hh_mirror | Peace and Quiet ((open rp))

The angel in question had made the Ravenclaw bar a regular part of his itinerary, so it was more or less inevitable that he would run across John at some point.

He'd been wondering about the Winchester patriarch, in turn. They had met twice now, only briefly, and on one of those occasions he'd been in no condition (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1992435.html?thread=112731123#t112731123) to hold a rational conversation. He owed John a debt for that incident (a highly unusual sort of debt, certainly, but nevertheless) and he was curious about the man who had shaped the lives of all his friends so profoundly.

Noticing the man seated in one of the place's numerous shadowy corners, he stopped to pick up another bottle of scotch and a glass, and made his way over to John's table, to stop a few feet off, not altogether sure of his welcome. John hadn't exactly seen him at his best on their last encounter, and it couldn't speak well for him to the experienced hunter that he'd allowed himself to be caught in such an absurd trap to begin with.

"Hello, John," he said, regarding the man with evident uncertainty. "May I join you?"

John looked up at the voice. He had only been distantly aware of anyone else nearby, and was surprised to see that it was Castiel. Normally he would have berated himself for a lapse in his guard like that, but today, he allowed himself the indulgence.

It wasn't a surprise the angel looked hesitant. Their last meeting had been under extremely bizzare circumstances and John had no doubt that the transformation had been unsettling for him. The hunter waved him over with a small smile, "Yeah. Take a seat."

Cas seated himself opposite John and got straight to business. "I, ah, wanted to thank you," he said tentatively. "For preventing an uncomfortable situation from becoming..." He paused, searching for a good way to put it, "...even more uncomfortable. I could have done considerable damage, if you hadn't..." He trailed off, finding it difficult to look the man in the eyes.

John held up a hand, "Forget it. You weren't exactly yourself at the time. Besides, I raised two boys and I remember those days pretty clearly. It's funny how quickly it comes back, even after all this time," he noted with a distant smile.

Castiel glanced up at that; somehow, preoccupied with his own embarrassment, he hadn't put much thought into the rather obvious connection. "Dean used to behave that way?" he queried, finding it difficult to imagine.

He chuckled at the memory, "The boy was born stubborn and it just got worse the older he got. But if you think Dean as a little one was rough, you should have seen him as a teenager."

"Now Sam, he was always the quiet one. He'd just look around and take everything in. Some days I'd swear I could see his mother looking out through them," he murmured.

John blinked. It was the first time in years he had been able to think about Mary without a tightening in his chest.

He was beginning to get an inkling how John had taken charge so effortlessly the day of the prank. Now that he really thought about it, Dean was exceedingly difficult to manage as an adult. As a small child lacking even the limited self-control he now possessed, he must have been downright terrifying.

"It doesn't sound as if they've changed that much, fundamentally," he observed, thinking of Dean's recent detention (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1986690.html) as just one example. Time and adversity had left their marks on both men, even in the short time he'd known them, of course, but those underlying traits certainly still held true.

"I admire them both," he said after a moment. "I owe a great deal to them both. As does all humanity. I'm sure that you don't need me to tell you, but I thought you might like to hear it from someone who was there to see when you couldn't be." Bobby had undoubtedly told him already, but it bore repeating. "You should be very proud of your sons."

"I am proud of them. They're damned good kids, and good hunters."

Bobby had in fact, not (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1993908.html?thread=112796596#t112796596) talked to John about what had happened, at Dean's request. He knew he had missed a great deal, but he was still lacking the details. He hadn't been the best father to either one of the boys, but he still saw the scars they bore, the way that Sam and Dean stuck so close to each other. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to come clean, even if he had to corner them into doing it.

"Thank you for looking out for Sam and Dean when I couldn't." John took a long swallow from his glass. He refilled his and inclined the bottle in Castiel's direction. "So how exactly did an angel wind up throwing in with my boys?" he asked curiously.

