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The house was cold and quiet, as Castiel sat at the table, wondering why Mother was late, and dreading it too.
Their routine never changed. Mother hated deviations and lateness even more than she hated the bastards. Hated the house and Father and him and when one of the maids dropped something or if the talking in the house was louder than the wind.
So something was wrong. Had he done something?
Castiel wracked his brain, finally remembering faintly that there was supposed to be a guest somewhere. It was the reason the house had been sparkling since morning, for the stranger that had come earlier in the day. His faint, new scent still lingered over parts of the house. But Castiel hadn't seen him at all, just heard small fragments of voices.
It didn't matter, Castiel decided, another anxious shift reminding him of the metal lying flat under his leg.
By this point it had warmed, his leg was getting numb against it, but he was hyperaware of its presence.
Mother would rap his knuckles for it, or worse, but Castiel squirmed on the chair again, hearing the wood underneath it creak slightly before he stopped.
The door to the office remained closed. The temptation was there again, like it had been last night, and the day before that, and the day before that.
No. Bad idea.
Castiel focused back on the table, head throbbing with anxiety, staring down at the empty, gleaming white plates on the set table. The maids wouldn't act without Mother's permission, but two of them stood there, waiting like him.
The clock was ticking. The other clock was ticking too, but late, in the drawing room. The table didn't creak but the house did, as another burst of snowy wind blew through it. Castiel eyed his distorted reflection in one of the spoons--
Something went crashing in the office. She was angry. Again.
Castiel felt sick.
One of the maids moved slightly out of place, wood creaking under her legs. The other whispered back something. The wood creaked again as the first returned.
Castiel moved his hands out from under his legs, carefully climbing out of the chair, the knife tucked against his arm.
The maids barely looked at him as he padded down the hall, slowing down as he got to the office.
Castiel stopped before the dark, wooden door, hands trembling a little. He rubbed his bruised wrist, mouth dry.
It took two fumbles for him to get the doorknob open. He crept inside, hand on the knife shaking.
“No, no, I–-” Mother turned sharply, eyes creasing, one hand tightening on the phone by her ear. “What are you doing here?” She shouted and Castiel flinched, running out, her shouts echoing after him, hurting his ears.
Castiel barely made it down the hall before he slammed into someone. Alpha. He smelled like pack.
And blood.
“Hey, hey.” The man chided, brushing aside his arms. He chuckled and Castiel remembered who he was. Michael.“Finally, sleepyhead. Is this any way to say hi?”
Castiel stared at a spot on the floor, where the hardwood lines circled into a glaring, angry eye. He wanted to look away, find the other one, but it was behind the alpha now.
The alpha didn’t say anything immediately, smoothing a hand down his arm. “What’s this?”
Castiel remembered too late, trying to back away, but Michael was already coaxing the knife free of his fingers.
“Clever boy,” Michael said softly, sounding amused or pleased instead of angry. It was bad to try kill Mother. Treasonous even. Castiel's pack mark had been stinging for days at the thought. “This is a pretty sharp one. I used to use the butter knives when I played pirates, but you’re going for full accuracy, huh?”
Castiel’s heart beat a little more frantically, not fully hearing the alpha’s words. What if he was in trouble? What if he told Mother? What if she knew what he was trying to do?
He’d be wrong again. Defective. Broken. Ill-mannered--
“Castiel?” Michael tipped his chin up with his thumb and forefinger and Castiel tugged out of his hand, catching one, accidental glimpse of over-bright blue eyes and a bandage over one eyebrow before he fixed his eyes on the better eye on the frame on the wall. “What’s wrong, pup? You don’t remember your big brother?"
“Bad.” Castiel blurted out, flexing his hands into fists and releasing them, fingers digging into his palms.
“What-- hey, don’t do that.” The alpha said lightly, his fingers working open a fist and Castiel opened his hand, watching Happy Eye.
Michael hummed then, his hands reaching for a sleeve and rolling it up slightly. He gently turned Castiel’s wrist and Castiel whined, tugging the sore wrist back.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Michael said quickly, shifting on his knees to follow when Castiel stepped back. “What happened there? Castiel?”
Castiel eyed the knife in Michael’s grip, wanting it back. The chef was less careful about his knives than Mother was, but it still took him two whole days of attempts to steal it away. To get close enough without running away at the first sound. He still had small scrapes on his stomach from the way he'd hidden it.
