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This time when Sam woke up it wasn’t to the fuzzy muddle-headed happy place of really good drugs but rather the sharp, hissing pain of his broken foot. He breathed through his nose for a minute, remembering in a tumble of images and sounds how he had snapped a couple of bones on that embankment. Not even on a hunt, damnit; they had just stopped to pee for fuckssake, and Maffy had jumped out of the car.
Frowning at himself, and bracing for the eventual and, probably, eternal mockery from Dean about the whole sorry affair, Sam levered himself up on his side to look over at the other bed. He stopped, not quite sitting and not quite prone, but shocked senseless by what he was seeing.
Dean was on his back, snoring like a train as usual. What was not so usual was Mafdet on his chest, her tail flicking back and forth leisurely from where she was curled inside Castiel’s lax hand. Castiel himself was curled around Dean, his head on Dean’s shoulder, his leg thrown over Dean’s thighs.
The men were asleep, but Maffy looked over at Sam with her tiny, unblinking, ink-black eyes. Her expression clearly said, “you gonna make something of it?”
Sam lowered himself back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling while his foot throbbed, wondering if this was the Twilight Zone or just a really, really bad episode of Buffy.
Eleven hours earlier
“I seriously, seriously cannot believe this.” Dean marched around the ER lobby one more time, gaining a few more glares from the intake desk staff to add to his collection. Sam was out of x-ray and now just relaxing in one of the examination rooms, probably flirting with the nurses and scoring some of the good shit.
Dean knew it was more likely that his younger brother was a quivering ball of pain and self-loathing, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, they were stuck in bum-fuck nowhere in a hospital that smelled suspiciously of beanie-weenies and ben-gay and Sam had broken his damn foot chasing after The Cat from Hell during a pit stop. Dean currently had the Hell kitty locked in the trunk, under the devil’s trap there, with sincere hopes that the two-pound kitten would not use the alone time figuring out how to fire a shotgun. At him. Not that he wouldn’t be happy to return the favor.
It was another two hours before Sam was wheeled out, looking more gargantuan than usual in the wobbly hospital-issue wheelchair. He was also looking a lot happier than usual, or actually, than ever. He gave Dean a silly grin and a happy thumbs up, and Christ was that a teddy bear in his lap? Dean groaned.
“Isss for M’aaaf!” Sam shook the bear at him. “To cuddles!”
“Oh my God, Sam, they turned you into a seven year old girl with pigtails.” Dean shoved the chair out the door towards the Impala with extreme prejudice. It was a keystone cops routine to get drugged-out Sam into the backseat with the big lumpy cast tripping them both up, but just as Dean got the car started Sam reached over and grabbed his jacket, nearly pulling him up out of the seat.
“Maaaf! Whud you do with herrr?”
“She’s…uh, at the hotel. She’s fine.”
The grip on his jacket tightened. “Is not.”
“Fine! Just…FINE!” Dean slammed on the brakes to bounce the car, even if they were still in the pick up area, sending Sam partially into the footwells with a howl of pain. Dean felt a little bad about that – not a lot, but maybe a little – and went to get the filthy Hell beast out of the trunk.
“You! Just keep your prickly nasty claws to yourself, and stay where you’re put. Next time you decide to go running around in a batch of roadside catnip, I’m leaving you there. Got it?” Dean snarled, pointing into the open trunk where the smug little Hell spawn was licking its paws disinterestedly.
“Oh my god! You put a kitten in the trunk?” Some woman stood next to him, shrieking, and Dean ducked just in time to avoid her unusually lethal purse.
“Lady!” Dean yelled and grabbed the kitten by its scruff, slamming the trunk closed and making a run for the driver’s seat. The woman, a healthy and thick-set example of Eastern European stock if Dean was any judge, followed him around and kept batting at him with the purse.
“Kitten abuser! Animal torturer!”
Dean jumped in the seat and tossed Maffy into the back for Sam to catch while the woman smacked the car with her purse.
“Stop that!” Dean yelled out the window, which surprised her enough to stop in mid-swing. He took the opening for what it was and peeled out of the hospital parking lot.
