bakerstreet | aren't we all lost stars?

[ Castiel had no excuse, really. He'd followed the call of familiarity, drawn to safety and comfort, which Baby really epitomized for him in every single respect, sliding into the bed without even a pause to think that he might need to ask for permission. Ask Dean, perhaps, but then, it had never been a problem before.

Making a noncommittal noise, Castiel pressed closer into the scent of leather and wihskey and old books. Baby smelled like Dean. No coincidence there, either.

But he wasn't sleeping, wouldn't sleep. This was all about warmth and companionship, and when it came to third wheels... ]

[Baby didn't even pretend to be annoyed. That type of begrudging sarcasm was lost on the angel, and while Baby was a lot of things, emotionally constipated wasn't one of them. He'd been a makeshift home for a great number of years now, and he counted Cas as one of his own.

Baby's arm wrapped over Castiel's chest, letting the angel curl into him however he needed to. If there was ever any question as to whether his leather seats really did hug, well.]

S'it something specific, or just general shittiness?

[ Castiel wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it. Sometimes he just wanted to sit in the back of the car, quiet, and feel the road underneath him. The Impala never made demands of him. It didn't call him halfway across the country and then leave him standing around for hours while it went shopping and sat and ate pie and chatted with everyone but him. The car didn't judge, or differentiate, and anyone who was good to it was welcome.

He wasn't sure there were words for how he felt. Unappreciated, maybe, or perhaps as though everything that had driven a wedge between himself and the Winchesters recently was insurmountable. Moreover, he'd been benched, apparently not strong enough to deal with their present apocalyptic issues. ]

It's just... [ Apparently words were on the cards, but Castiel hesitated over how to phrase them. ] Do you ever feel like you've been left behind?

Sometimes. [Baby's eyes were unnaturally bright in the darkness. He wouldn't demand any answers out of Castiel, but one of the benefits of being human was having a mouth, a voice. Baby wanted Cas to know if he did want to talk about it, if he wanted to talk about anything, he could. Baby would listen, and it took a lot to get him mad.] Those Winchesters have a way of doing that. Leaving others behind. Even if they don't mean to.

They come back around. Dean usually gives me a car wax to apologize. [Baby smiles, watching Castiel's expression. They were both older than they looked, but sometimes Castiel still looked like a lost lamb.] They'll find a way to make it up to you, once they unscramble their eggs.

[ Castiel didn't really know what to make of it, truly. It was hard. He was old, but when it came to this, when it came to family, he didn't even really know what he was doing. His family... He hadn't even known what the word meant until he'd become an honorary Winchester, but he was still under no illusion: they would sell him out for each other any day of the week, and feel guilty about it for little more than two.

Not that they were presently any stronger with each other. Right now, they weren't even talking, which was perhaps why they were throwing themselves even more into their work. He tipped his face in toward the pillow, inhaling slowly, drawing in the scent and savoring it. Even if they didn't mean to, they'd left him, and now here he was--waiting with the car. Back to square one. His eyes flicked back up at Baby's suggestion: ]

I don't think Dean has ever given me anything more than a verbal apology. Certainly never a...a rub down.

[Baby's peal of laughter took even him by surprise, ringing out warm bells in the darkness of the bedroom. It wasn't born of cruelty, however, and he rested his forehead against Castiel's back.] I was metal and oil at the time, Cas. It's not as easy when you're flesh and blood, you know? The boys have this...need for fake stoicism. I suspect it has everything to do with John.

[Baby rubs a soothing circle into Castiel's back. He can't purr him to sleep with his engine anymore, but they'll make do. Winchesters always do. And yes, Sam and Dean always came first to one another, but it had always been that way. Over Bobby, over Ellen, over even John. They always picked one another and they always would. It didn't make them any less important, but Baby knew this from years of experience. It would come to Cas in due time, probably.]

