Frankenstein's Monster (Cas)

[Sam Winchester]

[cs=2][atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #845a48; background: #070C0A url(http://i51.tinypic.com/vpyxib.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 774px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px; height: 40px;]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, padding: 20px 10px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #a17361; width: 150px;] LOCATION: Prairie Motel in Salem, Oregon MUSIC: None at the moment. Sesame Street. WEARING: The ever-present plaid, jeans and boots. NOTES: Downtrodden and tired.

[atrb=style, padding: 0px 10px 50px 10px; color: #a17361; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000;][atrb=valign,top] He snuck up the outside stairs and back to his room and quietly as possible. He did not want, or need, Ruby coming out to check on him and getting upset. Sam had dealt with that quite enough recently. He was a grown man. If he wanted to go hunting, he could do it. Nevermind that he seemed to be losing his ability without his brother at his back. He shut the door and hobbled over to the bed, which he sat down in rather heavily. He hurt so badly these days. Of course, that made complete sense what with all the half-healed wounds and bruises littering his long body. His most recent additions, the ones he was sure would frighten even Norah, was a half-swollen face and some cracked ribs along with a twisted shoulder that was quickly stiffening. He pulled out some bandaging to try and hold his ribcage together, already planning his next big hunt. Sam did not want to face the fact that he was failing very badly at what he'd done all of his life. He refused to acknowledge that each night he came back worse than before. That was probably because he wasn't giving himself the time to heal. He had retreated almost entirely from everyone. Rarely coming out to spend time with the band or various hangons, making arrangements for Ruby to have her own from and sneaking around like a thief, he knew he was falling apart. He pulled a beer out of the mini fridge in his room, tried to get his swollen, stiff jaw to loosen up and sipped at the alcohol. He was a mess, he was lucky he hadn't broken any bones, yet. From old knife wounds to a gun shot wound in one shoulder, Sam was falling apart. He was certain that if Dean saw him now he'd call him Frankenstein. And wouldn't that be appropriate? Trying to relax, despite how much pain he was in, he flipped the television on to Sesame Street. The letter of the day? S. S for Sam.

[Castiel]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/11sfgco.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #c5c3bb; width: 500px; height: 600px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "You are going to kill yourself. Again." Someday, maybe, Castiel would learn to knock. Or at least to announce his arrival in any way other than by starting to speak as though they were already mid-conversaion. The angel stepped forward toward Sam, looking him over seemingly dispassionately. A person would have to know Castiel well to see the worry on him, it was in the squint of his eyes and the extra crispness of his movements. "What were you after tonight?" He didn't ask whether it would be okay to heal him, just reached out to do it because he wasn't going to have any patience if Sam tried to come up with some insane reason not to allow it. Once he'd drawn the damage out of Sam's body, absorbed the broken and left wholeness behind, Castiel went over to the mini-fridge and got a beer of his own. He wasn't sure whether he was more fond of beer than he was cheeseburgers but as sins of the flesh went they were both pretty good. "What are you doing, Sam? I don't understand what you think you're accomplishing." Location: Prairie Motel, Salem OR Music: Wayfaring Stranger - Jamie Woon Notes: One of many human behaviors that Castiel completely fails to understand: self-destruction.

[Sam Winchester]

[cs=2][atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #845a48; background: #070C0A url(http://i51.tinypic.com/vpyxib.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 774px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px; height: 40px;]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, padding: 20px 10px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #a17361; width: 150px;] LOCATION: Prairie Motel in Salem, Oregon MUSIC: None at the moment. Sesame Street. WEARING: The ever-present plaid, jeans and boots. NOTES: Spiraling every downward.

