Excerpt: Light Up the Sky for Me

The door swung open again, and two hunters shoved past without a second glance at the gun or the girl or any of it. Like this was just another day. Just one more in a long string of weird, apocalyptic days, where every time you woke up you were a little bit surprised. That you were still here. That there still was a here.

That an angel was standing face to face with a demon who had tricked them into opening a doorway to hell--an extensively locked and guarded doorway to hell--and the extent of his retribution so far was a disapproving frown.

“You gonna let me do this?” Dean asked him.

Castiel stared back at him as though surprised to be asked. “Would you let me stop you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Jo reached out and plucked the gun out of Dean’s hand, and she should really know better but this was Jo, so of course her wince was directed at Castiel instead of him. “Uh, sorry--”

“Hey,” she interrupted herself, and now she did narrow her eyes at Dean. “Is that why you’re not swearing? I haven’t heard a single word out of you; it’s like you’re not even talking. Is it because of him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said. He freed the gun from her grasp, not quite sure enough that she knew what she was doing to feel comfortable with her having it. Aside from the fact that it was his gun. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Get out of the doorway.” Ellen slammed it closed behind her and pushed right through their little group. Ruby was the only one to step back, and Sam reached out to grab her arm. Keeping her close by. “Sit down, all of you,” Ellen called over her shoulder. “Or get to work. Food for everyone who helps clean up.”

“Where do you think I’m gonna go?” Ruby hissed at Sam. “I called you.”

“Don’t ever take my gun again,” Dean told Jo.

She gave his shoulder a push. “Get the other end of that table. Try not to shoot anyone who isn’t actively threatening you. And for the love of--for crying out loud,” she said, “tell me what will get me struck by lightning before I do it, okay?”

“They’re not big on lightning,” Dean muttered, frowning in Ruby’s direction as he grabbed the table she’d pointed at. “Unless you’re dreaming.”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until he glanced back at her. She was raising her eyebrows at him, heaving the table upright without missing a beat. “Unless you’re dreaming,” she repeated, and he just shook his head.

He really wasn’t used to talking about Cas.

The chair beside him righted itself, and he glared at Castiel. Jo jumped back, her hand going to her pocket--who knew what she had in there--but Castiel didn’t seem to notice. He just flipped up the next chair, and the next, in a neat line. All without touching them. His eyes flickered across Dean’s as he looked toward the other side of the table, and he paused.

“Cas,” Dean said. He swept his gaze around the room as casually as he could, but everyone who’d come in to loosen or reset the hatches was as oblivious as the hunters who’d walked past the gun. There were things that didn’t register as weird anymore. He sidled toward Castiel anyway, lowering his voice. “I don’t know if you noticed this, but you’re surrounded by guys who hunt the supernatural.”

Jo cleared her throat pointedly, which meant he wasn’t talking quietly enough.

“And girls,” Dean growled, trying to ignore her. “People who hunt for a living, okay? You’re not gonna make any of them feel less like stabbing you by whipping out the telekinesis for no reason.”

Castiel gave him a searching look. “You wish me to act human.”

“No,” Dean said. Because that was a lousy thing to say, right? Except he did, because the whole situation was kind of lousy, and if they made it out of here without any more bloodshed it would be a freakin’ miracle. “Kind of. At least... less angelic.”

Castiel inclined his head, and the fact that he knew what Dean was talking about seemed weird.

“You are so telling me this story,” Jo said from behind him.

Castiel looked at her, and Dean saw Jo’s hair flash out of the corner of his eye. A pretty blonde swirl of nervousness. “I’m Jo Harvelle,” she said, lifting her chin in the face of that stare. “Nice to meet you.”

“You hunted with Dean,” Castiel said, and they both looked at him in surprise.

“Um, yeah.” Jo glanced over at Dean, but he was torn between keeping tabs on Ruby and giving Castiel a “you’re a creepy stalker” look. “He told you that, huh?”

“No,” Castiel said. Then he added, “She is bound. Temporarily.”

Dean looked over and found Castiel watching Ruby help Sam heave debris off the counter. Not the safest thing she could be doing, but nothing would be. “She’s a manipulative freak of nature,” Dean muttered, “and I really want her dead.”

“Do you?” Castiel asked.

“Yes!” Dean snapped. “What kind of a question is that?”

“You didn’t shoot her,” Castiel pointed out.

“She’d just take someone else,” Dean grumbled. “That poor girl she’s riding doesn’t deserve this.”

“You didn’t have a problem working with her last host,” Castiel observed.

“Oh, I had a problem,” Dean said. “I had a whole lot of problems.”

“Her name was Stacy,” Jo offered. “Ruby said she found her in a hospital? She said her soul was already gone?”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off of the redhead hefting furniture like it was nothing. “Yeah, that’s what she said last time. These coma patients of hers are in good shape for people who were bedridden and brain dead.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Castiel said.

Dean glared at him reflexively for putting her and “truth” in the same sentence. Castiel actually seemed to get it, because he shifted uncomfortably. Without moving. It occurred to Dean all of a sudden that he had seen something that wasn’t really there: a shrug that hadn’t touched the human vessel while the glow around Castiel rose and fell like breathing.

“Did you just--” He broke off just before he would have said it. Before he would have reminded everyone in hearing distance exactly what Castiel was, and possibly revealed too much about himself at the same time.

Because he was pretty sure Cas had just resettled his wings.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“No, I think that’s my line,” Dean said. “What about any demon is the truth except for the way they lie?”

Castiel tilted his head, but he must have decided to go with the practical answer instead of a philosophical argument because all he said was, “She is the only awareness inside that body. The soul has gone.”

“Yeah?” Dean stared at him, distracted and not really sure he wanted to know. “What about you?”

Castiel just looked at him, convincingly confused if he was anything at all.

“You told Tamara you chose--” He waved a hand in Castiel’s direction. “To look like that. After the thing with the--” The thing with the archangels, he wanted to say, but that wasn’t as descriptive as it used to be. “After you came back,” he said.

“I did,” Castiel agreed.

“You chose to look like Jimmy,” Dean said.

“James Novak was a loyal servant of God,” Castiel said. “He has been rewarded.”

“But he’s not--” Dean eyed him, like he could somehow tell by looking. “He’s not in there. With you. Anymore.”

“No,” Castiel said. “I wear this visage out of... respect, I suppose.”

“And because we’re used to it,” Dean said.

Castiel’s eyes flicked to Jo. “Yes,” he agreed. Dean didn’t know why it was hard to say, since he’d already said it once. “As most humans can not look upon our true forms,” Castiel added, probably for Jo’s benefit, “we must assume more human markers of recognition when we move among you.”

“I’d recognize you,” Dean said without thinking.

Castiel looked at him for a long moment. “Perhaps,” he said.

“Seriously,” Jo said, nudging Dean with her shoulder. “You’re telling me this story.”

Castiel just glanced at her, and she took a step back. From Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend, so just get that out of your head right now,” he told her. “And trust me, statistically speaking, he’s way more likely to hurt me than you.”

Castiel tilted his head, but his puzzled expression wasn’t fooling anyone. “What statistics are you referring to?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean told him. “Sorry, by the way. It looks like dinner’s gonna be a little late.”

“I don’t need to eat, Dean.” Castiel didn’t look distracted in the slightest.

“Well, feel free to help clean up.” Dean waved around the Roadhouse, but his eyes settled on Sam. “I’m gonna go beat my head against a brick wall.”