My Life is a Movie (3/4) pt 1

[tenoko1]

Title: My Life is a Movie

Author: Tenoko1

Rating: PG-13

Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Gabriel, St. Peter, OFC(angel, so OFA?)

Spoilers: Uh, through the end of Season Five, I believe.

Summary: The case they were working is put on hold in light of one of their own being taken and held against his will. Dean is willing to go to any lengths to get him back.

Disclaimer: Supernatural, its story and characters, along with all songs mentioned/used belong to their respective owners.

Masterpost and Podfic

Chapter Three

            Well into the next day, Dean fully understood why they included music into the background of movies. They complimented and amplified the feeling of the characters and the scene, a song for every occasion.

            So the fact that both he and Sam currently were living with an appropriately dejected and defeated song playing as background music to their lives as they went about their day and utterly mundane tasks was fitting.

            Dean thought Sam wanted to talk. Sometimes he would glance over at his elder brother, brows furrowed like his thoughts were just running in endless circles and would continue to do so until they found a way past his lips, his mouth even opening to speak… only for his posture to deflate, gaze casting away, and lips pressing tightly together and they continued on in silence.

            The elder Winchester found himself alone more often than he usually would, per his own actions, rather than Sam’s. In fact, it seemed to suit them both, as Sam seemed just as restless, but neither of them willing to break the silence that had settled between them. Instead, he changed his clothes and laced up his sneakers and went to jog, perhaps to outrun his own thoughts.

Dean was tempted to do the same. To run until he was too exhausted to think anymore, to work out all the anxiety and pent up energy that had no outlet. He was restless and angry and worried and, well…

            Depressed.

            He was trying very hard not to give those feelings much attention. He was fine. Whether he was alone at the diner eating a lunch that held no appeal, roaming the town for signs of a prank and new clue in their case, or finding himself practically the only soul outdoors that day with the sky overhead crowded with gray clouds and a breeze that held the promise of rain, as if the very weather agreed with the way he felt.

            It probably did. In fact, the entire world seemed to sense something wrong in the balance and it was all eerily quiet, like the rest of the population were walking on egg shells around him, and it only made him angry.

            He would get past this, would be okay. He was being melodramatic, he told himself, a freaking girl like he always accused Sam of being. The amount of concern and worry he felt for the sake of Cas at the moment was absurd. The angel would be fine. He was fine. He would continue to be fine and everything would go back to the way it had been.

            Cas would come back. Heaven would allow him to come back. He would be fine, and Dean didn’t miss the angel at all. After all, Cas had only been gone a day.

            The uncertainty on Cas’ face when he’d received his summons haunted Dean though. The tension that had thrummed through the other man’s form like a wire pulled taunt enough to snap. The fear that had flashed through those blue eyes in such a way that made Dean scared for the sake of his friend, consumed with a sense of hopelessness because they couldn’t help Castiel, couldn’t even reach him if he needed help, that they wouldn’t even know.

            He hated it, ached with it. Their lives felt lopsided now, with one point of their makeshift family missing and on his own with no one to watch his back for him. Dean knew Sam was just as worried and unhappy at Cas suddenly being called away. Sam was the optimist, though,  or maybe the one most in denial, Dean having caught him more than once repeating to himself that Cas would, in fact, be fine. That he was an angel, for crying out loud, who’d been around longer  than either of them, had survived more battles than they could imagine, and had stood toe-to-toe with both Lucifer and Michael and walked away with his head held high.

            This didn’t make Dean feel in any better, the absence of Castiel only amplified as Dean realized how use they’d gotten to having him in their everyday lives. When he’d look to his right to ask a question and was left regarding empty air. When Sam brought breakfast and coffee for three instead of two. The way they would glance toward the Impala, as if to find their missing friend leaning against it while waiting for them.

            Yeah, and this wasn’t even taking into account the questions Dean knew Sam would have about the song that had been coaxed out of him right after the angel’s sudden departure. If neither of them was willing to broach the subject of Cas being forced back to Heaven, well, they definitely weren’t going there anytime soon.

            Not that Dean had answers. Or guesses. Or even a wild shot in the dark to go on as to what on God’s green earth that had been about.

            That was a lie. He knew. He knew the moment it happened what it was about, like a blindfold had been removed and he was suddenly able to take in the sights and colors all around him.

            He just wasn’t acknowledging it. Because he couldn’t. Not right now. It wasn’t his priority, after all. Further complicating his life held no appeal when he already had his hands full. His had a brother to keep out of trouble and his best friend was way deep in what the Winchesters fully considered Enemy Territory.

            Everything else seemed rather pointless by comparison. What was the point of continuing to play this game with a harmless creature of the supernatural when Cas could be in trouble? The thought drove Dean to near insanity, and was only quelled by the thought that Castiel would glower at him like he was an idiot if the angel realized they were worrying like they were.