The angel pushed his glass slightly John's way. He would have liked to proceed cautiously, but that was difficult without knowing what John had or hadn't already heard. And circumspection had never been one of Cas's strong suits.

"I'm not sure how much the boys have told you," he said after a moment, "but at one point during their campaign against Azazel, Sam was killed. Dean made a very one-sided crossroads bargain to bring him back. They only gave him a year." He focused his eyes on the table. It wasn't easy for him to picture the events he was describing, and it couldn't be easy for John to hear it.

"When that year expired, the hounds came for him. He spent four months, earth time, in Hell." He didn't think it necessary to explain how much time had passed subjectively for Dean. John Winchester had been there. "While he was there...events transpired which set in motion the breaking of the seals that bound Lucifer. It was the prelude to the Apocalypse, as foretold in the Revelation.

"I was part of a group of angels who were dispatched to storm the Pit and retrieve Dean, and the one who reached him first and brought him back to Earth. Afterward it was given to me and my colleague, Uriel, to watch over him and prepare him to carry out his part in Heaven's plans.

"As it turned out, what Heaven had planned was to use Dean as their tool to ensure that when the final battle ensued, they would win. Just as Sam was to be Hell's." He had never actually had to explain these events and his own part in them to anyone in detail before, and the longer he spoke, the more it all came back to him: his own questions and doubts, his growing conviction that Dean had the right of it and that he was playing for the wrong team. The dilemmas that had been handed to him and his own failure to address them honorably.

Twice dead now, and he still hadn't owned up to his friends for some of the shameful things he had violated his own conscience to do at Zachariah's behest.

"Our orders were to facilitate this," he said, wondering just how much of each Winchester brother resided in their father, and whether he was about to be punched in the face. It wouldn't be the first time. "I went along with them until the eleventh hour...under duress, at times," he had to add. It wasn't an excuse, but it had been a factor. "Dean persuaded me--almost literally at the last minute--that I was acting out of cowardice, serving the wrong people, and we tried to halt what was happening, but by that time it was too late. Sam was manipulated into breaking the sixty-sixth seal, and the Morningstar walked free." Which was in no small part his fault, but there was only so much he was willing to tell John when he still hadn't confessed to Sam or Dean. "I freed Dean from confinement, and was destroyed by the archangel Raphael while trying to buy him time to get to Sam and prevent it.

"It was only by divine intervention that the boys survived and I was restored to life. I got them out of Zachariah's clutches before he could forcibly extract Dean's consent to serve as Michael's Earthly vessel, and...we went from there." He could have gone on. But that more or less explained how he'd wound up a part of Team Free Will, and if what he'd already said made him feel vaguely ill to recall, much of what had come after that was literally the stuff of nightmares.

"From that time, I gave my allegiance to Dean," he concluded, raising his eyes. This much, at least, he was not ashamed to admit. "And that is where it has remained."

Edited 2011-01-21 19:59 (UTC)

John poured for both of them, then sat back his gaze never wavering from Cas as he spoke. His expression may have been a carefully crafted mask, but it was not difficult to miss the growing agony in his eyes.

When Castiel concluded his narrative, the only sound at the table was the sharp crack of the glass giving way beneath John’s hands. He looked down and absently began picking bloodied shards of glass out of his palms. The pain was welcome, it kept him focused while he mind tried to process what he had been told. Dean going to hell for Sam? Sam setting Lucifer free? His boys dying? It was too much to for anyone to take in at once; as a father, it was almost impossible.

Had it been anyone else who had admitted to being a part of a scheme to manipulate his sons into being the weapons of both Heaven and Hell and bring about the Apocalypse, John wouldn’t have hesitated to reach across the table land at least one good punch. The only thing that kept that from happening was the battered old watch that Cas wore on his wrist.

A badly shaken father looked into Castiel’s face. "But even then, you had your doubts, before you decided to fall in with Dean and Sam?"

Cas took a large swallow of whiskey. "It was clear that something had gone very wrong in Heaven. Angels were being murdered, the validity of our orders was becoming more and more uncertain. I doubted. I was afraid. And I had come to like Dean and Sam, better than most of my own kind.

