Chapter 1
"Sam doesn't have much left," Dean says suddenly, but Castiel has been expecting it. It's the first Dean's spoken in hours, because he's been lost in thought, and it shows when he picks up a conversation they weren't actually having. Castiel sits calmly and waits, watching Dean and letting the conversation explain itself. Dean sits in his car, in the mostly empty parking lot of a supermarket. It's night, but Dean woke up from a nightmare to see Sam still in his bed. Dean had to get out of there, because it was hard to dream about Hell when his little brother was in the room.
Castiel uses the word nightmare for every dream of Hell Dean has, regardless of whether or not he's the one being tortured. Castiel thinks that it's because it's still a nightmare even when you enjoy something like that. He hasn't looked into Dean's mind, and the emotions swirling around him aren't making anything clearer, so Castiel waits.
"He doesn't have much left," Dean starts again. "When you brought me back, he didn't believe it, you know? Of course you know. He didn't believe it, because he didn't think that it could happen. He didn't expect it to be angels either, but we were kind of on the same page with that one," Dean admits, a little sardonically. Castiel knows that Dean is pretty sure he's not just speaking to an empty car, but his eyes are locked on his hands, which are gripping the steering wheel tightly. He's not looking around because he's unsure if he wants anyone noticing his moment of weakness, his moment of prayer. Castiel knows that despite everything, he's also afraid that if he does look up and around he'll find himself alone. "You weren't what he was expecting. He had some serious faith in you guys, you know? I really don't think ya'll know that. You can't, or you wouldn't have destroyed it. But yeah," Dean laughs a little. "He said he didn't expect you to be so righteous. But you guys really are, and it's a little too much." Castiel's intention was never to destroy anyone's faith, but he can see that Dean knows that. The fact that he has done so anyway truly does bother him. It bothers him because he's not careless, and because he had thought that humans would be hardier, than to break because of what they had been through because of him.
He is about to speak, to apologize or to question, when Dean blinks suddenly and sighs. He moves his hands, and his knuckles crack from how hard he was gripping with them. "He doesn't have much faith left, because you don't really give him much choice, you know? I know the road to Hell is paved with good intentions and all of that bullshit, but Sam would rather die than do anything to help demons. He'd rather die than hinder you, and don't take that as an invitation for something, either - he's not screwing your plan up. He's not, and he won't. He just wants to defeat the demons, and he wants to help the good guys win. He wants you guys to win, but it's mostly by rote now, not because he has any real reason to. Except for me, of course," Dean adds, but it's not because he's bragging. Castiel knows that is a fact. "I'm damn sure I won't be enough to keep it going, and even then, he'll still fight the good fight until he drops, because he really doesn't see another choice."
The warrior in Castiel knows that this is a good thing, but the part of Castiel that he's come to think of as the human-empathy part is bothered. Castiel wonders at how slight the feeling is, in him, and can't see how humans function with such great swelling emotions, like they have; if he felt that, God's love would be a tidal wave, and the hate in the world would suffocate him. He doesn't want that, but he can't help but wonder if the happy and joyful parts make the hate and sorrow worth it, as he's heard humans say. He's never heard Dean say it.
Dean sighs again, and Castiel watches. If he concentrates hard enough, he can see the gust of air flood Dean's lungs and then whoosh out like a small breeze. Castiel's been plainly visible in the back seat of the car, all Dean has to do is look into the rear view mirror, but he won't. Deep down, Castiel knows that Dean still thinks that Castiel won't be there when he needs him. From Dean's point of view, Castiel understands. Castiel's frustrated, because from Dean's point of view, he's an all-powerful being that can do anything. He's not, though. He'll always be there when Dean needs him, but for how fragile humans are, Dean doesn't need Castiel as much as he thinks he does.
It shouldn't warm Castiel as much as it does, to be needed like that. It does, though; a slight warmth of no origin, no placement. It's not something that was there before he met Dean and Samuel. It's not something an angel should have.
