The Game of God: Day 157 - part 3

Uncle Cas.

— Day 157, continued —

After a quick stop in the mess for two cups of coffee, Dean leaves word with Jeremy in case they’re a little late and sends Joelle to find Kamal and tell him to meet them in the Situation Room before he and Cas go to the infirmary. At his nod, Cas goes to the third floor to check on Sudha and brief James’s team while Dean finds Dolores between emergencies and holds out one of the cups with a smile. Her expression tells him that yeah, infirmary coffee really is that bad.

“You’re good,” she says, taking it gratefully and nodding him back to the small break room after checking on Karl. From the look of both of them, they’ve been on their feet since dawn. “I’ll ask now; any chance I can get Vera and Alicia this afternoon? Forever would be great, but I’ll take anything.”

“I’m not sure about Alicia,” he prevaricates. “Vera, yeah: I know she wants to be here for one of the women delivering anyway. Everything okay?” He would have heard about another catalyst event by now, but it looked really busy out there.

“Just everything that can go wrong with a lot of people in not enough space,” she answers, closing the door before dropping into the nearest chair. “And something new. Waste management is working overtime trying to get the rest of the pumps up, and it’s not like we knew what we were doing when we brought it up a couple of years ago.” She sighs, taking a long drink. “So to avoid breaking it altogether while we figure out what to do, we’re going medieval on everything north of Fifth—chamberpots and latrines for everyone. There was an accident trying to build a shelter over the latrines near the new building on Seventh. Nothing too serious—worst was a broken arm—but…”

They’re at latrines now. “I bet that didn’t go over well.”

“Alison made the announcement at all the shelters,” Dolores answers tiredly, rubbing her forehead. “Said it could have been worse: no one stoned her, but she figured that was because all the rocks are covered in snow. Hopefully, it’ll be a temporary measure: one good thing, we got several volunteers from the refugees who had some experience with sanitation and jumped when they heard about it. Pretty sure Tony was crying when he hugged them.”

Despite himself, he grins.

“Next up: everything that goes wrong with a lot of people, not enough space, and challenges in sanitary conditions. Just know now, we’re going to try and bribe Vera to leave Chitaqua and come here,” Dolores says wryly. “Karl and I are making up a benefit package, may include worship and offerings of anything she wants, and I do mean anything.”

Considering his talk with Vera earlier, that’s kind of concerning. “I’ll try thinking up a counteroffer.”

“For the record…” she starts in a different voice, and he knows where this is going.

“Not your fault.” He scowls at her as he grabs a second chair and sits down. “It was one of ours who started it.”

Dolores checks her drink, looking at him dubiously. “Dean—”

“Kyle found out about it,” he says. “I got confirmation from Alicia that she told him, and considering it was in our mess this morning, Kat is Chitaqua source. Carol was for here, I’m guessing.”

Dolores’s lips tighten. “She didn’t deny it, no. Even if Kyle was source, mine knew better than to listen, much less spread the word. I apologize, Dean, and tell Alicia everyone involved will be doing the same to her personally.” She pauses to take another drink like she’s bracing herself. “Which is the second reason I’d like her here, at least for a couple of hours. I don’t want this to go an inch further; everyone sees her here working with patients just like always, that will do half the work.”

“Will she be okay?” he asks bluntly. “I mean, not a knife in her gut here, but…”

“Yes,” she answers. “Karl can make a public request for her help; she’s further along in surgical technique than anyone other than Vera, and I think he’d genuinely like her here to take over a case later this afternoon. I think he also wants to hug her, so two birds, one stone. All regular staff think the same, if you’re worried about that; she won’t get shit from anyone about it.” She clutches her cup, dark eyes bleak. “It’s for us, too; isolation is privileged, and we… both sides have to know it’s something we have to do and once done, it’s over. I can’t let this become… it’s already impossible, what we have to do. The secrecy just makes it a little easier for everyone to live with.”

Christ, it just keeps getting worse. “Send word to HQ officially; I’ll talk to her. I can’t promise anything, though.”

