Chapter Text
Castiel searched for Abaddon everywhere, but he couldn’t find her. He waited for what felt like ages, figuring she had to be close. Each night he searched, and each day he listened. His only consolation was that he knew where she was headed—Mexico City. He hoped to find her before she escaped to such a large city, so he continued searching the makeshift villages along the border.
While he searched, he daydreamed of returning to Kotzebue after Abaddon was dealt with only to take Dean with him to another country. Maybe starting over somewhere new would be enough to keep Dean safe. Maybe if he could protect him better, they could still be together.
It was a fantasy. He knew that Dean had moved on with an unnamed, blurry-faced man. Besides, the location wasn’t the problem with their relationship, it was him. It was the way he’d dragged Dean into his world. There was no way to do that without hurting him. He knew it was impossible, but he couldn’t stop dreaming about it anyways.
The only thing he could do to push forward was to try and distract himself as much as possible. Even that was more difficult now that he knew about Charlie’s recent vision. He couldn’t think in terms of weeks anymore. Now the largest span of time he could concentrate on was days. One more day of hunting Abaddon. One more day of staying away from Dean.
He didn’t know how long ago he’d spoken to Michael and Charlie. He’d entirely lost track of time by this point. He figured he should call again to check. Charlie would know he was okay, but the rest of his family was probably tired of relying on her assurances alone.
“It’s August, Castiel,” Charlie answered the phone, already knowing the purpose of his call.
“August,” he repeated, almost like the word meant nothing to him now. He figured it didn’t since he wouldn’t be attending school anymore. His mind drifted again to Dean, wondering if he had started school yet. Charlie said she didn’t recognize the boy he was dating, so he must not be another student. Who could he be?
“We’re going to Saskatchewan to visit before the fall semester at Rochester begins,” Charlie continued. “You should come with us. It’s time for you to rejoin the real world.”
It annoyed him when she talked about him like he was some sort of hermit, but then, the term could be applicable at the moment. “I called you first this time,” he reminded her. That was more of a step towards socializing than he’d made in quite a while.
“Yes, but I’m betting you knew I was going to call soon if you didn’t check in,” she countered.
“What do you want, Charlie?” He grumbled.
“I already told you. I want you to come visit. Clearly, tracking Abaddon hasn’t been going well. You should take a break.”
He rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond.
“Casey left, by the way,” she added.
“She’s not in Saskatchewan anymore?”
”No, she left a few weeks ago. She told Balthazar she had something she needed to do, but he figures that meant she’d grown tired of our diet and wanted to go on a real hunt.”
“What if she’s coming to meet Abaddon…”
”It had crossed my mind, but I haven’t seen anything,” Charlie said, sounding frustrated.
He wondered why her visions seemed so unreliable when it came to anything relating to Abaddon, but maybe that had to do with her skill of evasion. “I chased Abaddon to the southern Texas border, but I lost her. I overheard her say she was heading to Mexico City, so maybe Casey is going there too.” He paused. “Does your ability have a geographical limit like mine does?”
”I can see you,” she reminded him.
“True.” Trying to sort through his jumbled thoughts felt like flipping through one of Michael’s massive medical textbooks. Maybe this was what it felt like to be human. “I wonder if Abaddon was talking to Casey about her plans to go to Mexico.”
“Oh, Hester will be pissed,” Charlie said, her voice dropping into the pitch she used when gossiping. “Maybe they had a fight and broke up.”
He didn’t care about whatever drama was going on between Hester and Casey. He only wondered if his theory was correct.
“Kali is angry at you, and Anael is just upset,” Charlie continued. “It’s time for you to give this up and come home, Castiel. It’s been months.”
“Charlie…”
“We have all given you space, Castiel, but this is getting to be ridiculous. You can’t spend the rest of your life isolating yourself and being depressed. I won’t let you!” He opened his mouth to argue, but she wasn’t finished. “If I don’t see you on your way to Saskatchewan within the next day, I will come down to get you, and I’ll drag you there myself!”
