CHAPTER SEVEN

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I felt like a child who'd been grounded, except I was on a cot in a cold, cavernous iron bunker with an angel for a prison guard instead of just being locked in my room because I didn't do my homework

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I felt like a child who'd been grounded, except I was on a cot in a cold, cavernous iron bunker with an angel for a prison guard instead of just being locked in my room because I didn't do my homework.

There were worse people for company. Better, too, but at least Castiel didn't seem inclined to do me any harm. Every day he demonstrated his lack of understanding with regard to personal space. When I woke, he was crouched beside the cot staring at me like I was some vaguely interesting television program. Whenever he brought food from upstairs, he stared as I ate and wouldn't take anything I offered in case he was hungry. I guessed that angels didn't need to eat. That, or Bobby had laced my food with something that might make me talk.

For almost a week, Bobby, Dean, and Sam came into the cage to ask if I was ready to talk. I didn't break. I hated being locked up, but it was making me less inclined to be open with them. I understood that they were being cautious. They were hunters, it was what they had to do when faced with a monster, but I'd hoped that Bobby trusted me enough to make my own decisions.

Then again, he probably hoped that I'd have trusted him enough to be honest.

"This could all be over if you would just talk," Castiel said on the sixth day.

"I did talk." I stared up at the ceiling, my latest meal resting ignored on a nearby table. I'd long since lost my appetite. "I told you what Crowley had on me. I told you that I was a murderer. I proved Dean right. I'm the monster that he suspected I was since the second he brought me in here. What else is there to say?"

"Bobby is worried about you."

"Shouldn't have locked me up, then."

Castiel stood over me, making it impossible to look anywhere but at him unless I did the polite thing and moved. "Sam is worried."

"Sam doesn't even know me," I pointed out. "And, before you say it, Dean isn't worried either."

"No, he isn't. Dean wants to shoot you."

I laughed quietly.

Castiel's brow furrowed. "I wasn't joking."

"I know. I don't think you even know how to joke." I sighed, a ghost of a smile dancing across my lips. "What about you, Castiel? Are you worried?"

The angel hesitated. Given his bare-faced honesty, I was surprised that he didn't simply deny the fact and return to trying to convince me to spill my guts to Bobby. He pushed his hands down into his deep coat pockets and confessed, "I worry that you're concealing something dangerous. Something that will be brought down upon us if you don't take the help that has been offered."

I pushed myself into a sitting position. Castiel took the chance to sit beside me, and it reminded me of the first day that he'd brought me back. When he noticed that I was scared. If that comment had come from anyone else, I'd have thought that it was rooted in care and compassion. From him, it was merely an observation. A statement of fact. Castiel seemed to see the world in black and white. How much easier it would be if I could do the same.

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