“If she can’t, tell her I don’t blame her, and no one else does, either. She didn’t deserve this.” Making an effort, Dolores smiles at him. “I thought you’d be more pissed, honestly.”

“Our guy—and our former woman,” he reminds her. “Speaking of, how’s Carol?”

Her expression darkens, and Dean feels for her; she’s head of the hospital, Carol’s her patient and under her care, and how you feel personally can’t affect how you do your job. That doesn’t make it fun, though. “My examination this morning confirms; gangrene’s spreading fast, and there’s no going back.”

“How long…”

“We can—maybe, no promises—still remove the leg, good chance nothing has spread farther or it’s not critical yet, but now surviving the surgery itself is up in the air. She’s not in good shape anyway, and every hour drops her chances; I’d give it twelve hours before we’re past the point of no return. This isn’t a real ER, Dean, and no one but Vera’s ever even been in a real OR; we’d be doing something none of us have ever even seen done before, and it was risky before.”

Dean tries to steel himself against sympathy, but Jesus Christ, that’s a shitty way to die. “And after the twelve hours?”

“Three days to a week,” she answers. “I’m guessing from statistics here. I have her on broad spectrum antibiotics now, but that only slows the progress at best, and that’s not gonna help much longer. Tonight, I’ll need to find out what her wishes are for what happens next and how long she wants to wait. She can do the administration herself if she wants, or I can do it at a pre-appointed time; it’ll be up to her.”

Croat’s not the only thing where cutting it short is the kindest method. A needle or a gun: there’s not that much of a difference. Reaching out, he takes her free hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry.”

She smiles faintly, mouth trembling. “No one likes to lose a patient, and like this… Karl and I have a standard talk for it now; I can almost do it in my sleep. Haven’t had to use it too often, but once… once is too much.” He nods, watching as she straightens her shoulders from the tired slouch: a professional in every sense of the word. “So, anything else I can help you with?”

Dean debates only a moment; it’s not his business, but fuck his life, it just might be. “Cathy been volunteering in the infirmary?”

“Yes,” she answers in surprise. “Lewis and Alicia convinced her to take a few shifts, get her out of her building and around people, do her some good. I wasn’t sure about her being with Sudha last night, but it turns out…” She searches his face. “Dean?”

“She canceled on Alicia this morning.” He takes a drink of his coffee. “She ever assigned to Carol?”

“Not specifically,” she answers, eyes distant. “Mostly pre-LVN work like I’d give someone still in school, assist the nurses, do checks on the patients in case they need anything…dammit.” Her jaw tightens. “She was escort for Carol coming back last night, forgot about that; said Carol wasn’t that bad, just needed someone to listen.”

“Seriously?” he blurts out and winces. “Sorry, I—long morning. Something.”

She waves a hand. “That explains how it got around so fast here but didn’t get to the YMCA—Lewis already slammed through his staff, couldn’t find anything.” She bites her lip. “Dean, look, if there’d been anyone else that day, I wouldn’t have let one of yours—”

“Alicia volunteered because that’s her job,” he interrupts. “Helping is what we do.” He hesitates then barrels ahead, because why the fuck not? “Look, since we can talk about it now—what happened?”

“We gave them a sedative when they were brought in,” she says quietly. “Just to keep them calm, so their parents—that part went right.” Her hands close around the cup tightly. “Fifth hour—we estimated—I went to talk to the parents, and—they wanted to wait it out. Technically, I can override when it’s Croat, but I haven’t yet. I don’t know if it’s better or worse for them, only they can decide that. So another sedative to keep them calm, I ordered them restrained, and told them about two hours.”

Gently, he pries the cup from her other hand and squeezes them both, trying to warm the cold fingers.

