Chapter Text
July 7th, 1995. Pontiac, Illinois
~~
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
Castiel gleefully sang the lullaby to himself as he weaved his way through the blackberry thicket, the summer air warm around him. He dropped a few more berries into the wicker basket he was carrying and continued to sing.
When the blazing sun is gone, When there nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
He cast a glance up at the darkening July sky, deciding it was time to head back home.
Then the traveler in the dark, Thanks you for your little spark. He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so.
His bare feet skipped across the dirt quickly, following the winding path out of the hollow where his favorite thicket resided. Stopping for a moment, he pulled a few wildflowers for his mother and sister out of the ground and added them to his basket, giggling when a small bee buzzed past his nose.
When the blazing sun is gone, when there nothing shines upon. Though I know not what you are, Twinkle twinkle little star.
He was racing over the small rise connected to their driveway, excited to show his mother, Naomi, his treasures with purple stained fingers, when he heard it.
His mother had screamed.
Castiel had heard his mother scream once before when a snake slithered its way underneath his rocking chair, and wondered curiously if she’d found another.
He bounded his way down the rest of the driveway, basket swinging wildly enough for him to lose a berry or two and end up stepping on them. Castiel didn’t mind though.
Momma would wash his feet and hands of their purple color.
Momma would ruffle his hair and thank him for her flowers.
Momma would take the berries he collected and make a bit of jam from them.
When he reached the front steps to his house, he pushed the door open and called loudly for his mother, “Momma, I’m back! I brought you surprises, too!”
He padded his way through the living room, finding his father in his usual spot with the newspaper in his hands, fast asleep with his head at awkward angle. He crept past him quietly as to not wake him
Castiel would later learn that his father was not actually asleep. Neither was his sister, Anna, and his brother, Gabriel, was nowhere to be found either.
A loud thud and voices sounded from the kitchen, drawing Castiel towards it.
He rounded the corner, talking animatedly, “Momma, you’ll never guess what I saw-!”
With a terrified gasp, he dropped his basket, the berries rolling across the kitchen floor.
A tall, dark skinned woman had his mother in her grasp, head buried deep in the crook of her neck. She detached herself from his mother, letting her drop limply to the floor, and strode towards him, a bloody grin stretching across her face.
He stood, frozen in place, as she neared closer until she was a few feet from him. That’s when his brain and body came to an agreement and decided now would be a good time to run, his father and siblings forgotten.
Sprinting down the hallway, he headed for the front door only to skitter to a stop when another woman stepped in his way. This one was even taller than the first, with creamy white skin and had long, pin-straight blonde hair.
He cried out and struggled violently when the dark one seized his arms, holding him still with cool, strong hands.
“I bet this one will taste delicious.” She hissed from behind him, tightening her grip on his arms and causing him to cry out.
The blonde crouched in front of him, assessing him with eyes the color of icebergs, just like the ones his father always read to him about. Her lips were painted a deep red and her smile was bright when she bared her teeth to him.
She drew a long, sharp fingernail down the side of his cheek, wiping away the tears streaming down it. With a blindingly quick motion she nicked the underside of his jaw with her nail, causing him to whimper in pain.
She studied the drop of blood with inquisitive eyes, pink tongue snaking out to catch it before it fell. She hummed appreciatively at the taste and flicked her cool gaze back to him.
“Leave this one. He may be of use to us one day.” She smiled again, a cold wicked thing, but this time he could see the sharp incisors grow out into sharp points.
This time, it was his turn to scream.
~~~
Castiel shot up straight on his bed, gasping and panting for air. Each pull of the warm morning air was like a burning drag inside his lungs and his heart hammered in his chest.
It was just a nightmare. It’s okay, you’re okay.
“T-the date is May, 15th, 2015. M-my name is C-Castiel Novak, and I live in Newport, Rhode Island. I am alive and I am safe.” He stuttered out loud, just like the grief counselor told him to all those years ago. He repeated the last line a few more times quietly until he felt calm, his breathing and heartbeat steadier.
He cursed himself silently as he threw the blankets back, peeling himself out of his now sweat drenched clothes. He was twenty-eight, dammit, he shouldn’t still be having nightmares about something that happened almost twenty years ago.
He padded over to window of his small apartment, unlocking it, and pushing it open, he relished in the warm May air that drafted through.
Even though he was enjoying the small breeze, he didn’t linger long.
He told himself it was because he needed to be leaving soon, but it was more about how he’d been feeling the last few weeks; like eyes were always on him, like the shadows watched his every move, and he was never truly alone.