[atrb=style, padding: 0px 10px 50px 10px; color: #a17361; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000;][atrb=valign,top] Sam didn't even jump. He was so used to Cas, or other angels, just showing up. However, it was only Castiel who had a tendency to show up with words falling off his tongue. "No'm naugh..." He couldn't talk right. Of course, the angel took one look at him and brushed all the injuries away. The young Winchester blinked and sat up straight. Now that the debilitating pain was gone, he felt ready to go off on another hunt. "I didn't deserve that, you know. I killed you, remember?" He took a pull from his beer and sighed heavily. "It was a shifter. He beat the shit out of me before I got a good shot in. But he's down now, he won't be causing anyone problems anymore." He made as though to check off a list in the air. "One down, five million more to go." Sam met Cas's gaze and then looked away just as quickly. "I'm saving the world, just like always. Except my family is in pieces. And my brain's too sensitive for anyone to let me walk more than five steps on my own. I've had to resort to sneaking around so I can do my damn job." He thought he heard Dean's voice leave his throat, but he ignored it. "I screwed up Cas. I don't know how or when or even where, but Dean finds me a burden and, while I wasn't looking, some girl showed up pretending to be my sister. My head is a time bomb just waiting to go off, and I've missed an entire year. I'm lost, so I'll do what I've always done. Hunt." He sat up suddenly, gaze intense with pain and rage and a sense of utter loss. "I thought it was over, you know? When I jumped. I thought that that meant the world was saved from the Big Bad. But, it turns out I was too egotistical again. Now I'm back. Why? And who would do such a thing? I've heard stories, Cas. About me. Things I don't remember doing. That scares me worse than anything else."

[Castiel]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/11sfgco.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #c5c3bb; width: 500px; height: 600px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "You didn't kill me," Castiel said, not even exasperated. "Lucifer did. You fought Lucifer long enough to save the world, remember?" He looked at Sam for a long moment, his brow furrowed. "Sam," there was a terribly plaintive note in his voice. "I'm not good at this. You know I don't know how to be comforting or soothe people." He shook his head, frowning horribly. "I do not have the people skills for this. All I have is logic and logic does not work. You did not screw up and you are not a burden and Nichole is not pretending to be your sister except in that she assumes that simply sharing blood must necessarily mean that you love her and want to cherish her and adopt her into every aspect of your life and consider her in every decision and possibly get very upset when she kisses a man." He sounded increasingly lost as he listed off those items, knowing them to be true without in the least understanding them. "That your head is a time bomb we both know is true. That you screwed up is not. The things which have happened this past year are not your fault. And--" he shook his head, looking both baffled and sad, "and saying these things will not make you believe them. But I don't know why that is." A long series of swallows, finishing the beer. "Ask your questions, Sam." Location: Prairie Motel, Salem OR Music: Wayfaring Stranger - Jamie Woon Notes: So doesn't want to make that offer.

[Sam Winchester]

[cs=2][atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #845a48; background: #070C0A url(http://i51.tinypic.com/vpyxib.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 774px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px; height: 40px;]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, padding: 20px 10px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #a17361; width: 150px;] LOCATION: Prairie Motel in Salem, Oregon MUSIC: None at the moment. Sesame Street. WEARING: The ever-present plaid, jeans and boots. NOTES: He's gone around the bend!

[atrb=style, padding: 0px 10px 50px 10px; color: #a17361; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000;][atrb=valign,top] Didn't kill him? Sam very distinctly remembered Lucifer's terrifying rage at what Cas had done to Michael. Not to mention the satisfaction, he felt polluted with it. It hurt that Lucifer had used his body to destroy his friends, to attempt to kill Dean. "Who says I want comfort? Cas, this isn't self-pity. I very seriously doubt any amount of comfort would fix me." His voice was a bitter twist of pain and self-aimed rage. He was still so angry, with himself, with Nichole, with Dean. He wanted to go back. All the way back before Ruby, before Dean's death. He missed Cas's words about Nichole when a thought struck him. Angels could time travel. "I could fix this, Cas." His gaze filled with half-crazed hope. "You could take me back. I could stop the resurrection. I could stop Dean from...From saving me. History could be altered. Lucifer, the Apocalypse, none of it would have happened." Sam smiled at the thought, a little dreamily. "Just think, what if you'd never had to bring Dean back? What if you'd never had to Fall in order to save the planet?" His intense hatred for Nichole was forgotten for the moment. Sam was distracted by the idea of simply turning back time and preventing Dean from bringing him back. Hadn't that been where things went wrong? If Sam had simply stayed dead, been burned as every hunter's body was burned, then Dean might have eventually had to force himself to move on. His failures where Lucifer were concerned would never have happened and Dean wouldn't hate him. Vaguely, his brain filtered what the angel had said about the blonde girl. "I don't give a damn about that girl. I'd rather the idea of Dean living a life free of the destruction I cause. Jo would be there..." Sam's too-bright gaze fixed on Cas. "Do you think it might prevent the apocalypse?"

