Fame Crazy (Sequel to Strings Attached)

Chapter 96

"Have you seen Michael recently?" Lucifer asks a few hours later, when he finally comes home.

"Not lately," Samandriel replies, looking at the ground guiltily. He's obviously felt really bad since Michael walked out, and Castiel can't say he doesn't feel the same.

"Do you know where I could find him?" Lucifer asks.

"Probably the bar," Castiel replies.

"What?"

"Don't ask," Samandriel says. "And don't look for him. He's not in the best of moods."

"Okay?" Lucifer says uncertainly. "Then I guess I'll wait 'til he gets home?"

Lucifer heads to his bedroom, returning a few seconds later to say, "I'm gonna make a video. Anyone wanna be the Ryan to my Sharpay or should I just use a green screen and be both?"

"What are you talking about?" Claire asks.

"I'm recreating 'Bop to the Top' from High School Musical because people keep telling me I'd be an awesome Sharpay — and a lot of people saying I'd be an awful Sharpay, but I choose to think its Jacksfilms-fan logic and they're being mean out of love like everyone does to him. So, anyone wanna be my Ryan?"

"Not a chance in hell," Claire replies.

Seeing no one wants to join him, Lucifer shrugs and walks out of the room with an exaggerated bounce in his step as he struts away, presumably to be both members of the Evans family.

"He's a special little snowflake, isn't he?" Claire observes.

Castiel nods. "Always has been, always will be."

~~

As with most Mondays in March, the kids have to go the school the next day. Dean won't answer his phone, which is a bit annoying, but Castiel doesn't always have his phone on him, either, so he can't be mad. That really only leaves Michael and Lucifer, but seeing as it's been dead silent in the house, Lucifer is almost definitely sleeping in or editing a video. Castiel hasn't checked to see if the Sharpay and Ryan "Bop to the Top" video is up yet. Maybe that's what he's working on.

That just leaves Michael, whom Castiel hasn't seen much of since the previous morning. He came home stone cold sober a few hours after he left, responded to people's greetings briefly, and disappeared down the hallway to the bedrooms. He wasn't the most friendly person in the world, but it's better than being alone until school ends, so he makes his way to Michael's room.

He knocks on the door gently, but doesn't get a response. He tries again louder, but again, Michael doesn't speak. Is he even in here? Curiosity getting the better of him, he opens the for slowly.

Michael is sitting on his bed with his back against the wall. He's clinging to a pillow, shaking as he sobs. Castiel frowns and sits down on the bed with his brother. Michael looks up when he hears the bed creak, wiping his tears with the dry part of the pillow and giving Castiel a small, obviously fake smile.

"Hi, Castiel."

"What's wrong?" Castiel asks.

"Nothing," Michael replies. "It's — it's nothing."

"What's wrong?" he asks again.

"I'm fine, Castiel, thank you."

Castiel sighs. "C'mon, Michael, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"It doesn't matter," Michael replies.

"It matters to me."

Michael buries his face in the pillow, and his voice is muffled when he says quietly, "I just miss Dad."

In that moment, Castiel can't feel any stupider. How oblivious is this family? Michael loved Chuck — idolized him, really. And yet, when he died, Michael was the one who had to stay strong and look after everyone, when he probably wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and just not do anything. God, they're all idiots.

"I know," Castiel says finally. "I miss him, too."

"I just — I wish I could have saved him," Michael says.

"There's nothing you could have done," Castiel reminds him. "Literally. You would have had to keep him out of the Middle East entirely, and that's not something any of us could have done."

"And I know that. I do. But..."

"But?" Castiel prompts.

"I was going to ask him to stop leaving so much," Michael says quietly. "Right after he got home from the trip before the Middle East, I was going to ask him to stay for a while. And then I didn't. I told myself to give him one more trip. And then..." Michael lets out a long breath. "I should have told him earlier. He would have felt bad and stayed, and he never would have been killed."

Castiel just looks at him for a few moments. Finally, he says, "So this whole time, you've been blaming yourself for him dying?"

Michael doesn't answer, because he already knows. 

"Well, that's stupid," Castiel replies. "It wasn't your fault, Michael. It wasn't any of our faults. It wasn't Dad's fault. It wasn't everyone in the Middle East's fault who had interacted with him or each other, which resulted in him exactly where he was when the terrorists found him. It was the terrorists' fault, and that's it. Okay?"

"And I know it's not my fault," Michael replies. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't have stopped it."

"Maybe..." Castiel lets out a long breath. "Maybe you weren't supposed to stop it."

"What?"

"Maybe that's not your job. It's not your job to save everyone."

"It kinda is," Michael reminds him. "I work in the hospital, so..."

"But Dad wasn't in the hospital. He wasn't a patient with a medical condition or something you could see and fix. He was fine."

"And then he was dead."

Castiel sighs. "You're not going to be happy with anything I say, are you?"

"No, not really," Michael admits. "But... Thanks for trying. It means a lot."

"Of course, Michael. Are you at least feeling a little better?"

Michael lets out a long breath. "Not really. I just have too much on my mind. Between Dad and class and the hospital... I just can't wait until I graduate."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Castiel replies. "I may not be in medical school, but I know a thing or two about overworking yourself. Just remember what you told me. Don't try to solve your problems with a razor or a bottle. You've got family instead."

Michael gives him a small smile. "Thanks, Castiel. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for you, Mike."