“We underestimated by about an hour,” she continues. “It happens, but my volunteer got an extra hour to get spooked. We’ve had kids infected, but never under six, and all of them were under three. They went up there and saw four perfectly healthy, drowsy toddlers and walked right back out. Worse, I was in surgery on Talia’s shoulder; I didn’t even know until Karl came to tell me. Two and a half hours past manifestation, they were crying for their parents—fuck, I hate Croat—and two of their parents were trying to get in the room.”

He squeezes her hands again as they start to tremble.

“I wasn’t at my best,” she whispers, an echo of grief in her voice, and he thinks of Grant in the mortuary; by then, she may have even seen what was left of his body. “I called for help, Teresa brought a team up, it was a mess. I locked down that part of the wing, went down to the drug closet and got everything myself.” She looks up. “And then Alicia appeared, like magic. Karl said I was sitting there about an hour, that was—I didn’t realize it had been that long. She asked what we needed, and I—I told her.” She wets her lips. “She asked what we were using, how much, checked the bottles, asked me where she could suit up, and said she’d check in when she was done. About an hour later, she was in my office, filling in time of death.”

“How was she?”

“Quiet, but nothing that set off any flags,” she answers. “First rule of isolation: don’t fuck around, and she didn’t. Got in, got it done, got out. Karl—who’s not an idiot and knows the second rule of isolation is you don’t talk about isolation no matter what you suspect—kept an eye on her and took her home with him that night, just in case. Said she seemed fine.” She squeezes his hands one more time before letting go, and Dean pretends he can still feel his fingers (the ones without nerve damage, anyway). “Dean, I wouldn’t have let her do it, I swear, but she said it was fine, she’d done it before.”

Dean checks his nod; she’s done it before. “That’s our Alicia,” he agrees, relieved he sounds normal. “No point arguing; she’ll just keep talking until you give in, so might as well save yourself some time.”

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath. “If it helps, tell Alicia that if she comes here, she’ll see nothing but friends, okay?”

“I will. And you tell them it wasn’t any of you,” he says, knowing what she won’t say; she’s under suspicion as well for the leak as the only one who should know who did isolation duty. “Tell them I confirmed it was our leak.” Dolores makes a face. “Don’t make me do the gossip thing; I’ll put Joe and Amanda on it, but you shouldn’t get shit for what wasn’t your fault.”

She nods reluctantly. “Names or not?”

“Use their names, and ours: our fuck-up, we’re not hiding it. This wasn’t anyone at Ichabod.” Now for the part he’s almost looking forward to now. “Look, I know she’s not in great shape, but—”

“You want to talk to Carol.” He nods, and she sits back, eyes sharp. “Level with me: this the only thing?”

“No.” He debates what to tell her and how much, then goes with the truth. “We just chatted with the demon responsible for the Croat attack two days ago, and we’re pretty sure Micah’s involved, somehow. Carol may know something about what’s going on, and we need to find out. Just talk,” he clarifies. “But it’s gotta be private. You can check in, but…”

“You need to be alone.” She meets his eyes. “How long?”

“Fifteen minutes or less,” he answers. “We’re on a time limit.”

She thinks for a moment, then nods slowly. “Fifteen minutes,” she confirms. “She’s awake now, next examination isn’t for another hour. I’ll take you myself.”

He gets to his feet. “Thanks.”

---

Opening the door, Dean sees two sets of eyes fly toward him. Cathy flushes bright red, gaze dropping to the bed; Carol doesn’t react at all.

“Need a minute,” he says flatly, jerking his head toward the door. Cathy jumps to her feet, flushing harder as she picks up the stack of clean sheets, and not meeting his eyes as she scurries by him and into the hall where her footsteps come to a halt, probably on seeing Dolores.

“We should talk,” he hears Dolores say. “Wait here, would you? I’ll be just a second.”

Carol looks like shit; the harsh overhead lights throw the strain on her face into prominent relief, skin stretched tight, lips thin and bloodless, and he finds himself avoiding looking directly at her leg even if it’s under the blankets. The sound of the monitors is almost painfully loud, and inevitably, he finds himself staring at the IV bag that’s doing its damndest to save her from herself. Her expression darkens, eyes going to the doorway where Dolores is standing.