"He really doesn't see any other choice, do you get it?" Dean asks. "He's lost whatever healthy part of faith he had left when he saw what you guys are really like, and he's still using his powers, but in the end, ya'll are it for him. It's mostly a habit now, his knee-jerk reaction to faith. And I guess maybe I have some residual faith left, or maybe I have something of his, because I really can't believe that you guys are just going to let him destroy himself. Even if it is just that he's useful to you. You're dicks to him, and he still," Dean trails off, and Castiel almost says something, but Dean continues before he can. "I don't think I can save him alone this time," Dean says quietly, so quietly that Castiel didn't hear through his vessel's ears. Since he heard it by other means, he hears the sorrow and the displeasure, and the hate. The pain in Dean's voice is so intense that Castiel can't stay quiet. It would be cruel.
"Dean," Castiel says, and reaches forward to put a calming hand on Dean's shoulder, grounding him before he startles out of his seat. He knew Dean needed him, even though Dean didn't acknowledge it. He hadn't known that the younger Winchester needed him as well. He hadn't known that this need was partially why Samuel was withdrawing. There was weakness involved, too, on Samuel's part; you have to deal with things as they come, you have to get up and work through it for the greater good. Castiel supposes that humans don't have as much practice at doing that, as angels do. "I will do what I can," Castiel says, and removes his hand from Dean's shoulder as Dean's surprised eyes meet his. Castiel lets himself flow, moving like air over, around and through the passenger seat to settle on top of it.
"What?" Dean says, looking at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?" Dean's lost any trust he might ever have had in Castiel, but he did regain some faith. Castiel is more interested and invested than he should be, and he knows this. To not trust angels - the Voice and the Hands of God - while regaining faith is so interesting, and it seemed to happen in Dean when Castiel wasn't looking, which is even more interesting, as Castiel is always aware of Dean. Castiel knows it shouldn't be this way. Other angels with other human charges haven't had this problem. Castiel isn't judged for it when he goes home - it's not their place to judge him - but he is looked at differently, like he's alternately defective, or like he deserves pity.
Castiel can't help but bristle at either implication; he can do his job, and he can do it well. Still, it is not the best of situations he has found himself in, and he needs it to change. He's been thinking of something for a while now, and it's just begun to truly become a complete picture in his mind's eye. Castiel wonders if he'll be allowed to act out the plan that is taking shape in his mind, and even as he wonders that, he knows the answer. His brothers in Heaven have granted him this.
He thanks them inside, even as he speaks aloud so that Dean can hear him. "We are not humans, Dean. What we know, we know to be truthful and absolute. The concepts of losing faith and losing trust are quite confusing. And unnerving, when it begins to happen to oneself. Prior to this war and meeting you, no doubts would have clouded my mind and riddled my person, my being. An angel is only as strong as his faith, Dean," Castiel says, and he can see Dean's eyes on his face, paying rapt attention, even though Castiel stares out the windshield. He wonders if it's always this difficult, baring pieces of your soul to someone. He can see souls, so he's never had to do so, but this is different. "If I might be able to help Sam regain his faith and his sureness of hand, perhaps it might do the same for me."
"You," Dean says, at a loss for words. "An angel is only as strong as his faith? What do you mean?" Dean sounds worried and angry. Castiel understands that the anger is because he's worried, which is something Castiel doesn't understand. Angels must worry all the time, about things gargantuan and tiny, so that God is not needlessly troubled. He knows all, and if it pleases Him, he will deal with it.
Castiel doesn't understand humanity's need for the bravado of false detachment. It seems very human to be able to shrug, and to fit it into a conversation. "I have no less power, but it's as if I suddenly am aware of the choices I have when I wield it," Castiel answers finally, after some thought on how to word it. "Choice is something you seem to revel in," Castiel says, and he truly doesn't understand the comfort in it. There's no indecision in his life, but there's a glaring hole where certainty used to be. It's painful, because as he does his work he knows that he works for more reasons than his brothers and his Father.