[ Oh, Castiel wasn't jealous--at least, he didn't think so. Dean's relationship with Sam was as important as Sam and Dean were to him individually. Keeping them together was still so important to him, because Dean being happy relied on Sam being happy, and vice versa. Castiel did what he could to help with that.

But a Winchester he wasn't. So did he envy them? Yes. But he wasn't jealous; he wouldn't wish to take them away from each other, in order to have that affection for himself.

Still, Baby had to be discovering that too. Since he'd become human, become a third wheel, like Castiel was, slept in a bed rather than a garage... He had to be missing out on that affection. They weren't human--neither of them were. He turned over, slowly, to face him. ]

How are you handling this?

[Being human was an experience like no other. And yeah, it was weird. It was strange not to have Dean's hands on his wheels, weird not to be rolling down warm pavement. The worst was the look Dean had in his eye, when he thought Baby wasn't looking. The part-curious, part-horrified, and undeniably sad look. He missed his car, Baby got that. He knew he wasn't the same as before, that they couldn't be the same. But it still hurt, in some sore part of his pumping human heart.

But Castiel, he was the same. Basically, anyway. It kind of kept Baby sane. It was almost like he didn't see him any differently. Like he was still home. And if that was just an illusion, Baby wasn't keen to break it.]

Oh, you know, the Winchester special. Beer, rock stations, and constant manpain. [Baby shrugged a little, thumb running down Castiel's spine.] I don't know. It's...what it is. We don't know how to change it. [He doesn't know whether they'd want to.]

[ It didn't make any difference to him. To Castiel, Dean had always made it clear that Baby was a beloved member of the Winchester family, an essential part of his life. He'd grown similarly affected by his own Lincoln, perhaps only mirroring that affection, because while the car would never mean as much to him, have lived through generations of his family or helped him to prevent the apocalypse, it had cradled him through his most troubling moments.

Castiel knew how Dean felt about the car, he just didn't understand why it didn't carry over to this version of him. He'd seen the pained looks, and he understood them - knew how they felt - because he'd been on the other side of this behaviour himself. He knew how much it hurt, how it hurt almost every time. Dean thought he'd lost something, but he was too stubborn to be able to see that it was right there.

Most of his conscious thought, however, was stilled by the touch to his spine. Baby was very hands on, used to making bodily contact without considering it, while Castiel was just the opposite. He might get the occasional pat on the shoulder, but he was never touched like this. He shivered, sighed, and bent into the pillow close to Baby's nose. ]

Is that what you want?

[Baby, personally, thought it had something to do with Dean pretending not to care about people. So he channeled it all into loving the car. When Sam didn't want to be taken care of, Dean nested with the car. Baby was a symbol, a place for Dean to pour all of his repressed emotions. Dean was so used to loving into the void, Baby was pretty sure it shook him to the core when that love was returned, unconditionally, in a way Dean had never had before (it wasn't like John was father of the year, here). When Baby understood, it freaked him out.

Comparatively, neither Winchester was as receptive as Castiel, although Sam did his best when Baby granted them with unexpected hugs. Whenever anyone was near him, they were usually on him, in some fashion. So Baby didn't mind, and gave the comfort freely. Angels didn't exactly seem like the Ingalls family, either. Baby figured Cas deserved it.]

I don't know anymore. Do I even have a right to decide?

[ Perhaps that was it. People hurt him, but Baby had only ever been good, and Dean had paid the car back in every possible way. Baby started when Dean asked, was there when Dean needed comfort and safety, provided a venue for his heart to hearts. His bond with this car was irreplaceable, and a man...a man didn't purr the way the Impala did. Castiel wondered if Baby could still purr, if he was asked to.

To that end, Castiel raised his hand, and brushed the back of his fingers against Baby's cheek, content in the understanding that he wouldn't be judged. ]

If you don't, then neither did I, when Heaven put me back the way I was before. We may not truly be human, but what we want matters. We were given free will so that we can make choices; make decisions, for ourselves.