"But I was a soldier, taught from the moment of my creation that my life and my will were the property of Heaven. Disobedience was the worst crime an angel could commit, subject to the severest forms of punishment."

He sat back, gestured for a house elf to clean up the shards and bring John a fresh glass, and fidgeted with his own. "I didn't find the...the balls to do what I knew I should, until Dean shamed me into it. Until I realized he was just as afraid as I was, but he was willing to take on Heaven and Hell together if that was what it took to protect his brother and the world. Even if it meant risking everything. Becoming the hunted." He tossed back the remainder of his drink. "So I joined them. And that's what we did. ...would you like me to fix those for you?" He nodded at the damage John had done himself.

John reached for the fresh glass, grimacing as his fingers failed to completely close around it. The life of a soldier was something that he understood and he nodded at Castiel. "I can't say that being in the Marines compares to a soldier in Heaven, but I imagine the culture was somewhat similar. In the Marines, you followed orders without question, you were loyal to the Corps first above all."

He gave a fractional smile. Naturally Dean would be the one who tried to take on everything to protect Sammy.

John looked quizically at Castiel. "Fix them?" Obviously in his twenty years of hunting and studying demons and all manner of supernatural creature, studying the lore of Heaven had not been much of a priority.

"Exactly," the angel said, nodding. "It's not an easy mindset to break out of, even when you know that you must. Understand that I am not making excuses. It was a failure on my part, one that I can only hope I've atoned for since."

"Yes." As he spoke, he leaned across the table to touch the backs of John's fingers, willing away the lacerations. "You're not familiar with angelic lore? Healing is...one of the perks."

"No, it's not and easy thing to change," he agreed. John was beginning to develop his own respect for the angel.

He looked down at his hands, surprised. "I.. no. I wasn't exactly what you would call a man of deep faith before Mary had been killed. After that, I lost what little faith I had. I knew there was a Hell, and I knew there were demons. But Heaven?" he shook his head. "It was too far away, too removed while I was trying desperately to keep my family together and keep my sons safe."

Cas nodded as he refilled his glass; he could relate. "I think all of us have suffered our crises of faith." He smiled ruefully. "In fact, it's been something of an epidemic in recent months. But Heaven is real, and that disconnection is something I intend to try to change, if I get the opportunity." He knew he might be pointlessly spinning his wheels, making plans in that direction, but it was difficult to put it out of his mind. If Dean suffered for lack of anything to hunt here, he was just as stuck for any goals to pursue, orders to follow, battles to fight.

He considered the man's final statement thoughtfully. "You raised your sons to be fine men," he said. "Considering the forces that were arrayed against you, I don't know how you could possibly have been any more successful."

Dean had once described John Winchester as a 'deadbeat dad,' but it was clear, talking to the man, that his job had not been an easy one. Whatever his failings as a father, they obviously couldn't be chalked up to not caring. Castiel filed that observation away for later consideration; maybe it was normal for sons to have a blind spot when it came to the choices their fathers made.

"Given what's happened, I'm not surprised," he noted, taking a long swallow from his glass. There had been moments over the years when he would look up at the night sky and talk to the stars, wishing that somehow Mary could hear him. It was the closest John ever got to prayer.

"I couldn't be prouder of Sam and Dean. They're damn good kids, even if I was too lost to see it most days when they were younger," there was a bitter note of regret in his voice. "I know the boys didn't go through it alone, and for that I'm grateful to both you and Bobby."

"It's been my privilege. And probably my salvation," the angel said seriously. "If I hadn't met them, I'd likely be dead, like many from my garrison, or turned to Hell's service as several others were." As difficult and painful as his path had been, it was infinitely better than either of those alternatives. "Dean has a gift for forging ahead no matter the odds, drawing others along in his wake when they would have foundered alone."

He paused a beat. "Unfortunately, there are times when that can translate into plowing headlong into a stone wall and creating a pile-up. Nevertheless, none of us would be here if not for him."

