Chapter Text
Cold. That's all that Castiel could think of as he shuddered pitifully. The cold from the biting wind that made it's way through his sweatshirt. The cold from the rain pelting his dirtied face no mater how much he shielded himself against the alley wall. The worse had to be the hollow cold feeling that filled the space where the warmth of heaven used to occupy. That warmth had abandoned him as he fell and his wings were unceremoniously ripped from his body. Another shudder racked Castiel's huddled figure, this time not from the freezing gusts of wind, but the memory of plummeting through the darkened sky with the ground drawing closer and closer until . . .
“Um, pardon me?” An unknown voice with an accent he just couldn't place called out. Cas raised his head from it's position on his knees as he was drawn out of his darkened memories. “ Yes, I was wondering if I could possibly join you?” With the voice drawing closer the fallen angel could clearly tell the accent was British. Besides this small observation, Castiel couldn’t make out anything else about the man through the rain. Realizing that the stranger was still waiting for permission to accompany the raggedy ex-angel in the alleyway, Cas nodded. It wasn't like he could of stopped the man anyways. At that moment, Castiel felt he was too weak to stop anything.
Seeming pleased, the british man flashed Cas a warm smile and sat down against the wall next to him. “ Oh thank you, really. Turns out there aren't too many places one can take shelter here.” The stranger explained as he readjusted his sweater. “I mean, I did try under the bridge just now, but the fellows already under it apparently don't like sharing, nasty business really . . .” The man trailed off, sounding like a child who'd done something they weren’t supposed to. Castiel had already had a run in with the men under the bridge, his right eye was still swollen shut and he doubted his arm would be able to move any time soon.
Concerned for the strangers well being after facing off with the territorial men, Castiel's eyes swept over his body, seeking out any bruises or possibly broken bones, but there were none. Besides being generally dirty and wet, the man did not appear to have any injury, which in all honesty, surprised Castiel. From looking at the stranger, with his torn tartan sweater vest which covered his midsection that was on the slightly chubbier side, one would more likely see the man in a library, not on the streets, and certainly not fending off the men under the bridge.
Cas would have continued his analysis of the mysterious british man but he quickly realized that he was being spoken to. “ I'm sorry, I never did get your name?” The man asked with his ever so polite accent. Castiel paused, it was a simple enough question, what was his name? It seemed like he could trust the stranger, but some little voice in the back of Cas' head reminded him sinisterly what happened the last time he put his trust in another . . . The screams of his brothers and sisters as they dropped out of heaven like apples from a tree, hitting the earth that they had watched from above since time began . . .
“ Oh I'm terribly sorry, that's a very personal question, isn't it?” The man apologized as he scooted farther away with his hands up as if trying not frighten him. “I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable . . .” Castiel tried to look up at the retreating figure, but found he felt disoriented all of the sudden, and why was he breathing so hard? He wondered blankly if that his own heart drowning out all other noise with it's relentless pounding? Cas felt like he couldn't move, the images of the fall stealing the movement from his limbs. For a while, the panicked man just sat in the alleyway, continuously staring at a piece of graffiti opposite him as he banished that terribly feeling of falling from his mind. Castiel did not understand why his body was reacting in such a way. He was fine. Everything was fine, he repeated like a mantra, knowing that this thought in itself was a lie. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas could still see the man sitting a fair ways away while fingering the frayed ends of his scarf, clearly uncomfortable. Castiel wondered if he could trust him. So far, the man had shown no inclination that an ulterior motive was involved. However, his experience with the stranger spanned a time of less than a minute. On the other hand, he seemed like a genuinely friendly person. So the fallen angel, hurt so many times before decided he would put his last inklings of trust in this man.
“ Cas.” He muttered hoarsely in the general direction of the stranger.
This made the man look up from his garish scarf to Castiel, “I didn’t quite catch that?”
“ Cas. My . . . My name is Cas Winchester.” His own answer surprised Castiel. The plan was just to say his name was Cas, just Cas. Winchester was not apart of the equation. But he found himself actual liking the sound of it, Castiel Winchester, yes that did sound nice. Cas was just glad that Dean was not around to hear him claim the Winchester's surname as his own. He suspected he would be teased.
“ Ah well, pleasure to meet you Cas Winchester.” The man returned, his welcoming smile once again reappearing on his face. “ My name is Zira Fell.”
