Debunked

Chapter 22

Over the next few weeks, things get better. Sam only prays to him twice more before seemingly giving up, which is a relief. He hasn't heard from either of the Winchesters since, though he's spoken to Hannah more times than he can count — both over the phone and in person. She prays to him every night, and though he never calls her then because she's supposed to be asleep, he listens intently to every word. It's grown to become his favorite ritual.

Castiel doesn't stop making mistakes. He's sure he never will. Sometimes, people have died because of them, and he knows that. But at the same time, he's saved countless people, and Emma and James won't let him forget it. They must have figured out that the Winchesters guilt tripped him for every mistake, because he's never met a more forgiving or appreciative group of people.

He's never missed his angelic powers more than he does now. Emma and James are amazed every time he does anything supernatural, and he's showered with praise every time he heals someone. He wishes he could do more, now that everything he does is held in such high regard.

Overall, things are going pretty well. They take on case after case, and he's never felt so productive in his hunting life. There's no catch-22 to his every move. Every good thing he does isn't followed by something bad. He could get used to this life.

The three of them are in a motel for the night, though they're all too wrapped up in research about chimeras to even think of going to bed. Occasionally, someone will spit out a fact about them — they can fly; they can breathe fire; their biggest weakness is ice.

"So are we supposed to stab it with an icicle?" Emma asks sarcastically.

"Honestly, that looks like our best bet," James says.

"Shoot it with an ice gun and pray for the best?" Emma suggests.

"I like the ice sword more, but to each their own," James says.

"Cas, you're the tie breaker," Emma says, and every time he hears her use his nickname, he can't help but smile. She was reluctant at first, but when he assured her that abbreviating an angel's name is not offensive, she started using it regularly. "Ice sword or ice gun?"

"Neither sounds very efficient," Castiel says. "The gunpowder would melt the gun, and the impact would break the sword, not to mention that both would melt in your hands —"

"Okay, okay, stop being smarter than us," Emma says.

"But hypothetically," James adds, "ice sword or ice gun?"

"Um..." Castiel thinks for a moment. They both have their advantages. Long distance and bad accuracy versus close range and good accuracy isn't an easy decision. But he has been using an angel blade since the beginning of time — literally — so he's partial to that. "I guess I'd rather have —"

Cas, buddy, I really fucked up.

"Dean," Castiel whispers. He hasn't heard from Dean since he walked out. He didn't think he'd ever have to hear his voice again. And right as he was finally moving on, too.

"Dean was not an option," Emma says.

I'm sorry, man. I've been a dick. I know I've been a dick. We both know I've been a dick. And I'm so, so sorry, Cas. More than you could ever know.

But you gotta come home.

"Yoo-hoo!" Emma waves a hand in front of his face. "Anybody home?"

"Just —" Castiel pushes her hand away as he stands up, and, without a word, he walks out of the motel. He sits down on the stairs by the door, propping his head up on his knees. If he's going to listen to this, he needs to do it alone, and this is as alone as he's going to get.