Despite the horrifying news the angel had recently given him, John sat back and genuinely laughed at his very apt description of Dean's determination and the occasional disaster that resulted when his sheer stubbornness would lead him wildly off track. "Once the boy gets an idea in his head, there's no dislodging it."

John set down his drink and considered the angel across the table. "I can see why Dean and Sammy consider you part of the family," he said, his eyes drifting down to the old watch. Castiel was honest, honorable, and someone John knew he'd want at his back in the middle of a fight.

Cas had been hoping he might elicit at least a smile with that statement, after everything he'd dropped onto John's shoulders, though he'd also meant it quite seriously. But the man's observation startled him a bit, and he followed John's gaze to the watch. He'd grown so used to wearing it he hadn't stopped to consider what John might think.

"I'm not unaware of the implications. Or ungrateful," he assured the man.

"Sam honored me by giving this to me as a Christmas gift." He took the watch off and studied it thoughtfully. He hoped John wasn't offended to see him with it. "Because of the inscription, he said. Semper Fidelis. I told him that I didn't know I had earned it, but he insisted." He looked up a bit apprehensively. "I don't believe that he intended to show disrespect to you--to your memory."

None of them had much here that was of any value, sentimental or otherwise. Castiel thought Sam might have given him the most valuable thing he owned, and he was certain the young man would not have made such a decision lightly. "But if you'd rather that I didn't wear it, I can put it away."

Edited 2011-01-22 06:15 (UTC)

"Me and Sam.. it's always been hard for us. We fought from the time he was a teenager right up until the day I died." John had bitterly regretted not saying goodbye to his youngest, but he had been afraid. He had failed Sam so many times in the past, Dean had to be the one to survive and look out for his brother.

"I wanted to do right by him; to make him ready for what was coming. I had an inkling of what the demon's plans were for Sammy. I pushed him too hard, I pushed them both too hard. When he left us to go to college, I let him go. I didn't go after him, even though I wanted to. I thought if he had a chance at a normal life, he deserved it. It was all he ever wanted and I couldn’t give it to him.”

John drained his glass in one swallow, savoring the burn. He loved his sons fiercely, but he had been a damned coward. “I should have told them everything.”

The elder Winchester shook himself and raised his eyes back to Castiel and his offer. “No. Sam gave it to you for a reason. If he wanted you to wear it, then please, keep wearing it.”

Sooner or later, he was going to have to talk to both Sam and Dean. He couldn’t make up for past mistakes, but he could at least attempt to apologize to them.

The angel nodded and put the watch back on, relieved; what it represented was important to him, and he was glad he wouldn't have to hide it.

"Some of the things that have happened are...too personal for you to hear from me," he said. Maybe some of the things he'd already said had been; it wasn't something he was very good at judging, but the matter of Sam as Lucifer's vessel, that he knew the man should hear from his sons. "But you should know that in the end it was Sam who put Lucifer down. Dean made it possible, and Bobby and I were there, but it was his strength that won the day."

He leaned in slightly, compelled to address the misplaced pain he saw the man carrying. "You may not have been a perfect father. But you gave them everything that they needed to save Creation from ruin. Strength. Conviction. Faith in one another. No one else could have done it, John. You did not fail your sons."

John swallowed hard around a rising tightness in his throat. There was more to tell and he was holding it back? Jesus. That was never good. How bad had it gotten for them? How bad had it gotten for Sammy?

"Sammy did it, huh?" He had heard as much from Dean, even if Sam tried to brush off that credit. John couldn't help the surge of pride, even as his eyes began to well up. The angel had seen right through to the heart of his fears; that he had been so obsessed with his hunt for the demon that he had failed Sam and Dean on a fundamental level. The emotions were too new and too raw for him to even attempt to tamp them down.

"I'm glad he didn't have to do it alone," he managed. "Thank you."

It was another one of those awkward, all-too-common moments when Castiel was convinced he would never overcome his clumsiness with the social graces.