[Castiel]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/11sfgco.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #c5c3bb; width: 500px; height: 600px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "No, Sam. No, it doesn't work that way." He forced eye contact, "Remember, Azazel had an avatar in Jake Talley, the moment you died Jake became Azazel's man. He walked into the iron pentacle, he had everything he needed to open the Devil's Gate and keep it open long enough for Hell to empty itself into our world, instead of the thirty or forty-five seconds it took before you and Dean closed it. He would have killed Ellen--remember him forcing her to turn her gun on herself? And there wouldn't have been a need for an apocalypse, because Hell would have taken over the world less than thirty-six hours after you died face-down in the mud." He dropped down to sit on the dresser, his shoulders slumped. "And if, somehow, the Gate had been closed again despite the fact that Dean would have been half-paralyzed with grief, that John might not have been able to appear, and that Azazel would have been at full power? Then the apocalypse would have been on again and all Michael would have had to do was to dangle you in front of Dean to get him to agree. And Lucifer would have worn Nick like a cheap suit right up until the crucial moment, at which point he would have called up the spare--Adam--and offered him the same promise that sucked him into this game the last time. And the apocalypse would have gone off as scheduled." "These things aren't as simple as taking a single player out of the game. Even if I were willing to do as you asked, which I am not, the Host and Azazel's horde would only have been strengthened by taking you out of the equation at any point. You and Dean, don't you understand?" He shook his head. "You're impossible. Both of you, you do things that can't possibly be done. The world needs you. Why do you think we keep dragging you back into it?" [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Prairie Motel, Salem OR Music: Wayfaring Stranger - Jamie Woon Notes: Not eloquent. [/style]

[Sam Winchester]

[cs=2][atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #845a48; background: #070C0A url(http://i51.tinypic.com/vpyxib.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 774px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px; height: 40px;]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, padding: 20px 10px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #a17361; width: 150px;] LOCATION: Prairie Motel in Salem, Oregon MUSIC: None at the moment. Sesame Street. WEARING: The ever-present plaid, jeans and boots. NOTES: Defeated questions.

[atrb=style, padding: 0px 10px 50px 10px; color: #a17361; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000;][atrb=valign,top] As soon as the first 'no' fell from Cas's lips, Sam deflated. Everything the angel said was true, he knew. It was wishful thinking to believe that the simple removal of his life would have changed anything. In the end, without Dean's sacrifice, things might have been a whole hell of a lot worse. He just felt so helpless. His posture changed over the course of Cas's speech until it looked like he was over-burdened again. Dull green eyes focused on the floor. Then there was no end to the torture, no way to absolve his past crimes in his brother's eyes. "That's a lot of pressure to put on us, Cas. Right now, we're not shaping up to be a whole hell of a lot of use to anyone, let alone the world. It really isn't fair, is it? This whole world-saving business. Is the cycle going to continue in its repetitious ways until we're too old for anyone to think we're important? Or will our souls simply be recycled for more use? I'm tired Cas. Of struggling. Of failing. It's my just reward, I suppose. No rest for the wicked, or something." Sam took a pull from his beer, nearly tipped it over when he set it down again. "Fine, whatever. Just tell me some things. Who brought me back this time? And why? I can't really believe the world needs me this time around, not when everyone keeps shuffling me around and ordering me about. What happened? I was in Hell, Sariel told me that much, but she wouldn't necessarily tell me...What happened while I was down there? Can a person really be in two places at once? Everyone keeps reminding me I was in Hell for well over a year, but then I hear rumors about things a hunter did. A hunter fitting my description. Spill, Cas." Despair crept into his voice, and Sam fought hard to keep his gaze lifted on the angel's face. His mind once more slid against the black nothingness inside his head, searching for a crevice, something to tell him what great mystery everyone was hiding. The wall remained solid and steadfast.

