generic inbox;

[venatoris]

text, calls, voicemails, etc.

Comments

[messenger]

[ dean's also now fully healed from a shattered bone that should have taken months of recuperation— if it ever fully healed at all. they'd have a hard time proving it wasn't a case of mistaken identity if they ever caught up with him.

but they won't. ]

It doesn't hurt. But yes, it seems I can't put them away.

[ his only hypothesis is that the influx of power from touching dean's soul caused them to reflexively materialize, though it doesn't explain why it hasn't happened before now. perhaps it's because his grip on his powers isn't as absolute, with this borrowed grace?

either way, it's going to be a problem. he can't use dean's excuses for everything, and he obviously can't fly anymore ]

... Maybe it's only temporary.

[venatoris]

[ Dean's too damn good to ever let someone like that get the jump on him. ]

Probably. Has this ever happened before? [ He glances in the mirror as he hits the highway, blinker clicking to merge. ] Think it's cause you touched my soul, Roma Downey?

[messenger]

I don't know who that is.

[ a pause. ]

It could be that. Muscle memory, maybe. Or something like it.

[venatoris]

Touched by an Angel. Doesn't matter.

[ Anyway - ]

Yeah, could be. [ a pause. ] Hey, do you think if you kept it up, your wings would work again?

[messenger]

Um.

[ he doesn't dare hope. but he can't bring himself to shut dean down, either. he peers back over his shoulder, where his wings are folded, only really half-present. the burn damage isn't as obvious as it once was, since most of the damaged feathers have fallen out. but they haven't been replaced by anything either, least not as far as he can tell.

but it isn't exactly easy for him to get a close look. ]

Even if it's possible, it would probably take months for the feathers to regrow.

[venatoris]

But it'd be worth it, right? No reason we can't try.

[ Just gotta give Dean breaks, right? Not like Cas can constantly have a hand in his chest. ]

What's a few months to an angel anyway?

[messenger]

[ it's not much time to an angel at all, but he's living on earth, so that's something they have to take into consideration. ]

I wouldn't be able to go out in public.

[venatoris]

Aaaaagain, isn't it worth it?

[ What's a few months in the grand scheme of things? ]

[messenger]

Dean, I... wouldn't be able to help you while I'm undergoing this process.

[ on hunts, or with anything else dean's currently concerned himself with. also, ]

Where would I stay?

[venatoris]

Cas, you being able to fly again kinda trumps helping me out. I've hunted a long time, man. I think I can keep it up a little longer while you heal up.

[ This feels important. ]

The bunker. Duh.

[messenger]

[ he wants to argue— it's his instinct to protest. dean may not need help on hunts, but there are still a few stragglers roaming around after the fall, and it's his responsibility to help on angel-related business. and there are other things lurking out there, bigger than the normal hunt. crowley's demons, of course.

but dean also makes a good point. he can't deny that. ]

Um.

[ he's glad he's in the back seat, so dean can't see the hope— and fear— on his face. ]

Are you... sure?

[venatoris]

[ There's always gonna be demons, there's always gonna be hunts. There's always gonna be monsters. Life has always been a risk in Dean's world - his broken ankle is a perfect example. ]

Course I'm sure. The place is huge, there's plenty of room for you. [ Cas deserves to come home now. Sam is healed, though he's understandably pissed and was taking some time from his brother until the idiot broke his ankle in three places.

Now that he's healed though, he can resume his Deancation, and go about his business while he gets over himself. ]

[messenger]

[ castiel is just relieved that he still had any access to his powers at all— what if he had been human when it happened? what if he hadn't been able to help dean, or not learned about his injury until months later? but he can't let himself think too much. it's in the past now— the road he's on, he can't turn back from. ]

Well... If there's room. And if you don't mind.

[ he pauses, lifting his head up again to look at dean from over his shoulder. ]

I have to warn you...

[ aaand he trails off. ]

[venatoris]

I don't mind.

[ He's turned his eyes back to the road for the time being, checking for signs, looking for the typical shoddy little motel they usually stay in. People don't ask questions at places like that. ]

Mmm? Warn me about what?

[messenger]

Well.

[ oh boy. ]

If this works, I'm likely to molt. The feathers will make quite a mess.

[venatoris]

[ He isn't able to hide the snort. ]

So you really will be like Tweety Bird, huh?

[messenger]

What.

[ damn it, dean. ]

Does this Tweety Bird molt excessively?

[venatoris]

[ He chuckles, shakes his head. ]

Nevermind. We'll take care of you, okay Cas? I'll, uh - google how to take care of a bird.

[messenger]

I'm not a bird.

[ >8[ ]

But, I, uh... I appreciate the sentiment.

[ how can he not? ]

I just hope it isn't too much work.

[ molting is a strenuous process for a bird, but for an angel? it's not usually done. it's something that only happens when one's wings are injured considerably, but in most cases there are only two options: the angel has strength enough to regrow the damage without need of a molt, or, well.

they die.

but maybe the spell that metatron used was exact for a reason. he tries not to think about that. ]

[venatoris]

It can't be all that different though, right?

[ Wings, feathers. Dean doesn't know, couldn't know - it's not like he's ever had animals around extensively. No dog, no cat. No birds, definitely. ]

It won't be. We'll get it figured out, you'll be okay- ah, here we go.

[ The sign indicates a shitty motel ahead, Mountaineer Inn or something of the sort, and he pulls off the exit, driving down the road about a mile before he finds it. ]

[messenger]

I am much bigger than a bird.

[ but otherwise? he has no idea what's really in store for him. or for dean. either way, he's not about to complain when dean is being so generous. and he's not about to try to convince him to change his mind, much as a part of him might think he should.

he wants to return to the bunker. he wants to stay there, even if it's only for a time.

getting into the motel is easier than getting out of the hospital was, at least. dean gets the key and comes back and castiel walks in with his wings tucked close, no one any wiser. when they're alone, the door shut behind them, the curtains drawn, castiel stands in the center of the room, looking anxious. he pulls on his sleeves.

he needs to ask something of dean. several somethings. but he's having trouble asking it. ]

[venatoris]

[ No one cares in places like this - no questions, rooms by the hour if need be. It's the perfect kind of spot to lay low until they figure out a better game plan. They've got a drive from Baton Rouge to Lebanon - 14 hours plus, maybe more - human needs and all.

He shuts and locks the door, and drops his duffle with a sigh. ]

Home sweet home for the night. You good?

[messenger]

I'm...

[ he wants to say that he's good. he should let dean get some rest. but dean is the one who wanted to help him with this, and— his curiosity is getting the better of him.

he takes a deep breath. ]

I need your help, actually.

[venatoris]

[ He shrugs his jacket off and tosses it towards a chair and misses, fabric hitting the ground in a pile as he walks towards Cas. ]

Sure. Whatever you need.

[messenger]

Uh.

[ this is embarrassing. he is embarrassed. ]

I need you to look at my wings. Assess the injuries.