"Ya'll gave us free will," Dean says, like it's obvious. "Of course we like it." Dean thinks about what Castiel said, and about what it meant. Castiel can see it clearly, like Dean's chasing something that won't stop running. "You...saw everything, the creation of the world and probably every sin imaginable. But somehow you still went through your entire life in blinders, didn't you? Nothing but God and faith and the absolute certainty that if everything went according to His will, everything would turn out all right, right?" By the end of it, Dean's voice is scornful. Castiel understands that while most of the anger is directed towards him, some of it is directed towards the similarities Dean sees in their situations. Castiel has fostered these thoughts, in the past. It was useful to do so.
"I did," Castiel admits. "I do, still. Everything will be set right by the Hand of God. I will see to it, to the best of my abilities," Castiel pauses, because he knows Dean wishes to say something. When Dean remains silent, Castiel continues slowly, "I have had choices to make before. It's not the choosing that worries me, it's the reasons why I chose what I did. Earlier, I would have chosen what I was sure my Father would have appreciated more. Now, there are more reasons to choose, and the sureness and the certainty are all but gone."
"What you're saying in your roundabout, rambling kind of way," Dean says slowly, like he wants to make sure he's getting the words right. "Is that you're doing the right things, but you're not sure about your reasoning? You want to help Sam, because if he's okay after all of this then you just might be too, am I right?" Dean sounds incredulous. Castiel knows he really is having a hard time believing what he's hearing.
"It's quite convoluted, I know," Castiel says, an apology and a placation. "The similarities of our situations are useful, but that is not the only reason for offering you both my help. That in itself worries me," Castiel says, and turns his head to meet Dean's eyes.
"Huh," Dean says, eyes suddenly wide as he understands. He reaches for the keys, which had never been taken out of the ignition. He grips the keys to turn them, but stops to turn back to Castiel and ask, "You aren't going to get in trouble for this, right? And I'm not going to get smited - smote - whatever, for taking a stray angel home with me, right?"
Castiel could hear the nervousness in Dean's voice, and underneath that, he can hear the relief that Dean's prayer was answered. Castiel says, "I was told that they could spare me for as long as I needed, as long as I came home when I was needed. I may return to your side whenever I feel like I should, after the more pressing duties are finished." Castiel feels like he said too much, but Dean just nods. At Dean's acceptance at the priorities of Heaven, Castiel can feel his priorities shift a little further from Heaven's.
Chapter 2
When Dean unlocks the door and steps into the dark motel room, he freezes just inside. Castiel steps closer to see over his shoulder to try and see what he sees, and watches Dean stare at the two empty beds. Dean recovers quickly and steps over to the table, to take off his jacket and hang it on the back of a chair.
"Damn it," Dean mutters, and Castiel wonders if he should remove his jacket, even as he watches Dean's eyes move back to the bed furthest into the room.
Castiel suddenly understands the tension that is running inside of Dean, along with the disappointment and anger. "Samuel is just in the bathroom," Castiel explains quietly. He thinks that one day he'll understand the limitations of humans as what they are, rather than the weakness that Uriel and some of his other brothers see it as. Right now, he gets frustrated too easily with what can and can't happen, within the power of humans. He gets frustrated with what they can't seem to grasp, whether it's power, or the bigger picture, or the ideas and orders of angels. "He's still here," Castiel reiterates, and he sees Dean's shoulders slump clearly despite the dark.
As if on cue, Sam walks out of the bathroom and freezes when he sees Castiel. Castiel wonders if they know that they have the exact same expression of shock and trepidation when something surprises them. "Um, hi?" Sam says, the questioning tone in his voice matching the look he glances toward Dean.
"Samuel," Castiel greets him. He takes in Sam's rapid, panicked heartbeat, and how his relief at the sight of his brother calms him somewhat. The tension in the room ratchets up further when no one says anything, and Castiel wonders how long they've been living like this, with each other but without comfort in each other.
Castiel knows that he gets comfort from the mere presence of his brothers, and he had assumed the same for the Winchesters, who went to Hell for each other and back. It startles him, to know he was wrong. His assumptions are another weight he must bear; he knows that he has a much vaster array of knowledge than these humans, but his mistakes are becoming more and more apparent, as he allows himself to see them.