[Castiel]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/11sfgco.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #c5c3bb; width: 500px; height: 600px; padding: 0px;, bTable] It was no more than he'd been expecting, and Castiel gave a weary nod. "All right. But first another beer." Not that it would actually work on his constitution, but it was a nice thought. Castiel sat down on the edge of the room's second bed, his coat flapping wide around him, and opened the beer with a practiced twist of the wrist that was all Dean Winchester, a movement he'd seen so many times that he imitated it perfectly without even knowing that he was doing so. "I had hoped," he began in that raspy voice of his, "to give you more time before you needed to know these things. But perhaps that was an error. Perhaps knowing will help you rise from this black mood of yours where ignorance did not. I can never be sure with humans." He took a hard swallow of his beer and tried to decide where to begin. "Do you know what the difference is between the Horde and the Host, when it comes to our human agents? The one, only, real difference between how angels work through men and how demons do it? The demons bargain and then pay their price. The angels just keep taking, and only the promise of heaven at the end. Once we've laid our aegis on a human's life, we simply keep using them, over and over, until there's nothing left to have from them. Look at Job. Look at Esau. Hell, look at Abraham. Do you really think God bothered to send a ram? That's just people cleaning it up after the fact. Abraham killed Issac, and while he stood there with his son's blood splashed up to his elbows and still steaming in the morning air, we resurrected Issac as proof of God's power. It is what we do, what we've always done. And you, you've had the eyes of Heaven and Hell on you since before you were even conceived." Castiel watched Sam steadily. "I brought you back from the Cage. Me and a handful of more powerful allies, including Sariel. But I did it wrong, I failed you. I brought your life back, your mind. I rebuilt your body, but I didn't free you totally from the Cage. Your soul stayed behind. You were here, walking and talking and functioning. Hunting. But you were not yourself. Something else, something--" he cocked his head to the side in a deeply alien gesture, avian more than mammal. "Sociopathic." He hated young words, they were so hard to translate. "It took a year for anyone to figure out how to repair the hole in you. And it wasn't me who did so. Another, a nephilim, called in a favor with Death and had your soul retrieved and placed back into your body. And, in doing so, Death built the wall in your mind, to protect you from your memories. The memories of the Cage, and the memories of the things you'd done in the year between being resurrected and being made truly whole." He stopped, watched Sam with tired blue eyes, waited for the explosion whether it was angry or self-loathing. [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Prairie Motel, Salem OR Music: Wayfaring Stranger - Jamie Woon Notes: You asked for it, buddy. [/style]

[Sam Winchester]

[cs=2][atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #845a48; background: #070C0A url(http://i51.tinypic.com/vpyxib.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 774px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px; height: 40px;]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, padding: 20px 10px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #a17361; width: 150px;] LOCATION: Prairie Motel in Salem, Oregon MUSIC: None at the moment. Sesame Street. WEARING: The ever-present plaid, jeans and boots. NOTES: Yeah, Sam deserved what he got.

[atrb=style, padding: 0px 10px 50px 10px; color: #a17361; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000;][atrb=valign,top] Sam noticed his brother's presence in the angel and looked away, his jaw setting almost angrily. He was still upset with Dean, and impossibly hurt. He didn't want to be reminded of the eldest Winchester. When Cas broke the silence, the hunter leaned back against the headboard of the bed and watched his face. He was silent, not offering anything in particular as Cas spoke while images of Abraham standing bathed in his son's blood danced in his head. He wondered if that was what John had meant several years ago when he told Dean to....Shying away from that thought, Sam pushed the ugly imagery of Abraham out of his head. The fact that it had been Castiel and Sariel who had taken part in bringing him back mixed with the bitter emotions of the fact that they had failed. He had died for them and it hadn't been enough. The whole idea made him want to rail at Cas. Sam considered chucking what was left of his beer at the angel, but figured that it wasn't a good idea to alienate the only family he had left. Despite how angry he was. He dropped his gaze, stared at his hands. They had brought him back wrong and everything that had happened since was now his fault. His shoulders slumped as if weighed down by the burden of Cas's failure, by the memories he couldn't reach. A nephilim had saved him where angels could not. "Am I tool to you, Cas? Is that all we are, Dean and I? Just something to use and then, when we bother to die, drag us back to life? What if you grow tired?" His emotions were running wild and he didn't know if he was angrier at Cas for telling the truth or himself. "Every time someone tells me something, I just hate myself more. What am I supposed to do this time?" He paused, studied Cas thoughtfully. "What did I do, Cas? During that year. What happened? And who was the nephilim? I find it somehow hilarious that another angel-blooded being had to clean up my mess. Again." He huffed a breath and then frowned. "You didn't answer my question. Why was I brought back? You can't just play with life however you see fit, I'm not a toy. I'm just a broken..thing. I've really become a monster, haven't I? I don't even know how I should react!" He ran a hand through his hair, panic and frustration swirling in his head. "You should have left me. I paid my dues. I'd gotten what I deserved." His voice became pleading. "Why, Cas?"