He pawed at Michael’s hand but his brother turned it over in his hand, holding it out of his reach.
“You know how to play with these? I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Castiel frowned slightly, trying to get it out of his hand again and Michael huffed.
“I know, it’s very shiny and cool. You know why I don’t want you to have it?” He made sure Castiel was watching, and dug the knife into his own palm. Blood welled there and Castiel watched it, dark and shiny, bubble out over the cut.
It was nothing. He’d seen worse here barely days ago.
"People can get hurt, Castiel. Do you understand that? They’re dangerous. And they’re not for children.” Michael was saying softly. His hands were ropy and white with scars, some raised, some small.
People can get hurt. Castiel didn’t even know if he could hurt Mother. Nothing hurt her, ever.
But he wanted to.
Castiel tried getting it back and Michael tucked it into a pocket.
“I can see you’re not afraid of a little blood, huh? You’re braver than I am.” The alpha dropped his cut hand to the side, tilting his head to try and catch Castiel's eyes. “Still nothing? Will you say something if I show you the gift I got you?”
Castiel rubbed his wrist. He would have to talk. That was one of the rules. Mother would get angry if he didn't.
But he shook his head and Michael laughed, still quiet.
His scent was warm, familiar. Castiel’s pack mark practically glowed in his proximity. He scratched at it, feeling the urge to say something, just to appease him. Because it felt better already with him here. Less alone, less cold, less--
“I bet you miss your siblings huh?”
No. Yes. Castiel missed Anna. Even though Anna cried a lot and spilled all their toys over the floor. And hit Marissa. He missed Gabriel too. And Uriel. He missed Uriel the most.
But Mother sent them all to the other house. Just not him.
Castiel nodded.
“Yeah, they miss you too. They keep asking me when you’re going to come over.” Michael smiled and Castiel eyed his teeth. Sharp, white. His lip was cut. There was a bruise along the side of his jaw and under his ear, purple and dark.
Castiel wondered if Mother hit him, then quashed that thought. Michael was good. Mother loved him. She said that yesterday.
Michael leaned forward. "You want to come to the States? My commander Ishim, he’ll teach you all about knives.” Michael patted his pocket. “And guns, and anything else you want to play with."
Castiel frowned, thinking it over. His eyes scraped past Michael’s eyes, and went somewhere safer, to the collar of his light coloured coat. “To the other house?” He asked finally and Michael blinked, beaming.
“Yes, the other house pup. You can have your own room, or I can make you share one with Gabriel–- no? You don’t want to–-” Michael laughed. “Fair enough, I wouldn’t want to either.”
Both of them tensed as Mother screamed again, voice leaking out of the walls, the crack in the still-open door. Michael’s scent turned soothing again and Castiel blinked, shoulders sinking back down.
“I have to see Mother now.” He groaned as he stood up, ruffling Castiel’s hair with his unbloodied hand.
Boots, Castiel realized with dizzying horror. He was wearing boots in the house. Mother would hit him. She would get so angry when she saw that. She hated it, hated the mud and the–-
“You coming?”
Castiel backed away as Michael approached the door, watching the decorative, wrought metal handle and Michael raised his hands.
“Okay.” He said softly. And then he squared his shoulders, cleared his throat, and opened it, stepping inside, his boots heavy against the wooden floor.
The screaming cut off suddenly, and Castiel could just barely make out Michael’s voice, saying something in his calm, quiet way.
Castiel crept toward the open door, listening at the edge of it.
Michael said more things and Naomi replied, her voice even, nearly kind.
Mother never talked like that.
Castiel breathed out, straining his ears to ear more, feet at the edge of the wall to avoid the creaky board in the middle.
"Why do you keep calling him?" Michael was asking. "You know he doesn't care."
"I am his wife. Forgive me if I want to see if he even cares that I'm alive or dead." Mother hissed, voice twisting. "But I forget, the one skill the men in this family have is abandoning their charges for some lofty fucking goals--"
"Mama, mama I'm sorry, forget I even brought it up," Michael switched out of Enochian, to English. It was harder for Cas to follow, frowning as he tried parsing through the words. "--not how I meant--don’t understand what’s happening here–-”
“-- not stuck with him!” Naomi shouted suddenly in Enochian and Castiel flinched, heart in his throat. “Do you have any idea–- there is something wrong with him! Something so–- so off, he’s-–”
“Mother, he’s a pup. My own are just about as crazy. Katya's never once complained like--"
“I’ve met your children!” Naomi snarled. “He is nothing like them! He’s just another one of the–-”
“Mother,” Michael said, voice low and shocked. In a second the door was closed.