“I don’t want—” she starts unevenly, but Dolores simply steps back and closes the door. Closing her eyes, she bites her lip before opening them and focusing on Dean. “If you’re here about—”

“Erica’s here.” What little color Carol has drains away, leaving her a sickly yellow. “For Micah, in case that wasn’t obvious. But you knew about that, what am I saying?”

The thin, trembling fingers tighten in the blanket. “And Micah?”

Of course that’s what she cares about. “We’re moving him to our headquarters.”

“Thank God,” she whispers, relaxing against the pillows. “So he’s okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, crossing his arms. “His buddies are still missing, but they’ll turn up, I guess.”

She bites her lip. “Can I—”

“If you’re next words are ‘see him,’ then you gotta be fucking with me.”

Her cheeks splotch with dull color. “Dean, I’m dying—”

“And you’re not fucking up anyone else’s life on your way out.” Carol flinches. “You can send him a letter through Dolores, though; someone will see he gets it, how’s that?”

Wetting her lips, her mouth trembles on the next words. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care.” She opens her mouth again, but Dean keeps going. “Erica brought some old friends of ours—it’s like the most fucked-up reunion in history—and for some reason, I don’t think she’s going to go away quietly at dawn when we refuse to hand him over. What’s going on?”

Carol frowns, almost convincingly. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” Her frown deepens. “Micah’s buddies: where are they, what are they doing, and why?”

“I don’t know,” she answers. “They aren’t under contract—at least, Micah said they weren’t—so maybe they’re just not interested in being Chitaqua’s special guests. You don’t have a good reputation these days, or so I heard.” Her mouth twists into a parody of a smile. “Sow what you reap, Dean. You’re killers, all of you; now everyone’s getting with the program.”

“So you’re saying, Micah didn’t tell you anything about what he’s planning?” Dean asks evenly, waiting for Carol’s impatient nod. “Sorry to waste your time; it’s not like you got much of it left.”

Her smile freezes.

“Okay, I told Dolores under fifteen minutes, so—”

“Dean, wait.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob as she pushes herself upright, blanching when it moves her leg, wondering what’s wrong with him that he just lets her. “I want to see Micah.”

He takes a moment to wonder what Carol’s world is like, where you call people killers before asking for favors and don’t see the problem. He should do something about that. “No.”

“You’re being petty,” she says accusingly. “Whatever bullshit Alicia told you about Micah, it’s a lie. She—”

“I get it, your crusade against Alicia is your thing, because that’s what’s important here. Tell me, though, what did those kids do to you?”

She looks confused. “What kids?”

“The Croat kids.” He lets go of the doorknob. “Hell, what did their parents do to you?”

“I don’t know what you—”

“Three weeks ago,” he says, “this town was attacked—wait, you know all about it. How many residents died, Carol?”

She licks her lips. “I don’t—”

“Forty-nine adults and fourteen kids. How many were infected?” She glares at him, mouth tight. “Thirteen adults, four kids. Know the official cause of death? Bet you don’t, but I do; it’s the same as those killed during the fighting: died of injuries sustained during the attack. Because that’s what happened; you don’t survive Croat, no matter how long you may live after. Four kids didn’t survive, but they still had to keep living, all the way past threshold. Their families, their friends, this town, had to watch them become monsters.”

She licks her lips. “Dean—”

“But you—Jesus Christ. You don’t get it. It could have been anyone, and until today, it was anyone; they didn’t want to know more, didn’t need to. Now, they have to deal with their kids being dead and knowing for absolute fact what person had to do the shittiest fucking job in this goddamn world. How is that better?” She looks startled, like somehow, it didn’t occur to her. “But hey, you got to score a few points off Alicia with dead kids: win, win, am I right?”

“That’s not what…” She stops, probably because she can’t work out how to explain she didn’t think about it, wouldn’t have given a fuck if she did and doesn’t now, but does realize hey, that does seem kind of shitty. “You don’t think they deserved to know?”

“Who the fuck are you to decide that?” Carol leans back against the pillows, eyes wide. “Ichabod’s gotten along for two years without you to guide them, so I don’t think you—or I—have any fucking right to even ask that question. This town decided how to deal with this, as a community; you deciding on your own that they’re doing it wrong… that would be shitty on its own, but you didn’t even do it for a fucked-up principle and don’t pretend you did. You did it just to fuck with Alicia.”

“She killed kids!” Carol says hotly, the splotches of color darkening. “Whatever reason, they were kids, and she walked in there like it was nothing and shot them up. Dean, ask yourself, what kind of person could do that?”

“The kind of person who knows the job’s gotta be done,” he answers. “Better question: who the fuck decides their feelings are more important than doing their job? The same kind of person who thinks their feelings are more important than a town’s peace. Petty, Carol: you have no idea, so how about I show you how it’s done. No, you won’t see Micah. I won’t let you anywhere near HQ, I won’t authorize him being brought here, and all contact will be done by the old fashioned write it on a piece of paper; ask Dolores for some, I bet she’d love to help you out after the truly shitty morning she’s had already. Anything you write—or he does, which is unlikely, but anything’s possible—will be read by Dolores, me, Cas, Micah’s wife, and whoever else I think needs to see it, and I may read that shit out loud in the middle of the town if I feel like it and spoiler: I feel like it. Take notes, Carol; that’s how you do petty and mean it.” She swallows. “And I can do it without fucking up grieving people’s lives.”

Her hands clench in the sheets. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Have my way, you’ll never see him alive again,” he says, glancing deliberately at her leg before grinning at her. “Looks like I’ll get my wish. You’re not dying, Carol, you’re dead; all you’re doing is marking time. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

She flinches, hand going to her thigh before jerking it back, fingers closing into a fist. Then (because of course that’s what she cares about), “Micah’s wife?”

Still grinning, he opens the door and goes out into the hall, not surprised to see Dolores several feet down, talking to one of her other volunteers. Catching her eye, he nods and starts to the third floor to get Cas.

---

Dean hovers at the doorway, carefully out of line of sight, but he doubts being seen will be a problem. Cas, sitting on the edge of Sudha’s bed, is utterly focused on the bundle of plump baby in his arms, dressed in a tiny yellow and green embroidered shirt and soft cloth diaper.

“Very beautiful,” he says in a hushed voice, and Dean takes in Sudha’s bright smile as she watches, sitting up against the pillows and looking comfortable in scrub bottoms and a long, embroidered tunic laced up the front, blankets pushed back in the warmth of the room. Catching a tiny fist, Cas watches in fascination as the little fingers fail to wrap around his thumb. “They’re so small, yet each without flaw,” he observes in wonder, and Dean realizes this may be the first time Cas has ever seen a newborn (well, last night, but Jaya wasn’t at her best at first sight). “She’s utterly perfect.”

“She is,” Sudha answers, reaching to adjust the edge of her daughter’s shirt. “Don’t worry: she only seems fragile.” Her head turns too quickly for Dean to move, and catching his eye, she jerks her head for him to come in. Jaya makes a bubbly baby sound—no idea what that means—and Sudha laughs. “I think she likes you.”

As quietly as he can, Dean comes up behind them, looking over Cas’s shoulder at the tiny face, big brown eyes regarding the world thoughtfully. Cas touches her cheek with one finger, almost tentative, and the dark eyes focus on him briefly; maybe he’s imagining it, but he could swear she recognizes Cas.

“Hey,” he says softly, just short of secret creepy-watching territory. Resting a hand on Cas’s shoulder, he relaxes as Cas leans back against him; the clinging feeling of having crawled out of something slimy that’s lingered since he left Carol’s room recedes. “Hey, Jaya,” he murmurs, reaching down to touch her head—a lot of hair for a newborn, sleekly black and curling at the ends. The pursed lips move busily. “She’s gonna break some hearts, Sudha.”

“All of them,” Sudha agrees as Cas looks up in utter amazement, and Dean grins, dropping a kiss against his temple.

“How’re you doing?” he asks Sudha; Cas didn’t know how much she’d choose to remember, so neutral is the way to go.

“Great,” she answers cheerfully, almost glowing; so that’s definitely a thing. “Vera recommended Jaya and I remain here for a few days just in case, but forty days seclusion can start here just as easily as at home.” Her grin turns mischievous. “I made her repeat it several times, tell her I apologize, but her accent…”

“She went to college in Texas and spent a great deal of time there as a child,” Cas explains, watching in awe as Jaya’s tiny mouth opens on a yawn. “The slight drawl is inevitable; it seems you have only to step in the state for it to attach itself like some sort of linguistic barnacle and is difficult to eradicate. We’re fortunate she didn’t spend time in the eastern portion of the state or a twang would also make an appearance. Listening to native speakers will assist her to keep a native accent. If possible, don’t speak English to her; it seems to be coded to the speaker and not entirely under her control. More practice should help with that as well.”

“Every chance I get,” Sudha promises happily, adding something in Hindi that makes Cas grin at her, and his reply setting off a fit of giggles; so Sudha’s in a really good mood. Reluctantly, Dean awards points to the goddess whose name he can’t speak (or even think, God that’s weird); she really is different with her worshippers.

At Jaya’s vaguely querulous sound, Cas reluctantly passes her back to Sudha. “Thank you,” he tells her. “I don’t know how you have decided to structure your seclusion, but I would like to visit again at the first opportunity, with your permission.”

“Family is always welcome,” she says softly, tucking Jaya against her chest before meeting Cas’s eyes for a long moment. “Uncle, yes? At least, from a certain point of view.”

Cas stills, and Dean squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“Only if you wish—” Sudha begins as the silence stretches.

“Of course I do!” Cas bursts out, and Dean bites back a smile; he doesn’t need to see Cas’s face to know he just closed his eyes in sheer horror, and Sudha relaxes, starting to smile. “I mean,” he starts again, “yes, of course I do.” Touching Jaya’s cheek, Cas starts to rise, then pauses, leaning over and kissing Sudha’s forehead. “That does include mandatory babysitting duties, I understand?”

“Oh yes,” she agrees, eyes shimmering and reaching with her free arm, tugs Cas into a hug. Cas hesitates, then leans closer. “It includes many things. When she’s sick and needs entertainment and when she’s teething and when she wants to complain about her parents and especially when I’m very tired of her whining and consider throwing her out the window and wondering why on earth I ever wanted children.”

“All of that and more. Thank you,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s chest tightens. “Promise me you’ll stay here until the barrier rises. James’ team will be assigned here to watch over all of you.”

“If I must fight, I will,” she answers softly. “But Jaya will be safe with Rabin and our family here, I promise.”

Cas hesitates, then nods. “We’ll try very hard to make sure you’re not needed,” he answers, straightening reluctantly. “I’ll visit again soon.”

Dean nods to Sudha and quickly averts his eyes when he realizes why Jaya is making those impatient sounds (that would be the reason for the lacing on the tunic), following Cas out of the room.

“James,” he says as Neeraja appears at the end of the hall, looking surprised to see them. Waving at her, he turns his attention back to James. “Your team’s assigned to the infirmary; do whatever Dolores needs, but one of you stay with Sudha at all times, okay?”

James looks relieved. “Got it.”

“How’s Nate?” he asks belatedly; before last night, he hasn’t seen much of him.

“Fine,” James answers automatically, then sighs. “He’s fronting with us, but not like you can’t read the guy like a book.” Dean exchanges a look with Cas; James reads Natese now. Okay then. “We’re sticking with him, keeping him busy. He and Mira are working on one of the other rooms; Dolores says getting more space is priority right now.”

“And Zack?”

James makes a face. “Almost broke his finger with a hammer twice. He’s doing orderly duty; we’ll let him paint. Maybe.”

