Chapter Text
If Castiel had been paying attention to the storefronts he was trotting past, he would have seen pumpkins and gourds sitting on top of bales of hay, bats and streamers hanging from windows, and the occasional monster or skeleton pulling funny faces taped up to doorways. He would have felt the sunlight being filtered through leaves (leaves, it should be added, that were presenting their warmest and most decadent colors), heard the crunch of foliage underneath, and appreciated that distinct tinge colder weather brought to the smell of the air.
However, the autumnal display around Castiel went unnoticed as he was instead intent on finding someone to help appease the biting hunger that had crept in. His earlier attempts at procuring food had been hindered by more than one store employee, so Castiel had decided the next best plan of attack was to sucker some kind hearted person into feeding him, and feeding him real food at that. It was either con or go through the torment of fending for himself again, and as Castiel had quickly realized, doing so without magic was cumbersome at best.
Cas considered buttering up a group of teenagers clad mostly in black but ultimately decided against seeking their help as the volume of their conversation grew far too loud. Despite their harmless energy, it quickly became clear to Castiel that an actual banshee choir was more soothing than their collective squawking. One of the girls he hadn’t noticed before even called out to him as he darted past. She was wearing black and white striped stockings and a pointy hat which definitely sealed Castiel’s decision. Loud teenagers were one thing, but ones posing as such an inane characterization of witches were an absolute deal breaker, so he quickened his pace away from the group and kept searching.
A gust of wind picked up and for the first time that day Castiel was grateful for his long and thick black fur. Another wave of anger settled in the pit of his stomach. He had spent a large amount of time trying to get the dull, blue collar off, and when he finally conceded that wasn’t going to happen, he had spent an even larger amount of time plotting his revenge against his brothers, Michael and Lucifer, while simultaneously becoming more and more indignant that one of his other siblings hadn’t saved him yet. On one hand he felt he may have had it coming: he had replaced their shampoos and body wash with a home brew that basically equated to Nair, leaving both of them almost entirely hairless for the better part of the day, but collaring him while he was transformed and then zapping him to god knows where was more than necessary repayment. The collar Michael and Lucifer had locked around him looked normal, but bits of iron were intricately woven into the fibers, binding Castiel’s magic, and it was seemingly impossible for him to remove.
Skirting past a man on a bike and rounding a corner, Castiel huffed when he saw a coffee shop’s chalkboard easel advertising a thousand and one different ways to imbibe pumpkin spice complete with the image of witches riding on brooms. Nobody had ever ridden on brooms in the history of witchcraft (well…) and not for the first time he marveled at humanity’s fondness for believing the stupidest things. The sight just a bit beyond that misinformed sign, however, brought an unparalleled joy to Castiel’s heart. Exiting the coffee shop were two men, one with hair much longer than the other, holding bags of food and a cup each. They didn’t appear to be in a hurry, conversed at an adequate volume while wearing benign flannel, and seemed kind enough. Castiel smiled to himself as he geared up, trying to look his most adorable and yet most pathetic. As he approached his mark, he began to suspect that he just might have found what he’d been looking for: namely, the suckers.
Sam stepped out into the sharp autumn air, dirty chai in hand, took a deep breath, and smiled. He had successfully gotten his brother out without the bait of a bar, he and his fiancé were about to close on a house, and perhaps best of all, fall had finally wrapped itself around Lawrence. He felt his brother step up beside him, mouth already full of the mini pumpkin pie he had just bought, evident by the loud smacking he heard coming from his side.
“Looks like it’s gonna rain, Samantha,” Dean chimed in, voice slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed in his cheeks.
Sam sent his older brother his patented bitch face and took a giant sip of his latte just to spite Dean, who in turn pulled a face and muttered about girly drinks. Sam let the comment roll right off him and instead clapped his brother on the back. With a smile Sam told Dean he didn’t know what he was missing out on and was about to continue to his brother’s car when he was quickly jolted by something rubbing up against his leg.
