entrancelogs | Dear Landlord

Entry tags:

Dear Landlord

Who: Castiel (

freetobe) and John Blake (

oversight)
Where: Fifth Floor
When: Wednesday, May 22, 2013; evening
Rating: PG
Summary: Upon noticing Castiel's less-than-typical lack of presence, Blake seeks out the angel to check up and check in.
The Story:
It had been a couple days since Dean's disappearance and John was beginning to wonder if all of his friends and family had left with him. The mansion, generally a bustling place, felt quieter than usual, even with the most recent event. Of course, he appreciated the quiet much more after being forced into strange narrations, rhymes, and verses; however, it was the persistence of the quiet after the fact that had him unsettled. And being unsettled meant venturing out for a little investigation.

First stop? Fifth floor. Rumor had it Dean's brother and a few other family members were hanging about the mansion and it was a good bet to assume they'd want to be close by. For now, Blake had his sights set on the angel Castiel. With Dean gone, Castiel was the go-to. His connections within the mansion were an obvious advantage, and if anyone had a mostly-stoic assessment to offer, it would be him.

More importantly, though, John was beginning to worry. If Castiel's transparency as of late was any indication, Dean's disappearance from Wonderland was taking a toll. It wasn't out of the question — John himself was feeling something akin to mourning over the loss — so he stepped up to the angel's door, knocking lightly with the intent to peek in on his friend.

"It's Blake, Castiel," he said, voice raised a little to compensate for the door between them. "You in there?"

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"No."

The voice comes from just behind John. Not quite too close for comfort, but Castiel has a habit of not exactly standing far enough away to not make things weird, either. Not that he's aware. The facts are these: He hasn't been in his room, but up on the roof, only returning when he felt someone - a human - approach the protective sigils he painted on the inside of his door. He can meditate, concentrate and... well, brood, a lot better with his eyes on the much too limited horizon.

Dean's disappeared, along with Sam. They might return, or stay gone. If they return, something which could happen in as little as a week or two, or in a few months, they might not return with their memories of having been here.

Castiel tends to have an urge to reach up, curl his fingers around the amulet he's wearing - hidden by the always backwards tie - as if it would help him, give him the power to grip his charges tight and ensure their safety. Quite frankly, his inability to do just that puts him on edge, makes him frazzled, and that in turn angers him.

Castiel doesn't like to feel helpless, or less than capable. Especially not when it comes to Dean.

"Hello, John." Usually, there is a considerable amount of fondness in Castiel's eyes when speaking to John Blake. After all, he's one of the few humans the angel likes as individuals as opposed to their kind as a whole. But now, Castiel's face looks drawn, his voice is a little clipped. Blake's not the source of this mood, though. The source of the mood is absent, and that absence is a problem.

With the sudden appearance of the angel, John found himself registering the spike in his heart rate. That was unexpected. But he's not sure that it doesn't make some sense, as Castiel didn't appear to follow many other typical conventions.

"Guess I thought you might've been inside," he explained, suddenly put on the spot (which was actually his own doing, in retrospect). The former cop crossed his arms and looked up and down the hallway. It was deserted, save for them, but that didn't mean they could talk freely. For some things, it didn't matter — how Castiel was handing the disappearance of the Winchesters, for example, wasn't something the necessitated privacy beyond the normal consideration — but if they were going to talk about the resistance, they'd have to find somewhere a little less observable.

He tipped his head a bit, eyebrows drawn. Truthfully, he'd been having trouble feeling anything but worn down since the door appeared, and it had been weeks. Between researching and worrying over the people he'd grown close, Blake was beginning to wonder if the whole point behind Wonderland was to wear down strong souls and send them home spent.

"Thought we might go for a walk — get out a bit an' talk." It was something of a hint, though from what little experience he's had with this particular angel, he's not so sure hints hit home as readily for Castiel. "Somewhere a little more private, y'know?" That had to be clear enough.

In the meantime, he made it a point to take his cellphone and show Cas he was leaving it outside his door. It's a liability to bring it along, and the odds of someone coming along and bothering it were pretty slim, especially on that particular floor.

A sound theory, given everything Castiel himself has discovered about the mansion and shared with no one but Dean so far. The Mansion is not a kind place. To what end it tortures its residents is something Castiel has yet to decipher, however, that much is clear: it feeds off them in an almost literal sense.

Castiel follows Blake's lead in placing the cell phone down. He's not particularly fond of hte device at the best of times, but it's also a liablity in cases like this.

Instead of turning to walk away, however, Castiel raises to fingers, prepared to press them to Blake's forehead. Unless stopped, this means he'll take the human along for a short flight, beating his wings and transporting both of them into the middle of the woods. Castiel is not a man of many words when they aren't needed - or of asking permission, or of wasting time, generally speaking.

It was likely fortunate that Blake was also a man of few words, otherwise, he might have expressed how the sudden change of location immediately disturbed him. It probably would have involved some cussing, and maybe a hand on his heart. Thankfully, past training meant he could keep the worst of his ~~over~~reaction at bay. Would the five minute walk have really been that much of a waste of time, he wondered.

"Thanks—," was the first word out of his mouth, but he didn't know why. There were plenty of more appropriate sentiments to being whisked away, no doubt, but since he didn't think he'd be tipping his cabbie, he decided to let it ride.

Shake it off, John.

"Was, ah. Bit abrupt," he coughed out. So maybe that was all he'd say on the matter, and then he was moving on. "Sorry, shoulda called. Been thinkin' 'bout— 'bout everything. Wanted to check in, make sure you were doin' okay." Truthfully, he should have looked in on the angel sooner, but since he couldn't change that, he'd just have to make up for it in the here and now.

