He can't keep himself from gingerly touching the skin that isn't marred, a curious examination as the frown he wears deepens into something that's almost unreadable. Perhaps he recognizes it. Perhaps he doesn't. This sort of work is hardly strange to someone who's seen so much, but he can't jump to conclusions anymore.
Besides, what could they do when they began to point fingers?
"The person who did this to you," he begins quietly, allowing several lengthy seconds to pass before doing so, "what do they look like?"
Kaede sucks in a breath when Cas touches her skin, not moving at all. She's super sensitive about her throat right now, but it's a small sign of trust that she doesn't immediately jerk away from the touch. She swallows hard, just a flicker of that image passing through her mind. The burnt, terrible thing she saw in the mirrors in the funhouse.
"...his name... his name is Lucifer, and he looks like his face is melting." Her voice is very soft, remembering less about the terrible face and more about his eyes and that thing behind him that she doesn't even fully understand.
Something dark and alive flashes across his face at the mention of that name, how she describes him monument to the fact that neither of them could be mistaking his brother for someone else or vice versa. His current vessel, the way that it is, could not be described any other way. Melting from the sheer power it's trying to contain.
"I know him." More than he should. More than he wants to. "I'm sorry he did this to you."
She takes the statement at face value, assuming that Cas must know the 'man'. Does anyone even know what he is? That.. That thing inside of him!? But Cas' expression when she tells him nudges her to believe that maybe, like Dean, Cas does.
"...he's... he's a terrible person. Or whatever he is." She tugs the scarf back up, hiding away the damage, looking down at the ground while her fists clench at her sides. "He was so angry and I didn't do anything to him!"
[ And that's all he's going to give him because as much as he wishes it to be true, he knows it never will be. He doesn't deserve this Sam's friendship no matter how much he wants it or tries to make it so. ]
[ After what happened the night before, you can bet your mortal ass he's going to bring it up. It didn't take much to tell that Castiel was in distress, was drowning in it. He prayed for help, had railed and ranted at him... and begged to be fixed. The only part of that he was able to make sense of was that something had happened to Dean, and it has something to do with Michael.
And... something else that happened to the former angel, but he didn't elaborate. ]
No. [ Castiel replies bluntly, if not a little impatiently. ] Do you?
[ Now that he's sober and clean, he wonders how much he truly remembers... if there was more to this than just the liquor-fueled rantings of a man drunk senseless. ]
[ If he has to roll his eyes again, he fears they might fall out of his head. So what if the angel is impatient? Obviously he couldn't understand if he has to explain. Castiel doesn't realize he's confusing everything he'd said last night, or he would have corrected him. Dean's gone, yes, but it has nothing to do with Michael (apparently) and that's all there is to it. In addition to the topic of their grace. All that power, and he won't share it with him, won't fix what had simply fallen away from him when the angels had deserted their posts. He draws in a breath, quiet and forcing the harsh tone of his voice away. ]
Yes. [ He'd lost track of it last night though. ] I want your grace.
[ It's not about giving this body that's entirely his to the angel as a spare vessel. It's not about anything else but selfish reasons that stem from a purpose (or lack thereof). He's upfront about it to save the complications; if he'd had it from the beginning, perhaps Dean would still be here. Maybe all the mistakes he's made wouldn't have been so... great. Castiel looks to the angel and offers nothing else. ]
It's one of those unfortunate circumstances, knowing or being related to someone because of fate and not choice. No one really wants to know Lucifer, but it's not as if he can escape this inevitability. Castiel gives her her space and leans back, looking up to the sky as if the answers will fall to him from there. He wishes it was that easy.
"Have you never heard the stories?" There's a sigh, something crumbling inside as he recalls them himself. "It's what you are that makes him angry."
"Stories?" Kaede questions, looking up at Cas in confusion. There is a pause while she tries to decipher the rest of his question, before finally coming up with, "he doesn't like that I'm a NEXT?"
Because what else is she different for? ...Being a girl?
[ dean's standing outside of cas' door, glaring at the number printed on the old surface. maybe he has a bottle in one hand, maybe he's slightly drunk. it takes quiet a bit for him to get truly intoxicated these days, but trust him, he's gotten an a in effort this time around since even he can feel the burn of alcohol in his veins.
but that's not why he's here. or is it? he's not sure.
all he knows is that he feels like he's effectively lost sam again, or is losing him, and he...
he doesn't know where to go, except here.
so he slams his fist on the door, knocks until the entire thing rattles and resists the urge to lean against something while he waits after. fucking alcohol. ]
[ It's strange how some things work, and how, even after they've come to some sort of agreement, days have gone by without seeing each other. Perhaps Castiel has gotten used to this odd quiet that's settled over them and between them; it had been weeks when Dean had been gone. Yet, unlike then, he's not lost or floundering or lashing out at anyone who might pretend to care. He just exists, and that's only a small favor in the scheme of things.
And this is certainly something he hadn't expected either, Dean drunk at his door. There had been a few occasions like this before something had broken the strings of their friendship, before they'd found Chitaqua, but he hadn't expected it here. His expectations are considerably lower these days. Castiel, too, isn't even in his room. He's actually dragging himself back to sleep, still wired from the last few days.
So, he's approaching him from the side. Somewhat concerned, somewhat skeptical. ]
[ he turns some to look at cas while finally giving in and leaning against the still closed door. they really haven't seen each other since the carnival, which was probably good. dean's been too busy planning things, talk of traps and such that have no place for cas...
for now though, he smirks like something's funny. ]
Can't you tell?
[ he waves the bottle some, vaguely gesturing it at cas before letting his arm drop to his side again. ]
Page 12 of 23