Chapter 4

Castiel found the camera two hours after he'd been left in his cell. As soon as he'd come out of the strange dream-state where he'd been able to talk to Dean, he stretched and winced when one of his wings knocked something off the bookshelf. He picked up the two books and replaced them on the shelf, but a hum somewhere over his head drew his attention. Up in the corner he spotted a small dome camera that blended in with the wall behind it. If he hadn't had a celestial being's hearing, he would have missed it entirely.

The invasion of his privacy was something that had never really been an issue for him before. Angels shared something of a hive mentality simply due to their nature, so "privacy" was not something they generally expected. They each had their own thoughts, of course, but the thoughts they had resembled angel radio: it was all alike. After he rebelled, he began to form more of his own identity, and after learning of Naomi's mucking about in his head, he'd jealously guarded his individuality. Living as a human had helped him build his conception of himself even more, and now, he had a strong regard for his own mind and his own will and his own personality.

"Privacy" had not been an issue with Sam or Dean. If they sensed he didn't want to talk about something, they didn't press him to divulge it...unless they felt he needed pushing, though. They knew he needed his own space, especially after what had happened to him with losing his grace and with Rowena's spell, so they'd provided him with his own space in the Bunker. He'd had other "spaces" that had been "his," and he didn't like that his captors had given him a space, called it his, and then proceeded to spy on him while he was in it.

Assbutts.

He tried not to think about it over the next few hours. He examined the books, the pictures on the wall, and finally turned on the television. He channel-surfed for a while and then settled down on a marathon of a procedural crime show. He enjoyed the characters far more than the plot and he wondered if Sam and Dean could somehow be the inspiration for the two main characters. They were a lot like the two brothers in attitude and the way they spoke. They even had names they called each other when they were annoyed. Castiel had heard the words "jerk" and "bitch" so often that they never even registered anymore.

After the marathon ended, Castiel got up and began to stretch, running through the exercises that would keep his vessel in shape and flexible. He would do more demanding exercises when he had the space for it, but for right now, the exercises were something to do. Sam had taught him a lot of them, and a few he'd seen humans doing over the years and he'd incorporated them into his routine. Once he finished the exercises, he removed his coat, jacket, and shirt and examined them, hoping he could somehow remedy the damage his wings had done. The tears in the cloth looked pretty gruesome, but perhaps Dean or Sam had a needle and thread...hmmm.

He replaced his clothes and curled up in one of the chairs to look through some of the books. All of them had bright, modern covers and the ink and paper smelled new. He'd been in thousands of book shops with Sam over the years: national chains, independent shops, used book stores...all of them had their own distinctive aroma. Whenever they entered a shop Sam would take a long, deep breath to savor the smell and Castiel had found himself mimicking him more than once. The scent of books was pleasant, and the "new book" smell that Sam so enjoyed was abundant with these books. There was a variety of them that was intriguing. There was a large art book the size of a paving stone that included full-color pictures of Renaissance artwork. The colors were a feast for the eye and Cas found himself flipping through it, page after page of color and form that exalted the eye and piqued his mind. When he reached the end, he went back to the beginning and started turning the pages over again. A few of them he'd actually seen the artists at work on, and it was wonderful to see how the artworks had aged and the admiration they received today.

Three times through the art book and he wanted something else. There was one that was an anthropology book, detailing cultures all over the world, and he ended up opening that one next. He knew most of what the book was about already, but it was interesting to see modern knowledge about the cultures and how they'd changed over the centuries. There were a few, like the American culture, that had only come into being over the last few hundred years.

He grew bored of reading then and turned on Netflix. He turned on his favorite mystery show and lost himself in the adventures of the socially-awkward detective. In a way, the detective was a lot like him: he missed social cues and did not grasp pop culture all that well, and he forged his own path in life, as opposed to trudging the path that others wanted him to follow. He had quite a lot of fellow-feeling for the character and often he wished the man was real just so they could talk.

After five episodes, Cas turned the television off and stretched out on the bed. He was anxious and couldn't switch the emotion off, and at the same time, he was so tired that he felt as if he could go to sleep. It had been ages since he'd actually slept, and at the time, he'd enjoyed sleeping. Feeling warm and relaxed was wonderful, and when he'd had good dreams, sleeping had been pleasant. The only times he hadn't enjoyed it was when he'd had nightmares or when he'd been so weak that he woke up tired no matter how long he'd slept.

Could he sleep? Would it be possible? Would it be a safe thing to do? He was tempted to do it. The bed was glorious with a soft mattress, warm jersey sheets and a comforter, and best of all, a nest of pillows. He could easily prop his wings on them so he could lie on his side or his back. Those blasted sigils around the room for weakening were making him more tired than he could remember being for ages. What if he did sleep?

