Work Text:
“Hello, Charlie.”
“Castiel!” The redhead greets eagerly, jumping up to hug him. “Long time no see!”
“I visited you last week,” he replies bluntly, furrowing his brows.
“Yeah, well, time is weird here,” she shrugs.
“What is this memory?” He’s seen a number of her memories during his heavenly visits. Sadly, most of them have either been the early days of her youth, or her adult years leading to her death. He’s met memory versions of Charlie’s friend Dorothy, from Oz, though he finds the term ‘friend’ to be oddly used, given some of the scenes he’s walked into. In his experience, such relations have usually been defined as sexual, which, to his knowledge, is generally practiced by those who are romantically involved, though Dean would argue that love isn’t a necessary element to the act: he, of all people, would know. Charlie has told him he used the air-quotes correctly on this occasion.
He has also seen memory versions of himself, Sam and many of Dean. He is quite aware of the closeness of Dean and Charlie’s relationship. It makes him feel an emotion he can only describe as despair when he sees wistful look on her face when fake Dean offers her popcorn or takes her shopping. It matches the look on Dean’s face when her name appears in conversations.
He’s met her parents once or twice. That was an odd interaction.
In this memory, Charlie occupies what looks like a motel room, with its garish colour scheme and cheap bed sheets. He can’t imagine why such a room would exist in heaven. Though, he understands people hold their own meanings to places others might call utterly undesirable. He wouldn’t be surprised to find a motel room in the heavens designed for the Winchester brothers.
There’s a laptop on the mattress beside where the woman was sat when he first entered. The TV plays a science fiction programme he has never seen before.
“Nothing special,” she smiles.
“This is heaven,” he states plainly. All that exists in heaven is special to someone.
She bounds back to her position on the bed and pats the empty space beside her. He obligingly perches himself on the edge of the mattress. She glares playfully at him until he puts his feet up and leans against the headboard.
“And sometimes ‘nothing special’ is the best heaven of all.”
He smiles gently at her. He can’t argue with that.
“Were you playing video games while watching TV?”
“This is heaven, I can multitask,” she shrugs as if it’s obvious. Surely in heaven one wouldn’t have to multitask; they have all the time in the world. “Anyway, this is Doctor Who, I’ve seen them all a billion times before.”
“Then why would you choose to watch it again?”
“Because it’s Doctor Who,” she, again, states it as if it’s obvious; as if his question is completely stupid.
“Right…”
“Have you never seen it?!”
“No. Should I have?”
“Uhh, yeah. Of course you should have!”
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
She smiles giddily, clapping her hands together. She closes her laptop on the bedside table and shuffles closer to him. “Well, basically, the doctor is this alien called a time lord, who can time travel in his TARDIS, which looks like a police box…”
-
“Jody called,” Sam says as he walks into the kitchen as Dean fries up his breakfast and Cas nurses a cup of coffee he doesn’t need at the table. “Just checking in, told me about her last hunt with Claire.”
“It’s not even nine o’clock,” Dean groans.
“And Jody starts work at half eight and she can’t call from the office. Some people are morning people, Dean.”
“Some people are just sad people,” he groans as he serves up his bacon and carries it to the table. Cas pushes his mostly-full mug of coffee towards him.
“So what was this case?” He asks Sam.
“That’s the thing. It was nothing I’d even heard of. I don’t even think they knew, but they’ve taken care of it alright,” he grabs Dean’s abandoned coffee from the kitchen counter and claims it as his own.
“What kinda thing haven’t we heard of?” Dean asks as he picks up Cas’s mug, allowing the hot steam to fill his senses before taking a sip.
“It was like a possession of some kind, apparently, but it didn’t seem like a ghost or demon. They think whatever it was actually took over the woman’s mind. Whoever was in there before was just gone. They tried iron and exorcisms but none of it worked,” Sam says as he sits at the table.
“What did?” Dean asks.
“They, uh, had to kill her, burn the body,” he says sadly.
“Damn. That sounds kinda terrifying,” Dean says into his coffee.
“It’s odd. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
“It sounds sort of like the creature from the planet Midnight,” Cas says thoughtfully.
“Cas, what are you taking about?” Dean grumbles tiredly.
“It’s from Doctor Who.”
“Since when do you watch Doctor Who?” Sam asks.
“Um, Charlie introduced me,” he says and looks down at his hands. He hasn’t told the brothers about his visits to heaven and he tries his best to never mention Charlie around Dean.
“When did Charlie show you Doctor Who and why wasn’t I invited?” Dean nudges his foot under the table.
“I can watch it with you if you would like?” He asks to try and change the subject.
“1. absolutely, and 2. That’s not what I asked.”
“She didn’t show me… on Earth.”
“What do you mean?” asks Sam.
“He means in heaven, right.”
Cas, again, glares at his lap like a chastised child. “I never meant to bring this up.”
“Bit late for that,” Dean suddenly seems far more awake than he had previously been.
“I’m not with you all the time, Dean, you know that.”
“So what, you’ve been up visiting our dead friends all this time and you never told us?!” His voice raises and Cas can sense he’s getting quite angry.
“I feared you would get upset if I ever mentioned them.”
“Cas,” Sam interrupts quickly before Dean can yell any further. Cas is grateful for it. “I wish you told us, but I understand why you didn’t,” he places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly then turns to his brother, “Dean, I think you should be a bit nicer - generally speaking, but also about this. I think it’s a good thing he’s been making visits in heaven.”
Without saying anything (out loud), the older Winchester pushes himself away from the table and storms out.
“I’m sorry,” Cas admits solemnly.