            They didn’t think Cas couldn’t take care of himself; they knew he damn well could, that in fact, it was usually them ending up needing his help rather than the other way around. It was just that… they weren’t with him, watching his back, making sure whatever battle he found himself in the middle of, he didn’t find himself there alone.

--

            Sam’s long strides came to a slow halt when he spied the Trickster standing in the middle of the trail like he’d been waiting on Sam to finally catch up. He had a sucker in his mouth, making one cheek bulge out where it pressed against his teeth, the white stick poking out from the corner of his lips.

            The brunette man stopped several feet away from the archangel, not really sure what to expect. In fact, he’d half thought that the other man had been an illusion the day before, a trick of its own, because well… after his declaration that Dean and Cas get all the help they could, he’d sighed and vanished from sight, not even glancing at Sam who’d been staring stupidly at him, mouth working soundlessly as his brain tried to form a coherent sentence.

            Then Sam had been regarding empty air, causing him to whirl around, baffled, and maybe a little desperately.

            Now he appeared to be waiting on Sam, as if the younger Winchester had been late to their agreed upon appointment.

            “You’re really here,” stated the brunette, breathing heavily and eyeing the shorter man with no small measure of uncertainty. He frowned. “Why are you here?” If that came out sounding more suspicious than intended, well, it was with good reason.

            Unfolding his arms, Gabriel inclined his head in the direction Sam had been headed, walking. The taller male easily matched their strides, casting sidelong glances at his companion.

            “Heard there was some yoo-hoo going around letting people think he was me,” Gabriel said. “That the Trickster had settled in this town and gone soft with his pranks. I came to have a look-see.” He gave Sam an unimpressed look. “Kiddo, he’s most definitely not me. Lacks creativity.”

            Shrugging, Sam stuffed his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “I dunno. The musical element is one we’ve never seen before.”

            “Not in real life,” the angel remarked, as if that made any difference. “That’s a twist I can actually get behind. A musical curse that causes you to be completely honest. Not to say it hasn’t been done before.”

            “Completely honest?” questioned Sam, regarding him curiously. Gabriel met his eyes and arched a brow.

            “What? You thought Dean-o would break into a heartbreaking love song of his own accord, and serenade an illusion of my brother in front of a witness if he had a choice?”

            Sam shrugged again, looking away and down, kicking at the soft earth. “I just… I didn’t realize he felt like that about Cas, I guess.” Gabriel huffed with amusement, and Sam clarified, “I mean, I knew they cared about each other, but I guess I thought it was a lot simpler than…”

            “Than Dean entertaining the idea of them having a life together?”

            “He never said anything about it.”

            “Probably because he didn’t realize it himself,” guessed Gabriel. “That or he was in that much denial about the whole affair. Then again, the song choice suggests it’s something he’s actually thought a lot about, but never voiced.”

            “I knew they liked each other beyond friendship, but I thought it was mix of a crush and curiosity. And sexual tension. The potential for something, but not already something. Dean doesn’t fall in love, especially not with men.”

            “Castiel isn’t a man,” shrugged the shorter male. “Just man-shaped.”

            The younger Winchester regarded him. “I don’t suppose you can find out what Cas’ summons were about and let us know do you? Dean’s probably going out of his mind worried about him. Hell, I’m going out of my mind worried about him.”

            Turning his head, Gabriel’s brow swept up. “And then what? Finding out would do what? What if it’s something bad? What if it isn’t? What if it isn’t something bad, but still keeps Castiel away for the rest of your lives, what then?”

            “First, we just want to know Cas is safe,” snapped Sam angrily. “He’s apart of our family now, and we don’t just abandon each other.”

            The other man stopped, turning so that Sam was forced to stop walking or either run right into him. Hazel eyes regarded him, curiously, inquiringly, like he were trying to flesh out a puzzle.

            “Would that make you happy, Sam?” he wondered. “My brother’s safety?”

            The brunette frowned, not sure where this was going, but feeling like he was missing something. “I’d feel a lot better, yeah. Cas doesn’t need us to hold his hand, but neither Dean nor I like him not having someone to watch his back for him.”

            The arch angel had his head angled to the side, brows furrowed contemplatively, making Sam fidget.

            “He’s not,” began Gabriel, annunciating, “one of you, as you say.” His head angled in the other direction. “He’s nothing like you, in fact, completely removed from all parallels of similarity, something altogether alien and removed. An angel isn’t a person with wings, Sam. We aren’t even people. Do you care for him simply because he emotes human feelings and wears the face of a human?”

            Sam scowled darkly. “Cas is our friend. He’s our friend regardless of what he looks like. He’s our friend because of who he is, not what he is, because of his choices and convictions.”