“Did mean nasty Deanie-weenie lock you in the trunk? Ooooo, that’s my baby, yes, I love you, even if no one else does. See? Teddy bears cuddlessss!” Sam droned from the backseat and Dean absolutely refused to look in the rearview mirror at his brother the big-ass demon hunting machine snuggling with a tiny kitten and a teddy bear. Unfortunately, he could hear him just fine.
“Maffy, I’m totes trashed…”
“And not speaking English. ‘Totes’? What the hell does that mean?”
“…and Dean is a jerk…”
“Hey!”
“…but come on, this idiot can't take care of himself. And I love him, kitty, so much…”
Dean ignored the snuffling noises, which he chose to believe were coming from the cat.
“So you gotta, you gotta be nice to Deanie-weanie, and look out for him while I’m all sleepy.”
“Deanie-weanie can look out for himself, Samantha.”
“…and you got to watch out for his boyfriend too…”
“Cas is NOT my boyfriend!”
“…cause Cas is great and all, he’s awesomesauce, but he’s not you.”
“Cas is totally more awesome than your damn cat!”
“…but you don’t have to listen to anything they SAY. Okay, baby?”
“At least my boyfriend isn't a cat! …Fuck! He is not my boyfriend!...son of bitch…”
“Sooooooo totes your boyfriend.”
“Shut up, Sam, before I kill you.”
For once, Sam must have followed instructions because there was no more girly giggling from the back seat.
Dean finally pulled into the hotel lot to find a bedraggled and filthy angel of the Lord waiting for him. Castiel opened the door to the backseat and peered inside as Dean walked around.
“What the hell happened to you?” Dean asked, staring. Castiel did not look at him.
“I’ve encountered some…difficulties.”
“You can’t find a laundromat in Heaven?”
Castiel glared at him and Dean was stabbed with guilt, remembering too late that Castiel’s connection to Heaven had been severed. “Sorry.”
“It is of no consequence. What happened to your brother? And what is that thing?”
“You’ve met the cat.”
“No, the thing the Beast is lying on.”
“You mean Sam?” Dean leaned and looked inside the car. Sam was out like a light, snoring lightly and – ugh – drooling. The teddy bear was in his arms and Maffy was on the bear, kneading it with a blissed out look on her evil kitty face. Dean growled. “Great, now we are never getting rid of that bear.”
They stared at the tableau in the backseat for a few moments and then straightened up. After a quiet awkward moment – which Dean realized was happening more and more with Castiel these days – Dean sighed.
“I need your help getting him inside.”
Castiel actually blushed, and turned away. Startled, Dean reached for him, grabbing his muddy trenchcoat. “What? Cas?”
“I am…reduced. I am not strong enough to carry Sam into the room.” He looked down, clearly ashamed. Dean shook him.
“I didn’t expect you to,” Dean said, surprising himself with the softness of his voice. Castiel looked up at him in hopefully. “I just need help, that’s all.”
They crowded around the door again, and Dean realized their first, and possibly more important, problem.
“The cat’s gotta go. I can’t pull Sam out with her on him.”
Castiel cocked his head. “The Beast looks happy where it is.”
Dean nodded, realizing that one or the other of them would have to actually try to drag it off of Sam, and this was all going to end in tears. His, most likely.
“I could, perhaps, just grab the fluffy thing.”
“Huh, the teddy bear. Good thinking, Cas. Grab the bear and I’ll pull Sam out.”
Dean watched as Castiel visibly steeled himself, and for the first time, Dean understood exactly what the Hell kitty was, because Castiel looked frightened. He was scared of a two pound red-haired demon cat who was currently snuffling happily on her teddy bear. “Oh shit” did not really seem to encompass the level of dread that Dean was feeling right then.
Castiel slowly reached in as if putting his hands into a burning furnace and picked up the teddy bear, moving slowly in order to keep from unseating Maffy. As he pulled back and stood up, he held the cat-ridden bear in front of him at arm’s length.
“Dude, you’re weirding me out. She’s just a kitten.”
“She has the power to burn the remnants of my grace to ash,” Castiel said tightly, his face a grimace of concentration. Maffy yawned, and Castiel tried not to flinch. “Get your brother, Dean.”
“Seriously?”
