[ If this were some plot to kill Dean, it would be quite an elaborate one. Sadly, there are humans depraved enough to torture their victims before killing them, as Castiel has witnessed first time. It isn't always monsters they're hunting. That some humans are creative and uncaring enough to turn against one another so abhorrently is the grim side of free will. Luckily, there are men like Dean to stop people like that.
If Castiel ends stabbed in the back or shot by Dean on this house tour, he wouldn't be wholly surprised.
Dean's commentary, though, rather than his mistrust, has Castiel turning back towards him as they walk with a scrunch to his eyebrows and a frown. ]
There's quite a lot here, actually. This building was a hub for scholars dedicated to researching and combatting supernatural activity in the United States for decades. The foundations are constructed of salted iron. It's a fortress impenetrable to all kinds of nefarious beings. The library, the weaponry, and the artifacts contained here are invaluable.
[ So you should SHOW IT some RESPECT is what Castiel is saying as he leads Dean upstairs. Around the bend, the room opens up to a brightly lit reading area, with shelves lined with books, separated by columns, and a series of empty tables, each with its own reading lamp.
...Well, almost empty tables. Sam is sitting, gangly-legged and hunched over a very large, old-looking book, his fingers curled under the next page. He turns his head slightly at the sound of footsteps, still reading. "Hey, Cas—" he begins to say, but when he lifts his head and realizes that not only is Castiel not alone, but whom he's with, Sam's head lifts fully, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open with disbelief. "Dean?" ]
[ He's just saying. There's some prison vibes, here. Plus, he's nervous and anxious as hell and in a place he's apparently lived with absolutely no recollection of it. It's intimidating, and he can tell he's toeing a line.
Castiel and Sam may just decide he isn't worth it, boot him to the curb. It's probably the safest bet, and he wonders (not for the first time in the past hour) if he shouldn't have just kept walking and waved off the awkward advances of the shorter so-called 'angel' and just...made his own way.
The library is nice, though. At least it's less prison ward and more...Harvard study group.
The inevitable happens too quickly, though, and Dean's faced with a shaggy haired moose that's now getting up without words to offer in comfort. He just smiles helplessly, shrugs his shoulders and gestures vaguely. ]
Uh. Yeah. In the flesh. [ Apparently. He has about three seconds before he's squashed up in a hug and ah-- yep. Oof. ]
[ The bunker may in fact be "like Folsom Prison Blues," but it's Dean and Sam's home. Castiel has been fortunate enough to be welcomed into this space as well, and it's that sense of loyalty to the Winchesters and the values the brothers share that has him defending it so ardently... even against Dean. Castiel feels a stab of guilt when Dean apologizes, but he recant any of what he'd said. There are precious memories formed in this place, along side terrible regrets. There's far more than just salt and iron in these walls. There's history, his shared history with Dean and Sam.
Guilt does strike him a bit more strongly once Sam is hugging Dean, though (and, more oddly, envy). Maybe he should've texted Sam. Would news like this be acceptable to send by text? He has no idea. Still standing awkwardly aside, he speaks up. ]
Dean's lost his memories. I found him walking along the road not far from here and offered to attempt to restore what he's lost, but he was... uneasy with the offer.
[ Castiel could go on, and plans to, but Sam leans back from Dean, not quite fully releasing him from the hug, and interrupts. "Hang on. You lost your memories?" He addresses Dean, which Castiel finds unsurprising, though he's the one with his mind intact and is perfectly capable of explaining on Dean's behalf. Sam spares only a glance at Castiel, as if for unspoken confirmation, before he continues to ask Dean directly, "What do you remember?" ]
[ Dean looks like he might make like a rabbit and run for the hills, being as squeezed by Sam as he is, the discomfort clear on his face as he's finally released from it. The relief is palpable, and he folds his arms over his chest to prevent it from happening again without explicit permission.
It's not Sam's fault, or Castiel's, but Dean is pretty tense and on a hair trigger. ]
Nothing. It's like what Castiel said. [ He gestures at Cas, and the fact he keeps referring to Cas as Castiel should be an indicator that no one stuttered. ] It's a big blank up here. I don't know how else to explain it. I woke up on a park bench in town, no idea who I was or where I was.