“--your father made me have!” Mother shouted, her voice managing to make it through the walls, reverberating down Castiel’s side, into his skin. “And unlike those fucking gutter foundlings, he's worse. Because he-- honestly, I think he came off the line with a crack in his chassis. He was born like that. You haven’t seen the way he is unfeeling, broken, and I only have to--”
“Do you hear yourself right now? Are you insane? He’s a child. You can’t pull this shit every time one of them isn’t-–” Michael was saying inside, voice muffled. “--Mom, please. Don't do that.”
Whatever she was saying next got garbled when she started wailing loudly and Castiel backed away, going down the hall.
Michael came to his room, thirty minutes later and Castiel frowned from under the bed, watching his boots as the alpha turned, scanning the room.
The closet door opened and shut and Castiel smiled to himself, amused that he didn’t find him.
Castiel waited for him to leave, and then suddenly the boots stopped at the bed, springs creaking as the alpha sat down on the mattress.
Michael scoffed. “You know, your nephew likes hiding places too. He–-uh. He used to jump out at me.” Michael sounded like he was going to cry, voice thickening. “Anyways, he's a little too big for it now, but... he was really bad at hide and seek. I used to have to pretend I couldn’t hear him giggling. Kat and I would..." He cut himself off, breathing out heavily.
Castiel curled his fingers into the metal under the bed, then pulled them out, then did it again, comforted by the familiar motion.
“I bet you’re really good at hide and seek huh? You’re so quiet, I don’t even know you’re down there.”
Castiel smiled slightly, and fiddled with the screw he’d been turning out, swallowing a little as he wondered what the alpha wanted.
“She doesn’t mean all that,” Michael said quietly and Castiel gripped onto the metal again, holding his breath, mildly irritated when the bed creaked above him. "Grownups say things all the time that they shouldn't. Mean things. And she's completely wrong, there's nothing, not a single thing wrong with you, you know that?"
Castiel tugged at the screw, hearing a low scrape.
“Castiel?” Michael was kneeling and Castiel curled further against the wall, wondering if he’d try and pull him out. Or tear off parts of it until there was nowhere to go. “Come on. Why are you hiding down there?”
Castiel looked at him and Michael smiled. The alpha was too big to wedge himself down there, but he didn’t block off the way out either.
“Come on, it’s dinner time,” Michael said and Castiel stayed where he was. “Little brother, come on, you’ll get us both in trouble.”
Bad. Wrong. Castiel’s chest painfully fluttered and he crawled out. Michael patted the dust off him, scoffing.
"You're like a chimney boy. You know what those are? They had to go down chimneys-- do you know what a chimney is? The smoky thing on top of the house? Santa climbs down with gifts? No?" Michael narrowed his eyes, tickling Castiel briefly before Castiel batted his hand away, smiling.
Castiel liked him, he decided, this pack alpha he’d met a handful of times, shadowing him back to the dining hall.
Michael took the head of the table, dragging the chair by his side out before Castiel could join Mother at her side.
Mother’s nostrils flared, but she said nothing, just started talking with Michael about things Castiel didn’t understand, but he tried remembering it all.
It helped him, helped him prepare for her tests and training.
She mentioned Lucifer. The Garrison. Mentioned things in English Castiel didn't know yet.
Michael occasionally made some comment and glanced over at Castiel with a smile. Castiel always nodded, sensing what the alpha wanted and Michael ruffled his hair again.
“Are you going to your Father’s next?” Mother asked and Castiel stilled. Father made Mother worse. There wasn’t a single phone call between them that didn’t end with Castiel suffering.
Michael cut him a look when Castiel’s scent changed, beckoning over one of the maids.
“Marissa, I’m sure we have dessert somewhere in the house?” He asked and the omega nodded, smiling at him, blushing a little.
Mother made a slightly irritated sound at the end of the table. “Michael, he’s not a child.”
"Really? He hasn't even begun his training yet." Michael said and Mother narrowed her eyes, saying nothing more as she emptied her wine glass.
Everything in the house was different with Michael here.
“Off you go.” Michael tilted his head and Castiel quickly climbed off the chair to follow her.