[That could be an exercise for another time. Baby was 'human', but some parts of him seemed to be supernaturally enhanced. When he's feeling a little despondent, he wonders sulkily if Dean would have liked him better as a woman. He didn't pick this form, didn't even really have a preference (he was a car, cars didn't have gender). But it made some amount of logical sense. Muscle car? Stick shift? He was pretty sure it bugged Dean, though.

Baby smiled, leaning into the touch, and his own hands pet quietly over Castiel's hair, rubbing soothingly over his scalp.]

But I'm not - I'm an object. Dean is my owner. [It sounds weird out loud, but it was true.] Do I have a will?

Do I have a soul?

[ That was nice. The reciprocation, the gentle touches. Castiel closed his eyes, exhaled a breathless noise, contentment or pleasure, a flush catching at his cheeks. It had been years since anyone had touched him like this, hadn't it, and certainly never so selflessly, so without ill motivation. Castiel didn't question it. ]

No. But neither do I. I've never considered not having a soul to be...to be an obstacle to feeling.

[ Finally he lifted his hand away. He could only touch with one, after all, his weight rested on the other, and so he brought that free hand to curl it across the fingers in his hair, keeping them there as he edged back, so that he could find Baby's eyes. ]

Or to my sense of will.

Dean was your God, [ He continued, after a moment's pause. ] He told you where to go and what to do. He decided when you worked and when you rested, when you slaved until the effort made you thirsty, and wore your hands down until they bled. Now, who decides any of those things but you?

[The only thing Baby wanted from Castiel was his happiness. They'd all been through a lot, and this brought them right back to the earlier issue; Castiel didn't have a brother, not like the Winchesters. He didn't have someone there at the end of the day, by his side through thick and thin. So Baby would gladly do what he could.

Baby's silent, for a long breath, fingertips rubbing soft circles into the angel's hair. His mouth twisted into a sad smile.]

I never minded much. [Because it was Dean, and at the end of the day, he always put Baby back together.] Am I supposed to? Did you?

[ It was a little past happiness. The flush stayed, although Castiel closed his eyes at Baby's final words, his brow creasing despite himself. It was hard to speak about this, about Naomi, even after everything that had happened since. What he'd learned about himself...

At the end of the day, God had always put Castiel together too, but for what purpose? To watch him crash all over again? Was Castiel just God's Impala, a beloved object that He just couldn't get rid of because it meant too much to Him? It made more sense than any of Castiel's other explanations, but the implication was sad, and it made him ache. It didn't bring him comfort or love, just regret--regret because God had made him this way, made him without a soul, and therefore perhaps somehow, valued him less because of it.

God had never waxed Castiel down, after all. Tuned him up, once, put him back together a few times, but there was very little love. Castiel was a Lincoln, not a Chevrolet. ]

I don't remember. What independence I had, what personality quirks--they were polished out of me whenever they occurred. Dean left all yours exactly as they were, appreciated you as you are.

[Baby watched Castiel for a long moment, wanting to smooth out the crease in his brow but knowing the angel had to work it out. He'd seen fallen angels, ferried them in his backseat, but Castiel was something different entirely. The others, they lost themselves, but there was something about Castiel that, no matter what path he went down, no matter how dark, he always seemed to find his way to the light again.]

Do you love your God? [Baby's question is calm and serious, blue eyes shining in the dark, warm headlights on a tarmac road.] Just between us.

[ Maybe Baby didn't know what that question meant to him. Maybe he did. All Castiel knew was that it struck a sudden turmoil in his chest that he didn't know how to resolve. The answer was there, but it wasn't immediately accessible like it had been spoken before, or burned at the back of his throat ready to be spoken. It was in his heart, and yet Castiel knew it before the question had even fully been spoken. But nobody had asked him the question before, and even Castiel didn't dare to. Did he believe in God? Yes. There was no question after what he'd been through? But did he love him?

Did he?

It happened without him meaning it to. Castiel, who wouldn't cry over even a friend's death, who had learned emotion from the least emotional - out loud - man on the planet, and who wouldn't have known how to cry if he tried. But this question? It broke his spirit to have to say it out loud, and so he didn't, but there were tears glistening in his eyes when he opened them.