Despite all the reasons Cas had not to smile at that moment, Cas managed a small grin back. “ It is nice to meet you too.” The two men sat in a companionable silence, the only sounds were the passing cars splashing through the puddles congregating on the side of the road.
Only a few minutes had passed until Castiel noticed that to his left, Zira was rummaging through his pockets, intent on finding something. Finally with a slight yell of triumph, he pulled out a granola bar from his back pocket. “Here,” He insisted, holding out the smashed snack to Castiel. “Take it. Someone gave it to me, but it look's like you need it more.”
Castiel did not want to take the bar, he honestly didn't. For another to go hungry just to fill his own stomach would make Castiel feel like even more of a burden to the world than he already was. Unfortunately, that nagging voice inside his head, which he really needed to do something about, reminded him of his last meal, if it could even be considered such. Two measly scraps of potato, a limp stalk of celery with leaves the color akin to that of the murky puddle beside him, and . . . and that was it. That was all Cas had eaten since yesterday. The pain in his stomach seemed to intensify with this reminder.
Hesitantly, the starving fallen angel reached out and took the snack. Thinking back on it, Castiel wondered if time had sped up when his fingers touched the wrapper. For he remembered taking the food from Zira's hands, ripping off the plastic packaging, and after that, his own hands were empty, the bar nowhere to be seen. The only evidence that Castiel had eaten it at all was the crumpled wrapper in his fist and the lingering taste of granola on his tongue. Even though the pain was still there; his stomach still growling insistently for more food, he felt better after filling his stomach with something.
“ So . . .” Zira started, scooting closer to Castiel now that the remnants of the barrier present before was toppled down with the peace offering of food. “ Do you happen to have anywhere you could go? Anyone you could stay with? I mean, you certainly don't want to be stuck out here, now do you?”
This time, the internal struggle for Castiel to reveal information about himself was more of a small skirmish rather than a full out war. “ Yes, actually there is. It is just that, I cannot contact them at the current moment to ask for help. Otherwise, I would be staying with them.” With him more importantly, Cas thought but did not say.
Zira pondered for a moment. “Well if you are in need of money for a payphone, I would be more than pleased to give you some.” Zira stated with upmost sincerity.
Castiel was not proud to admit that his first thought after this generous offer was, he's lying. Cas had tried asking for money before. One day, as the well dressed men and woman walked past with their brief cases and steaming cups of coffee in well manicured hands, he had asked for spare change. Mimicking what Castiel had seen others doing as they sat on the streets. One brutish man in particular had spat at the feet of the fallen angel and a woman whose lips reminded him all to well of spilt blood told him to get a job with a snobbish head shake. Those people who refused to give the few coins in their pockets had jobs, had a paycheck, had a plate of roasted chicken with green beans on the side waiting for them at their homes. Yet all they offered was cruelty. But Zira had nothing. He was in the same sinking ship as Castiel, and still he offered up the few possessions he had to make someone else comfortable at his own expense. Where was the sense in that?
But through all of this, Cas could not refuse the offer of money. To decline could mean several more weeks until he was reunited with Dean and Sam, and that was something Cas could just not afford to do. So he nodded his head and gratefully accepted the coins, continuously thanking Zira for his generosity. Zira in turn, just smiled. Coins in hand, Castiel began to stand, already searching his mind for the last payphone he saw. He could of sworn one was around the corner next to the gas station, or was the last town. They all looked the same. But his venture out of the alleyway did not prove to be a long one, for as soon Castiel stood up to full height, he sank back down again. His legs feeling numb.
“ Oh dear . . .” Zira clucked thoughtfully, now standing next to Castiel's crumpled form. “ Why don't you just take a rest for a minute? Hopefully it's just a case pins and needles . . .” Ignoring the bizarre reference to sewing equipment, it was probably a british metaphor anyways, Castiel realized that it wasn't just his legs that were keeping his tied to the ground. Black dots had clouded his vision and his arm, which he had been able to ignore for most of the day, was now sending hot flashes of pain up his body. All of these factors combined made the numbing effects of sleep seem more appealing than ever before to the fallen angel. But the pain didn’t matter, the exhaustion, the cold, none of it really mattered. What mattered was that Castiel finally had a chance to call Dean. Not only was getting home important, but making sure Sam was okay as well. Cas' last phone call had left him with the information that the youngest Winchester was grievously injured and in a hospital and that one of Castiel's brothers, Ezekiel, was there to help. That was all he knew from his phone call over a week ago. For all Castiel knew Sam could have died and as for Dean . . . Well, Castiel knew from experience that if one Winchester died, the other was never far behind.