“Don’t be, Dean’s being a dick.”
“I should have told you before, but I feared this reaction.”
“I wasn’t lying before, I’m glad you’ve been visiting her. You know the guilt I feel over her death and I would do anything to see her again and tell her I’m sorry. I also know that heaven’s a lonely place and I’m glad there’s at least one friendly - real - face for her,” he lamented, “Dean’ll get over it. he's justnangry because he can't do the same.”
“She seems happy,” Cas offers with surety, “she doesn’t blame you in the slightest, I can assure you. She takes full responsibility for her decisions.”
Sam pats his shoulder gratefully and doesn’t say a word.
-
Dean finds him in the library later that day as he’s trying to find any lore on the creature Jody and Claire killed.
“How is she?” He asks, attitude subdued after the morning’s outburst. He takes a seat in the armchair beside him.
Cas puts his book down, “She’s good, she’s happy.”
“You’ve been going to make sure she’s not alone?”
“I found I rather enjoyed her company in the short amount of time that I knew her. The decision to visit her was merely an impulse, but yes, I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“I’m sorry for yelling earlier.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“No, it’s not okay. You’ve been doing something good and I just took my anger out on you. I don’t even know why, but it’s not okay.”
“Okay.”
“I bet she’s got heaven cracked, hasn’t she?” The man allows his frown to break momentarily in a burst of fondness.
“I might have introduced her to your friend Ash at some point,” Dean huffs a laugh, which makes him smile, “the two of them make quite the team.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” he chuckles exasperatedly, “I can’t believe you.”
“Generally, I’m not particularly keen on causing chaos in heaven, but I found this to be an acceptable exception,” he grins mischievously.
“Anyone else you’ve been visiting while your at it?”
“I’ve seen Bobby on occasion. Of course, there was the time we needed his help with Metatron, but I went back. He generally prefers solitude, but I say hello from time to time. Ellen and Jo try to make me drink with them.”
“And do you?” Dean appears shocked at the confession, but allows his curiosity to take the reigns.
“Sometimes, though it has very little effect on me.”
“I bet Jo and Charlie get on like a house on fire.”
“Yes, they have taken quite a likening to each other. Charlie is quite the flirt.”
Dean grunts affectionately, “huh, I shoulda guessed.”
The pair fall silent for a while. Cas suspects Dean is reminiscing; perhaps remembering everyone he lost, though not in a way that upsets him. Maybe he’s finally found some peace knowing that his loved ones are together. Cas hopes that is the case.
“Can I ask you a favour?” His companion asks hesitantly.
“Of course. Anything.”
He pulls out a wad of folded paper from his inside pocket. At least 3 pages with writing on both sides. “I wrote some things down that I wanted to say to her. Some questions I wanna ask,” he grips the pages tightly, but is careful not to scrunch them. He continues shyly, “I was wondering if you could pass this on the next time you see her?”
“Of course, I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear from you,” he accepts the letters graciously, tucking them safely into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ll try and visit her soon.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean smiles bashfully, affectionately slapping his shoulder.
“No problem.”
“Anyway, about that Doctor who marathon…”
-
Cas will never cease to be amazed by the depth and complexity of human emotions, he thinks as he observes Charlie’s laughter and tears at the written words of Dean’s letters. He hasn’t read them - as he figured was the decent, human thing to do - but he knows Dean has beautiful handwriting and even more beautiful soul, which is sure to have arisen in his words.
After, she writes her response on a number of sheets of artificially aged paper from the desk of what looks like a medieval bedroom chamber, though he can’t understand why such a room would be in her memories. He doesn’t always ask.
Once she’s finished, he carefully pockets the letters. With the spare pages, she teaches him to fold paper airplanes and arranges a miniature competition between them. She insist the only reason he won is because he has wings and therefore knows more about the physics of flight. He fails to see how it has any relevance.
-
When he arrives back at the bunker, the place appears largely deserted. Later, he’ll find out that Sam was out on a grocery run, but he finds Dean in his room, the music in his headphones apparently so loud he didn’t notice the angel approaching his bed.
“Oh, hey, Cas,” he startles (and later will pretend he didn’t), “when did you get in?”
“One minute and forty-seven seconds ago.”
“Oh, right,” he puts his walkman to the side and sits up on the bed. “Anything interesting happen while you were away?”
“I gave Charlie your letter.”
“Yeah?”
He pulls the response from his jacket, “here. I can step outside.”
“Yeah,” he accepts the letter like it’s precious - which, it really is - and barely spares Cas another glance. He steps outside, but stays by the door.
Perhaps half an hour later, his name is called. “Are you still there?”
“Of course, Dean.”
There’s some shuffling on the other side of the door before it opens and Dean steps out. He’s about to speak when the man throws his arms around him. He stands frozen for a moment before relaxing into it and reciprocating the hug. He’s found that rubbing the back is a comfort for humans, so he rhythmically rubs his thumb over Dean’s shoulder and hopes that it soothes him.
“Thank you,” the man whispers in his ear.
“No problem, Dean.” He hopes his act has brought his friend some much-needed closure and gladly accepts the physical contact. He wishes they hugged more.
-
The next time he sees Charlie, he tells her about the Doctor Who marathons he has with Dean in the Dean Cave/fortress of Deanitude. He tells her how close the ordeal has brought them. She teases him for being so obvious. He has no idea what she’s talking about.
They play a card game called top trumps and visit the others at the roadhouse. He takes a picture of them smiling together and when he gets home, he’ll print it off and give it to the brothers, hoping it’ll bring them closure.