“Dean!” Castiel hissed. Maffy looked between them and let out one of her dog-like yippy mews. Castiel’s face blanched.
“Right! Getting Sam.” Dean pulled on Sam’s thighs, dragging him to the edge of the seat.
“Dean…Dean…Dean…”
“Don’t worry! Just another second…I need to…oof.” Dean caught Sam as he listed, a dead weight in Dean’s arms. “Okay, maybe not. Fuck, he’s heavy. Who knew salads weigh this much?”
“Dean.” The high pitched squeak behind him was so odd and terrified sounding that Dean spun around, nearly letting Sam fall out of the car completely.
Maffy was walking up one of Castiel’s outstretched arms, carefully balancing herself as she headed for his shoulder. Castiel was literally shaking, his eyes wide as he tracked her.
“Fuck, Cas, gimme a sec…damnit…” Dean shoved and pushed Sam until he was lying down on the seat again, and then sprinted over to where Castiel was frozen.
“No no no no no, don’t touch it.”
“I’ve touched her before, Cas, she’s totally touchable.”
“I don’t want to annoy it. Just…just…” Castiel’s teeth were clacking in undignified, un-angelic terror as Maffy got to his shoulder, turned herself around, and lay down, tucking her head under his jaw. Castiel gave a nervous “meep” and stared at Dean.
“Uh, dude…I think she likes you.” Dean grinned. “You can lower the teddy now.”
With the speed of a thousand frozen glaciers, Castiel lowered his arms, his eyes flicking nervously between the kitten on his shoulder and Dean.
“No really, she likes you!” Dean laughed.
“It’s vibrating.”
Surprised, Dean automatically reached over and put his hand on the kitten’s back. She was purring like a lawn mower. “Wow.”
“Stop that. You’re going to bother it.” Castiel shuffled backwards out of his reach.
“Hey, she didn’t seem to mind.”
“You were compressing its wings. I assure you that is never pleasant.” Castiel frowned, as if he was surprised that he was this protective of her.
“Wings? She doesn’t have wings! She’s a…oh.” It was one more disturbing note to add to his growing collection of information about the Hell kitty. Castiel glared at him with the angelic equivalent of “duh!” on his face.
Behind them, Sam groaned.
“Oh, crap. I forgot. Here, open the door to the room.” Dean shoved the keys at Castiel, who turned with slow, steady precision and went to open the door with the kitten yipping happily on his shoulder. With Sam somewhat conscious, it was fractionally easier to get him into the room than if he had been a deadweight, but not by much. Discarding the doctor’s orders, Dean got another pain pill down Sam’s throat along with some water, and let him splay out on his bed.
“He’s down. Thank God. Okay, now…” Dean stopped and stared at Castiel, who was sitting tensely on the edge of Dean’s bed. Maffy had somehow moved to the top of Castiel’s head and was kneading his hair. “I honestly have no words,” Dean said solemnly, trying to decide between horror and hysterics.
“This is…awkward,” Castiel said through gritted teeth.
“You could try petting her – maybe she’ll come down off her angel perch if you offer a belly rub.” Dean was trying to be helpful, he honestly was, but that did not mean he could stop snickering.
Castiel gave him an anguished look, then slowly reached up and plucked the kitten off of his head, his lips moving silently.
Or not so silently, Dean realized, as the buzzing rang through his ears like a bad, staticy radio station. “Uh, Cas, the angel thing…”
“I am whispering, it will not permanently injure you,” Castiel said quietly in English as he palmed the kitten, and rolled her over. She filled up his palm, and he held her in a strange reverse position where her tail wrapped around his wrist and her head lolled in his fingers. Dean was going to suggest turning her around, but then Castiel’s other hand started moving over the kitten in strange motions. The buzzing had not stopped, and it was annoying as hell, but Dean almost forgot about it as he watched Castiel’s hand moving over her and petting parts of her that Dean could not see. He realized that Castiel had settled her so that her wings dropped between his fingers unencumbered, that she maybe had more than one tail, and that she had markings of some kind. To Dean she looked like a small, blood-red kitty, but Castiel saw something else completely, and Dean cataloged all of that as Castiel traced patterns on her belly and flexed her wings and let her…
“Hey! She bit you!”