Marissa let him perch on the counter, helping him up with a grunt. “What do you want to eat? Ice cream, or pudding, or–”
“Sandwich,” Castiel said and Marissa smiled, making him a peanut butter and jam sandwich. She made them for him all the time, expected the answer, even if she tried getting him to eat other things.
She got a bowl of ice cream for herself, winking at him with a finger to her lips. Castiel ate his sandwich slowly, straining his ears to try and hear what was happening in the dining room.
The voices from this far were echoed and distorted, even harder to listen to in English. Castiel frowned, distracted by the drippy tap.
At the sound of footsteps, both Castiel and Marissa frantically straightened, but it was just Michael.
“Why on Earth are you two skulking in the dark?” Michael asked with a laugh. He had Gabriel’s laugh.
“I–-” Marissa wrung her hands, sweeping her hands down her apron. “Apologies sir. I just-–”
“I’m joking,” Michael sounded confused as he looked at them both, his posture at odds with his scent. He licked his lips, clearing his throat. “Castiel, I need to leave tonight.”
“No,” Castiel said, clambering off the counter. “No don’t go.” He ran right into Michael, holding onto his coat, making the alpha snap to alertness, out of the loose stance he’d been in. “Don’t leave.”
Michael ran his hands down his back, smelling surprised. “Castiel, Castiel, hey.”
“Don’t leave. I want to come with you.”
“Pup--"
"No, no, no, I don't want to stay here--"
"I know, I-- Castiel, listen,” Michael said, voice laced with command. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders, peeling him off a little. “I’m not leaving here without you.”
Castiel blinked at him, trying to swallow back the tears already in his eyes.
“Oh, not the puppy--” Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes softening. “Okay. Marissa, will you please pack him a bag?”
“Yes sir.” Marissa inclined her head, heading out.
Michael was giving him a look but Castiel didn’t dare look at him. He didn’t care what happened so long as Michael didn’t leave him here.
"Neither of us is going anywhere until we get you some shoes." Michael chuckled at the grip Castiel had on his coat. “And a coat, it’s snowing out there.”
Castiel said nothing and Michael rumbled low in his chest, lifting him up with and carrying him down the hall.
Mother was pouring wine, but Castiel didn’t dare look at her. Like that could make her forget about him long enough for them to leave.
“Anything you want to take with you?” Michael asked once they were back in the room and Castiel didn’t respond.
Nothing. His room was practically empty anyway. The second Gabriel and Uriel had been taken away, everything else had followed.
“Sir,” Marissa said quietly, stepping forward. “May I?” She offered her rosary, the one she’d let Castiel count her prayers on while she murmured them, both of them waiting out one of his Mother's dark moods, or the aggressive-smelling alphas from The Garrison that had come to confer with her.
Michael frowned slightly, but accepted it on Castiel’s behalf, carefully pocketing it.
Marissa squeezed his hand. “I will miss you, little sir.”
Castiel looked at her, the one person who’d been kind to him here. Helped bury all his mistakes, bury his failures, patched up his wounds.
Marissa smiled, brown eyes slightly bright. The omega grabbed a coat from the hook behind the door and Michael let her zip Castiel into it.
“He likes peanut butter and jam,” Marissa said.
“It’s jelly in the States,” Michael added nonsensically, smiling a little. “Anything else?”
“He’s quiet. He likes to snoop.” Marissa said, lip quivering. “Little troublemaker too. He follows–- he follows me around the garden.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and Michael glanced at Castiel, jostling him slightly in his arms.
“You want to say goodbye, little brother?”
Castiel didn’t look at either of them, eager to leave.
Marissa laughed wetly. “That’s okay. I hope you’re happier there, Bienlein.” She patted his arm and withdrew, handing Michael a bag.
They shook hands before the alpha shouldered it, carrying Castiel out of the room. “You’re so small.” Michael teased. “Gabriel and Anna too. I wonder if this is a new trend, all my littlest brothers and sisters will be tinier and tinier.”
The alpha's scent was calm, and he didn't complain once about Castiel's tight hold on him.
Mother had moved now, trailing them to the door. Castiel’s heart thudded slightly as Michael tried to find his shoes.
“Come here,” Michael said, kneeling down to tie his laces. The bag thumped against his side but Castiel was more focused on the way Mother had approached.
She watched him, her eyes dark, her scent tight, moments from lashing out.
“Damn it, Castiel. How the hell did you knot it like this?” Michael chided.
Castiel stilled a second, and then Michael snorted, shoving him lightly.
