INBOX #305682

[foolintherain]

TEXT | VIDEO | AUDIO | IMAGES | EMOJIS

"I can't answer my phone right now, but you know what to do."

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[VOICE]; UN: [USERNAME NOT SET]

[demonicbeauty]

[Ariadne spends a few moments working up her nerve to make this call. It isn't that she's uncomfortable or afraid of the man. She's spent enough time around the Winchesters to understand that he's a good fellow.

It's just that the conversation is so uncomfortable. She worries about what kind of impression she might be making. But Evelyn is right. They need to talk to someone about Sam, and Dean clearly isn't the right someone.

So her little voice pipes up on the network, light and airy as a sparrow's song.]

Excuse me? I beg your pardon...I hope I'm doing this right. I'd like to speak with Master Castiel?

[She's still crap with the network. But that's an ongoing problem.]

[voice] un: 42069

[foolintherain]

[ The combination of that voice and the suspicious lack of username is familiar to Cas, but there have been a lot of people on the network, and he's not entirely sure he knows which one this is. You know what they say about assuming. ]

Call me Cas.

[ His voice is the opposite of hers. Gravelly, deep, flippant. Less birdsong and more sandpaper that's been used so much in one spot that there's a big, smooth hole worn down the middle. There's an empty smile in the sound. ]

What can I do you for, stranger?

[demonicbeauty]

[She recognizes the voice immediately, from the final days of Deerington, squatting in Dean's cabin, listening in on this, that, and the other thing just to distract herself from the sense of walls closing in. Ariadne was a bit too shy to approach him, but there's no mistaking that voice.]

Well, Mister Cas, I was hoping I could arrange a meeting.

For us.

I mean, you, and myself, and Mistress Evelyn? We were sort of hoping to speak to you about a sort of delicate matter.

text; un impala67

[venatoris]

have you talked to Sam lately?

un: 42069

[foolintherain]

the miniature or standard version?

[ It's probably not great that Dean is asking, either way. ]

[venatoris]

moose sized.

voice message; un impala67

[venatoris]

[ sometime after this-- ]

Cas, it's Dean. Just met up with Sam. Careful of him, we got in a fight and he tried to knife me. Dunno what he's really capable of without that soul.

voice message; un impala67

[venatoris]

Hey. I have something for you. I ordered it ages ago, forgot about it. Left it on the pillow in the master, if you want it, which I kinda doubt. It's ugly as sin.

[ a bracelet he'd comissioned ages ago from his own blood sits on the bed in 'their' room, the room he hasn't been sleeping in, because it has too many memories. ]

> action

[foolintherain]

[ The voice message is unnecessary, considering Castiel can hear Dean's thoughts when they're directed at him. ...Also, considering Castiel has been doing little else these past two weeks than following Dean around, lurking invisibly in corners in a way Dean would very much not approve of, which is why he isn't allowed to know.

It's that much more startling when Dean's voice is suddenly directed at him, and Castiel perks up to listen and to watch as Dean lays a bracelet on the covers of the bed he used to sleep in. The guilt Castiel feels in that moment is thick and choking. It's an emotion he isn't supposed to feel, given angels aren't meant to feel anything.

Castiel crosses his arms, watches Dean leave the room and, for once, doesn't follow him. He stares at the bracelet and thinks about how pointless this all is. Dean isn't recovering; he isn't bouncing back to his sarcastic but vibrant former self. And while Castiel is used to suppressing feelings he knows are inappropriate, he isn't used to being the cause of Dean's suffering.

It's a vile feeling, Castiel thinks as he steps out of a neighboring plane of existence and into the room, wings settling across the divide. He scoops up the bracelet, which looks delicate and lovely between his fingers. He remembers the bracelet he buried, and the red and green flower that bloomed from it, now wilted alongside of Deans. He remembers the way he laughed in this room as his arms wrapped around Dean's shoulders, and how Dean smiled, and whether seeing that smile is worth sacrificing Sam's soul, and control of Heaven and all of their home universe, a short distance from this one.