"Sam, there's something big coming," Dean starts, and Castiel can hear the lie take shape, see it form on his lips. It's effortless and easy, and it startles Castiel. "Cas here has to babysit us for a little, okay?" Dean asks, but it's not a question. Castiel can see that Dean means that Sam is to understand that he has no choice, and that Castiel should pretend that Dean has no choice. Castiel doesn't understand the shortening of his name, either, except that it must be more convenient. There's certainly no affection when Dean says it, like there usually is when he says Samuel's name as Sam or Sammy.
"I thought you weren't a guardian angel," Sam says, unsure. Castiel is startled when it dawns on him how easily he could break Sam at this moment; if he exposes Dean's lie, and if he reveals himself and his true reason for being here, it might work out in the long run. It would utterly devastate Sam right now, though, and Castiel doesn't think he could knowingly cause such devastation to someone.
Still, Castiel doesn't know how to lie, or the mechanics to make it convincing. He wonders if he can lie at all as he can't remember trying. He decides to tell the truth in a way that Sam will find acceptable, and that will keep Dean happy. "I'm not, but I go where I am needed," Castiel says. "The health and safety of the both of you is something I am invested in."
When he says that, Dean looks satisfied and Sam looks shocked. Castiel finds it interesting that Sam is the one who has always believed in angels, but Dean is the one who readily accepts them when it comes down to it. Sam still feels slightly horrified to be in his presence, and despite what Dean says, Castiel feels like it's the demon blood showing through. He doesn't understand what else it could be, and he knows that he truly is something to be feared.
"Wow," Sam says, and suddenly, Castiel knows he's wrong. Sam feels so quietly and hesitantly glad now that Castiel doesn't understand it at first. "Okay, uh," Sam's at a loss for words because he's shocked, but he's happy. Dean's turned away from the both of them, walking over to latch the door, but Castiel can still see his smile. Sam's happy at simply being included in the statement that Castiel is concerned and invested in their health. Castiel doesn't understand how something so simple can affect Sam in such a way.
"It's still late, isn't it?" Castiel asks, watching Dean move to sit on the bed. Sam nods jerkily in answer, and Castiel nods back. "Perhaps you should sleep, at least for the rest of the night? And then tomorrow morning you can decide what you'd like to do while I accompany you as much as I can," he suggests, because he can feel Dean's tired sort of relief, and he can feel Sam's faint suspicion that this moment is actually a dream. His own weariness isn't something that lying down in this body will cure, so he doesn't mention it.
"There's a cot in the closet," Sam says quickly. "If you - you should sleep in the bed, I can," he stops suddenly, and for a moment Castiel isn't sure why. Castiel realizes that he's staring at Sam, listening to his words intently, and Sam's stopped talking. Castiel can see and hear lies, just like he can see the colors of the Winchesters' clothes or of the sheets on the beds. He can tell that Sam's sincerely offering him a place of rest, and he feels oddly guilty that he's looking for ulterior motives. Sam doesn't seem to notice; perhaps having an angel staring at him makes him self-conscious, but Dean's never had that problem.
"You look like a deer caught in some headlights, dude," Dean stage whispers, and Sam snaps out of it enough to glare at him. Castiel lets his lips curve into a smile, but it's gone before either of the Winchesters can see. These brothers have an amusing dynamic, at times.
"I don't think that's necessary, but thank you for the offer," Castiel says before they start bickering. He wonders if it will be sniping like brothers do, or if it will turn uglier as it has of late, so he feels the need to interrupt. Humans have a very mercurial quality, especially these brothers, and that makes them hard to predict.
"Not necessary? Like, you don't sleep?" Dean asks, sounding skeptical. Sam is staring at him with a similar expression, and this is just going to underline Castiel's point clearly. He doesn’t understand their fascination with his lack of a need for sleep, so he couldn't have predicted it.
"I have never had to," Castiel says after a moment. He is getting a bit unnerved at their expectant staring, so he continues, even though he doesn't know what else there is to say. "My vessel doesn't actually need to sleep, and it's not a good thing, being unaware of your surroundings."
