Fallen

Chapter Fourteen

One week later

     I wake up in the warmth of my blankets. I'm sure if I had windows in my room, the late morning sun would be peacefully shining through them. Today, it is officially legal for me to do anything I want except drink. Not that that has stopped me before. I slowly sit up and stretch my arms out. The smell of bacon pulls me to my feet. I open the door to the rest of the bunker and head out to the library where Sam sits reading. As usual.

Over the past week, I've really gotten to know the boys. It's almost like I've lived with them my whole life. I think they've really grown to like me. They've really helped me through angel training and with my mom. And speaking of angel training, I've been doing really well. I've got healing down, and I'm almost done with telekinesis.

     "Hey, birthday girl!" Sam says as I walk up the steps.

     "Hey," I smile. Just as I sit down in my usual spot, Dean puts a plate of breakfast food on the table from behind me.

     "Happy birthday, sweetheart," he says.

     I blush. Something about Dean's nickname for me has changed. It doesn't seem as playful as it was when he first gave it to me. It seems genuine now. "Thanks!" I say to him. The food in front of me smells amazing.

     "How you holdin' up?" Dean asks.

     My smile fades a little, and I take a deep breath. "I'm good," I sincerely say. I chuckle. "I haven't slept in on a Sunday in... Ever," I say, putting a forkful of scrambled eggs in my mouth.

     "Really?" Sam says.

     "Yeah," I answer. "I've gone to church every Sunday since I can remember."

     "Wouldn't have taken you for the religious type," Dean says taking a bite of bacon.

     "Wasn't exactly my choice," I huff. Then I smile, remembering my mom. "I used to have a back and forth with my mom every single Sunday about her letting me stay home, then about what I was supposed to wear." I feel my eyes start to tear up, but I shake it off. "I'm okay, I'm okay," I tell myself.

     "No tears today, Cel," Dean says. "Today's a happy day. Today, we take a break from everything. No tablets, no Crowley, no nothing. Just the three of us-" he's interrupted by Cas appearing at the end of the table. "... Four of us just hanging out," he finishes.

     I grin. "Okay." I continue to eat my amazing breakfast.

"Hey, now that you're 18, you should get the anti-possession tattoo," Sam says. "Better sooner than later."

"That won't be necessary," Cas says. We all turn to him. "Because she is half angel, she can't be possessed by anything."

"Are you sure?" Sam asks.

Cas pauses. "Not... 100%..."

     There's a long moment of all the testosterone in the room just exchanging silent glances. Then I finally speak. "Can I get it anyway?" They all turn to me but stay silent. "Because I mean we don't know if I can be possessed by anything, so," I start. "Better safe than sorry. And anyway, I like it." There's another short pause.

     "Well let's go, then," Dean says, standing up.

"Yay!" I say, jumping out of my seat. I practically skip down the hallway and into my room. I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a low-cut top. I throw on my boots, slipping my angel blade into the right one for good measure, and head back out to the library. "Okay, let's go," I eagerly say. The boys are already dressed, so we all head out to the Impala from the library.

After a while of driving, we finally arrive at a small tattoo parlor. There are only two other cars in the parking lot. Business must be slow because it's Sunday. Then again, you don't see many Christians with tattoos. We all walk into the parlor and see that the only female tattoo artist is currently working on someone. Not that I care, but Dean and Cas seem to be bothered by this for some reason.

I'm greeted by one of the artists, and I sit in his chair. He's like the stereotypical tattoo artist. Bald biker dude with a black leather vest and tattoos covering his arms. He asks for my ID, so I give him my driver's license. He wishes me a happy birthday and gives my license back. He seems like one of those guys that's rough and tough on the outside but super sweet and nice once you get to know him.

"So what are we doing today?" The man asks.

Dean speaks for me. "This," he says, pulling the collar of his shirt down to expose his tattoo. He also hands the man a piece of paper with the symbol on it. Then Dean turns my right arm over and points to my upper inner forearm. "Here."

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow your role there," I say to Dean. Then I turn to the tattoo artist. "I want mine on my chest too."

     "Yes ma'am," the artist smiles.

Sam and Cas sit down as the tattoo artist begins to draw the design on the transfer paper, but Dean remains standing with his back leaning against the wall across from me. After the artist cleans my skin and transfers the stencil onto it, he begins the tattoo. The way his hands are positioned, he's almost groping me, but I know that it's just part of the job.

I look up at Dean to see that his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. His angry-looking eyes are fixed on the tattoo artist's hands. I feel myself blush a little, and I give him a smirk. Then I motion for him to come here. When I do, he breaks his scowl and casually strolls over to me as if nothing happened. I motion for him to lean down closer and he does.

"You know he's just doing his job, right?" I whisper.

     He stands back up and gives me a confused look, so I mock his earlier expression. He blushes a little and starts spitting out a mess of fragments. "Oh uhh, I was just, I didn't, um-" Then he pauses. "Shut up!" He says before turning around and storming over to sit next to Cas. I have to refrain from laughing to avoid my tattoo getting messed up.

After a while, the tattoo is finally finished, and the artist gives me instructions on how to take care of it during the healing process. I try to pay for it myself, but Dean and Sam both insist that it's their birthday present to me. I never saw myself getting a tattoo. But then again, I also never saw myself being able to heal people and move things with my mind. Oh how things have changed.

On the way out of the parlor, I stand between Sam and Dean, put my arms around their waists and hug them. "Thanks guys," I say.

"No problem," Sam chuckles, putting his arm around my shoulders.

Dean looks down at me. "It's a nice fit," he says, regarding the tattoo. "You look good, kid."

{[A/N: Sorry for that weak ass ending... Also! #Deleste? Eh? Eh?]}