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26 May 2010 @ 10:51 pm
And My Eyes Are Open For The First Time  
Title: And My Eyes Are Open For The First Time
Author: pooka_07
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Bobby/Castiel
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 2992
Notes/Warnings: MotW is a mixture of a Lamia (the old English version, not the succubus version), the witches from Left 4 Dead, and the Jewish folklore version of Lillith. Written for comment_fic prompt by hugglewolf. (Damn you for your awesome, nearly crack!pairing prompt.)

Agent Castiel Novak’s day started at six a.m. sharp with the sound of the local radio station’s weather report. Partly cloudy with a high temperature of eighty-seven and a seventy-five percent chance of rain starting around four p.m. As the weather man’s voice died out and an unusually deep-voiced woman came on with yesterday’s stock numbers, Castiel opened his eyes and stared at the water-stained ceiling above him. The argument that had raged in the next room and bled through the cheap plaster walls of the motel was over and the early morning silence was peaceful. He sprawled out in a spine-cracking stretch and his lips twitched upwards in a tiny grin.

He finally did it. It took five years of sitting behind a desk, making copies and running for coffee, and three years of playing side-kick to Gabriel, but he’d finally convinced his superiors that he was ready to work solo on a case.

Granted, being sent to South Dakota on a rumor that a serial killer was last seen here wasn’t the greatest career-booster, but Castiel would take what he could get. The morning news reports wrapped up and the first lyrics of a country song he’d never heard of weaved its way into the room as he sat up and began his morning routine. The leaky faucet that dripped all night barely spluttered out enough water pressure to wet his toothbrush, and the showerhead was no better. Castiel missed the days when he was just a probie, living it up in five star hotel suites while his senior partner did all the heavy work, but he’d never give up his new-found promotion for past amenities. Even bath towels that were actually long enough to wrap around his waist and weren’t filled with holes.

…damn it this case sucked.


Coffee in hand and an order of eggs over easy and a double helping of sausage on the way, Castiel pulled out the case file and reviewed the words he knew almost by heart. There were fourteen murders so far, nine in Minnesota, four in North Dakota, and now one in South Dakota just last week. All the victims were men, between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, and all were found mutilated and without their livers or hearts in cemeteries. A profile put together suggested that the suspect was a white male between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-five, a loner, and a psychopath.

His first stop was the local police station to speak with the sheriff. As he waited for the deputy on duty to announce his arrival, Castiel looked around the office. It was a tiny building, large enough to house the ten deputies and the sheriff that served the small town, but only just. A cork board that in a larger city would have been plastered with missing persons papers was instead decorated with advertisements for the county fair next week, various kittens and puppies for sale, and a couple of used car ads. It was a strange sight to see after living in D.C. for so long. Castiel relaxed just a bit.

The clomp of heavy boots broke him from his staring and Castiel turned to set a heavy set man with a balding head reaching a hand out to him. “Agent Novak, I’m guessing? Sheriff Olson, but you can call me Marvin.”

“Call me Castiel, please.” The man’s hand was sweaty, but his grip was just firm enough to show that he was confident of his position, even in front of a government agent.

“Now there’s a name I’ve never heard before. Come on back, we’ll talk in my office. You want coffee? The pot’s fresh.”

“No, thank you. I just had some at the diner.”

“Ah, you must mean Frieda’s. Did you try her apple coffee cake? Woman is a mean baker.”

“No, I’m not one for sweets.”

“Nonsense, you’re missing out on some fine baking. Tell her I sent ya and she’ll give ya a piece on the house. You should try her waffles while you‘re at it. Best damned waffles in the state.”

“Marvin, may we please discuss the case?”

“Oh! Sure, sure! Sorry ’bout that. Good cooking always makes me distracted. Now then, let me pull out the files and we can get started.”

Castiel sighed heavily as the man began digging through a beaten-up filing cabinet. It was going to be a long day.


Twelve hours later, the only things Castiel learned about the victim were that he was a twenty-year-old trouble-maker who’d been in and out of juvie during his teen years and had just gotten out of prison a few weeks ago for armed robbery, and the man who found him, the cemetery groundskeeper, was ruled out as a possible suspect because half the town vouched for his alibi. The night before the murder the high school hosted a play and bake sale and the man, George, was the lead actor.

Castiel had absolutely nothing to work on.

The promised rain chose the moment he stepped out of the police station to begin falling and Castiel gave up on being dry the second he was hit. With a ten block walk back to the motel, there was no way any part of him wasn’t getting wet. With all the people indoors and the streetlights flicking on in the falling darkness, he had to admit that the charming little town grew creepy at night. There was an expectant hush underneath the sound of falling rain and he pulled the collar of his trench coat higher as he passed through a circle of light from a streetlamp. A flash of white caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he stopped to look. He was in front of the cemetery where the crime scene was located, the gate still open due to the rain. Obviously George didn’t bother with security in the face of getting wet. Near the back of the lot, almost hidden by shrubs and tall headstones, a figure wandered between the graves. The lack of light and the falling rain hindered his vision and Castiel stepped into the cemetery to get a closer look. As if he triggered some switch, the figure’s aimless wandering changed direction and it began to drift closer to him.