“Holy crap!” Sam exclaimed as he looked down to see a giant, black cat nudge his leg.
“Wha- holy shit!” Dean pointed at nearly the same time, “that fucking thing is huge!”
Sam, balancing his drink and snacks in the same hand, knelt down to offer his hand to the cat, who, to his surprise, went straight forward to nuzzle the offered palm. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?”
Normally Castiel would have been appalled at both the words and action, but desperate times had indeed called for desperate measures, so instead of swiping at the man or running away from the patronizing humans, Castiel, with an acknowledging bump to Sam’s hand, moved on to the shorter man in hopes of buttering him up as well. However, as soon as Castiel got near one of the man’s bowed legs he jerked back.
“Whoa there, buddy,” Dean said, startled.
“Scared of the cat, Dean?”
Dean shot a look to his brother and then moved his eyes back to the feline. “No, Sam, I am not scared of this goddamn..” Dean paused, gesturing at the cat, “this goddamn street lion.”
“Street lion?” Sam interrupted, eyebrow cocked as he looked up at Dean.
“You have no idea where that thing has been. Petting it is downright unsanitary.”
Castiel looked up at Dean and glared at the insinuation. With a swish of his tail, he turned away from Dean and meandered back to the nicer one.
“Hey there, little guy,” Sam cooed, letting the cat sniff his hand again before running it down the back. “He’s clearly someone’s pet, Dean. I mean, he’s got a collar and looks well taken care of.”
“And you know it’s a he?”
Sam looked up at his brother again with a slight smile on his face, placed his drinks and pastry down before swooping the cat up and bringing him face to face with this brother. “His name’s on the collar.” Sam answered back.
The two looked at each other, Dean feeling as if he were being summed up by the giant, deep blue eyes staring back at him. He decided he didn’t like them, too far apart and just… weird. Intense, even. Castiel, admittedly, had spent longer than needed looking at Dean’s face, admiring it in spite of himself, before turning back to look at the one holding him.
“See,” Sam pointed to Cas’ collar, “nametag.”
Dean, leaning in closer while popping the last of his mini pie into his mouth, responded, “what the hell kinda name is that?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, flipping the tag over to see if there was a telephone number printed on the back. Knowing Sam wouldn’t find what he was looking for, and realizing his situation was still precariously perched, Castiel swallowed down the rest of his pride and went in for the kill. A pitiful mew left his mouth as he went in to nuzzle the man’s chest and started to purr.
Sam smiled and scratched Castiel’s head. “Aw, Dean, he likes me!”
“Yeah, that’s freaking great, Sammy. You’re king of the street rats. Now put him down and let’s go before that storm comes in.”
Castiel tensed, afraid that all this humiliating work was about to go unrewarded. He began hoping that maybe he could steal the pastry the tall one had left on the ground at very least…
“Dean!” Sam reprimanded, throwing his brother yet another bitch face. “We can’t just leave him here. Somebody’s obviously looking for him.”
Castiel relaxed at the words, albeit still saddened at their apparent lack of truth. He still hadn’t stopped hoping Anna or Gabriel would come save him from this degrading predicament.
Dean interrupted Castiel’s forlorn thoughts, “That’s exactly why we can and should leave him here. Somebody’s obviously gonna come looking for him.”
Castiel turned his head and squinted at the human. Perhaps he had misread the man’s bright aura.
Dean made a face at the cat and then looked back up at his brother when he shot back, “Really,
Dean? Someone’s gonna come back to a coffee shop looking for their cat?”
“It could be the coffee shop’s?” Dean supplied, realizing he was losing ground but not ready to fold.
Sam looked at him as if he had just drooled on himself. “Dean,” Sam replied, approaching the subject from a different angle, “Are you really okay with leaving this sweet, little guy alone? In the rain? Possibly to starve to death?” Sam recognized he was laying it on thick, but he also knew Dean, and Dean wouldn’t let something go hungry if he could help.