            “Is that why you only care for him and none of my other brothers?”

            “None of them have stood by and fought beside us like Cas has, risked everything against insurmountable odds. He’s the only one to have done so. We trust him with good reason.”

            “I died trying to help you, if you recall.”

            Scoffing, Sam stepped around him and kept walking. “That wasn’t for us,” he snapped. “And rumors of your death appear to have been greatly exaggerated.”

             “What would you be willing to give in order to have Castiel back?” Gabriel called after him. Sam pivoted. “If I could ensure he’d be allowed to stay on earth with you two for as long as you’ll have him? What price would you pay?”

            Sam knew what his brother’s response to the question would be, but he didn’t know his own. For himself? Not too much, really. He cared about Cas, sure, but if he had to pick between Cas and Dean, well, his brother would win every time.

What he would be willing to give for Cas for the sake of Dean, well… that was a different story.

            “Whatever I have to,” stated Sam, causing Gabriel to give him a pointed look. “My life or soul not included, of course. Nothing that would leave Dean on his own.” The angel inclined his head, and the hunter eyed him suspiciously. “How much would it cost us to have Cas back on earth? If that’s what he wants, that is.”

            The angel blinked lazily. “It’s what he wants,” he said finally, then turned and made his way again, passing the hunter.

            Sam watched the slight man, eyeing his back in bewilderment. “Can you help us?” he called after the sandy blond man. The angel kept walking. Sam tried again. “If you know what we’re willing to pay, what would be your cost to help us?”

            The blond paused, keeping his back to the brunette for a long moment before glancing back over his shoulder, cheek lifting in a way that Sam knew he was smiling like he’d won.

            “Come walk with me, Winchester.”

--

            When Dean pushed the door to the motel room open, the sight of two sets of eyes swiveling to regard him stopped him cold.

            It’s not the eyes he’s use to. They weren’t familiar at all. In fact, one of the sets of eyes belongs to something clearly not human. The other person, while human in appearance, is also clearly not. Angels exude a presence. They also have a similar lack of facial expression that almost seems a hereditary trait.

            He entered the room, removing his jacket and laying it across the back of a chair. “How can I help you?”

            The angel and the creature regarded each other, as if trying to determine who had the right to speak first. Dean decided for them, pointed to the young woman with blonde hair in a pony tail and a business suit.

            “You, angel lady,” he called. Her green eyes flicked to him. “What brings you here?”

            The knee-high creature with owl large eyes and large, bat-like ears reached up to remove his crocheted cap, clasping it with long, bony fingers, watching nervously as the human and the angel interacted.

            Dean just stared at her tiredly, waiting patiently with his hands on his hips. He didn’t really care why she was there. If angels wanted his help, the answer was ‘no’. If they wanted him to do something, the answer was ‘no’. If the world was in danger and it was divine prophecy that he and Sam once again save it, well, the answer was most assuredly ‘hell no’.

            She should have come a day or two earlier when he was in a much better mood.

            “You and your brother are considered the Ambassadors of Earth, spokesmen for humanity.” He blinked in surprise at her words. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “If either the forces of Heaven or Hell have business that might involve humanity, we know we will have the Winchesters to deal with, whether it be good or bad, you decide whether or not our work will go smoothly or at all, really. We want to start over with you. We would like to make amends to you,” she began, regarding him as though she didn’t trust him anymore than he did her. Good. Wary was very good. She had good sense, which was more than he could say for some of the other angels he’d met in the past.

            He said nothing, just watched her until she was forced to fill the silence, “We want to reward you. For your previous aid in saving our Father’s creation and putting an end to the war between Heaven and Hell.” He arched a brow. “A peaceful life,” she continued. “You and your brother will be allowed to retire from this violent life and live normal lives, such as you both desire.”

            When he continued to stare at her flatly, a flicker of confusion and perhaps annoyance passed over her lovely face. “Have you nothing to say?”

            Pursing his lips, he nodded and stepped further to one side, hooking his thumb at the door. “Yeah, I do. Not interested in anything from any of you. Hit the door, sister.”

            She blinked with a start, clearly not having expected that. It struck Dean that she was not like the angels he typically dealt with, and that this even seemed a little bit out of her element. She didn’t know him, not like the other angels had seemed to. She knew of him, and Sam, but she had no idea how to deal with him or what he was like and what to expect. She’d come just expecting to deliver the message.

            She wasn’t haughty or pushy either, making Dean soften when he took in her obvious puzzlement. Apparently, Dean Winchester being oppositional had not been in her briefing. Poor kid.

            Sighing, he softened, pulling out the chair at the table and indicating the one opposite him as he took a seat. Inclining her head, she took the seat across the faux wood table.