The thought was parent to the deed. He pulled off his coat, his jacket, slipped his feet out of his shoes, took off his tie, turned down the lights, and crawled into bed. He shifted about for a few minutes, cushioned his wings on some pillows, and made his limbs go limp. Gradually, his body relaxed and he could feel himself actually falling asleep, just like when he'd been human. He was so pleased with his success that he woke himself back up, but relaxing his body again helped him back into that pleasant state where he could feel himself falling asleep.

When he jerked awake again a few minutes later, he surged up out of the blankets and got to his feet, listening with all his being, poised to fight.

He'd heard something...or someone...in his room.

Everything was perfectly still, and everything was just as he'd left it. The door hadn't opened and he'd heard no one walk in, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone there. Taking a deep breath, he began to move carefully forward. His angel blade...did he have it? He tried calling it up and he had a full minute of panic when it didn't appear. Those damned sigils probably had something to do with it. Frightened that he didn't have a weapon, Cas sprinted forward and switched on the nearest light to reveal...no one.

There was no one in the room but himself. Nothing had been moved, and he knew the door hadn't been opened. He could see no one, hear no one's breath or hear their heartbeat, but there was still the feeling that there was someone there. Had he been dreaming? Was that what made him feel there was someone there?

After a few minutes, he settled back in bed, but he left the light on. He didn't see anything to put him back on high alert, so he focused on relaxing, and he finally fell asleep. He dreamed about one of his favorite spots on earth, aside from the bunker. It was an ancient forest in Russia, one where few, if any, people had ever reached. The trees were so old and so large that they looked like sleeping giants. It was deeply peaceful and when he'd been able to do it, he went there often. There had been times, with the rush of the wind through the trees, he'd thought he'd heard the planet breathing. That sound wrapped around him in his dream, calming him and helping him relax enough so he could sleep without dreams.

Both Sam and Dean wished they could sleep. They'd settled into a motel somewhere around midnight and tried to sleep, but it was proving to be impossible. Both of them were too keyed up to settle down enough to rest.

"Why would anyone want to kidnap an angel?" Sam said after the silence had grown too oppressive.

"Because they're dicks," Dean answered. "This surprises you?"

"Demons, yeah, I'd get that, and other angels, we've seen that, but why would a human want to?"

"Dunno," Dean admitted. "I don't really want to think about it too much."

Both brothers stayed quiet for a few minutes with their thoughts.

"How do you think he's doing?" Sam asked before the silence could become oppressive.

"He seemed okay when I talked to him, but I can say for a fact that he's scared," Dean told him. "He hugged me...twice."

Sam nodded. "Yep, he's scared." Sam knew that Cas wasn't exactly huggy unless it was something big.

"Mm-hmmm."

"I feel so helpless," Sam sighed. "Tomorrow we're going to get into a boat and head in the most likely direction and hope we come across that island."

"That's really the only plan we have."

"I know, but I kind of want to be there now, you know? Just so he doesn't have to be scared anymore."

"You've never said a truer word, little brother."

They both lay there for several minutes before Sam got up and opened his laptop. "I can't sleep."

"Gonna surf the Net for a while?"

"Yeah."

Dean rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he gave up after twenty minutes and switched a light on. "Finding anything interesting?"

"I'm on that angel site again," Sam said, scrolling down the page. "You know, the one dedicated to Cas' video? The number of views is now in the millions, and you should see the forum. Plenty of them want to know why he's wearing a trenchcoat...oh, damn."

Dean got out of bed. "What? What is it?"

Sam started reading. "I read this great series of books called 'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund and in the books there's a trenchcoat-wearing angel called Castiel. Could this actually be him?" Now there's a whole thread about the Supernatural books and how much that angel in the video resembles Castiel."

Dean swore and started pacing. "That's the last thing we need; a bunch of Supernatural fans obsessing about this. What else do they say?"

Sam started reading responses. "He does seem like Castiel...wouldn't it be awesome if he were?...we should all set up cameras all over the world so we can catch him on video again...if Cas is real, do you think Sam and Dean are, too?...Does anyone know where this video was taken? We could go there and investigate!" Sam looked at his brother and frowned. "It's not like they really think this is all real and it's not like they can find more information on Cas…" He stopped and thought about it. "Can they?"

"If any of them are computer geeks, I wouldn't put anything past them."

Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, man." He ran his fingers through his hair and appeared to think. "Well, everything I've read so far points to them just talking about the books, so let's hope that nobody makes that connection that there's a real, live, flesh-and-blood angel that happened to get caught on camera."

