Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Day 17: and 1_million_words August Rush: Day 10:
Word Count: 1,456
Date Written: 22 August 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
He has done wrong in so many ways. He’s an Angel. He was never meant to fall, especially for some mortal hunter who, more than once, has spoken ill of the Father. He was never meant to walk this Earth or to love any one but God. Angels are meant to serve and worship, not love, but he has fallen.
He looks down to his feet, unable to raise his eyes to the sky and face his Father’s rejection. The Word plays through his mind. “The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose.” He knows the verses well, and he knows that shortly after the his people began to mate with Dean’s was when God again realized just how wicked human beings are.
But they are not all that way, Castiel reminds himself. Have not Dean and Sam sacrificed everything time and again to save the Earth? And they are not the only ones who have. They come from a long, proud line of humans who have fought and sacrificed to save the others, to spread love for the neighbors the way God originally intended. They have given everything to save others, and they are not alone.
But he also is not alone. He is never alone. God sees him, looks through him to his very soul every day. He knows his burden, knows his pain, knows his shame. He knows that he has looked upon not the daughters but the sons of man and ached to be made whole with one in particular.
But Angels are not like man, he reminds himself. They are not made of the same as man. A man has a part of himself missing from the moment he comes into this world. No single human by themselves is whole; each and every one of them has another half missing, the half they call their soul mate and, if they’re lucky, one day, their husband or wife. No one was made from Castiel’s rib, however. As an Angel, he doesn’t even have ribs. No one was made from his ribs, and he was made from no one. He is supposed to be whole as he was made, his sole purpose in this universe to worship their All Mighty Father.
Yet he has all but completely turned his back on that original purpose. He no longer speaks to him every day as he should. It doesn’t matter that He never answers; Castiel knows he should still subject himself in prayer, praise, and worship. He no longer speaks to him, Cas knows too, because He does not approve of what he has become. He has tried to become his own man, as Dean would say, when he was never meant to be his own.
He belongs to Him, and if he ever wants to be made whole again, there is only one way he can find his completion. He must give up this life and what holds him to it or, rather, who. He must sacrifice all that he has learned and become here for it was never meant for him to do these things or love these people. If he wants to be what his Father intended him to be, if he wants to ever again please Him and earn the honor to hear His voice again, he has to walk away from everything here. He has to subject himself wholly unto Him.
Castiel’s bottom lip quivers. His wings sag; his feathers tremble. He can not be a friend to the Winchesters and what his Father intended him to be; the two can not mix. He must either be the Angel God wants him to be or, in the end, he will be nothing.
But what he feels for these Winchester boys is not mere friendship. It is not something he wants, or even feels that he can, walk away from. They’ve openly adopted him into their family, or what’s left of it. Sam is like a brother to him, far more so than any of his actual brethren, and Dean . . . What he feels for Dean is nothing like brothership.
Love can never be wrong, he remembers thinking as he watched humans before. Our Father sets what we feel in our hearts, and as long as we go with how our hearts feel, we can not be wrong. But yet . . . Isn’t this wrong? He was never meant to walk the Earth. He was never meant to dally with the humans.
He’s supposed to be up there, doing the Father’s bidding, but he saved Dean, because he’s the only one who can save Heaven -- except for God, of course, but his Father will never again intervene directly. He made that promise a long time ago and has held to it, as He holds to all His promises. Just this once, Cas wishes He would break His word, but he knows He won’t. He never does.
His intentions were honorable in saving Dean, Castiel admits, but he should have left at that time. He should have simply brought the boy out of Hell and left him to do what he’s meant to do, not continued to intervene, and now . . . Now the mere thought of having to leave him rips at something deep within him. His heart? His soul? The very essence of who he is? Castiel isn’t sure, but he knows he can barely stand the thought of it, let alone the actual actions thereof.
Vaguely, Cas becomes aware of tears dripping down his flesh, another human emotion which he isn’t supposed to feel. He is supposed to cry only when God cries, smile only when He smiles. This is all wrong. Even if a man’s love for another is not wrong, this is still wrong. He is an Angel. He’s not supposed to be here on Earth, not supposed to be loving a mortal more than he loves the Lord . . . Yet, he does, and no matter how hard he tries to stop it, no matter how much he tries to change what he feels back to what he should be feeling, he seems powerless to fight it.
Castiel blinks pass his tears but still looks lost as Sam and Dean approach him. He tries to answer, but words stick in his throat. More tears fall.
“It’s okay,” Dean says, coming to his right side. “I’ve got you.” He grabs his arm and holds him up, but the reassurance he feels coming from Dean only makes Castiel cry more.
“What do you think happened to him?” Sam asks.
Dean looks around them at the strange symbols carved on the walls and the blood on Castiel’s hands and arms. “I . . . don’t know,” he says at length. It’s the honest truth, but what he doesn’t mention is that he suspects. Castiel tried to go home, and the doors of Heaven are closed to him. He squeezes the Angel’s right arm. “I don’t know,” he says again as Sam takes hold of his left, “but we’re getting you out of here.”
“No. Don’t,” Castiel manages as his wings, which the brothers can not see, shake. “Leave me.”
Dean growls. “I’m not leaving you, Cas.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Sam interjects.
“Ever.” The brothers lift them in their arms and carry him back to their waiting car. The Impala’s wheels screech as they race away from that place and the door Castiel tried but failed to open. Cas looks at them each speechlessly. He knows this is not where he belongs. He should be at home. He should be back up there in Heaven. He never should have left. But yet, it is here, with the brothers, where, for the first time in a millennia, Castiel truly feels at home.
“Sleep,” Dean tells him, glancing up in Baby’s rearview mirror.
“Angels don’t sleep,” Castiel murmurs, but his voice is so soft that the brothers don’t hear him. Dean turns on his music, and soon Castiel feels himself drifting with the chords. He may not be at home, but he is safe. He is where he is loved, and God help him, but he does love these two back, especially Dean! God help them all, he thinks as his wings finally calm and cease their shaking, his eyes slide closed, and he rests at peace again for a time, knowing the brothers are close and will keep him safe, knowing they love and care for him as he does for them, and remembering again that God never places anything in His children’s hearts that is not meant to be there already. He is home but not home, and for now, that’s enough for the fallen Angel.