Shoving himself up, Castiel stumbled toward the alley exit, each new sensation of pain making him feel nauseated. A hand reached out and grabbed Castiel's good arm with a grip to tight to shake off.
“ Please, Mr. Winchester, sit down. You are in no condition to be walking at this point.”
“ No, I . . . I am fine.” Another lie. “ It is essential that I contact my friends. They might be injured and I have to make sure-”
Zira interrupted, this time placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder. “ While I admire your concern for your friends, you really should be concerned about yourself.” Cas started to shake his head, but his new friend was determined. “ I really do insist you get some rest. When was the last time you slept?” Castiel did not answer. Apparently Cas' silence on the matter was an answer in itself, for he was soon being led farther back into the alley. Castiel wanted to protest. He used be a fearsome warrior of Heaven. He himself had led the siege into Hell to rescue the Righteous Man. After being an celestial entity since before the concept of time was even constructed, he believed that the journey to a payphone would not be his most difficult task. But to Zira, he was just a man. A man who, whether he liked it or not, was going to sit down and sleep.
“ There now isn't that better?” Zira smiled down at Castiel, who was now curled up appreciatively out of the rain, Zira's scarf wrapped around his neck. Cas had to admit, now that his body was slowly warming up, he did feel better and sleep seemed more tantalizing than ever. But despite the fact that for the first time since he fell Cas felt safe, there was still one matter that seemed to engulf his being and make him feel like the world was once again a vast space where he could not see another life; Something that made him feel alone. Dean and Sam, they could both be dead, killed by angels and Castiel would not know. It felt like his mind was just repeating things he was already aware of, but again the blaring urgency in which his conscience was telling him to call them was overwhelming. As if Zira could sense the source of his unofficial charge's pain, he took a step toward him and kneeled, his face showing nothing but kindness.
“ You still want to call your friends, correct?” Cas nodded. “ Well, since I am adamant about you getting some rest and I believe forcing you to wait any longer to contact your friends would be impossible, would you be opposed to me calling them? If you give me their cell number, I could call them for you, tell your friends where you are, make sure they are alright as well.”
Cas contemplated this proposal for a second. Five minutes prior he was almost too terrified to give Zira his name and now he was asked to reveal Dean's phone number. But Zira was right, Cas would not be able to rest easy until Dean and Sam were contacted and sleep was something he desperately needed. Also for an unknown reason, Castiel truly did trust the stranger he just met. With all of these things, Cas could not help but agree. He told Mr. Fell the number, who to ask for when the call went through and gave him back the change he had given to him.
As Zira walked away, talking cheerfully about how soon Cas would be back home with his friends, Castiel could not help but ask the other man one personal question.
“ Do you have any home to go to, Mr. Fell?” The face that met this question was sad in Castiel's eyes, ignoring the fact that Cas' own face probably evoked pity in others as well. It was the face of someone who had not given the question a single thought, as if his own wellbeing was more of an afterthought to be tossed aside rather than a main concern. But the dim expression that had flashed over his face was soon gone, replaced with small smile.
“ No, no I do not. But that's not something you should worry about my dear boy.” Cas raised an eyebrow at this. Disregarding that Castiel was older than the stars themselves, the other man could not be more than a few years older than his vessel, hardly a boy in comparison. Nevertheless, Zira continued. “ I mean, I did have a home, nice little cottage in South Downs, doubt you know of it. But I had to go away for a bit and well I didn't quite expect to end up in America of all places. At the time I was living with someone, but I suspect . . . Well that he might be dead now.” Zira's small smile was nearly non-existent by this point. “ But never mind me. You just focus on getting some sleep and I'll go and ring your friends.”
With that, Mr. Fell gave a small wave and strode out of the alley. Castiel could no longer fight the battle to keep his eyes open and fell into his first truly deep sleep in days. The thought of the man with a cottage in South Downs, where ever that may be; Who had no concern for himself and only thought of others dancing behind Castiel's closed eyelids.