It was silly, he knew that, but even then, he didn’t stop himself from putting the small, palm-sized silver dagger into the hidden pocket inside his briefcase.
Shaking off the remnants of the nightmare, Castiel made his way to the bathroom. It was early enough he didn’t have to rush to get ready, but he still made the shower a quick one, washing his hair and body in record time because of the apartment’s water heater.
He had a love, hate relationship with his small apartment.
He hated how the hot water didn’t last for more than five minutes, and less than that in the winter. He hated the leaky pipes under the kitchen sink and the never ending fight to try to fix them; but, he also loved that it was his. It was his place to come to after work.
It was home.
A home that didn’t constantly remind him of that day all those years ago. It didn’t remind him that they never found his brother, and couldn’t save his mother. The walls didn’t taunt him with their hidden secrets, and the floors didn’t mock him with their red and purple stained past.
To this day, the mere sight of blackberries made his breath stutter in his throat. He hadn’t even eaten one since that day either.
Toweling his hair, he walked, nude, back into his bedroom. He pulled a pair of navy boxer briefs and black slacks, then went into the small kitchen. He enjoyed being able to stroll through the house, barefoot and shirtless while he fixed his coffee.
He wouldn’t be able to do that around anyone else.
No, the dark ink spanning the width of his shoulders and back prevented that.
Too many questions about why there was a huge, tribal-style dragon with wings soaring across his shoulders and tail curling at the base of his spine. Too many questions about what was in Hebrew surrounding it.
He didn’t want to have to explain that the tattoo was in remembrance of an entire family wiped out, the names of each member and their surname written in a series of short, thick lines and curves. He didn’t want to tell anyone about walking into the tattoo shop with the only cash he had, and sitting through two ten-hour, grueling sessions of pain without uttering a word or so much as a grunt of pain.
So, he savored the time alone in his home, free to do whatever he pleased.
He supposed that a normal guy, fresh out of college, just starting a job a year ago with an apartment of his own, would lead a more… exciting life. One with a woman hanging off every limb, or a man, Castiel didn’t judge, but, nonetheless, that wasn’t him.
Not at all.
He’d only told his two closest friends, his only friends really, about that situation, leaving Balthazar to stare at him in horror and Hannah to smack him on the back of the head for ‘being so damn dense’.
Such loving friends he had, really.
In hindsight, telling his only friends that at the ripe age of twenty-eight that he was still a virgin was not a good idea by any stretch of the imagination.
Now, with his favorite mug, one with a cartoon bee on the side saying ‘Bee Happy, Drink Coffee’ emblazoned on the side, filled with hot coffee and scalding his right hand, he could feel the dread seeping into his pores.
Both Balthazar and Hannah had insisted on taking him to a new bar later that evening after work. To say he wasn’t looking forward to it was a complete understatement.
The thing that really bothered him is that the bar was in town and locally owned. Castiel already knew just about everyone and their second cousin here, so the chances of him ‘scoring’, as Balthazar would call it, were not very high, at all.
He’d reluctantly agreed to go after constant pestering from them both, pretending not to see them high-five behind his back.
Castiel drank his coffee and took in the senses around him, another coping method the counselor had taught him for when anxiety or grief consumed him, or even if the silences became deafening.
He started with sight, taking in the view before him.
Directly in front of him was the small table and chair set for his kitchen, to his left the stove, refrigerator, and sink. One of the cabinet doors was open slightly from where he’d grabbed his mug, leaving the mismatched plates and hard plastic cups inside exposed.
Taste and smell were done in unison, as he took another sip of his coffee. The bitter, smoky taste of the dark roast he liked sitting on his tongue, while he inhaled the robust and bold smell.
He could hear the street starting to come to life through the open window, which wasn’t saying much, really. The occasional old car being cranked to life and the murmur of voices was pleasant. Newport was quiet and small, just like his apartment, and he liked it that way.
He could faintly hear a radio playing the morning news a few doors away from him.
Finally, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel.
He could feel his heart thump steadily in his chest, his breathing deep and even, and his pulse controlled and calm. The wood of the chair was scarred and rough in places against his bare back, and smooth in others. The mug in his hand no longer scalded him, but was comfortingly warm against his palm.
He needed to get ready soon. He had an entire day of teaching Theology at the university in front of him.
So, with that thought in his mind and his coffee finished, he spoke one last time to the open, silent air around him,
“The date is May 15th, 2015. My name is Castiel Novak, and I live in Newport, Rhode Island. I am safe and I am alive.”