"I've upset you," he said, his own distress evident in the way his gaze darted restlessly around the room, seeking a way to fix things and not finding it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He forced his focus back to John, adding, "All of that is behind us now. The boys are still recovering, we all are, but they're going to be fine."

Neither of them needed to hear the addendum, for now, though he couldn't stop himself thinking it.

"Don't apologize," John said, struggling to get himself back under control. "It was time I heard more about what happened after I died, and I'm glad you told me, even if it's not easy for a father to hear."

"Is there something that I can do? For any of you?" If there was one thing John needed, it was to feel useful. He had to do something to help his new and extended family as they mended.

Cas thought about it. "Possibly. I think the reason the pranks keep getting out of control is that no one knows what to do with themselves here. There's nothing to hunt, no crisis to solve, no battles to fight and no civilians who need saving. Downtime is something that we all needed, badly, but here we've got too much of a good thing. It leaves far too much time for introspection." He shrugged slightly. "We could all use something to keep us occupied. But what, eludes me."

Edited 2011-01-22 20:54 (UTC)

"There's always the Forbidden Forest," John said. "There are packs of spiders about the size of a Chevette called acromantulas. I'm sure some of the nests could stand to be cleaned out from time to time."

He hesitated to bring up the tower that had sickened Bobby. Yes, they had been children, but he had a better sense of the angel now and wondered how much he blamed himself for what had happened.

Cas tilted his head slightly, his interest piqued. "I hadn't realized. I'd assumed 'Forbidden Forest' was meant literally." Giant spiders were certainly right up Sam and Dean's alley--unnatural, dangerous and morally unambiguous--and he wouldn't mind testing himself against such a creature either. "It might prove a worthwhile diversion." It certainly had to be better than sitting around waiting for Dean's restlessness to get the better of his common sense again...

John chuckled, "Most of the rules seem to be made to be bent or broken around here. I think the title is more to try and intimidate than a literal 'do not enter'. We can probably scrounge up enough weapons for a little hunting party in a few days for you and the boys."

"I'm already armed," Cas noted absently, "but I'm not sure whether they are. You wouldn't care to join us?" John was, after all, a hunter as well, the one who'd taught his friends their craft, and the angel had never had a chance to observe his technique.

"If they remember anything I've taught them, they're armed on some level."

He grinned, pleased to be invited along. "I'd like that. I could use a stretch myself."

"I'll bring it up the next time I see them." The prospect of a good fight alongside trusted companions, without the pressure of the world's fate or their own hanging in the balance, was more than a little appealing.

What was that about a prank war being over?

Kurama (after a long battle with her wardrobe to find something that wasn't a far-too revealing kimono, which was more or less successful in that it didn't show off too much boob or leg but did look like it had been puked out by some dark alley in the middle of Harajuku. (http://sexpot.jp/pic-labo/sc01094-2.JPG) And yes, there was a cute cartoon character and a frilled skirt, but at least there were pants and the scarf was pretty cool) made her way to the bar with a single goal in mind: Get drunk enough to not care that, for now, she was missing a penis.

She gave Winchester Sr. a long, hard stare as she ordered a doubleshot of Everclear, leaning against a bar chair and wondering which side of the family asshole ran on.

_{((edited for better outfit. Vain like that.))}

Normally when John was on the receiving end of a stare like that, he remembered pissing someone off. He didn't recall meeting the busty woman with the rather dubious fashion sense before. The hunter returned the stare flatly while he mentally reviewed who he might have already managed to piss off.

Her mannerisms were vaguely familiar, but beyond that, John was drawing a blank. Finally he broke the silence.

"There a problem?"

"Your elder son, for starters," Kurama said icily, knocking back her double and slamming down the glass for another. It would take a while for her to even start to get drunk, but she damn well planned on doing it. "Were he my child, gods and devils forbid," her tail lashed at even the thought of being a father, "I'd have smothered him long ago."