His instincts told him to run, runrunrunrun. His legs were frozen, muscles twitching with the need to carry him as far away as possible, as fast as possible, but the deep, penetrating terror that seized his heart kept him in that spot. Castiel reached for his gun and his fingers met an empty holster. He’d left it at the motel. He could hear Gabriel’s voice in his head, chastising him for letting himself be so careless.

“Always make sure you have your gun on you, Castiel. It doesn’t mean you have to shoot first and ask later, but you’ll run into some scary stuff. Psychos high on crack, terrorists ready to die for their cause. All sorts of stuff. But even with the craziest motherfucker, sometimes you get lucky and they don’t want to find out if you’re bluffing about actually shooting them.”

He knew that Gabriel had also said something about always paying attention to his surroundings, but that thought was lost when the figure was suddenly on him, ripping at his forearms with sharp claws and glaring at him with angry red eyes. This thing attacking him looked like a woman, hourglass body and long, wavy hair, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Long, thin arms ended in the sharp black claws that were shredding his jacket sleeves and cutting into his flesh, and the legs reminded him of the iguana he kept as a child, green and covered in large scales.

Someone was screaming, low and terrified, and the sharp, dry pain in his throat told Castiel that it was him doing it. The creature attacking him made no noise at all, just gnashed its teeth and swung harder. A voice behind him was yelling at him to get down, get the fuck down and give me a clear shot, ya idjit!, and he let himself fall away from the onslaught of claws, the ground wet and spongy as he landed on his back with a loud splat.

Gunshots rang out, one, two, three of them, and then there was only the deafening silence of the late dusk hours and the roar of falling rain. Castiel stared up at the clouds hidden by the dark sky and blinked the water out of his eyes.


Castiel jerked awake without realizing he’d fallen unconscious and froze as he looked at the cracked, dingy ceiling above him. Somewhere outside a dog was barking, and the songs of birds he didn’t recognize filled the air. He let out a relieved breath. He must have passed out last night and had that horrible dream as a consequence. He was thankful that someone had come along and gotten him out of the rain. He pushed himself into a sitting position and hissed at the sharp pain that pulled at him arms. Castiel paled as he looked down to see his forearms wrapped neatly in snow white bandages.

“Careful there, moron. Stupid moves like that’ll pull the stitches out.” Castiel looked up at the voice and saw a man older than him step into the room, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand. A battered baseball cap covered his head, but Castiel could see that it was brown and just starting to show signs of fading into grey. His face was mostly covered by a beard and mustache. Under the brim of the cap, he saw sharp, intelligent eyes watching him warily.

“What was that thing?”

“It’s called a Lamia. It’s a creature that takes the form of a woman and lures naïve men into cemeteries and kills them. Takes their livers and their hearts.”

Castiel was reminded of the case report. “That Lamia thing is what killed fourteen men in three states?”

“Yep. Would’ve been fifteen if I hadn’t shown up. What kind of fed are you? Didn’t they teach you to always have your gun on ya? It wouldn’t have stopped the Lamia, but it might have bought you some time.”

Castiel felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He felt like he was back in the academy. I didn’t feel the need to being it with me to breakfast, and I headed straight to the sheriff’s office. It slipped my mind.”

“Small town settings will to that to big city kids like you.” The older man set the cup of coffee down on a side table and beckoned with a hand. “Let me see your arms. Gotta make sure the stitches are holding.”

Castiel lifted his arms silently, still feeling like a stupid teenager. Strong fingers unraveled the bandages on his left arm and poked carefully at the wounds. The scratches were deep and long, nasty enough that he knew he really should have been in a hospital, but neat little stitches hold his flesh together, cut edges lining up perfectly. He’d scar, but they’d be thin and mostly unnoticeable.

“How did you know what that thing was, how to kill it? You go after those things a lot?”

“Not just Lamias. I hunt all sorts of supernatural monsters. Wendigos, vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, ghosts. You name it, I’ve probably killed it.”

“That stuff is real? They actually exist?” The man wrapped his left arm back up and started on his right.

“That’s right. Hollywood’s gotten a lot of the details wrong, but for the most part, what you’ve heard is all true.” His right arm looked just as bad as his left. “So, kid. You got a name or do I just call you Agent?”

“Oh, forgive me. I’m Castiel Novak.”

“Bobby Singer. I’ll get you some coffee and a painkiller. Those wounds are gonna to start hurting like a bitch real soon.”

“Thank you.”


Two weeks later Castiel was still at Bobby Singer’s house.

After the first night, he found out Bobby had checked him out of his motel room and brought all of his stuff back with him.

“No use paying for a room you ain’t usin’.”

Castiel was confident he could take care of himself, but he appreciated the unspoken offer anyway. The two of them had fallen into an easy acquaintanceship, even after Castiel found out that his first drink of water had been holy water.

“Ain’t anything personal, Cas. I do it to everybody who steps foot in my house. Better safe than sorry.”

