A rushing of wings, soft and barely noticeable, wakes her and she stares into the dark of her temporary and now silent room.
Pigeon, must have left the window open...
Amelia lifts her head up from the pillow and then leans up on an elbow to see the window closed and the curtains undisturbed. Just as she had left them. Suddenly on full alert her eyes swivel around the threadbare room and she swallows with difficulty, heart pounding in her ears. A minute passes and everything remains calm but something is not right. She is being watched.
"Show yourself." her voice is croaky but steady and after a few heart pounding seconds he appears. All the air seems to disappear and although she had been expecting this she was not prepared. He stands very still and stares at her without blinking.
Jimmy? It's a tiny hope and the almost instant certainty that it's not him is soul crushing. But she keeps the pain pushed down low and sits up, reaching over to turn on the lamp. It's two thirty in the morning. She blinks in the sudden light, eyes always on him. She had only glimpsed this creature for a few seconds, neither wanting to see or speak to him after the ordeal she and Claire had gone through. The boys had helped her as much as they could and then they had disappeared. And he had kept his distance and left her to pick up the pieces of her now fractured life.
"I'm not your husband." He states in that too low voice and she purses her lips, clasping her hands around her raised knees to stop them shaking.
"I can see that. Why are you here? Are we in danger?" she asks, nervous but he quickly shakes his head, those gimlet eyes pinned on her.
"No, you appear to be safe. I was..." he trials off and if she didn't know better he appears sheepish. She lifts her browse and leans forward as he finally takes his eyes off her to flick around the hotel room before looking back. "I was...in the neighborhood."
"Now? It's been months and you decide to do this now?" she doesn't know why she's so angry at him, he's not Jimmy. He's nothing to her but the rancour and betrayal is strong. Where were you?
He becomes very still again and blinks slowly. "Maybe I should go."
"Maybe you should." she snaps and he stiffens.
"Ok..." she hears that wing beat again and then he was gone and she feels in her bones that he really is. Her body drains of tension and she slumps back into the pillows, sitting there until the sun comes up, biting the inside of her cheeks as she thinks about her sleeping daughter in the next room.
When he appears again she's surprised by the relief that washes through her but still finds it difficult to look at him. She's in her kitchen, preparing herself some lunch, Claire away at her new school. They had moved in a month ago. Her daughter, always a calm and collected child, had dealt with what had happened far more easily then she had. Amelia can still feel that calculating thing inside her, the rage and pain that consumed it and the memory would never disappear.
Turning around to him she calmly leans against the counter, the coffee brewing. He stands by the window, back-lit. He's staring at a bowl of fruit on the table.
"Do you eat?"
"Sometimes." Blue eyes, a pair as familiar as her own and not, peer more serenely then he had before. Maybe he felt more comfortable in the light. Amelia picks up her cup and sandwich and takes a seat but he stays standing, watching her with fascination. Amelia finishes her light meal, trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. Before she had been stressed and shocked, now she can't bring herself to remark on his behavior. He could do anything, an unimaginably powerful being alone with her. It was completely alien.
Swallowing the last chunks of bread down she licks her lips and sips at her coffee, eyes downcast. The silence lays thicker and thicker as the minutes tick by as neither will talk. Castiel shifts every now and then, letting her know his surreal stillness was not permanent. Finally the strain is too much and she lays her cup down loudly, looking up with fierce eyes.
"What do you want?!"
"Then why are you here?"
He narrows his eyes at her, head titling. "Are you frightened of me?" she doesn't reply but bites at her lip and he takes a step towards her, eyes showing some softness. "You don't have anything to fear. I was curious and I...owed Jimmy this."
She flinches at his name. "Owed him? What...how?"
"We agreed that I would protect his family in return for being my vessel." He states simply, no emotion.
She regards him with hooded, judging eyes. "Protect us? My daughter could have been killed. Both my neighbors are dead." Lisa had been sectioned after trying to hang herself; until she had finally succeeded. It had broke her. After that Amelia had moved, not able to live in that house, even that State, anymore.
He hesitates. "That...was out of my control."
"And a year before that? I thought you - he was dead. You couldn't tell me that he was ok? Did you not care, forget?" She's stood up, arms tense, hands curled around the table edge, unaware when she left her seat. He stares gravely at her and again that strange uncertainty hovers over him.
"I did not forget about you or Claire but - but I had other, very pressing matters to deal with. I did check on you to see if you were safe. That was what Jimmy told me to do...I uh, I am sorry if I caused you any distress." He stumbles over his words, not like Jimmy and not like she imagined this being to be. She shuts her glaring eyes and stands straight, composing herself before she moves around the table to him. When she speaks again it's with a very forced calm. She was never one to loose her composure, was naturally poised but now her emotions were increasingly frayed and unwieldy.
"You have ruined my life, taken my husband from me and my daughter's father. I don't want you here. If Claire saw you..." she shakes her head, teary eyed and he steps closer, tilting his head to stare deeper into her eyes. She searches for some sign of Jimmy but it's useless. His gaze is wolfish in it's intensity and inches away, she can feel the hairs rising over her body, her pulse quickening. He leaves her breathless.
"I have apologized and I don't know what else I can say or do. But I will keep my word to him. Shall I leave?...Ams?" He breathes out when she doesn't respond and she gasps; her husband's name for her coming out in his gravelly but soft voice was gutwrenching. Even he appears taken aback by it. She bites at the inside of her cheek, arms crossed over her chest, hands clasping her upper arms as he stares and stares at her. She nods finally, tears running down her cheeks and he leans back from her and she clearly sees disappointment in his eyes. He nods once and moves to the window.
"Wait!" He pauses but doesn't turn around. Amelia claps her hands together, torn between wanting him to leave and not being able to bear the knowledge that some semblance of her husband is alive. "Do you - do you have his memories?"
"Yes." He turns, face impassive.
"Y - yes, in a sense." she moves closer, staring up into his face. Her eyes roam over his features and she almost lifts a hand to his lips. They were chapped, she would always have to remind Jimmy to get some chapstick for them. I'm not kissing you like that. She's been fighting the need to touch him since he appeared.
"Is he in there? Does he know I'm here?"
Castiel narrows his eyes, troubled. "He's aware...it's like he senses things through a dark glass. Far away."
"Can-can I speak to him? Please?" her voice wavers with desperation, uttering something she's imagined and hoped for for months.
He shakes his head sadly. "I'm sorry, it's not possible."
"Please! Please just for a moment. I miss him so much, I didn't even get to say goodbye and it - it hurts." She pleads, gasping and choked on her tears, on the suffering that she had kept sealed tight. This time she does touch him, gripping his arms through his trench coat. He feels like a man, warm. But he still shakes his head, now even more uncomfortable with her outburst and touch.
"I'm sorry, I can't do that. I wish...I'm sorry."
Stop saying that! Jesus, oh God, please help...
She tightens her hands around his arms, eyes drilling into his with torment before inhaling a deep and ragged breath. She turns her back to him, hastily wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She wouldn't let herself stay in this state of despair because of this thing, in front of it. Shuddering a breath she looks back to find him gone. Alone and hurting she sits weakly down on the chair, wanting nothing more then for Claire to come home.
He lets his fingers hover over her sleeping body, around her mouth, down her chin, along her soft hair. Almost but not quite touching her skin.
He remembers every time with this woman, knows the shape, feel and taste of her. He remembers the birth of the child and life they shared together. He remembers what it feels like to love someone, to want them so much it becomes a psychical pain. He feels it all, those precious little candle flame emotions and moments and the curiosity mounts by the second.