“Good man.” Squeezing his shoulder, Dean sees Neeraja hovering nearby. “Everything okay?”

“Just visiting Sudha,” she says with a smile. “Could you ask Dolores to give us some privacy for a few hours? She needs to rest, but she very much also wishes to show off the baby to anyone within ten feet.”

“Don’t blame her.” He looks at James. “Do me a favor—”

“And tell visitors to go away?” He nods brightly. “Can do that. Except Rabin, of course. I’ll tell Dolores myself.”

Neeraja smiles in relief. “Thank you.”

As she goes inside the room, Dean gives James an encouraging smile before following Cas to the stairs. It’s an effort, but he manages to wait until they’re outside before asking, “So how much does Sudha remember?”

“Not Jaya’s former identity, of course,” he answers. “I assumed that much, but she retained everything else. A relief, in all honesty.”

Not hard to figure out why Cas likes that part and not just because it would make conversation really awkward when it comes to the ‘what not to say about the goddess in your room’ thing. “Uncle Cas,” he says out loud, and Cas ducks his head on a smile; yeah, should have guessed that, because Gabriel, of fucking course Gabriel. At least he can still think his name. “I like it. That part of the personal stuff you mentioned?”

“I didn’t realize she’d told Sudha the whole story as well,” he answers, looking at Dean worriedly. “I was going to tell you, but…” He wanted to think about it, Dean deduces from the trail off; if Sudha didn’t know it, or acknowledge it, he couldn’t either. And until—oh, five minutes ago—he probably didn’t even realize how much he wanted her to.

“You’re going to be a great uncle,” Dean tells him, already trying to work out what they should get Sudha and Jaya: he’ll ask around, see what they need. A lot of things with fire retardants when Jaya hits puberty, if she gets that back (they should find a copy of Firestarter, get some research in). At least he won’t have to threaten her future boyfriends and girlfriends too much and hey, it’ll be easy to see which ones need to have a long talk about appropriate behavior, being singed and all. While Cas stares them into a healthy puddle of pure terror: this is gonna be great.

Cas glances back at the infirmary with a faint smile before turning his attention back to Dean. “The sooner she makes her offering, the better. I’d far prefer her to have the protection of the earth; once it accepts her, it might mask her somewhat should Lucifer happen to discover her.”

“I’d like it if Teresa wasn’t doing whatever the hell she’s doing that’s making her look like she did on the wall earlier,” Dean answers, and Cas’s lips tighten. “Want to fill me in?”

“She’s not in danger, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Cas—”

“She’s draining herself into the wards to strengthen them,” Cas interrupts. “Which is another perk of having the wards permanently inscribed onto the walls; she can store power there. It’s perfectly safe, and while somewhat tiring for her, it’s far preferable than waiting until we’re attacked to have the wards draw directly from her.”

“That’s not the part I’m worried about.”

“Manuel, Alison, and Neeraja are all aware of what she’s doing. Wendy as well: they’re assuring she doesn’t risk herself. The earth tends to discourage self-sacrifice in general and among its priestesses in specific, especially before there’s a pressing need for it.”

Dean closes his lips over his opinion of the earth’s ability to persuade Teresa; she’s a hunter, and as a group, ‘self-sacrifice’ isn’t something they avoid if they can help it. The risk to Alison may be the only thing keeping Teresa from doing something insanely stupid.

With an effort, he puts that aside for some time not now. “I talked to Carol.”

Cas’s expression doesn’t change, but it isn’t the weather that’s creating that kind of chill right now. “What did she say?”

“She says doesn’t know anything,” he answers as they make the turn for Second.

“Do you believe her?”

It’s a genuine inquiry. “No, but whatever she knows, it’s only what Micah told her, and I doubt he told her much.” Carol parroting Micah’s party line on Alicia like gospel doesn’t give him a lot of confidence in her judgment, and Micah is an asshole but couldn’t have been stupid enough to tell her more than he had to. “Infirmary could use some more orderlies, though, maybe watch for visitors; we got anyone?”