"Your vessel?" Sam asks quietly, and suddenly both he and Dean have unhappiness coming off of them in waves. Castiel remembers the conversation he and Dean had, when they first truly met. Dean had a hard time distinguishing him from a demon, even after Castiel’s explanation of his host's prayers. At the time, he had been indulging Dean; he didn't even deserve an explanation. Now, though, they are his hosts in another sense.
Castiel might owe them this. He decides to explain, to also save himself from more irritating circular conversations. "He prayed for something good to happen to him," Castiel says. "He was near death, and when I lifted him into Heaven he was free."
"He's dead? You're dead?" Dean asks, and reaches out to Castiel. Castiel doesn't understand the human need for contact, except that it might be comforting, as it had been earlier when his hand was on Dean's shoulder. Nevertheless, he complies when Dean says, "Give me your hand, man." Castiel raises his arm, and Dean takes his hand in his own warm ones. He grips it in one, and holds Castiel's wrist in the other.
Both Sam and Castiel watch him intently, but for different reasons, Castiel supposes. "I have a pulse, Dean," Castiel says, when he understands what is happening. "This body is alive, it just contains no other soul save my own." Which is a good thing, Castiel knows; from getting shot and stabbed by the same man who is now gripping his wrist for a pulse, to the pain of battling Alistair, it is better off that he deals with the burdens of keeping his vessel alive. He can heal it, and sustain it far easier than a regular human soul, with the limitations and needs they have.
"What was his name?" Sam asks, and Dean drops Castiel's hand. Castiel supposes that he should have expected the question, because he understands the need to remember the dead.
"I don't know," Castiel says, wishing the answer were different. He does wish he knew. "I didn't ask," he explains, and can still feel their need for more of an explanation. "He was in a very bad accident. He...would not have survived, but the doctors would have kept him alive long enough to be in a lot of pain. Upon arriving at the hospital, he had the presence of mind to pray, and I was instructed to help him." When he finishes speaking, Castiel reviews his words and thinks that he should know the man's name. "I probably should have made more of an effort to learn his name, but I was needed in battle," Castiel says.
"So you scooped up this guy's body and...healed it? You can heal yourself?" Dean asks, and Castiel finds it amusing that he can't grasp it.
"I raised you from Hell, Dean," Castiel reminds him, as gently as he can. He's heard humans use the word duh, an interjection that assumes sarcasm from the speaker, as well as the idiocy of the other person in the conversation. He doesn't think he's ready for that, yet. "In his mind, before I left him in Heaven, I saw how he thought of himself. I decided that I would honor that. That is why even after being stabbed and shot by you, everything on my person and my body itself remained intact." Castiel intones gravely, frowning at Dean. Castiel is amused by how embarrassed this makes Dean, so he glances at Sam with a small smile. It startles a laugh out of Sam that turns genuine when Dean plays along with Castiel, and Castiel is pleased. He is not used to teasing, but it seems like an easy and harmless thing to do.
"You finally get a sense of humor and it sucks this bad?" Dean asks him, glaring petulantly. He makes a good effort, but Castiel can see him playing it up for Sam's sake, just as Sam can see it. It amuses Sam, and warms him, and Castiel knows that he's doing the right thing, being here with them. Castiel wonders what else he could have done. He truly doesn't see another option, other than helping the Winchesters.
"I wasn't aware that you needed a sense of humor to point out someone's mistakes," Castiel says blithely, causing both Sam and Dean to snort. As interesting as it is to engage in banter with the Winchesters, Castiel could feel their energy waning. He sees Sam hide a yawn, watches his lungs ache because of the stifling treatment. He makes his decision even before Dean yawns. "You should rest, now. It's already morning and both of you are tired. There's nothing pressing tomorrow, am I correct?"
"Are you actually sending us to bed, Cas?" Dean asks, at the same time as Sam says, "I don't think there's anything too important tomorrow?" Castiel watches the brothers exchange looks, and can feel their incredulity.
