Turning Tide

Harry sat up in fright when he heard a loud clatter downstairs. He rushed after the sound, wand in hand and a defensive spell at the tip of his tongue. But when he reached the drawing room, he stumbled to a halt in shock.

"I'm alright." Castiel collapsed into a chair, clutching his chest with one hand and pressing the other to his knee, as though bracing himself.

Harry was at his side in an instant, pulling his arm out of the way to uncover a bleeding wound. His shirt was torn and already soaked through and through. "What happened?" He tried to heal the cut, but there was no effect. "What should I do?" Even attempting to clean up the blood didn't work. It looked bad. Really bad. "What can I do?" he muttered desperately. Maybe a potion. Or the hospital? He looked up in exasperation.

Castiel was staring at him without a trace of panic in his expression. "I said I'm alright…" he repeated. "I just need a safe place to heal."

Harry sputtered. "You're badly hurt!" That unnerving calmness wasn't helping the situation. He conjured up a white cloth and thrust it forward. "Here. Do something."

Castiel dutifully pressed the cloth against his wound.

Harry got up to his feet while wiping his bloodied hand on his pants. "Who hurt you?"

"It does not concern you."

"Apparently what I do concerns you, so I am going to extend the courtesy."

Castiel glanced up at Harry, trying to read his stony expression. "Are you angry with me?" he mumbled.

"What gave you that impression?" Harry bit out.

Castiel pulled the cloth away gingerly. It wasn't stopping the blood. A wound from an angel blade wouldn't be so easy to heal. "Perhaps I shouldn't have come," he understood. He had never meant to inconvenience Harry. He pushed himself upright.

But the world tilted before his eyes. He slipped into darkness.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself in bed. He exhaled slowly, growing more aware as he felt a tightness in his chest. He moved his hand to his ribs. His wound was bandaged with soft gauze. "Hmm." That was unnecessary. He sat up while blinking at the dimly lit room. It was still nighttime; barely any moonlight. With some difficulty he managed to sit upright, wincing from discomfort.

Beside the bed, Harry was sleeping on the large armchair, his head tilted onto one shoulder, a book discarded on his lap and glasses askew.

He jolted out of his dream without warning, the book falling from his lap as his legs jerked out. He fumbled with his spectacles, wiping a corner of his mouth and peering at the bed. "Oh." He scrambled up. His first weekend in ages and this is how he's spending it. "You shouldn't be moving." He cleared his dry throat.

"You did not have to do this." Castiel gestured at his bandaged chest.

"Well, I… I didn't know what else to do so… I mean, you kept bleeding and…"

"Thank you."

"It's nothing." Harry folded his arms to his chest and shifted his weight between his feet. "You weren't lying, were you?" he blurted out after a beat.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "Lying about what?"

"About being alright. You weren't lying about being alright, were you?"

"Ah… No."

"Because we could go to a hospital," Harry gestured vaguely. "I mean, I'm sure they'll have some questions about your… um… But they're really good at patching people up."

"I imagine you have had quite a lot of experiences with hospitals."

He stilled. Was that an insult?

Castiel continued despite the suspicious look he was getting. "But I simply need a safe place to heal." He kept his unblinking eyes on Harry. "May I stay here?"

"… Yeah…"

"Thank you."

"Yeah…" He should really have thought things over before saying yes. Shaking out of his sleepy state, he picked up a bundle of clothes that he had kept by the foot of the bed. "I couldn't repair your shirt, so…" He placed the bundle on Castiel's lap. "It should fit you." He stepped back, watching the angel handle the nightclothes with delicate care. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Castiel wear anything but that white shirt, dark trousers, blue tie and brown raincoat. "Where do you keep your wings?"

Startled, Castiel asked, "What?"

"I can't really remember, but… I was sure you had wings."

"I do…"

"Do you keep it inside?"

He folded his hands over his new clothes. "Well, you cannot perceive it," he murmured. "Why?"

Harry shook his head abruptly. "It's not important." The last thing he wanted to see was a man with ridiculous wings. That would only further solidify his fear for his sanity. "You should get some sleep."

Castiel decided not to tell Harry that he didn't need to sleep. He nodded instead. Harry murmured his goodnight before shuffling out of the room to his own bed where he promptly flopped down and fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke up to the smell of cooked eggs. Befuddled and still half asleep, he sat up in bed. Even after a few moments of hard thinking he couldn't figure out what was going on. So he managed to struggle out from under his twisted sheets.

Castiel was waiting expectantly when he tumbled into the kitchen with just one eye barely open. A mountain of scrambled eggs sat on a lonely plate in the middle of the table. He gaped at the warm food.

"I made breakfast," Castiel said helpfully.

"Yeah…"

"Would you like to eat?"

"I… um…"

"Do you like eggs?"

As the sleepy fog lifted from his mind, Harry realized what was happening. Opening both eyes properly, he gawked at Castiel. "You made breakfast…" The angel appeared strange in his tee-shirt and plaid pajamas. "You didn't have to."

Castiel knew he didn't have to. But he had done it anyway. It was the least he could do, he figured.

After five minutes, Harry had washed his face, brushed his teeth, made some toast and tea, and set the table. Then he sat down, urging Castiel to take the chair opposite his. "I don't usually have breakfast," he confessed before tucking into the light spread. "Do you need to eat?"

