Chapter Text
The Greyhound belched exhaust, stirring up the dry dust on the shoulder of Rt 281 and sent the tails of Castiel’s old trench flapping around his knees. He squinted, blowing air past his plush lips to keep it from floating into his mouth, waving a hand in front of his face as the bus pulled away, taking a slow right-hand turn at the junction with Rt 191.
Castiel ruffled his hair, heaving a sigh as he threw the heavy duffle over his shoulder to begin the hour-long walk into town. The wind whipped, blowing unhindered across the plains, and he looked around, marveling that he really could see for a hundred miles, a sharp contrast to the congested streets and high-rises of downtown Chicago. A sign some distance away declared “Welcome to Lebanon: Center of the 48 States!” He snorted at that. Of course his absent father would end up here; he considered himself the center of the universe, after all.
His phone rang in his pocket and he struggled to adjust the duffle to his other shoulder before digging into his coat pocket to pull it out.
He clenched his teeth as he brought it to his ear. “What?”
“Hello to you, too, baby brother.” Gabriel’s voice was a sing-song taunt Castiel had been familiar with since birth. “You get to town okay?”
“I’ve got about an hour worth of walking.”
A pause. “Wait, what? I thought you were renting a car.”
“And what was I supposed to do with it once I got to Howard’s?” Castiel snapped. “There’s not exactly an Avis in downtown Lebanon.”
Gabriel’s sigh rattled through the line. “Look, I’d be there if I could-”
“Yeah.” Castiel cut him off, not wanting to hear the platitudes again.
“-but I’ve got the kids and- “
“I get it.”
“- and Michael can’t leave the business-”
“I said, I get it!” Castiel cringed as his voice echoed down the empty highway. “Luc won’t forgive him and I’m a registered nurse. It just makes sense for me to do it.” He rolled his eyes as he finished Gabriel’s train of thought before it could be relayed to him again. No matter how many times he heard it or how much sense it made, it still infuriated him.
“He’s your dad, too, ya know,” Gabriel said, not unkindly.
“Coulda fooled me,” Castiel muttered as a car whipped past him. It was a classic, black, blaring a rock song he thought he recognized but couldn’t place. He watched a tan arm surf the air stream out the driver’s side window until the car was a mere speck against the old downtown skyline.
“He regrets-”
“I’m sure he does,” Castiel cut him off and picked up his pace. “Anything else?”
The line was silent for a moment. “No. Hey, Castiel?”
“What?”
“Thank you.” Gabriel’s voice held a warmth Castiel rarely heard and that place in his heart that loved his brothers unconditionally ached. He hung up without saying goodbye.
It was nearing dark when Castiel reached the old farmhouse, stopped on the gravel at the mouth of the drive, and looked up at the dark second story. Placing a hand on the dented metal mailbox, he lowered his head and took a deep breath. Castiel did not pray, not since he’d been a small child. He saw no reason to pick the habit back up, but still found himself willing the universe to get him out of this. Please, just don’t make him face that man again.
When Castiel lifted his gaze he jumped, finding a body framed by the large picture window, seated in an easy chair. Castiel felt his face color. Keeping his head down, he stomped up the gravel drive, mounting the stairs and stepping to the door. Castiel stopped, his hand reaching for the doorknob. Should he knock?
He jumped when the door swung open and immediately stood straighter, his throat suddenly sandpaper dry. The old man in front of him was unexpectedly small, hunched with age and leaning heavily on a cane, a large, gnarled hand still on the door to keep his balance. They appraised each other.
“You just gonna stand there?”
His father’s voice was a rough rasp. Castiel shook his head, anger igniting under his skin as he reached for the screen door, moving to step in. The old man shuffled backwards, shaking with the effort, and Castiel dropped his duffle in the hall, reaching for him on instinct.
“Come on, let’s get you into a chair.”
“I don’t need a chair.” The old man slapped at him, wobbling his way back into the front room to fall like a sack of potatoes into the chair by the window. “The girl put together a bed for you upstairs.” He didn’t look at Castiel when he said it, addressing the window, instead, his hand still on his cane. That was the extent of Castiel’s first exchange with his father in nearly twenty years.
He wasted as much time as he could unpacking his clothes and hanging them in the closet, then putting his toiletries in the bathroom. He sat on the end of the bed, placing his head in his hands for a moment before scrubbing his face hard and looking around the compact room. A metal-frame bed flanked by whitewashed end tables and a heavy oak bureau, white linens, white gossamer curtains. A room devoid of color, giving nothing away, like the rest of the house. Like his father.
Castiel made his way back downstairs, finding his father still at the window. He stepped up beside him, surveying the view of an interminable stretch of two lane road, a low patch of scrub brush separating it from a field that stretched for miles. Castiel waited a beat, but no cars passed. No animals skittered in and out of the brush. The trees barely swayed.
Castiel heaved a sigh. “Are you hungry? I can make dinner.”
“Not much in there. The girl comes tomorrow with the groceries. Well, she used to. I guess you’ll be doing that now.”
Castiel looked down at his father, the old man’s rheumy eyes scanning back and forth across the yard, mouth moving in the way old folks had when their dentures were loose. Castiel looked back out, wondering what the old man was seeing. He sighed again.
“I can go get some things. Where are your keys?”
The old man turned as best he could in the chair to peer up at his youngest son. “What now?”
“Keys.” Castiel enunciated a little louder.
His father snorted. “Ain’t got no car.”
Castiel went stock still, his blood pressure rising though no one else would know. He blinked before rallying his patience. “Gabe said you had a car.”
“Don’t.” The old man continued pushing his dentures against the inside of his lips.
Castiel rubbed his head hard. “I specifically asked- you know what?” He cut himself off pulling out his phone and jabbing at Gabriel’s number before bringing the device to his ear. It rang once.
“Dammit, Castiel, couldn’t you have waited like 10 more minutes before calling me,” Gabriel whined and Castiel blinked. “Now I owe Luc 20 bucks.”
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Look, uh…” Castiel turned his back. “Howard says he doesn’t have a car?”
A pause, then a heavy sigh. “Give Dad the phone.”
Castiel turned back to his father and offered him the phone. He jumped, giving it an affronted glare. “The devil is that?”
Castiel blinked as Gabriel’s voice, soft and tinny, issued from the device. “It’s an iPhone, Dad. You know what an iPhone is. Stop fucking with him.”
Howard lifted a shaky hand, taking the phone from Castiel and nearly fumbling it with his stiff, arthritic fingers. “I ain’t doing nothing to nobody. And that’s some way to talk to your father.”
Castiel could hear Gabriel chattering but couldn’t make out what was being said. Howard continued playing with his dentures and it almost looked to Castiel as if some kind of animal was trying to push its way out. A snake, perhaps. Suddenly his father’s face screwed up, and he leaned back in the chair, reaching to rub his wrinkled forehead.
“Oh, you meant the Buick? Well, he’s welcome to it. Ain’t run in damn-near ten years.”
Castiel’s fists balled at his sides and he brought one up to his mouth, biting on his knuckles to stifle the string of expletives he wanted to let fly. He huffed and held out a hand. “Give me the phone.”
Howard gave him a side-eye and continued to talk. “Yeah, we got an auto shop. Got a post office and bank, too. Just like the big city, ‘cept without the crime and immigrants.”
Castiel’s face flashed hot, even though he was the only one there to hear the derogatory remark. “Give me the phone, please.”
Howards face screwed up again, his free hand waving in a stop gesture that Gabriel couldn’t see. “Yeah, yeah. We’re gettin’ along fine.” Howard cut his eyes at Castiel, his upper lip curling in distaste. “Looks like his mother-”
Castiel let his head hang back in frustration before he lost it and snatched the phone away. “Gabriel…”
“If you kill him, you just spent two days on a bus for nothing,” Gabriel said. Castiel took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hang in there, little brother.”
He hung up without saying goodbye, rubbing his thumb over the black screen as he rallied his patience. “There doesn’t happen to be a taxi service around here, does there?”
“‘Course,” Howard gave a deep nod, eyes out on the road again. Castiel waited.
“Do you have the number?”
Howard waved a hand over his shoulder, indicating somewhere at the back of the house. “Yella’ Book’s by the phone.”
As Castiel stalked away, deciding he’d rather hunt all over the house for it than ask Howard any more questions, the old man heaved and coughed. It was a wet, rough sound followed by a violent gasp for breath. Castiel looked around, his heart slowing, vision going sharply into focus as his training took over. He grabbed an inhaler off the TV tray on the other side of the arm chair and gently cupped the back of his father’s head as he guided it to his lips. The old man’s hand flailed at him—whether in panic or to swat him away, Castiel didn’t know—but he got his lips around it and Castiel fired the trigger, a soft hiss accompanying Howard’s deep gasp.
He did push Castiel away then, closing his mouth on more coughs, reaching into the pocket of his cardigan to pulling out a wad of tissue. He hacked and spit into it before sucking in another great breath, then fell limply back against the chair. Castiel stayed close, watching his hand moving from the back of his father’s head to the side of his neck, checking his pulse.
Howard slapped his hands away, finally. “I’m fine!” Castiel didn’t respond, just placed the inhaler back on the tray and moved to exit the room and resume his search for the phone book. Howard’s voice stopped him, “You won’t be able to get that car to start. Best call for a tow while you’re gettin’ a taxi.”
Castiel paused only to grit his teeth before sucking in a deep breath and moving on.