He caught the tail lash. John only remembered meeting one kitsune...

Fucking hell, Dean.

John moved his glass aside and set his hands on the table, palms down. "Exactly. He's my son," he responded evenly. An unspoken threat hung in the air between them. Dean could be irrational and reckless,but he was still his son. And John Winchester protected his own.

"I'll handle it."

"Considering he's crossed me more than once," Kurama said, lifting an eyebrow, "Your version of 'handling it' isn't very effective." She downed another double, peering in disappointment at the glass. "I put him to sleep in one of the greenhouses. He'll dream of rejection for a few hours."

John cocked his head, his question mild, "And you've been the injured party every time? You've done nothing whatsoever to provoke Dean?" He let out a breath and tossed back the remainder of his drink.

"Look, I'll talk to him and get him to back off. Does this," he waved a hand in her general direction, "happen often around here?"

"I don't recall doing anything outwardly hostile other than simply being a demon," Kurama snapped, tapping her fingers impatiently for her next drink. "And it happens often enough to be annoying, yes. The gender hex is his fault, the clothes... well. I can't really argue with a wardrobe so I just put on what it gave me."

John knew better than that, but wasn't in the mood to argue the point. Dean was smart enough on a hunt, it was only when he had been provoked that he did something as damnably stupid as hex a kitsune. It didn't matter who started it, he'd talk to Dean and put an end to it.

He picked up the bottle of scotch and walked over, filling her glass. "And that's why you're so intent on getting hammered?"

"Not entirely," she admitted, grudgingly. "Being a woman isn't awful, just disorienting. And with the clothes, I really just look like your average Sunday Harajuku Cosplayer." She took a swig of the scotch and grinned as it burned down.

"It's just this on top of everything else this place tries to throw at a body, I can't help but want to get a little drunk." That, she thought, and most of the pot in her greenhouse wasn't fit to smoke yet, but she really didn't think John needed to know about that.

"If there's one thing this place seems intent on doing, it's screwing with people," he agreed, filling her glass again and topping his own off. He hadn't been hit with any wayward hexes, but given his luck, that was only a matter of time. "Is it always a random hex? Or are there other things to look out for?"

"There's the food," she began, ticking off on her fingers. "Never trust anything you didn't order specifically or that wasn't made by A. He refuses to hex people unless they know what's happening. Then the wardrobes, which will sometimes arbitrarily refuse to let you wear what you want." She gestured to herself, teetering a little on the stool. "Case in point. And then there's just... this... place. Last year we had a baby's head for a sun and flowers that were gramophones and Inari knows what else. And the gazebos."

Oh good. Someone to drink with. Vishous thought he was over his days drinking alone.

A bulky man slid into a chair beside John and ordered a scotch, turned to look at him with a blank, faintly amused look. "You're looking pretty introspective there, my man," he said, leaning on the bar and pulling a smoke from one of the pockets in his leather trench and lighting it with his golden zippo.

"Want to spill?" He lit his cigarette, blew the Turkish smoke away from the man. The zippo went on the bar.

He watched the man slide into the chair, his eyes giving him a quick, professional once-over. John wasn't sure on the variety, but he sure as hell that the man wasn't a human. This place was going to startn really dicking with a hunter's preconceptions.

"Just thoughts on family. Nothing to trouble a stranger with." He raised his glass, taking a large swallow. "John Winchester."

Yes, Vishous was very much not human. "V," he said. He tipped his glass in return once the barmaid brought him his drink. He sipped at it, ran his tongue over his teeth, then sat back a bit.

"Trouble keeping them under control, true?" Least, that's what he'd been hearing snippets of. He hadn't meant to listen in to his thoughts, it had just happened, something he couldn't control.

He gave a crooked grin."Show me a parent who doesn't still have trouble keeping two grown boys under control. I swear I think I'm going to wind up investing in a straight jacket or two."

Peace and Quiet ((open rp))

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Season 4 in five minutes...

Re: Season 4 in five minutes...

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