"I enjoy it," Castiel murmured as he sipped on his honeyed tea. "It's pleasant."

"How are you feeling?"

"I am mending. It wasn't a serious wound."

Harry wondered if he was allowed to ask for details. When he had tended to the wound, he could clearly see that a sharp blade had sliced the skin clean. He decided that perhaps breakfast wasn't the best time to ask that question, so he kept mum about it. He focused on the unsalted and un-peppered eggs instead. First time anyone had cooked breakfast for him in a while…

"Aren't you curious?"

He froze with the fork in his mouth. "Hn?"

Castiel kept on buttering his toast. "You can ask me." He was willing to answer any questions. "What do you want to know?"

Harry gulped the eggs down and took a sip of warm tea before setting the fork down. "Well, that is… er…" He shifted in his chair. "Are there a lot of angels around?"

"Out of Heaven, you mean?" Castiel shook his head, appearing distant. "Not many. When necessary, we descend."

"What happened to you?"

"The Winchester brothers."

"Oh?" Intrigued, Harry sat forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop. "Who are they?"

Castiel hesitated. It was such a long story. How much should he tell? "They… have a habit of getting into situations that require my assistance at times." He shrugged. "They fight for good, so I must help them."

Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly as he said, "You've been helping me too, haven't you?" He grimaced when he caught the angel's quick glance. "Are you afraid something will happen to me?" Castiel didn't say. Harry guessed his answer though. "You worry about a lot of people, huh?" he asked. "Doesn't it get tiring, helping like that?"

"I am happy to help." Castiel was sincere. He liked knowing that Sam and Dean were safe. They were the closest people he had to a mortal family."I like the responsibility."

"Why did you save me, Castiel?"

For that question, he had no ready response. He had been trying to come with a good enough answer over the past year. It would be a wonder if he knew now. "I… can't know for certain."

Harry was disappointed. "You know why you help those brothers, don't you?" he pressed on. "So there must be a reason you are helping me as well. Don't you think so?"

Castiel had helped Dean before because he was Michael's vessel. Their bond had grown afterwards until the reason he kept helping changed to something more familial and less political. Harry was different. He didn't need Harry for the war. He didn't need Harry for anything. "I don't know," he said again. "You are… different."

A spark of recollection made Harry mumble, "One of a kind."

Surprised, Castiel frowned. "What did you say?"

Harry blinked at him. "Something… I think you told me something. One of a kind? Didn't you say that?" The memory was so faint, like a wisp of a dream.

One of a kind. "Master of Death."

He started and sat upright. He hadn't heard that phrase in years. "It's just a story," he said, his voice hollow.

Castiel was mildly alarmed to see the transformation in the wizard before him. "Yes, yes," he rushed. "It's just a story."

Harry relaxed visibly, his shoulders lowering and his blank eyes shifting. "Because I-I don't have the Hallows. I mean, I lost the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand is at Hogwarts, so-"

"Death assured me that it is just a story," Castiel interrupted.

Harry stumbled over his words. "You've spoken to Death?" he stammered.

"He's said that the Master of Death is a legend. So you have nothing to fear."

They sat in silence for a few ponderous minutes after as Harry slowly came to the realization that Castiel wasn't simply saying these incredible words, but actually meant it too. He had spoken with Death… The reality of that statement was shocking. Just how powerful is this angel? He looked down at the eggs on his plate. Menial eggs. "How did you get hurt?" he asked quietly.

Castiel brushed crumbs off of his shirt and said, "Demons."

Harry exhaled. There was a whole different world out there and he didn't even know about it. "You were fighting demons?"

"Yes. Hell is spilling into this world. So is Heaven." Strange time to be alive, Castiel thought. Things were a lot simpler before, when everyone remained in their place.

"… I see."

He stared at Harry's subdued demeanor. It was puzzling. He was used to questions, not acceptance. "What's wrong?" He must have said something upsetting. His bedside manners were lacking. He was well aware of the issue. "I did not mean to overwhelm you," he apologized.

"Then I…" Harry trailed off. The scale of incidents occurring around him was something he couldn't fathom. "I mean, it's… I'm hardly important, am I? You have so much else to do."

Frustrated, Castiel pushed his plate away and clasped his hands on the table. "You misunderstand."

"How am I misunderstanding?"

"You are important because I say so."

Harry sat back in wonder. "Huh?"

Castiel was more than willing to continue. "I am helping you because I feel compelled to." He was glad he could say this out loud. "At the hospital, I saved you because I felt compelled to do so. I don't know why, but… I don't regret helping you. You are important because I saved you and I saved you because you're important."

"That... makes no sense."

"Maybe it's because you are a good man."

"Oh…"

Satisfied with his speech, Castiel pulled the plate closer and continued to eat. All of that made sense in his head. He didn't feel so troubled anymore. He was glad he had come to Harry the night before instead of healing in Heaven. Confession helped.

"Castiel?"

He lifted his eyes, surprised. "Yes?"

Harry smiled at him. "It's all very simple for you, isn't it?"

Simple? What was simple about this? This was the most complicated situation ever. "Um… Yes," he said instead of the truth.

Harry examined him for a moment and then glanced away, picking up the fork. "Liar," he murmured under his breath.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing."