Chapter Text
Set during the course of “Fever Dreams”
Bobby’d seen a lot of strange things in his time. It sort of came with the job, really. When you hunted monsters and made a living out of facing the strange, you got used to it and learned to deal with it. That was monsters, though—but given that he’d had a hand in raisin’ Sam and Dean Winchester, he’d seen his share of strange and uncomfortable stuff just from normal people, too. However, seein’ Cas just sitting in a chair, his eyes wide, blank, and glassy as tears streamed down his face and he stared at absolutely nothing was pretty high up there on his list of The Really Freakin’ Weird.
For a second, all Bobby could do was stare at him; he’d been about to demand why he didn’t hear water running in the sink, because Cas was supposed to be doing the dishes. But those words just kind of dried up when he saw him there at the kitchen table, doing—whatever that was.
“Cas?” he said warily.
Cas gave absolutely no indication that he’d even heard him. Starting to get a little alarmed now, he went over to him, snapping his fingers a few times near his face. “Hey! Cas—Cas!” Bobby finally just reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking him a little.
Cas about jumped a mile, blinking rapidly and looking around wildly until he finally spotted Bobby next to him. “Oh—oh, hello, Bobby,” he managed, his voice thick, and Bobby saw his brows pull together when he reached up and ran his fingers through the tears on his cheeks. He pulled his hand back and stared at the wetness there, looking confused.
No way Bobby was gonna let this one slide as one of Cas’s usual weirdnesses, like when he caught him just watching a spider trundle across his kitchen cabinet instead of killing it. “Cas, what the hell was wrong with you?” he demanded. “What were you doin’? Are you okay?”
Cas was still staring at his hand. “I—I’m all right,” he replied. He rubbed his fingertips together. “I…didn’t know I was…crying.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Bobby said impatiently. “Why? How do you not know you’re cryin’? Seriously, what were you doing?”
Cas obviously didn’t want to talk, but if this was gonna be a regular thing, he’d better tell him what it was. But Bobby didn’t need to ask him again, as Cas shifted uncomfortably and then said, “I was…remembering.”
Bobby waited for a second or two before prompting him again. “What, just remembering? Just having a trip down Memory Lane? I’ve daydreamed before and been a little out of it while I was doin’ it, but you didn’t even know I friggin’ existed, boy—and I’ve never just sat there bawlin’ before without knowin’ it. Just how bad is your nostalgia?”
“It’s not nostalgia, Bobby, it’s…” Cas trailed off, licking his lips and wiping at his face with his hand. “I’ve seen human memories before, but I’m…mine aren’t like that. I’m…” His eyes shut for a moment. “I’m not truly human; I’m simply…powerless. But when I…remember, and think about the—before, I still remember like an angel…remember everything in perfect detail. It’s…” He looked away. “It’s a little like when I have dreams, except I know it’s just a memory, but it’s still very real, and I…I feel things, now, too, even when I didn’t then as an angel…I wasn’t thinking about how I was reacting here, now. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“No, wait a second,” Bobby said, sitting down next to him and trying to wrap his brain around this nonsense. “When you sit down and—and just remember things, and think about shit that happened in the past, you remember—everything? Like, every single detail, and—is it it’s like you’re really there or something?”
Cas blinked slowly at him. “I…suppose.”
Bobby sighed. Great—he didn’t think your average anti-depressants could handle something like that. “Then why don’t you try rememberin’ somethin’ happier?” he asked.
“I…can’t control my memory like I used to,” Cas said uncomfortably. “Things I don’t want to think about…I can’t help but think about them because everything reminds me of them.”
“Well, here, I’ll just give you a prompt. Why don’t you—” Bobby raised his eyes skyward, unable to believe what he was about to do. “How about you think about Dean? Here, I mean, with you, when you—made up, after—after everything. Is that—a happy memory?”
Cas nodded. “It is.”
“Well, think about that. Just remember that for a while, it’ll help…keep the bad shit away for a bit. And if the bad shit shows up, just try and…think about Dean. In a good way,” Bobby ground out, unable to believe that he’d just told Cas to sit around and daydream about mackin’ on Dean. He supposed that’s what made him add, “But not too much. Try not to do that memory thing at all if you can help it. It’s not healthy for you, obviously.”
“I’ll try,” Cas said quietly, still morose and miserable and sniffling from whatever he’d just been doin’, and Bobby sighed and went over to the sink to start on the dishes himself.
“Get out the milk and cookies, would ya?” he suddenly said after a while of doing the dishes in silence.
Cas rose obediently, then shuffled over to the cabinet and pulled out the brand new package of snickerdoodles Bobby’d bought yesterday. Bobby finished drying two glasses by the time Cas pulled the milk out of the fridge. “C’mere and fill these up,” he ordered gruffly, and Cas did so, filling each glass to the brim with milk—whole milk, because Dean always bitched when he came in and discovered it was 2% or skim. Bobby finished the last of the dishes while Cas put the milk away and went to sit down, and then, after Bobby dried his hands, he stumped over and sat down across the table from him, grabbing the package of cookies and opening it up.
“Ever had a snickerdoodle?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, I hope you like cinnamon,” Bobby sighed, setting two down on a napkin and then, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled out a third and pushed the stack towards Cas. He grabbed two for himself before rolling up the plastic again.
Cas took a bite, chewing glumly for a few seconds, and then Bobby watched, amused, as he blinked a little, staring down at his cookie—and then promptly inhaled the thing before moving onto the next.
Bobby snorted, taking a bite of his own. “Like that?” he asked wryly.
Cas nodded from behind a mouthful of cookie, and Bobby couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Remind me to buy a new package tomorrow.”