“Fine, Charlie! Jesus.”
He hung up the phone, grumbling to himself as he did. The last thing he wanted was to be around people, especially people who weren’t his family, but if going to Canada for a week would be enough to placate his family, it would be worth it. He could pick up his search for Abaddon afterwards.
John’s monster truck wasn’t parked in front of the house when Dean got home. His hands were still shaking from his close encounter with both Casey and the strange wolves. He didn’t expect John to be gone, but maybe he was at the bar. He opened the front door, surprised to find it unlocked, and sucked in a shocked breath when he took in the state of the living room. It looked like there had been an all-out fight in here. The coffee table lay in splintered pieces of wood across the floor, and he spotted a dent on the wall approximately the size of a fist. His heart sank. Had John gotten drunk and attacked Sam?
“Sammy?!” He shouted, rushing upstairs to his room. The second floor was entirely silent. “Sam?” He shouted again as he ran back downstairs. The house was empty.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam’s number, his heart racing as it rang and rang. When Sam didn’t pick up, he immediately called John. His dad picked up on the second ring.
“Dean.”
“What’s going on? The house is a mess! Where are you?”
”We’re in Barrow,” John said.
Dean paced the living room anxiously, trying to avoid stepping on shards of glass and wood. “And the house??”
”Everything is fine, Dean.” John’s voice was calm, but there was a tense undertone that made him nervous. “Sammy and I had a little fight. He tried to tell me about the bullying he’d been experiencing at school, but I wouldn’t listen. He got angry and took it out on the furniture. He’s been feeling sick recently, so I wanted him to see the doctor up here.”
He tried to picture Sam, all five feet and six inches of him, tearing up the living room in a fit of rage. It didn’t track at all with his personality. If anything, Dean was more likely to behave that way. Plus, he hadn’t seemed sick at all recently.
“Dad…”
”Everything is fine, Dean,” John interrupted, sounding angry now. “We decided Sam will go to school in Barrow with Jo. The kids are nicer up here.”
His brain stuttered to a stop. “School is starting in like a week! You think you can move him and get him enrolled by then??”
”It’s already done.”
He sank onto the couch, worried that if he kept standing he might fall over. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Well, what about me? You thought you’d just drag me up there without asking?”
“No, you’re staying in Kotz.”
”You want me to stay here by myself when my brother is mysteriously sick and angry enough to wreck our living room?” John was silent on the other end of the phone. “What the fuck is going on?!”
”What’s going on?” John repeated, his voice laced with a fury that sent a chill down his spine. “What’s going on is I know the truth now, and you’ve been lying to me and your brother for a long time now.”
His breath caught in his throat. “W-what?”
”I talked to Bobby, Dean. He told me the truth about that boy you’d been seeing. Your actions not only endangered yourself but Sam as well. You’re eighteen now, so you can have what you always wanted. You can live on your own.”
“Dad—” He started, but John hung up the phone.
He braced his hands on his knees as his vision swam. If he hadn’t been sitting on the couch, he definitely would have collapsed. His mind reeled, not just from the bizarre phone call but from his recent encounter with Casey. He couldn’t believe John would just leave him and take Sam to Barrow on a whim without saying anything. He also couldn’t believe that Bobby had broken the pact, since he truly believed it. Maybe Bobby figured that since the Novaks weren’t here anymore, there was no danger in breaking the pact. But why tell John in the first place since they were no longer a threat? He tried to process what had just happened, but none of it made any sense.
It took almost thirty minutes before his heart had calmed to the point where he felt safe to stand up. The first thing he did was lock the front door. It was stupid. A lock wouldn’t deter Casey if she came for him. The only good thing about John and Sam leaving was that they wouldn’t get caught in the crosshairs aimed directly at him. If Casey did come for him, nobody else would get hurt.