            “Dean,” she began softly. “I was told to come make a peace gesture to you. To find some way to make amends for what you and your brother were put through. If you do not desire a peaceful life free of-“

            He held up a hand, cutting her off. “It’s not… that, uh…” He frowned, not knowing what to call her.

            “Azriel,” she provided.

            He considered that a moment, then nodded. “Okay, Az. Look, it’s not that we don’t want a peaceful life or to get out of the hunter lifestyle. I guess, if we wanted it bad enough, we’d both go for, I know we’ve thought about it. Sam could go put his giant brain to better use, finish his schooling and become a lawyer or a doctor and go save the world one person at a time in his own way.”

            She angled her head slightly, not quite the same way Castiel did so often, letting her gaze flick over his face as though searching for the answer to some unasked question.

            “What about you? What would you do?”

            Sucking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, settling back into his chair and feeling everyone of his seventy-some years. He was tired and lost. He had no direction and no energy to seek one out right now. Not today. Not this week. Not when a member of their family had just been yanked away from them just the day before, and both he and Sam were trying to figure out how to rebalance their lives when one-third of it was suddenly gone.

            He shook his head. “Not a damned clue, to be honest.” He forced a small, tight smile. They should have sent girls to talk to him in the past rather than ladder climbing douche bag bureaucrats with a deadly case of self-importance and entitlement. He felt himself slipping into helpful FBI agent against his will, drawing on fake patience he didn’t feel.

If his father had taught them anything exceptionally well, it was firearms and acting.

“Look, Az, I understand you’re just doing your job, and I appreciate the gesture, mainly because you seem a lot more decent than some of the angels I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with in the past, but right now is not a good time to try and make peace with me when your people threw us a curveball just yesterday.”

She frowned, turning her head and regarding him dubiously. “I don’t understand… What have we done to you recently?”

“Friend of ours,” he told her flatly, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he forced out the words. “Castiel.” Recognition flicked in her eyes, but her face remained carefully neutral. “Received summons and was forced back to Heaven yesterday with no warning and no idea if he’ll be allowed back.” He smiled at her again, and there was nothing friendly about it this time around. “My brother and I are none too happy about that at the moment.”

She looked down at the hands on the tabletop, mouth twisted just the slightest as she regarded her perfectly manicured hands. “I…see.” Dean didn’t think she did. That was the problem with angels. They didn’t see. She looked back up, dark green eyes finding his. “I understand. We’ll give you time, then, before attempting to make amends again. Perhaps you will be less conflicted about the path forward you wish to take.”

She stood suddenly, catching him off guard, and he rose too, eyeing her warily. The corner of her mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

He didn’t say anything; rather confused by this new angel they had sent down as messenger. Perhaps they had learned from previous attempts though, and for that he was grateful. When he nodded to her, she vanished from sight.

After a long silence, the little gray-green creature standing awkwardly in the middle of the room cleared its throat to gain Dean’s attention, looking sheepish as the hunter regarded it. Ridiculously large ears folded back guiltily to lay flat against it’s skull when green eyes zeroed in on it.

With a sigh, Dean settled back down in his seat, motioning once again to the chair across from him. The little creature shook its head, wringing the hat he’d worn nervously.

“Gip came with message.”

“You’re Gip, I assume?” The thing nodded, impossibly large, round eyes blinking. “What are you Gip?”

“Gip is a goblin.”

“But your friend we saw the other day. That wasn’t a goblin.”

Gip shook his head. “Was gremlin. Tunker. Play prank on boys. Play chase.”

Dean nodded like that made any kind of sense to him. “So goblins and gremlins are working together then? What are you doing in this country to begin with?”

“We came with the young master.” The human arched a brow but said nothing, waiting for the funny looking thing to elaborate. It didn’t, just smiled a sheepish and toothy smile at him.

Sucking in a deep breath, Dean let it out with “Of course you did.” The goblin nodded happily.  From what little he knew of goblins, this bat eared creature was not what he’d been expecting. Dean scratched at his jaw with the back of his thumb, gesturing to the goblin with his hand. “Okay. What’s the message?”

“Young Master give you no pranks as gift,” the goblin explained, before dropping his gaze and only offering Dean the briefest uncertain, and almost apologetic glance, “Because humans loose friend. Humans are sad, so Young Master give three days. No pranks.”

A dark scowl made its way onto Dean Winchester face then, glaring so fiercely that the goblin squeaked and jumped back a step, tugging its hat over it’s head and floppy ears protectively.

“No deal,” he snapped. “This game is still on and we will find your boss. And tell him to mind his own damn business.”

The goblin nodded rapidly and disappeared from sight with a sound like a popping bubble.

To Part 2 of Chapter 3