“Haruhi and Rosario,” he answers after a moment of thought. “They’re both from Ichabod, and it wouldn’t be particularly of note for them to be there. Assuming she’s aware we’re recruiting, even if she saw them at Headquarters, I doubt she’d remember them.”

Living with the recruits the last few days, he can already see the echoes of Amanda (Cas) forming in them from their training, the way they move, react: a half-step off Chitaqua’s hunters, but they’re getting there. Just as importantly, he’s seen how his militia acts around them, and considering half of them didn’t even want to come to Ichabod for the party (and getting laid by new people), it says something—he’s not sure what, but something—they don’t seem to remember the recruits haven’t been with them all along.

He remembers what Kamal said when they were watching Amanda testing them on the training field that day, about getting to know them now when they’ll eventually be living with them; only now, he gets that Kamal was being both figurative and really goddamn literal. They might not always like each other, may never have spoken to each other outside a mission, but watching them fight Croats from the wall under Cas’s command, his militia worked together like they lived in each other’s skin. That’s not just their training or two years in semi-isolation from the world (though yeah, that probably helped) but something else entirely; something that just might explain why Amanda knew the demon chasing them outside the wall wasn’t just from Chitaqua, but who she was, how Alicia figured out the same damn thing. If Carol doesn’t recognize their recruits as Chitaqua on sight, either she’s been away too long or—more likely—there may be more than one reason she left Chitaqua and why Andy loved her but still stayed behind.

It’s only now—five months and change after that night in the infirmary after Chuck revealed him to the camp and Cas told him why he made Dean wear those sigils—that he realizes there’s no fucking way he should have been able to pass. Near death by Lucifer whatever, he would have—should have—felt wrong. If Alicia and Amanda could both identify Erica—while running from Croats, as a demon, and in a body not her own—Dean should have had a bullet in his head on sight the moment he got out of the jeep, before Cas could say a goddamn thing.

Abruptly, he remembers fighting the initial Croat attack two days ago and then bravely running almost three fucking miles to that door; he didn’t have their training, had no goddamn idea what they were doing—hell, he’d never even fought with them before—but it didn’t matter. He knew them, and they knew him, like…

“Dean?”

He jerks his thoughts back to now. “Yeah, good idea,” he says belatedly, then catches that second name. “Rosario? Isn’t she behind the rest of the class?”

“According to Amanda’s reports, very much, though she’s making excellent progress,” Cas agrees. “I’m intrigued by Alicia’s idea of training students using music; I should have thought of that myself. The performance aspect—”

“Right, I’m just saying—” He’s not sure where he’s going with this. “I thought Amanda picked ones with the fastest learning curve for this class?” He tries to remember Rosario specifically in training the times he observed, but Haruhi generally dominated his attention (and everyone else’s, for that matter). It’s not every day someone five foot two can wipe the floor with pretty much every student without looking like she’s making much of an effort, but Jesus. Derek’s impressive because he’s six feet tall and has the muscle mass, like Kara, who’s five ten and is literally nothing but pure muscle; he’s seen both of them pick up members of their team during training and actually run them to safety. Then he looks at Cas and gets it. “Amanda didn’t pick her—you did.”

Cas shrugs. “I suggested her when Amanda brought me her choices, yes.”

Which means Rosario wasn’t on her list at all. “How was she? Compared to Haruhi—”

“You may as well ask how Haruhi compares to me,” he interrupts blandly. “There’s no comparison.”

Dean frantically reviews his memories of training again, looking for someone outright terrible, but nothing. “Okay, not that I can remember seeing her out there—”

“You can’t?” Dean looks at him sharply. “But you remember Haruhi well enough to ask me for a comparison against her.”

“Well, yeah, she’s hard to miss…” He wonders if he’s missing something, but before he can ask for more information, he realizes Headquarters is ten feet away. Filing it away for later (there’s a lot of that), he tries to brace himself for what comes next.