He glanced around to make sure they were truly alone and then pushed his hands into his pockets and started walking at a slow pace. "Holdin' up all right?"

Castiel is a very practical creature. His idea of practicality may be wildly different from a regular human's, but the fact remains. Regular human methods of travel, including their feet, are just terribly slow to a being like Castiel. Car rides are better and worse in many ways. And at the end of the day, the mild discomfort of a mortal being not used to flight is hardly of import to Castiel. This is not because he would disregard John's feelings as unimportant and more because the time he has left to peruse his own wings is limited. That trumps John's personal comfort level.

At the last question, Castiel lets his eyes wander away, over the surrounding grounds. He could lie, of course, but then he hardly understands the purpose of that. Never mind that even he knows he's a bad liar. So instead, he opts for the blunt truth, as he most often does.

"Dean disappeared for a prolonged time in January. Upon his return, his memories of this place were gone. This time, the same might happen, or he might not return at all."

It might be better for Dean, too. This place is more dangerous than they can guess at right now.

There it was, the reality laid out in concise little packages, tied up with bows. Wonderland was a bit cruel like that, wasn't it? From what John was to understand, the memories of their time in Wonderland weren't guaranteed. Some people returned with them, some of them, like Dean, returned without them. There didn't appear to be any real rhyme or reason, no method to determine how it really worked. It was frustrating, to say the least.

But, then again, worrying about whether or not Dean would remember his time in Wonderland was pointless when they couldn't even guarantee that he'd return at all. That was probably the hardest part for Blake to swallow, because it felt like Dean should be there, just a text message away.

"Think that's why I'm here," he informed the angel, his voice quiet. "See if you were still standin', and to make a plan in the event somethin' here doesn't go the way we want it." With Dean gone, there were many considerations to be made, especially regarding the resistance. They couldn't just go on, not without deciding how to protect their work so far without hinging the rebellion on their presences in Wonderland.

In the end, Castiel will always be left standing. Unless he falls all the way, he's immortal, eternal, vast in ways few humans can ever hope to comprehend, and neither the disappearance nor death of one mortal will ever change that.

Or at least, so he likes to think. Then again, no mortals have ever been as close and important to him as Dean and Sam Winchester. Strange, how they managed to do that in such little time, considering the span of his existence.

"Should Dean remain free, it's all the more reason to continue what was started with him. It will still leave the rest of us trapped."

It's as simple as that.... isn't it? Granted, Castiel almost feels that there is little worthwhile for him back home, knowing the things to come, but in the end, he has applied himself to a mission, and he will see it through, personal consequences be damned.

"Yeah, think you're right about that," Blake agreed, his hand coming up to rub at his chin. "Lotta hard work already went into this whole ordeal. Be a shame to quit now. Didn't really think that was a possibility — not with so many proactive people here — but thought I'd check in and ask, anyway." Everyone deserved an out, right?

As he walked along, John reminded himself that there was still much to be done. There'd always be new things to do, always be something that needed planned or tended to. At the moment, they were a loose organization, but when Winchester had been around, they'd felt a lot tighter as a group. That sort of thing was essential, Blake believed, in order to keep a united front in the face of anything and everything Wonderland tossed at them.

"So, sayin' that, you're dedicated to workin' with me? Makin' this happen whether they come back or not? Think we've got James and Daryl and Shannon still ready to help out, too, so I can kinda see where we are by knowin' where you are."

"This is our mission. I won't abandon it."

Castiel is willing to adapt if circumstances change, change his strategy and approach. But in the end, too much work has alrady gone in this. If Dean... doesn't return, it's more reason to continue than before. Most other people are of little concern to him even though he recognizes that they're innocents for the most part who deserve protection. They deserve to go home.

And if Dean doesn't reserve, Castiel has all the more reason to return to his original mission, the one back in his home world, where he gave up everything for Dean's cause, too. The connections he's made here still pale in comparison to his dedication to that.

"Good to hear. Expected as much," he added. Blake had been more than impressed by the angel's dedication and he felt it was something of a disservice for him to have ever wondered in the first place. Then again, sometimes people react to loss differently than one might expect. He was considering saying as much — explaining why he'd bothered asking at all — but he didn't think it actually mattered all that much to Castiel.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked on, unsure of how to follow that up. If he were to just say what he wanted to say, he's not sure it would come out in such a way that Castiel would appreciate. But that's not uncommon for John.

"Gonna be all right, then? For sure. Can come and see me if you need anything, y'know." It's the best he could do to reach out.

Castiel watches John for a while, gaze as unreadable as usual, as if he's trying to determine John's intentions but can't quite. Luckily he tends to be pragmatic and writes the questioning of his dedication off as John's own need for reassurance. They need that sometimes, humans. Castiel finds that quaint. He reaches out a hand, curling his fingers as he wants to touch John's shoulder and give it a friendly pat or a squeeze, but halfway through the motion he hesitates and lowers his arms.

Awkward and stiff, that's what Castiel is at the best of times. He doesn't do reassurance, because he's brutally realistic about their chances, and a bad liar. Hugs with Dean come more easily these days, because it's Dean and he initiated those weird physical comforts. Touching John's shoulder... Castiel isn't sure if that would fall under 'appropriate' on the human scale, and John is one of the few mortals whose opinion Castiel would like not to involve discussions about personal space, because he likes John, but doesn't take joy in poking him like a particularly fascinating specimen.

Instead, he tilts his head. "What would I need of you?"

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