Of course it is. It always has been. Chest tight, Cas slides the bracelet onto his wrist and hurries across the room, pulls open the door, and follows the path Dean took down the hallway with urgent steps. ]

Dean?

voice. un: sam | not long after dean and cas woke up bc im lame and slow

[beforetheverse]

So, um. Cas.

You're... different from before, right? I mean... you're not... my Cas anymore?

You're from the right timeline now, I mean. The better one?

[This is really weird. Also there's, um, y'know. The whole 'are you and my brother a thing' that came up, but he had been so side-tracked by his older self being... not right either... Man, they're all such a complete mess.]

voice. un: 42069 | slowbro high-five

[foolintherain]

[ Ah, well this conversation was inevitable. It would be better had in person, Castiel thinks, but then there's a higher chance of running into the other Sam, or worse, Dean, so... This is fine. Voice, it is. ]

Hello, Sam. I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner. I'm...

[ That's a good question, actually? Castiel has other more immediate problems involving the Winchesters. He hadn't given the nature of circular timelines much thought until now. ]

I'm the same person that I was, but—

[ Just, you know, not constantly stoned and/or inebriated, also not depressed and not remotely human, anymore, so... Very different, actually. #itscomplicated ]

—my grace has been restored, and I somehow returned to a point before it had ever been lost, as if that reality - the one you, Dean, and I remember - was... cyclical, I suppose is the best way to describe it.

A Prayer. End of November.

[family_remains]

[Because texts and voicemails can (and often do from Sam) go ignored. But a prayer can't be blocked out that he's aware of. Like a direct, unstoppable line, poor bastard on the other end.

Sam hasn't done much praying for a while now. And in Trench? None at all. Not that it matters, no one would have heard them.

This, however, is a strategic prayer. So pick up, shithead. ]

O Castiel. Who art.. wherever. It's Sam. Listen to me.

So.. my soul is missing? I guess? But I might know where it is. I can fix this.. there's this cat, apparently. And on it's collar is a marble or jewel or something. Anyway, story goes it holds a whole universe inside it. So I think it's there. If you could just come here for a minute...

action

[foolintherain]

[ If Sam thinks that Castiel can't ignore a prayer, he doesn't know Castiel very well.

And honestly, he's tempted. This isn't entirely Sam, after all. So this "prayer" is probably a ploy or a trap, or an excuse to get more weed. Cas is very tempted to ignore it.

Unfortunately, Castiel hasn't had much luck remedying the "trapped soul" problem on his own, and there is a chance, however slim, that Sam is telling the truth. With a sigh, Castiel steps out of the third dimension, wings opened in flight, and a moment later, he appears standing in front of Sam, his hair and coat gently stirred by the momentum. ]

I've never heard that story. You have a cat?

text— prayer? Idk

[venatoris]

Cas we gotta do something about Sam. He’s sending dick pics now

text;

[foolintherain]

That's distasteful but relatively harmless
If it's keeps him from other, more violent pursuits, it may be worth enduring

[ Like sorry your brother sent you a dick pic Dean but like it's nothing you haven't seen before amirite ]

11/26ish, before death

[venatoris]

hey i had a thought

since we're like new and improved and shit

are you a virgin, does this mean I get to rail you for the first time again

BEFORE DEATH why u do this to me

[foolintherain]

Yes Dean
Please reveal to me the secrets of how humans experience physical intimacy

A prayer! December 4th

[pabugotmoves]

[Angels are not a thing where Bolin is from, but Dean described Castiel as a spirit and Bolin knows about those so he does this the only way that makes sense to him.

He has lit a candle in the middle of his room along with some incense and a cup of fresh water. There is an apple, some rather fetching looking mushrooms and a single red spider lily placed carefully on a plate as offering.

Bolin is sitting on his knees, bent over with his hands and head touching the floor.]

Great Spirit Castiel, please hear me. Dean told me to pray to you if anything happened.. and I'm not sure if it has or not but I guess that's why I'm trying to speak to you. I've been calling him all week and he hasn't shown up to rehearsal or told anyone where he is or what he's doing...

I don't know where he lives or I would come and check on him.

Please... let me know that he's alright? I won't be mad if he's decided to drop out of the production, I'm just worried about my friend.

I, um.. okay. Okay, I'm going now. Please help yourself to these gifts.

Thank you.

:,) tldr > action

[foolintherain]

[ There is a lot that Castiel needs to atone for. He used to medicate these feelings away. Before that, he would pray, and that's what he's been doing, since leaving Sam. He should feel strange praying to a different world's gods, but these ones here in Deer Country have always been friendlier than his own. He sits cross-legged in front of a very stately spruce with a desiccated black dahlia planted at its base, and he prays for Dean's safe return.

—At least he prays until he's interrupted. His eyes open and he stares at the shriveled maroon petals as he listens, and considers if it's worth responding. Word will spread. All of Dean's friends will find out eventually, through each other. Castiel's responsibility these days extends as far as the occupants in the cabin behind him, and, well... We see how well that's been going. Better to be distant and not interfere.

"I'm just worried about my friend." Castiel stars at the mass of wilted dahlia, and remembers Dean, and what Dean was like before the world ended, and now again, and how much he valued his friends, like family.

With a sigh, he stands, and in the next blink, he's standing in Bolin's room behind the plate of offerings he's made; a gust of wind from the flight blows out the candle, stirs the tail of smoke from the incense, and ruffles the leaves of the spider lily. Castiel's hands are at his side, shoulders stiff, and his voice is rough, as if from screaming or disuse, or both. He looks down at the boy kneeling before him, and the plate of food. ]

I'm sorry; I don't eat. Offerings like this are...

[ His eyes track over the red spider-lily and his head tilts slightly as he wonders if there's any such thing as coincidence. ]

...Unnecessary. But thank you.

text; un impala67

[venatoris]

[ sometime after this conversation-- ]

Cas. Have you reverted? Did you really get Bolin shitfaced?

text; un: thursday

[foolintherain]

I'm not sure what you mean by "reverted"

[ why does that sound like an insult ]

12/24 gifts so i dont forget

[venatoris]

[ a christmas gift for you, Castiel.

A mixtape!

1. Immigrant Song
2. Kashmir
3. When the Levee Breaks
4. The Song Remains the Same
5. Travelling Riverside Blues
6. Nobody’s Fault But Mine
7. In My Time of Dying
8. Ramble On
9. What Is and What Should Never Be
10. The Ocean
11. You Shook Me
12. In The Evening
13. The Rain Song

enjoy.

also, a plushie, with a sticky note that says 'to cuddle when I'm out hunting'.

AND--

To accompany Cas' bracelet Dean gave him, there's also prayer beads that are made from his blood. ]

[foolintherain]

[ The first thing Castiel does, after wrapping the mala around his wrist and thumbing through the beads with practiced, rhythmic motion, is play the mixtape on the bedroom's stereo. He smiles to hear it isn't just Led Zeppelin IV in consecutive order, but actually Dean's favorite tracks. That knowledge is precious, and Castiel savors it with every transition to the next song.

No doubt Dean has many people to gift things to, and so Castiel waits where he knows Dean will inevitably return: in bed. He sits on the edge, dressed down in just a white dress shirt and black slacks, counting the beads wrapped around his wrist to the rhythm of Robert Plant's crooning. The little effigy of Dean also sits patiently on the bedside table, though the note's been removed. ]

text; un impala67

[venatoris]

[ enjoy this image texted to ur phone ]



you better show up to this.

text; thursday

[foolintherain]

Of course. I wouldn't miss it.

[ You can't see it but he's smiling so wide. ]

This is the play you're in?
What's it about?