AN: Life relented for five minutes, and in that time I managed to write this. Phew.
38.
The ride up to Bobby's is awkward. Neither of them have had as much sleep as they want – or need – and Dean feels guilty as hell for throwing Emma into that wall. It's made worse by the fact that she just looks so terribly ragged, with bruise-shadows forming under her eyes and her dark hair hanging in stringy hanks about her face. Sometimes she'll wince, and those crazy sigils will show up on her skin again in small bursts, like ink blooming across the surface of water.
"Emma?" he tries, reminded of the first journey they'd made to the motel. "I'm sorry. Y'know, about hitting you…you know that, right?"
"You were upset," she says softly, looking ahead. "Its okay, Dean."
It's really not. It's really, really not.
When they finally roll up to Singer's Salvage Yard Dean takes Emma's bag before she can grab it and carries it in for her. She offers him a small smile and follows him, still looking like she's been in a bar fight and is going to drop at any moment.
Dean lets them in with his key and the moment they get in the door…there's something akin to an explosion. All of a sudden, Cas is up in his personal space, and the dude looks pissed.
Shit.
"Cas, man, I'm sorry –" All he seems to be doing today is apologizing…
"Sorry!" Cas snarls, smelling like…like peach schnapps for crying out loud. Where the hell did he get peach schnapps? "You're sorry, are you? And to think, I fell for this? For you to say YES? For you to RUN AWAY!"
The windows shake threateningly in their frames and the next thing Dean knows, he's being thrown across Bobby's library, through the kitchen and into the cabinets above the sink. Fuck, Cas might have fallen but he's still got some of his angel mojo lurking inside that holy tax accountant skin. That. Hurt.
Cas is advancing on him, and Dean can hear Sam and Bobby shouting from somewhere deeper in the house, can see Emma standing in the library's doorway white as a sheet.
Then Cas is on him – "For this?" he snarls again – and gets off one good punch that has all thirty-two of Dean's teeth rattling in his skull before Emma says something that freezes the angel's fist before it impacts Dean's face for a second time.
He turns to her, noticing her for the first time, Dean thinks hazily, and rasps, "What did you say?"
Emma gathers herself – little hitching breaths – and repeats, "Amitiel sends her regards."
"You know her?" Cas demands. "You've spoken to her?"
"I'm her vessel," Emma says faintly, as though that explains everything.
It seems to for Cas evidently, because he drops Dean and stalks towards the girl. Dean sees that Sam is just behind her in the doorway and there must be some awful kind of expression on Cas's face because Sam immediately slides forward and puts himself between Emma and the fallen angel. His brother's huge hands come to rest on Cas's slight shoulders.
"Hey, Cas, whoa," Sam says, all caution. "What the hell is going on, man?"
"The girl's a vessel." Cas's voice has gone flat. "She is the body of one of the most powerful angels in Creation. One of the oldest. The Receiver of Prayer."
Dean staggers to his feet and makes his way over to the others. "Sammy, meet Emma. Emma, this is my brother Sam. Bobby's the dude in the wheelchair…he's around here somewhere." He takes his life in his hands and puts a hand on Cas's shoulder, next to Sam's.
"Cas, look, just listen, okay? I am sorry. I was going to say yes –" the angel flinches – "but I'm not anymore. I know that's not how we're going to win. It's not how we fix things. Emma's in contact with Amitiel and she says…she says there's help coming."
Dean can't help but smile.
"She says we're getting Jo back."
AN2: I'm a piñata; hit me with a stick. Go on, I know you want to.