The buzzing finally ended when Castiel glanced up at him. “No, she’s gnawing.”
Dean boggled. “Since when did you become an expert on Hell kitties?”
“We are familiar with all the beasts of Hell.” Castiel frowned.
“Okay, okay. But doesn’t that hurt?”
Castiel blinked. “Don’t baby humans suckle?”
Dean’s ass hit the chair. His tolerance level for this shit had reached critical. “Sucklewhat?”
“Yes. How else is it supposed to partake of the Divine Essence?” Castiel continued frowning in genuine confusion. Dean stared at Maffy as she worked on Castiel’s thumb, and it did look a little like suckling.
“I’ve seen her do that to Sam…I thought…you know, teething.”
Castiel smiled warmly and began stretching Maffy’s wings again (or that was what Dean assumed, it was hard to tell since the wings were invisible). “Beasts are born fully formed. It will grow in size but its teeth are all in place.”
“So, uh, when she ‘suckles’ Sam…”
A dark looked passed over Castiel’s expression. “As God’s creature, Sam of course has a conduit to the Divine Essence, as do you. However his soul was corrupted by the demon blood, and…perhaps he tastes more like home to the Beast than I do.”
Dean rubbed his face. “Not to bring logic into this, but has a Hell kitty ever suckled the Divine Essence off an angel before?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hm.” Castiel gave the kitten a critical look. She licked his thumb and kicked at him fitfully, then yawned.
“Hey. She never does that. She never sleeps.” Dean sat back in surprise.
“It is, perhaps, a side effect of suckling from me. My grace is reduced, therefore…”
Dean had heard enough. “Yeah yeah, you’re getting your ass kicked. Look lay down. Get some sleep.”
Castiel peered at the bed he was on.
“It’s not going to bite you, unlike that pissy cat. Lay down.”
Castiel shuffled backwards awkwardly then lay down, cupping his hand around the kitten as she settled on his chest, suckling his thumb again with weird little wet noises. Castiel looked over at where Dean leaned back in the chair, exhaustion and stress finally catching up to him.
“Angels don’t sleep,” Castiel said, then yawned.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” Dean yawned back at him.
“It…she…is a very strange Beast.” Castiel shoved his chin to his chest to stare at Maffy.
“Well I guess that makes her an honorary Winchester then,” Dean said without thinking, but Castiel gave him a small smile, and in the next instant was completely asleep.
Dean pulled his ass out of the chair and got ready for bed. He debated sharing with Sam – familiar from all the years they crashed together as boys, but with now that they were grown and Sam was injured, it seemed wrong. He stood next to the bed where Maffy and Castiel were sprawled. She had not actually gone to sleep, but she was out if it, squinting at Dean and rubbing around against Castiel’s lax fingers.
“Bite me, and I’ll pitch you so hard you’ll end up two states over.” Dean glared at her, but she just glared back and then yawned again. “Okay, fine. I guess you’re taking Sam’s instructions to heart. Just don’t get friendly.” Dean lay down on the bed, his shoulder maybe just a little too close to Castiel’s, but he decided that was okay because he was just giving Cas some moral support on the sleeping thing.
When he woke up a few hours later, Castiel was wrapped around him, and Maffy had moved to Dean’s chest. She was awake but cradled in Castiel’s hand, which lay comfortably over Dean, just as one of Cas’ legs was over his thighs holding him in place. Deciding that everything was pretty much as normal as it was going to get with a broken angel, an injured brother, and a baby Beast of Hell for roomies, Dean just went back to sleep.
Twelve Hours Later
Sam gave up on sleeping, as the pain was incrementally getting worse and worse, and he knew he would need some pain pills soon. He glanced over at the slumber party on the other bed, where Maffy was now gnawing ineffectually on Castiel’s thumb. Otherwise, the guys were still out of it. Sam grimaced, realizing he was going to have to wake them up to get Dean’s help because Sam really needed to pee.
Sighing, he sat back up but stopped halfway, again. Gabriel was standing at the foot of his bed with a foolish, dopey grin on his face as he stared at the other bed.
“Heyyyy! Is that a Hell Cat? Here, kitty kitty…”
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