"Amen."

They talked a little longer and Sam scrolled through the threads a little more. Most comments he read stated things like 'wouldn't it be great if that was really Castiel?' and 'how awesome would that be?' Sam was getting ready to shut down his computer when something odd happened. The image on the screen jumped, the screen went black, and for a split second Sam saw an image of himself peering at the screen before it switched back to the website. "Weird."

Dean had curled up in his bed, but he sat up when he heard that. "What's weird?"

Sam explained, and Dean got out of bed again to join Sam in peering at the screen. "Could something be wrong with your camera, Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean...maybe," Sam admitted, but then it happened again. This time, there was an image of both of them staring at the screen before it went back to the website. "Maybe I've got a virus."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean yawned. "C'mon, Sammy. Why don't you run the anti-virus and we'll get some rest while it does its thing, hmm?"

Sam got offline and set up the antivirus to run while he and Dean headed to bed. It would be supremely annoying if he had to face computer problems on top of Cas being missing.

Cas woke up the next morning feeling warm and cozy. For a moment, he thought he was in his bed at the bunker, but then he remembered what had happened and just why he was able to sleep again.

Those assbutts.

Rather than lay in bed and fume about his situation, Cas got up, washed his face and hands, straightened his clothes, made the bed, and waited. The clock showed eight o'clock; what time was that psychologist coming? Nine? Would he even want to see them or would he be bored the whole time?

Deciding not to drive himself crazy with worry, Cas turned on the television to one of the morning news shows. He watched a segment about the President and First Lady, watched a segment on adoptable pets, and was in the middle of a segment on affordable, easy meals when there was a knock at the door and then a buzz as it unlocked. He got up from his seat just as the door opened to reveal a red-haired, green eyed woman in a pantsuit and two guards.

"Good morning. Cas, is it?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Are you the psychologist I was told to expect?"

"I am. My name is Catherine Earnshaw and I am a psychologist for Central. They've asked me to interview you today and to work with you while you're here. Why don't we sit down at the table and get started?"

Cas switched off the television and took a seat that allowed him to keep an eye on the two guards that had stationed themselves in the room on either side of the door. Both of them wore dark suits, sunglasses, and he could see the faintest outline of holsters under their jackets. He was sure that guns were not their only weapons.

"Have you had everything you've needed so far?" Catherine asked as she sat down across the table from him.

"So far, yes," Cas admitted. "Eventually I will need to go outside and to exercise, but for the moment, I'm all right. I do not appreciate being kidnapped, though, or restrained, forced through a medical examination, or being locked up."

Catherine nodded. "That is unfortunate, but it is necessary. We need to know where each of our guests are, and each guest receives a medical exam when they arrive. Since we didn't know how powerful you were physically, you did have to be restrained, and as for the kidnapping, would you have come here any other way?"

"Of course not."

"So, you see, then."

Cas stared at her. "No, I don't, really."

She didn't answer the challenge. "All right, now that we've got that out of the way, how about we jump in? First of all, I have a few questions about you. What can you tell me about your early life?"

"Precious little," Castiel answered.

"Do you not remember?"

"No, there's not much I can tell you." Let her interpret that as she would. He really didn't like how...nosy...this place was.

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Okay. How old are you?"

"Eons."

"Is there a number attached to those eons?"

"If you were using geologic eons, perhaps fourteen."

Catherine nodded and pulled out a pad of paper and pen and started jotting things down. "Okay. Does that make you a very old angel, middle-aged, or younger angel?"

He thought about it and decided he didn't want to share it. "I have no way of knowing for sure. I don't think angels age like humans do." He knew he had plenty of older brothers and sisters, but she didn't need to know that.

"Well, of course, they don't," she said. "They're not the same. I was wondering what age you were compared with other angels."

Castiel thought about it. He had plenty of older siblings, but...was everyone older than he was? Surely he had younger siblings? Didn't he? "I don't know. I was never told."

She nodded. "All right. I get the feeling, Cas, that you don't want to talk to me."

"Not really."

She grinned at him then and laughed. "Well, no one could say that you're not honest!"

"I don't see how that was amusing," Cas said, a bit confused.

She took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, still smiling. "Let me see if I can explain. Most people wouldn't be that directly honest if a psychologist stated that the client didn't want to talk to them. They would hem and haw and give any number of reasons for why they're reluctant to speak, but they won't admit that they just don't want to. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"So, if you could leave aside how you came here and the fact that you're unhappy about being here, do you think you and I could work together for a few hours? I'm sure it will be a lot more pleasant for both of us if you do."

