. I must re-enter the battle. I must return to my mission and my goals. I AM "a part of this", to use one of the phrases from the television. It was MY grace that was used to bar Heaven. I can't turn aside.
I WILL prove that I can be useful. I will. I must. And I've realized what I have to do: I will learn to be a hunter. That's why Dean forgot the badge - so that I would still have it! The FBI badge has to be a sign. It has to mean SOMETHING. Doesn't it? If it could just mean something, if there were ANY purpose at all to ANY of this, any point to any of it, if there is something I can grasp hold of that will make all this worthwhile - why Dean would kick me out, why I have lost my two friends, all the struggle, all the solitude - it must mean something. Mustn't it?
I can't accept that it's all for nothing.
So I have a new goal: I will learn to be a hunter. Maybe I'll cross paths with Sam and Dean again, too, someday - and if I do, I will buy them each a bottle of beer, as a gesture of friendship. (Even if not family, I would so like it if they would be willing to still be friends, of some sort.) I'll be a hunter and I'll buy them each a beer and I'll learn to contribute something. Even if it's small.
And this means I need a car. With the money I've saved up. Not a room at all - a CAR. A car is the first requirement. I have no wings; I MUST have mobility if I'm to be any kind of hunter at all. And I'll have to learn to drive.
I'll need one of those black suits as well. "FBI threads" as Sam put it once.
This will take all my money. I won't be able to get housing at all. I've got to do it though.
Things to ask Dean if I should meet him while on a hunt.
1. is he really ok / Sam ok. Progressively more worried about this the more I think about it.
2. I'm NOT useless.
- combat skills (surely I'm not completely useless here? Even with no powers?), wash dishes/clean (can't this be useful?), Enochian (wouldn't this help?)
- Sales Associate skills. Can prepare nachos, etc.
- Also soon I'll have my own car and FBI threads and I will know how to drive.
3. other:
I know I'll never get to ask Dean these questions but somehow it's helpful to write them out anyway.
I have so many questions about cars. There are so many types. New vehicles turn out to be impossibly expensive. There are many used ones though that are much cheaper. There are complications of licensing and paperwork. I know Dean could have helped with all this but I suppose I can just pick out a vehicle on my own. Demetrios, the Greek man who gave me the baklava, has told me that his elderly father can no longer drive and that he has an old car that may be for sale cheap. He's going to inquire.
The solitude feeling at night is getting worse. But if I take two of the sleeping pills + 2 of the pain ones then I can get through a night. I wonder if this is advisable. The label on the side of the pain medication bottle says "do not combine with other medications" but there doesn't seem to be any other way to get to sleep.
Thursday the twenty-seventh day of November. I became aware yesterday that today is a holiday. Thanksgiving. I've heard of it but haven't been down on Earth for one before. Apparently it's an autumn harvest festival involving eating a meal with family.
It did not seem to concern me so I ignored it. The store is closed though and Nora gave me the day off. I planned to continue the car shopping but didn't realize that virtually the entire town would be closed. The library is closed, and the bookstore and the other places I usually spend my days off, and even the people with used cars for sale were annoyed when I tried to call their phones.
The university has had no seminars this week and I've had no cookies to eat this week so I've been hungrier than usual. Nora shut down some of the food-making due to the holiday so there are no nachos or hot dogs available either. But there were some stale hot dog buns, so I took those to the park and fed the birds. The jays all came, and today there were some chickadees too.
I think I had enough hot dog bun crumbs for everybody. (Though I forgot to save a bun for myself.)
It was snowing lightly today; the first real sign of winter. But even so there were a few little groups of people strolling around the park. All in family groups, nobody alone. I overheard some bits of their conversations, as I sat on the bench watching the jays eat the last of the crumbs, and it seemed all the people had all either just finished their big family meal together, or were just about to start it. Overhearing all this, I decided I would treat myself to 1 frozen burrito for dinner tonight, as a special treat. I can purchase one at the Gas-n-Sip once I return there for the night. It'll cost 99 cents but I do have money saved up. I'm uncertain how much the car will cost, but it seems like I could allow 1 burrito for a special meal.
At sunset it grew cold and all the birds began to fly away to their night-time roosts, as they do. I knew it was time to return to the store, and the dark stockroom, and time to spread my sleeping bag out on the floor. Yet as I watched the last group of birds fly away the solitude feeling became almost unbearable, like an aching in my throat, and bringing with it such a feeling of desolation. I had to struggle to remember why it's even worthwhile to get in out of the cold. It took some concentration even just to remember my new plan.
I wondered where Dean and Sam are.
It grew very cold. Every place in town was closed, so I returned to the Gas-n-Sip. I'm normally not there so early and I wasn't sure what to do with myself for so many hours. Of course the Gas n Sip's closed too, so it was very quiet. Eventually I put the television on for entertainment. First it was just the sport that has the two helmeted armies that attack each other on a field of green grass, which brought back some uncomfortable battlefield memories. Thankfully, soon that finished and then there was a series of shows about families. All the advertisements involved families eating meals together or giving each other gifts for Christmas.
None of this seems relevant to me so I have turned it off.
It is very quiet now. I have been planning to eat the burrito, but now that I've heated it, I find the solitude feeling has become very much worse and, oddly, my hunger seems to have gone away too. I'll wrap up the burrito and save it for tomorrow.
Now I only want to lie down in the dark and sleep.
It has come to me just now, as I write this down, that this solitude sensation must be what humans call "loneliness". Of course I've heard the term many times before but, though suddenly it seems quite obvious, I hadn't recognized the sensation till right now. I've been feeling this for months but hadn't identified what it was. I never felt this as an angel; I was never really alone, as an angel.
3 sleeping pills tonight I think. It's only eight o'clock but I think I'll take them now.
I hope Sam and Dean are having a nice meal somewhere.
Dean flipped the book shut and sat for a long time staring at Cas's hand, which was still wrapped tight in his own.
Dean didn't say anything.
He'd run out of stuff to say. Cas couldn't hear him now anyway. It was too late. It was simply too late. Dean knew that now.
Far too little, and far too late.