[Castiel]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/11sfgco.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #c5c3bb; width: 500px; height: 600px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Castiel didn't get annoyed, didn't lash back at Sam. He wasn't sure he had that right, and he was quite sure that Sam had the right to be both angry and hurt. What Sam didn't have the right to was the toxic depression that he was wrapping around himself, and if Castiel had to pull all that ugliness and rage onto himself to break Sam out of it, he'd do that. But he answered the questions asked. "No, you're not just a tool to me. You are family, in ways I didn't know existed until I met you and Dean. If you were a tool and nothing more, I would have followed the prompting of my siblings and left you as you were, you were far more malleable that way." He shook his head, watching Sam with a certain wary affection. "Because you are the brother I want to have I worked to try to correct the wrong I did to you. And when I failed, I was incredibly grateful when someone else found a way." "But there is no reason for you to hate yourself, I don't understand why you keep thinking that. Things were done to damage you, by myself and others. You made mistakes, we made mistakes, but at least you have the moral advantage that your mistakes were never done with the foreknowledge that you would hurt anyone else. That's more than I can say. More than the rest of the Host can, or Lucifer, or even your father and brother. This self-hatred is unwarranted, pointless." He frowned down at his beer bottle. "And during that year, you hunted. Effectively. And you were brought back because you are needed. By your family, among other people. There are things your future holds that you should have the opportunity to experience. You were brought back because you didn't deserve to be locked up and tortured. You saved the world, and your portion for that was pain and punishment and you should have had better." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Prairie Motel, Salem OR Music: Wayfaring Stranger - Jamie Woon Notes: All he has is logic and love. [/style]

[Sam Winchester]

[cs=2][atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #845a48; background: #070C0A url(http://i51.tinypic.com/vpyxib.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 774px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px; height: 40px;]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, padding: 20px 10px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #a17361; width: 150px;] LOCATION: Prairie Motel in Salem, Oregon MUSIC: None at the moment. Sesame Street. WEARING: The ever-present plaid, jeans and boots. NOTES: I dunno where he's going anymore.

[atrb=style, padding: 0px 10px 50px 10px; color: #a17361; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000;][atrb=valign,top] Sam stared dully at Castiel. He didn't know how to respond. He'd been used. By Cas and all those angel friends of his. By Sariel. God, but just thinking it hurt. He wanted to lash out at the angel standing before him, but he just didn't have the heart to do it. The man before him looked so fucking tired and Sam was not selfish enough to want to hurt him. So, he struggled to accept what he was told, struggled to put on a brave face for one of his closest friends. He didn't believe Cas, not entirely. He knew he'd brought this on himself the moment he had believed Ruby. Yet, there was some small comfort in the idea that Castiel did not blame him for what had happened. "I hunted effectively. I was more malleable. I was soulless. I was dead. You should have left me that way. Despite what you say, I've yet to see anything that it worth coming back for. The pain and the punishment was well-deserved and you know it, Cas. Or have you forgotten how much you disliked me then? I still remember. I was...wrong. I created Hell on earth, I deserved a thousand years worth of punishment. And yet, here you stand trying to cheer me up. My God, Cas, but I feel like you're punishing yourself by sticking around me and Dean." He studied the angel, gaze sincere and, for once, clear. Sam was quiet, thoughtful. "Since before I was born, people have been planning my destruction. You know, I haven't touched on my abilities since....Well not since I jumped. At least, that I remember. Did I use them at all before you brought my soul back?" He frowned. "The wall is protect me from my memories of hell and from my time as a soulless...thing. Would those memories...would they destroy me? Be honest, Cas."

[Castiel]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/11sfgco.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #c5c3bb; width: 500px; height: 600px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Castiel was getting a headache. It was like he was saying one set of words and Sam was hearing another. "You made mistakes, Sam. You're not the first man, or last, to to have a lapse in judgment and despite that the mistakes you made were on a larger scope than most people's, there was still no malice behind them, no cruelty." He shook his head wearily. "You seem determined not to believe this, but there is more coming than an endless parade of misery. There are things happening even now which if you would allow yourself to see them would serve as proof that your world won't always be dark and hopeless. But you must be willing to see it. This apathy and despair serves no purpose." And then he had to move on to the last question. "No, you have not used your powers since your return. I don't know if you still have your abilities or not. It isn't something I felt I should investigate because I wasn't sure whether prodding at them would cause them to present." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Prairie Motel, Salem OR Music: Wayfaring Stranger - Jamie Woon Notes: Has no idea how to snap Sam out of this. [/style]