Day 51: Breakfast

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

Comments

[boyking]

This was entirely way too much to absorb at once, and Sam found himself just peering right back at the man as he tried to disentangle the mess of information. Where was he even supposed to start? Thing was, he was getting answers, but not the ones he wanted or needed. The more their guest tried to explain himself, the more the questions piled up.

That he'd seen him before as a visitor, he dismissed for the time being. Something to figure out later. It made sense that the guy would've had no idea his clone had been around, that the two things were only indirectly connected; the way Peter had talked about it, it didn't sound as if Nathan remembered having been here once, either. Memory wiping was apparently a common occurrence.

Funny, how he'd reacted to the name, though. Or was it the circumstances in general? Did the name Michael mean something to him or the fact that there could be a doppelganger of him out there? Both?

Oh God, okay. That could wait for later, too.

Admittedly, what had Sam's attention the most was that the man claimed he could sense they were from the past. How did that even—? Honestly, Sam hadn't even had the chance to question how the man had known because his instinct was to assume the guy had just put two and two together. It was only thinking about it now that the man's sheer lack of any surprise became...troubling. Or no, that wasn't quite it. It was clear the man hadn't expected them to not know him, but when he'd realized, it was as if the answer made sense to him, as though in his mind, it was something that could easily happen.

And especially with what he said next about capabilities, like it was supposed to be obvious he wasn't human at all—

Which, true, that did explain a couple of things. Though Sam was still a little confused because most of the supernatural creatures they came across actually blended in extremely well. Survival tactics and all that. If they all stood out as much as this man did, a lot of hunters could retire early. He knew he should've been more concerned about what this man was, too, but given where they were, the whole I'm-not-quite-human thing had lost its luster. He was well aware they were surrounded by everything from a cannibal to probably a vampire or two, and these days, that just felt like the norm. The man wasn't jumping up to throttle Dean by the neck and although his staring was kinda creepy, it didn't look like the staring of something that was feeling extra hungry. That was good enough for Sam.

He sighed. "Okay, well, uh. Can we at least get a name and...what you are?"

Another demigod, maybe? There'd been Skuld, after all. It would explain his hints about how powerful he was and how he could tell when they were from. He wasn't sure if he believed they'd made friends with a demigod back home because—seriously, they just didn't have good experiences with demigods. And it definitely still didn't explain how the man was acting as if he knew Dean personally, but if he was a god, it was possible he...simply did, somehow. Who the hell knew, maybe he traveled back in time and had a drink with Dean. At this point, Sam was open to any kind of explanation that made some sort of remote sense.

[kindalikedit]

Yeah, like being told this guy was not a regular human was really going to do wonders making him suddenly feel cool about this. Assuming he really could sense the future or timelines, Dean felt plain skeeved out. Sure, okay, yeah, maybe it could be a really cool power if you used it right (save a lot of lives, maybe score big on the lotto, and that was just off the top of his head), but in his experience, most of the people with abilities ended up abusing them. It wasn't a perfect world and it didn't much matter if it was on purpose or an accident. Folks got hurt and then it was their job to step in.

Having this guy say he “just” could sense the future, like it was no biggie, wasn’t exactly making him feel any more chill about this. Made you wonder what else he could do that made seeing the future seem like it was a bad draw.

Still, human or something else, Dean couldn’t believe he was being so friggen upfront about it. Most of the crap they ran into there was usually some kind of camouflage, something that got them in through the door and so close to whoever the poor bastard was on the menu that it was too late, doubts or not. Having a questionable something sitting only a foot away giving him these eyes and going on about shooting supernatural blanks wasn’t something he’d had much experience with. Sam was trying to handle it as best as he could. They didn’t know what exactly this guy was – or it was, if they weren’t dealing with a human – and since the stranger was in a chatty, sharing-and-caring mood, he supposed it couldn’t hurt to ask point blank what it was. The fact that this was even an option was all kinds of weird, though. It was just another one of those things; guys like Sam and him, they hunted the monsters ‘cause they asked for it and that was just how it was supposed to be.