Castiel can feel how tired they are, but as long as he insists that they sleep, Castiel knows that at least Dean will resist. "Why is it that humans have this sort of strange pride, when it comes to resisting things they so obviously need? Why do you insist on toughing it out when it's not necessary?" Castiel asks, because he doesn't get it. It doesn't make sense to him. If someone needs something, they should be able to do it. If they need help, they should be able to ask. And all of it should be free from persecution. "You are very odd," Castiel finishes, and he can feel Sam's interest in his last comment.
He knows that they will have discussions on his views of humans, and how they differ from angels. They will have conversations on the lore of angels - what he can reveal, because in the wrong hands it can be deadly for them, but he's not worried about Sam revealing it himself anymore. He's worried that the Winchesters, his charges and his hosts, will have any secrets he tells them pried out of them by force. He won't let that happen while he still breathes, but it's good that he trusts Sam enough now, after the initial doubt. Seeing souls is so useful, and suddenly, Castiel begins to understand the Winchesters' trust issues. He takes all the powers he has for granted, but they don't know anything about them.
He's irritated that something so simple eluded him. "We, uh," Sam says after a moment. "We probably should get to bed. I'll pull out the cot so that you have a place, even if you don't, yeah," Sam trails off, and Castiel watches him walk over to the closet, before turning to see Dean pulling his long-sleeved shirt up over his head. His t-shirt catches, and Castiel stares at the bared print of his own hand, stark on Dean's skin.
Castiel looks away when Dean's shirt rights itself, back to where Sam is unfolding the cot. It's strange, but he's glad that neither of them caught him staring. He knows what it looks like now, and it's much more vivid than he imagined. It's not painful - he would be able to tell if it were - but it's something that he can't even heal. It's a mark that's so deeply ingrained upon Dean's soul that it's on his body, as well. Castiel also doesn't like that the idea of something so permanent gracing Dean's skin has so much appeal to him.
"I don't think I'll need it much, but thank you anyway. I will try to sleep," Castiel says to Sam, once he’s finished with the cot. Sam nods and smiles, before heading over to his own bed. Dean gets up to use the bathroom, now sans his jeans as well. Castiel removes his heavy coat and drapes it over one of the chairs, before following it with his suit jacket and after a moment, his tie. He's never physically removed his clothes before, so when he sits down on the cot to remove his shoes and socks, he wonders at the newness of it. He feels the laces between his fingers and wraps them around his fingers to tug them out of the knot, and he finds he likes the cool breeze on his feet, once they are out of the socks as well.
"There's an angel getting naked in our room, Sam," Dean says suddenly, and Castiel looks up to see him standing in the bathroom doorway. He looks shocked, and Castiel can feel how surreal Dean finds it. He's not sure what Dean expects him to say, and when Sam just snorts and climbs back into his own bed, Castiel decides to say nothing. As he sits, he feels the buckle of his belt dig into his gut, so he stands and begins to remove that as well. "Seriously, this is so much more weird than I thought it would be," Dean continues, and Castiel looks up from his fumbling to see that Dean is talking to him.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but think of how strange it is for me," Castiel says, and tugs the belt out of the loops. "I can't remember a time when I've ever dressed myself, so even disrobing is new to me." Castiel turns to the table and folds his belt on top of it. He likes the feel of the carpet under his bare feet, and stands there a moment, looking down at his toes. The carpet isn't soft; if he has to describe it, Castiel chooses the word coarse. He wonders how grass will feel under his bare feet, and stones. He looks up at Dean and wonders how fire would feel, but he knows he'll never ask. "You will sleep well," Castiel says, because he's certain they will.
He sits back down on the cot, and listens to Dean and Sam. "Good night," Sam says aloud, and Dean mumbles something back. They will sleep well, because he's here, and he won't let them have any nightmares. He lifts the blanket that Sam set out and moves to lie down, settling for relaxation with his thoughts rather than actual sleep.
He's more surprised than anyone when his eyelids begin to droop once he settles his head on the pillow.
|
News 