Cas. That was a new thing. His fellow agents had never given him a nickname before, or in the case of Gabriel, one that wasn’t unflattering. He’d tried to return the favor by shortening Bobby’s name to Bob, but the name had fallen from his lips awkwardly and left both men staring at each other uneasily.

“I ain’t a Bob, Cas.”

“You do not look like a Bob, either.”

Castiel spent most of the day lying on the couch, carefully not moving his arms and causing pain to scream up to his brain. Bobby left the house a couple times to go on other hunts, but for the most part stayed home and worked on the occasional car brought to him for repairs. Once his arms were no longer as tender, Castiel joined him outside, acting as his errand boy whenever the older man needed one tool or another.

He sent the mandatory emails back to D.C., but didn’t let on that the case was done with. Gabriel left him a voice mail asking why such an easy case was taking him so long, but Castiel erased the message before the other agent’s voice could grate on his nerves. He’d spent the last eight years working his way to where he was. It was time he took a little vacation. He knew Gabriel would show his face sooner or later. His location wasn't a secret and, as much as he denied it, Gabriel was a mother hen. Castiel guessed he had a few more days to go before Gabriel couldn’t wait any longer and hopped on a plane to South Dakota.

He hoped it was enough time to sort out what he was feeling for Bobby. It’d started out as gratitude and a little bit of a fan boy crush that Bobby had saved him when he did. Getting to know him, though, was only making that fan boy crush turn into a real one. His heart picked up speed every time the hunter came into the room; he waited at the front window like a dog whenever Bobby left to head into town for supplies. He’d even picked up cooking again, something he hated with a passion ever since his college days when he was forced to cook for his whole dorm, just so that he could be sure the older man was eating healthy. This little crush of his was messing with his mind, too. He kept thinking Bobby was staring at him when he was turned away, noticed that there was a lot more skin contact than strictly needed when he was being shown how to diagnose a problem in an engine. Once, he swore he woke up in the middle of the night with the feeling of eyes on him.


If real life was a romance novel, everything would have come to a head the day Gabriel finally showed up. The two of them were side by side underneath a truck while Bobby pointed out the damage done to the front axel, when a familiar voice came from right in front of them.

“Well now, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen a serial killer investigation take place underneath a truck. You’re a true pioneer, kiddo.”

Castiel jerked and hissed when he slammed his head into the undercarriage above him. Bobby didn’t jump, but he did pull himself out from under the truck awful fast. Castiel followed slowly, dreading the smug look Gabriel was going to send his way. Bobby spoke first.

“Who the Hell are you?”

“Name’s Gabriel. I’m Castiel’s senior agent. Who’re you?”

“Bobby Singer. I’m the guy who owns the land yer trespassing on.”

“Relax, man. I’m just here to see why probie’s taking so long to come back. Was afraid he got eaten by bears or something.”

It didn’t take long for Gabriel to zero in on Castiel’s growing feelings for Bobby. The whole time he helped load the car, Castiel could feel the other agent’s eyes on him, observing and amused. Bobby handed him a piece of paper with a number written on it and Castiel felt his cheeks heat up as Gabriel whistled and laughed in the background.

“Next time you get a case in the area, give me a call and make sure it ain’t supernatural causes first. Call me if you get suspicious about other cases, too. I do mostly research for other hunters, and only take care of local hunts anymore.”

Castiel handed over one of his I.D. cards, with his home number scrawled on the back. He forced himself not to blush when the hunter’s rough fingers brushed over his own. “I don’t know how much assistance I can be, but call if you need anything. I will do what I can.”

If real life was a romance novel, this would be where they kissed passionately and Castiel decided to not return to D.C. and live with Bobby forever. Instead, with Gabriel providing the obligatory wolf whistle, he leaned up and pecked Bobby’s whiskered cheek with a quick kiss and bolted for the rental car. As Gabriel drove down the dirt drive and turned onto the highway, Castiel chanced a look back and saw Bobby still standing there, a small grin on his face and his eyes watching him drive away.
hugglewolfhugglewolf on May 27th, 2010 08:09 pm (UTC)
I love it! Yes, I know it's totally my fault but this is soo fabby I'll happily take the blame!

Of course, then a hunt or something takes Bobby to the city and there is reunion hawtness.

I know it's cracky but yum!
PinkSakuraPetals: Silly Dogpooka_07 on May 29th, 2010 02:57 am (UTC)
Glad ya like it! And you should totally put up some Bobby/Castiel prompts next week. (Or maybe there's some lonely!prompts on comment_fic's delicious?)
hugglewolfhugglewolf on May 30th, 2010 09:46 am (UTC)
*scurries off to search* It was awesome and now you have tempted me to definitely put some more Bobby/Cas prompts up?

Bastiel? *sniggers* Maybe not. PS love your icon.
Kevin Jonesmulder200 on July 28th, 2010 07:13 pm (UTC)
Ah! That was totally sweet!
PinkSakuraPetals: castielpooka_07 on July 29th, 2010 12:02 am (UTC)
Thanks! I'll admit I had a bit of a tooth ache after writing this. :D