John was driving on a black top road at two in the
morning, heading back to Montana. Caleb
had not found him yet, but Castiel did.
He appeared in the front seat of the Impala and he
spoke in his monotone voice.
“I would stop the car now if you wish to keep it
intact.”
John jumped in surprise and swerved the car off the
road. He reached for his gun and it flew into the back seat.
“Damn! Demon!” the oldest Winchester said as he reached into
his jacket for a flask of holy water.
Cas was not in the seat when he got the water out. He turned and looked into the back seat when
his driver’s side door opened and the angel dragged him out of the car.
“Who the Hell are you?”
“You have a very sick son and you left him with no
adult protection,“ the monotone voice showed a small amount of anger and it was
more frightening in the monotone than if the angel had shouted.
John stared and threw a fist at the man in front of
him. The angel caught the fist in his
hand and squeezed down until the human was on the ground in front of him. He reached down, grabbed John’s jacket in the
front, pulled him up, and stared into his eyes.
The hunter never saw the first fist.
‘Castiel,’ came the quiet voice.
‘Father?’
‘You have done enough.
Return to your charge.’
‘Yes, Father.’
Thirty minutes later, Caleb found the Impala with the unconscious
hunter lying on the ground beside it.
The angel spent the rest of the night sitting beside
Dean Winchester’s bed. The boy was off
the oxygen.
He had not taken the time to
face what he had done, but he knew he would do it again for this child.
‘Was this Free Will?’
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