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Black And Blue Compassion, pt 2
Castiel
lilyonthemetro
Title: Black And Blue Compassion, pt 2
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cas/OC
Spoilers: Not that I can think of, I'm bad at that kind of thing
Word Count: 683
Summary: Castiel's insomnia leads him back to someone from his past
Notes: Not Beta'd, kind of a short drabble-y sequel to the kid!fic. Aww the little turds grew up (I'm great)



Castiel suffered from insomnia. Several nights out of the week he had been plagued with visions from his childhood. Good memories, bad memories, memories that didn't even mean anything. He would toss and turn for hours on end, fighting off images just to try and land himself maybe... two, three hours of sleep. 

They had started a week ago, on a cold windy night. He'd been passing through Baltimore for the first time in about 15 years. Ever since he'd gone through the town, a nagging feeling hitting him the second he'd passed the city limits. He missed being able to teleport whenever he wanted, but after being cut off from heaven for developing too many emotions, he'd had to learn to drive. His good friend Dean had helped him get his license and had even helped Cas buy his first car. 

So now here he was, four o'clock in the morning in a seedy motel room off the main highway, trying desperately to get some rest. His stomach rumbled angrily. Lethargic and now hungry, he decided that slumber was nowhere in sight. He threw his trench coat on over his v-neck white shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, slipped on his shoes, and made his way to the car. He swiped a map from the brochure holder in the lobby and scanned it for nearby restaurants. 

As he started up the car, he wished he'd worn his flannel shirt instead of his trench coat. It was freezing inside the car, and the old piece of junk usually took its sweet time heating up. His teeth chattered as he backed out of the parking lot. He didn't have alot of money, so he settled on Denny's. Tons of food for not much money sounded like a good plan to Cas.

When he arrived, he was seated at a table at the far end of the restaurant. He was one of only three patrons. One was an old man who looked like he'd graduated high school in 1890, and the other was a young woman who looked around the same age as him. She had shoulder length brown hair, pale skin. She was wearing a long sleeved chocolate brown shirt and jeans. There was a canvas tote bag slung over the back of the chair, with a grey sweatshirt hanging out of it. She was reading what looked like a textbook. 

Cas ordered a Coke and read through the menu, trying to see what the woman was reading. He wasn't sure why, but he'd always had a fascination in studying humans - their mannerisms, what they ate, what they read, how they carried themselves. And through this, he'd learned much about the way people acted, so much that he'd very nearly become one. From what he saw, the woman was not studying a textbook, but was actually reading a translated version of Hamlet. But as he studied the book further, he saw something that caused every last bit of air to escape his lungs. 

She was using something peculiar as a bookmark. Something of his, something that belonged to him. He had thousands of them (even though they served no use anymore), but each one he'd lost, he remembered. They were like strands of his memory, concrete pieces of his past, him being the only being that knew what they symbolized. It was a feather from one of his wings, one he'd left on the bed of a girl he'd shielded from a demon years ago. 

And that's when it all hit him. Baltimore, 1997, Krystel, demon, bringing her home, leaving her a piece of him. For years after they'd met, he'd thought of her every day. But over time, as with everything, his human memories deteriorated, and he eventually forgot the details. He'd saved so many people alongside the Winchesters at this point that she had just become another person that was still alive because of him.

Still, a part of him was in disbelief that she'd kept the feather this whole time. It was enough to make the usually shy Castiel call out to her.

"Krys?"

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