The answer was blatant. No. No, he did not love God, at least not any more, and part of him wondered if he ever had; if before meeting Dean he'd even known what love, and not simply devotion, was. ]

[Baby was only marginally surprised by the reaction, but the larger part of him wasn't. He was fluent in emotional constipation and Castiel - he'd been bottled up before he even knew what he was bottling. So Baby didn't say anything, letting his hand smooth down Cas' cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eyes, those swimming tears.

He drew the angel forward, into the warm circle of his arms. Baby's body temperature was slightly above the human norm, like his usual, toasty cab. He gently guided Cas' cheek down to his shoulder, hugging him firmly. He'd soaked blood and liquor and more than a fair share of tears into his upholstery over the years, and that wasn't going to change just because he was flesh.]

Family don't end in blood, Cas. [Baby closed his eyes, stroking down Castiel's back.] Doesn't end in God either.

[ No, it was true. He'd found more than just friendship with the Winchesters, far greater than anything he'd felt in Heaven. He'd never known his father, his brothers had all betrayed him, one way or another - or had he betrayed them - but in the end it didn't matter. All that was important was that he felt loved, and wanted, in the life he'd ended up a part of.

The tears only fell from pressure, as Castiel closed his eyes again, welcoming the arms around him and curling his own around Baby's back, his grip tight. His breath shuddered, but he didn't cry, the initial emotion all used up by his first response. This angel was tougher than he looked--literally.

So he lay there, his breathing steadying slowly, without another word to say on the subject. ]

[It wasn't the number of tears that mattered, but rather the weight behind them. And Castiel - he was cosmic, in more ways than one. Baby smiled quietly to himself, lapsing into silence. Sam and Dean might undervalue what they have, but Baby would always be there for Cas, in one form or another. He promised this to himself, thumb rubbing over the knobs of his spine, up by his neck.]

[ooc: This might be relevant.]

[ooc: adorable! ]

[ Castiel lay still a little longer, his eyes closed. As overwhelmed as he might be, he was quick thinking, recovered quickly from his insecurities, when they came about. Quickly-ish, it depended on their scale. Probably there would be more consideration on the point later, but it would resolve itself into something useful, like adoration, like love for his family.

Slowly, satisfied, Castiel drew himself back, although not far. He hovered close to Baby, almost nose to nose, and raised his hand to splay it against his face. ]

There's something I want to do for you. Come with me.

[Baby wouldn't mention it. He never did. He was good at keeping secrets; part of his responsibilities, he supposes. The abrupt change in mood has him blinking, tilting his head curiously as he stared back at the angel.] What?

Sure, Cas? [Baby rests his hand overtop of Castiel's and nods slowly.]

[ Castiel, at least, knew what was on his mind even if Baby had no idea, so he rose to his feet, sliding out of the bed while holding his hand. Up they went, and Cas showed him the way, taking steady steps backward. They didn't go far; Castiel's goal was the bathroom, it turned out, and he slipped his hand out of Baby's once the door was closed, and went to fuss with the shower curtain, drawing it back out the way. He squinted up at the shower head, then bent in to start the water. His eyes flickered back toward Baby, and he beckoned. ]

Are you coming?

[Baby is genuinely confused at this point, sitting up and taking Castiel's hand. He's in his v-neck and black boxers, pupils readjusting as they moved through the dark hallway towards the bathroom. What on earth was he...?]

We'll get wet? [Baby trusts Castiel, though, and steps forward. If he wants him to get in the shower, well, he would.]

We'll get wet, [ Castiel agreed, before beginning to unbutton his shirt. He pulled it loose from his waistband, one handed, his free hand still reached out toward Baby, his eyes raised toward him, head tipped very slightly to one side. ]

You'll get wetter. [ Castiel owed Baby this much, for his comfort over the years, for his undemanding, unselfish sense of love. ]

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