[ Really, he's lucky he's not babbling in a hospital somewhere, yammering on about Darkness and God's sister. ]
And now I'm here, because he [ again, he gestures to the angel, ] was the only one who seemed to know who the hell I was.
[ It seems impossible, improbable - but it's true, and he's standing right here. Not a demon, a shifter, nothing like that. Just...a blank, clean slate. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
If Castiel ends stabbed in the back or shot by Dean on this house tour, he wouldn't be wholly surprised.
Dean's commentary, though, rather than his mistrust, has Castiel turning back towards him as they walk with a scrunch to his eyebrows and a frown. ]
There's quite a lot here, actually. This building was a hub for scholars dedicated to researching and combatting supernatural activity in the United States for decades. The foundations are constructed of salted iron. It's a fortress impenetrable to all kinds of nefarious beings. The library, the weaponry, and the artifacts contained here are invaluable.
[ So you should SHOW IT some RESPECT is what Castiel is saying as he leads Dean upstairs. Around the bend, the room opens up to a brightly lit reading area, with shelves lined with books, separated by columns, and a series of empty tables, each with its own reading lamp.
...Well, almost empty tables. Sam is sitting, gangly-legged and hunched over a very large, old-looking book, his fingers curled under the next page. He turns his head slightly at the sound of footsteps, still reading. "Hey, Cas—" he begins to say, but when he lifts his head and realizes that not only is Castiel not alone, but whom he's with, Sam's head lifts fully, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open with disbelief. "Dean?" ]
no subject
[ He's just saying. There's some prison vibes, here. Plus, he's nervous and anxious as hell and in a place he's apparently lived with absolutely no recollection of it. It's intimidating, and he can tell he's toeing a line.
Castiel and Sam may just decide he isn't worth it, boot him to the curb. It's probably the safest bet, and he wonders (not for the first time in the past hour) if he shouldn't have just kept walking and waved off the awkward advances of the shorter so-called 'angel' and just...made his own way.
The library is nice, though. At least it's less prison ward and more...Harvard study group.
The inevitable happens too quickly, though, and Dean's faced with a shaggy haired moose that's now getting up without words to offer in comfort. He just smiles helplessly, shrugs his shoulders and gestures vaguely. ]
Uh. Yeah. In the flesh. [ Apparently. He has about three seconds before he's squashed up in a hug and ah-- yep. Oof. ]
no subject
Guilt does strike him a bit more strongly once Sam is hugging Dean, though (and, more oddly, envy). Maybe he should've texted Sam. Would news like this be acceptable to send by text? He has no idea. Still standing awkwardly aside, he speaks up. ]
Dean's lost his memories. I found him walking along the road not far from here and offered to attempt to restore what he's lost, but he was... uneasy with the offer.
[ Castiel could go on, and plans to, but Sam leans back from Dean, not quite fully releasing him from the hug, and interrupts. "Hang on. You lost your memories?" He addresses Dean, which Castiel finds unsurprising, though he's the one with his mind intact and is perfectly capable of explaining on Dean's behalf. Sam spares only a glance at Castiel, as if for unspoken confirmation, before he continues to ask Dean directly, "What do you remember?" ]
no subject
It's not Sam's fault, or Castiel's, but Dean is pretty tense and on a hair trigger. ]
Nothing. It's like what Castiel said. [ He gestures at Cas, and the fact he keeps referring to Cas as Castiel should be an indicator that no one stuttered. ] It's a big blank up here. I don't know how else to explain it. I woke up on a park bench in town, no idea who I was or where I was.
[ Really, he's lucky he's not babbling in a hospital somewhere, yammering on about Darkness and God's sister. ]
And now I'm here, because he [ again, he gestures to the angel, ] was the only one who seemed to know who the hell I was.
[ It seems impossible, improbable - but it's true, and he's standing right here. Not a demon, a shifter, nothing like that. Just...a blank, clean slate. ]
Sorry.