His chest ached as he replayed John’s words in his head. His choices had put them in danger. The Novaks would never hurt them, but he’d inadvertently brought other angels into their lives. If he hadn’t run to Seattle last year, Cain could have killed Sammy.
He swept up the pieces of broken glass and splintered wood mechanically, trying his best not to think. The Novaks were gone. Benny was gone. Now his brother was gone too. Agony washed over him in waves, and he had to stop what he was doing multiple times to press his arms uselessly around his torso. It didn’t do anything to dull the pain.
It had been hell just to get to this point. He couldn’t do it alone. When would he be able to see Sam again? John couldn’t possibly think he could keep him from driving up to Barrow to check on him, especially not after the flimsy excuse he’d made for their sudden departure. He thought about driving three hours to Barrow only for them to turn him away, and it crushed him.
It took him a few hours to sufficiently clean the living room. He couldn’t help thinking of the other times where he’d had to clean messes like this. They’d all involved yelling and dodging flying liquor bottles and fists. He tried to block out the memories, but the gap in front of the sofa where the coffee table used to be wasn’t easy to ignore.
He trudged downstairs to his room and pulled out his phone, hoping pointlessly that Benny or Sam had messaged him. They hadn’t. The time and date glowed on his phone screen as if mocking him. It took him a second to realize what day it was. It was the year anniversary of Missouri’s death.
He dropped his phone onto the bed as tears welled in his eyes. Her death had been the catalyst for everything—moving to Kotzebue, meeting the Novaks, falling in love with an angel, being attacked by Cain, losing the Novaks, spiraling into depression, and finally falling for Benny only to lose him too. Every bit of pain he was experiencing now could be tied to that one event. He sobbed into his hands, wishing he had the ability to be angry instead of sad. He wanted to yell, but there was nothing to yell at unless he wanted to yell at an invisible cancer.
His arms itched in a way they hadn’t in months. He stood and went to the bathroom, pulling out his razor blade from where he hid it at the back of his drawer. There was nothing to stop him this time, and he had no fight left in him to stop himself. He pulled off his flannel shirt, exposing the row of parallel scars lining his left forearm. They had all healed to the faintest pink.
Remembering how long it had been since he’d last cut himself almost stopped him, but when he tried to put the razor down, the tingling in his arms increased. Tears continued to slide down his face, and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness won out. He just wanted to escape the pain, if only for a little while. He pressed the blade into his wrist, comforted by the familiar feel of cold metal, and closed his eyes. Before he could begin the first line, the voice interrupted him.
Dean, stop! You promised!
Since he was alone in the house, he didn’t feel embarrassed to yell back. “You broke your promise too!” He slid the blade across his wrist and winced at the slicing pain. He hadn’t cut too deep into the skin, but beads of red appeared along the line a second later.
Please, Dean. Don’t do this.
“You’re not real!” He screamed. “You’re gone!”
He slid to the floor and cut a second line below the first. The familiar cloud of numbness approached, and he beckoned it to come closer as he cut himself again. His tears slowed as endorphins flooded his system, calming him down.
He knew he would never be able to sleep tonight, not with what waited for him out in the darkness. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He had nobody who could help him. He shivered in the confines of his bathroom and cut another line. The voice was wordless now as it growled in the back of his mind. He ignored it.
Finally, the fog covered his brain just enough to calm him down. It wasn’t the same as the numbness he’d achieved earlier in the year, but it would have to do. He stayed in the bathroom even though he knew two locks wouldn’t do much more than one. To keep himself calm, he imagined that the wolves had managed to kill Casey. If the wolves had killed her, then she wouldn’t be able to tell Abaddon he was unprotected. She wouldn’t be able to fulfill whatever plans she had for him. The idea was ridiculous, but it kept him from panicking.
Time passed as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on anything but Abaddon’s hungry navy eyes and bright red hair. Every noise outside made him twitch, but all he could do was hope he made it through the night.