Having a possible thing just sitting there calmly telling them it had a grab bag of powers and it knew them was just way too freaky.

Dean cupped his hand in his chin, elbow propped on the table, looking more at ease then he felt. He would’ve felt a lot better if the monsters here just behaved like they used to. He wasn’t going to say back home, but back outside Landels, vampire bites didn’t burn cold and there was no such thing as Romero zombies. There wasn’t some grand master plan. Just a job that needed doing. It still needed doing. It didn’t feel that simple any more, Dean thought, and looking at Thousand Yard there right in the face, he couldn’t see any tells that would betray him for some bloodthirsty freak. It did occur to him the guy could be seriously telling the truth. It’d explain the lack of tells since there wouldn’t be any. But if this guy had powers and he supposedly knew them in the future, then he had to have some kind of ulterior motive, right? Eye for an eye or something.

He got this far being nice and paranoid thanks to Dad’s training; Dean wasn’t ready to give that up now.

[freewill]

Humans truly were fascinating. For all that he'd heard his fellow angels insult them and call them weak, that seemed to be the exact opposite of what Castiel was observing now. Sam and Dean were currently captives in this institute and were now being confronted with their future, and yet both were maintaining a surprising amount of composure. Castiel could see the uncertainty in their faces, but neither one had given in to hysterics thus far. They were confused, but they were keeping calm.

Strangely enough, though, it seemed to be Sam who was taking charge of this conversation for the moment. Castiel wasn't sure if that was normal, since he had originally introduced himself to Dean and Dean alone, but the fact that this repeat of their meeting was happening so differently was also fascinating.

Castiel spared another glance at Dean, feeling oddly anxious at the man's silence. It had taken a year or so to achieve a certain amount of trust and familiarity with Dean Winchester, and now he was being made to start all over again. He would have a much easier time of getting out of here with these two working alongside him, and yet it might take weeks for them to even see him as a comrade.

But now, to answer. He had no reason to keep secrets from them. While time was a concern, it was not so easy to change fate. Castiel no longer believed that free will was impossible, of course, but he also knew that revealing himself to the two brothers before they were supposed to know of him wouldn't suddenly change the course of their lives. There were far more powerful beings than him out there who would make sure that they ended up at the same point. No matter what happened, they were still vessels.

"I am Castiel," he said. Hopefully they realized that he already knew their names, had already shaken their hands. Being on opposite ends of understanding like this was going to make escape that much harder, but that could very well be the point. Maybe this truly was a test.

The name was the simple part. It was possible one of them would make the connection between his name and what he was, but that was not very likely. Angels were not even on their radar on this point, so chances were they would not even think of it. He refused to lie to them, though at the same time he had to wonder if it would really be a lie. Did he really count as an angel at this point, when he could barely feel his wings and felt chained to his vessel as if it had always been his?

But still, the words had to be said and he could not deny that. "I'm... an angel," he said, his eyes lowered as he prepared for the doubt and the mockery. He was no longer an angel of anything, having cut all ties. Not that he had been the one to cut them. His Father had left him to fight alone against the rest of Heaven, and he would not allow the blame to fall on himself. He was nothing like Lucifer. He knew his choice had been the right one; he just wasn't sure that he could win.

[boyking]

If Sam had been drinking something, there was every chance he would've choked on it. As it was, he...stared. He wasn't sure what it was; most likely it was the way Michael (or Castiel now) had said it, as though he were almost guilty to admit what he was—but if it was a joke, it didn't sound like he was making one.

Maybe the guy was delusional, then. Or something. It had to be something, because there were a lot of things Sam could buy, but angels weren't one of them. They used to be; it hadn't been so long ago that he forgot the way he used to believe, but thinking back on it was like thinking back on the days when he used to believe in Santa Clause or that Dad would actually come home in time for a holiday for once.

And honestly, he didn't want Castiel to be an angel like he claimed. The implications were too much. Because it would mean that no one gave enough of a damn about his brother to step in when it mattered, that apparently, their own guardian angel only showed up after it was too fucking late.

No matter which way Sam thought about this, whether he chose to believe it or not, it only served to piss him off.