Dean pursed his lips, started to say something, then abruptly stopped, turned around, stopped again, looked back at his brother holding the damn cat and asked, “know what kinda monster that is?”
Sam scoffed and shook a strand of hair out of his face. “Maine Coon, I think.”
Dean turned back around and walked into the shop. Sam went back to running his fingers through Castiel’s mane, and Cas continued purring, knowing food was quite possibly minutes away if he could just keep up the con a bit longer. Sam could hear his brother yelling about a giant lost cat until stomping back out, eyebrows drawn but looking resigned enough.
“You know you have to put up lost cat signs, Samantha.” Dean said, emphasizing his annoyance by feminizing Sam’s name, something Castiel found completely repulsive.
“I know,” Sam said, smiling wide.
“You can’t keep him,” Dean continued, “he’s not yours.”
“Dean,” Sam replied, “look, I know. I just wanna help him find his way home.”
Castiel jerked his head back towards Sam, touched at the kindness and accidental accuracy.
“Fine.” Dean replied sourly, eyeing the cat for the umpteenth time.
Castiel, who had been trying not to get his hopes up too high, renewed his purring at the good news and rubbed his whiskers against Sam again.
Dean stepped up to his brother again, still pouting. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get him home.” Dean shot at his brother, watching him and the cat and not liking the way they seemed to have already teamed up. He absolutely did not want to spend the next few days dealing with this shit. Hopefully the owners would see the fliers and contact them right away. He made a mental note to get his brother on flyer duty as soon as they got situated.
“Dean.” Sam reprimanded him with a look.
“I’m serious, Sammy. He is not getting in Baby. I am not gonna have some mangy cat turning my car into a freaking flea motel.”
Castiel bristled at the insult but quickly tamped it down, reminding himself he wasn’t supposed to know English.
“He doesn’t have fleas, Dean,” Sam countered with exasperation.
“He’s gonna scratch up the upholstery.”
“Dean.”
“I mean it, dude, call Jess and get her to pick you two up.”
“Dean,” Sam replied, changing tactics and giving Dean his best puppy eyes.
Dean threw back his head in annoyance and dramatically sighed, “Fine. But if he pees you’re cleaning it up.”
Sam grinned and hoisted the cat up to his other shoulder. He was pretty strong, but the cat was huge. Quickly he responded to his brother, “Okay, okay!”
“And he’s your responsibility. Meaning that your lawyer professor ass is responsible for any damage hereby done to the car.”
“Got it.”
“I mean it, Sam! You want the cat, your responsibility! That includes cleaning up the crap,” Cas couldn’t help but glare at the man again, “making the fliers as soon as we get home, feeding him,” Cas warmed at the mere thought of food, “making sure he doesn’t do… whatever the hell it is that cats do. Just… all of it. It’s on you.”
“Yeah, Dean, I got it,” Sam placated as he turned around, pleased that he had talked his brother into getting a cat. Sam hoped, admittedly selfishly, that nobody was going to come looking for him. The Maine Coon was clearly super friendly, seemingly well-behaved, and beautiful, plus he and Jess had wanted to get a pet for a while now.
Perhaps a bit more cocky than he should have been, Sam triumphantly called back to his brother, “Hey, be a pal and grab the stuff I left on the ground?”
Mimicking his brother, Dean looked back just in time to see the black cat’s head pop up over his brother’s shoulder. He could have sworn the cat was looking at him as if he had just won a bet. In fact, the cat looked downright smug, and not for the first time Dean scowled at him. As Dean swiped Sam’s stuff from off the ground, he felt a fat, cold raindrop hit the back of his neck and grimaced at the sky. Reflecting on his bad luck, Dean was even more annoyed at the prospect of having a wet, pissy, freaking panther on their hands. Maybe he would get scared and run off before they got him inside. The sooner this stupid, weird-eyed cat was out of his life, the better.