Cas thought about it. He was still furious about being kidnapped and being locked up, but it might help pass some time to talk to her. He was sure he would be very bored until Sam and Dean managed to find him or until he managed to find a way out. "I can do that. What is it that we'll be doing?"

"Well, to start, I'll be asking you some questions, and you answer how you like. Later, we'll work on some puzzles together. So, tell me, what's your earliest memory?"

That was too personal a question for him to answer. "I would prefer not to share it."

He was prepared for a debate on why he should share it, but she nodded. "All right. Have you always been an angel?"

"Yes." That he could answer with no hesitation.

"Did you have to grow into it, or have you always been the way you are now?"

"I've always been the way I am now." Technically, that wasn't quite true, but he wasn't going to go into the whole vessel circumstances and such. She didn't need to know that.

"All right. Do you have any other forms?"

Uh-oh. "Such as?"

"Something bigger? Smaller? Ethereal? Eternal?"

"Everyone has different forms at different ages," Cas said after a moment. "You're thinking in human terms, really. As for an eternal form, everyone on Earth does. It's called a soul."

"Do angels have souls?"

Cas thought about it. "I don't think that question would occur to an angel. We've always had our father's love, and that was all we were concerned about."

Catherine nodded and jotted more words down. "And your father...you're speaking of...God?"

Cas nodded. "My father."

"Are you close to him?"

Sometimes Sam and Dean could ask questions or make statements that were just plain confusing, but this was just...perplexing. "Close?"

"Do you often spend time with him? Do you and he talk?"

"All the time."

"How often?"

Once again, he was confused. "All the time."

"Do you enjoy each other's company?"

Cas smiled, remembering all the times he'd been near his father. There had been nothing in the universe that he'd enjoyed more. "Yes."

"Did he ever ask you to do things for him?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever make you do things you didn't want to do?"

Cas stared at her. What on earth or in Heaven did she mean? "I don't understand."

"Did he ever force you to do something when you didn't want to do it?"

Cas thought about it. Naomi and being 're-written' with new 'programming' had been bad, but he was sure that his father had not been responsible for that. "No, he did not. Why would he do that?"

She didn't answer the question. "If someone hurt you, would you try to hurt them back in the same way?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," Cas said coldly. "You still have your liberty while I do not."

She nodded and wrote that down. "Now, I was told when you were brought in that you were in the company of two human men. Who were they?"

"Friends."

"Do angels usually have friends?"

"We would be lonely if we didn't, don't you think?"

"That's an answer without actually being an answer, Cas."

"Still an answer, isn't it?" If Dean had been there, he would have laughed, and Sam would have smiled.

She jotted more down. "You're right. How long have you been friends with them?"

"A good while."

"How did you meet?"

"I was following my father's orders, and we met." Technically, it was true. "We became friends."

"And they gave you the nickname Cas. What's your real name?"

"For me to say it would deafen you." Let her think about that for a while. Despite his human appearance, he was still a celestial being. Sometimes, that was all too easy for others to forget, and usually, it was the last mistake they made.

To his relief, their talk soon switched to other matters. She pulled out a package of cards with different colored inkblots on them. He knew about them from pop culture, but this was the first time he'd ever seen them in real life, much less telling someone what the blots made him think of. Then, he had to answer a series of statements on a scale from 'strongly disagree' to 'strongly agree.' After that, they did a very long test that included looking at pictures and saying what the picture represented, stating how things or words were similar, answering general information questions, reading comprehension and following directions, doing calculations, repeating series of digits or digits and numbers back to Catherine, looking at line drawings and stating what was missing from them, making pictures with blocks, and then filling in a pattern that was missing the next symbol. After that, he had to match a series of symbols with numbers in different sequences and look at a group of symbols and find the one that didn't match the others. It was interesting, if confusing. He didn't understand why she was giving him a test designed for humans, but it helped pass the time.

After that, they played a game where she said a word and he told her what the word made him think of. To a human, his answers were wild and random, but to him, they made perfect sense. He took a great deal of satisfaction in watching her confusion grow, though.

"Well, it looks like you've given me a lot to think about," Catherine said after a few hours. "Is there anything you'd like me to know about you that you'd be willing to share?"

"I like bees."

"Bees?"

"Yes. Have you ever watched them?"

"No."

"You should. They're fascinating."

She took her leave after a few more small questions and Cas was left alone. He watched television for a while, flipped through some books, and listened to some music, and finally, he became tired enough to lie down for a while. He was drifting on the edge of sleep when he heard something move. His eyes snapped open, but once again, there was nothing there.