His slid his gaze back to Dean for what must've been the fifth time since Castiel had sat down at their table. He didn't have anything to say anymore. He had a million questions, and no way to phrase any of it. He didn't need this right now. He didn't need some random dude showing up saying he owned a pair of wings. They had enough problems of their own without adding this crap on top of it.

He bit his lip, passed the torch over to his brother. If Dean had something to say about this, he could. Otherwise, Sam was gonna need at least a minute before he could figure out where to go from here. He wanted to ask Castiel to prove it, except that sounded childish despite how he knew he was more than entitled to get some visual evidence.

What nagged him was that he couldn't see any reason for Castiel to lie. He had to have known that even hunters—or maybe especially hunters—didn't exactly buy into the angel thing.

Only, he reminded himself, he didn't know Castiel at all. Maybe the so-called angel did have a reason. That was...a thought. Not a comforting one; the logic was thin, he knew. He could barely convince himself. Although who the hell knew, maybe part of the issue here was that he wasn't sure what he wanted to believe.

[kindalikedit]

Dean snorted. No point getting all diplomatic with some guy thinking he was God's gift to...well, everything. "An angel. You're saying you're an angel."

Making a point to lean over and check out his back, Dean raised an eyebrow. Either he had the world's tiniest wings or he was trying to sell them on this story and it was one of those things you came up with at the last minute. Not much of a sell. Sure, sometimes it was hard to pick a winner on the fly like that but dude, I'm an angel had to be at the bottom of the bullshit list; the point was to pick something people could believe was true as a cover, not something that sounded cool on paper. Dean didn’t have to glance over to know Sam was trying to figure out something to say. The kid probably had that same look on his face he got when the job went oddball on them. Man, he thought the fake UFO probing had been about as weird as it was going to get.

“Word of advice, but I wouldn’t go around bragging I got wings in front of folks around here,” Dean said. Maybe he did believe the guy could very well have abilities – there were plenty of folks here that did, and that thought alone wasn’t making getting any sleep easier – but he’d be damned if there was such thing as an angel. Castiel didn’t look much like his mental image of an angel; seemed like there was more scruff and staring than a fruity harp or halo.

He had a feeling Castiel wasn’t Sam’s mental image of an angel, either. These days he had to wonder if the kid even still believed in angels himself. It wasn’t like Sam said he’d been doing much praying recently. After all the crap that came at them, Dean couldn’t say he was too surprised if he stopped. He was just surprised his brother had kept it up this long.

[freewill]

Their reactions were more or less predictable, and he had no way of showing them how little space they had to be skeptical. If he provoked Dean into punching him right now, he would take the blow just as a human would. There would be no shielding, no heavenly resilience. He could not take them out of this place with a flap of his wings (and when Dean glanced at his back as if searching for them, he couldn't help hunching forward in embarrassment); he could not cause a lightning flash or a rumble of thunder.

They likely thought he was insane (or simply moronic), and there was nothing he could say right now to change their minds.

Except for give them information and prove to them that he knew more about them than was even possible. The deal, Dean's trip to Hell, and his role in getting him out. He could be brutally honest (that, at least, was something he was good at that had not been taken from him), and maybe eventually they would cave in.

"I'm not boasting," he shot back at Dean, his tone a bit short due to frustration, mainly with the situation itself. He sighed then, straightening and trying to scrape up some confidence from wherever his powers had gone. Just as he was about to try and tell them something affecting, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Castiel tensed and immediately grabbed for the offending wrist, causing its owner to gasp in response. When he realized it was one the nurses, he relinquished and instead stared up at her in question.

"I'm sorry, Michael," she said with a nervous smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that lunch is over, so the Derringers need to shower and you can go relax in the Sun Room, all right?"

It wasn't all right, but he knew that resisting would get him nowhere. He did note that they were using fake names for the Winchesters as well, however. It didn't shed that much light on the situation, but it was something to keep in mind nonetheless. Sending one more glance at each brother, Castiel nodded and stood. "Very well."

This wasn't over by any means, but it would clearly have to wait for another time. Until then, he could muse over how to best present the information.