“You’re going to need to stop taking things seriously, or Gabriel’s going to run rings around you.”
Castiel smiled slowly and Michael grinned. “I give up, I’m going to have to cut off those laces.” He took Castiel’s hand. “I just don’t want you to trip, you understand that?”
Castiel nodded, breathing in his scent, frowning as he focused on the laces. Michael had just wound them over and over on each other, but they still flopped from side to side.
Michael stood up and spotted Mother. “Thank you for having me. It's exhausting making this trip over and over between all of you. You should come visit the Garrison sometime--"
"I'm afraid I can't spare the time." Mother said and Michael stiffened slightly, but nodded. "Tell your lovely mate to come by here when the weather is nicer."
"She'd love that." Michael sighed. "We fought so much this past trip, and I really think some time away from--" He waved a hand. "You know, would help her."
"Well she and your gorgeous children are always welcome here." Mother said.
Michael smiled. "We're all fortunate they've taken after their carrier." He checked his watch. "Well shit. We need to be going." He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "You take care Mom. And let me know if you get lonely." He smiled down at Castiel. "Last one's leaving the nest."
"To my great relief." Mother said and Michael's grip on Castiel's hand tightened. Her eyes settled back on Castiel, and he nearly shook under the weight of her attention.
“You’re going to regret this.” She told him and Michael's scent darkened. “He will disappoint you, Michael.”
“Mom.” Michael chided quietly and Mother laughed, swaying slightly.
“You'll see soon enough. I tried fixing him.” Her lip curled as she glanced down at Castiel. “But something-–” She shook her head. “I’m just glad I have some peace. Finally.”
Castiel looked up at Michael, who's jaw was working furiously, eyes flashing. He caught Castiel looking and breathed. "Say goodbye little one." The pack alpha said and Castiel opened and closed his mouth, determinedly staring at the edge of the carpet until Michael sighed. "I’ll call you when we land in Frankfurt."
Mother hummed disinterestedly.
Michael laughed. "Oh hell. I nearly forgot." He reached into his pocket. "Get arrested for bringing this along." He passed over the knife to Mother and Castiel's eyes widened.
He grabbed the door and got out, stumbling over the frost on the stairs toward the foreign car parked outside.
His eldest brother swore as he got out, boots crunching noisily behind him as he tried to keep up. Michael rubbed his hands together at the cold metal doors.
Castiel closed his hands around it, uncaring, rather enjoying the bite of cold into his hand.
“You yank that handle one more time Castiel and I’m not going to be happy,” Michael announced, digging in his pocket for keys. “Alright, let’s do this.” He clicked the car open and Castiel climbed into the front.
Michael made a face when he sat down. “I do not think you’re big enough for the ride.”
Castiel clambered over the middle part and the seats to the back and Michael smiled, depositing the bag into the passenger's seat.
“Thank you kindly for leaving footprints all over this shiny rental. Now, seatbelt, please. No, not that one, that buckle is for the middle one–- no, see it doesn’t fit.”
Castiel frustratedly managed to get it set in. “Go.”
“Ordering around the pack alpha,” Michael said, sounding amused. “Yes, I can see the troublemaking already. Jesus, with the snow, I don’t even know if we’re making it on time.” The alpha kept a steady stream of rambling as they drove out of the property and Castiel was transfixed.
Leaving. Leaving here.
He didn’t know anything past this. Had never been out of the gates.
“Castiel?” Michael was asking. “Are you okay?”
Castiel whined, clinging to the door, digging his nails into the leather. He couldn't explain the sudden surge of panic. The routine was well and truly over, he didn't know anything--
Michael frowned, quickly glancing back. “Don’t be scared. I can’t stop here, but we’ll be there soon.”
Castiel curled his legs up into the seat, hands clamped over his ears.
"--the plane? Planes are fun, I promise--"
The car smelled funny.
“Here. Hey, look at this.” Michael blindly held out the rosary and Castiel took it. “Yeah. I want you to hold onto that, okay? Just–-uh, it’s just an hourish. Then we’ll be there and in a couple more hours we’ll be on a plane, and you know what I wasn’t even supposed to tell you this, but Gabriel wanted to welcome you home. In style.”
Castiel ran his fingers over the beads, barely listening as he rolled them in his fingers.
“They’re all excited to see you. Is there anything you want me to get? Anything at all?”
Castiel closed his eyes, squeezing the beads in his hand, counting the seconds as they got further and further away.