Castiel stood alone in the night, watching the angels fall from the skies. As they fell, the only thing he could find hope for in bearing witness was that there were still so many left. So many of them, falling from the skies, falling to earth, trapped in their human hosts. Just like him, they would be mortal. Just like him, they would be lost.
Castiel looked down at himself, at his hands. Turning them around and making a fist. This was all he had now, a frail human body that was quickly oxidizing. Then he put his hands in his pockets and pulled his coat tight around him. He was cold. The very idea annoyed him.
He looked back up at the now empty skies, searching for some sign that everything would be well. The skies were silent and dark, so he turned on his heel and headed towards the lights of a town off the edge of the woods where he had fallen.
It was only around 9pm when Castiel made it into town. It wasn't a big town, but he had stayed in smaller places with the Winchester's. There were probably 10,000 people and exactly one Wal-mart, which means they'd have a diner and a motel as well. He needed to find a place to get warm soon. He was fairly sure that his feet being so cold that he could no longer feel his toes wasn't exactly a good thing.
He had walked about a mile into town, when he found a Biggerson's. Standing outside on the sidewalk, he looked at the sign and couldn't decide if he should laugh or cry. He decided that he would just appreciate the irony of it, after all, Biggerson's had become like a home to him in the past weeks. It had kept him safe and warm, and right now he could use a bit of both.
He had fallen twice in the dark and his hands were scuffed up and his knees and coat where smeared with dark mud. He looked at his hands and tried to wipe them off on his coat, but the mud had caked and dried up.
As he peeked in through the window, he saw that the place was practically empty, just a few truck drivers and an old hobo in the far back corner. He opened the door and made for the bathroom quickly. Watching his pace, trying to be quick but not run, he didn't want to bring attention to himself like that, just hoping not to be seen.
Once the door shut behind him, he looked into the mirror. This was it. This was him now. All of him. He had seen this face in mirrors many times over the years since taking Jimmy Novak as a vessel. He had looked out through Jimmy's eyes for four years now. Why did those eyes look so sad now? Was that his emotion? Was he sad? Should he be?
He leaned onto the sink on his hands and let his head hang. This was his fault. He was too eager to trust, too eager to try to set things right. Too gullible… again. He met his own eyes again in the mirror and reached up to touch at the stubble on his face, smearing dark mud onto his cheek instead.
"Damn it." He muttered to himself and turned on the water. He let the water warm up and just let it run over his cold hands for a moment before he set to the task of washing them off. He cleaned up his face as best as he could and ran his wet hand through his dark hair, making it stand up at odd angles in a few places. He wet some paper towels down and tried to clean up his coat, shoes, and knees the best as he could for a five minute sink bath in a diner.
Standing back, he looked at himself again. He could feel his body aging already. Feel the effects of gravity and cell deterioration. He wondered if the sensations would lessen as time progressed. If he would stop noticing the rapid rate of decay of this human form as he settled into actually being human.
He took a deep breath and walked out of the men's room and into the diner to find a seat. He thought it wise to sit closer to the hobo. He would look less threatening in a dirty suit if he was sitting next to someone much dirtier.
He sat primly as the waitress approached. She did not have a pleasant demeanor about her and Castiel was wary that she may throw him out if he stepped out of line. He smoothed his hands through his damp hair again as she handed him a menu. "Let me guess, you want a coffee?"
Castiel looked up at her. "Yes, thank you." She stared at him a moment longer than normal so he added, "I have money."
'Marge', he read her name off her uniform, snorted at him, then turned on her heel and walked back to the kitchen. Castiel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and took a quick look around before he pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket. It was the same sad, crumpled wad that he had tried to use to buy sundries and food for the Winchesters not so long ago.
His human heart ached. Was that normal? He tried to ignore it as he flattened out the bills to assess how much he had in the way of funds. It totaled up to $38. He knew that if he was very lucky, which was generally not the case this week, he could get a motel room with that money.
Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled. Yes, that left the problem of finding food. What was more important? Food, or warmth? He gathered the money together and wadded it back up in his pocket. Perhaps there was a bar in town with pool tables. He had learned the skills of hustling pool from Dean and Sam when they were bored in Arkansas for a week.
Tonight, he would settle for warmth.
As he came to that conclusion, the hobo had moved from his spot in the corner to sit at Castiel's table. He was dirty, his salt and pepper hair was matted and his beard had cake crumbs in it. Castiel wrinkled his nose at the smell, dear sweet Heaven, the smell! Castiel was about to tell the man to move on, that he didn't have funds to squander on the homeless because he was the homeless. The hobo just winked at him and said, "Hey bro."
Castiel blinked. He leaned in and took a closer look at the warm, golden eyes set in the dirty face across from him. "Gabriel?"
"Hey Cas, rough night, huh?" Castiel had thought Gabriel to be dead, the Winchester's had told him that he gave his life trying to save the world from the Apocalypse, saving Sam and Dean in the process. Of course, Castiel had been dead more than once himself, so who was he to judge?
Before Castiel could mutter another word, Marge brought two mugs of thick coffee to the table. Muttered under her breath, "figures you two know each other," and walked back to the kitchen.
Gabriel began to pour sugar and creamers into his coffee, seemingly with no thoughts of stopping. Castiel had long forgotten his coffee. "How is this possible?" He asked.
Gabriel gave him a smirk of a grin. "Hellooooo, Trickster!" He picked up his cup of coffee flavored sugar and took a sip, set the mug back down and added more cream.
Was this a headache? Did he have a headache now? Human bodies were so constantly filled with pain, no wonder they often went mad.
"Do you still…" Castiel stumbled over the words, it was important and he felt the matter should be handled delicately, "are you still…?"
"An Archangel? Oh no, we've all had the door slammed in our faces." Gabriel sipped at his coffee and now seemed content with the confection he had created.
Castiel gestured in Gabriel's general direction. "So this is a new vessel?"
Gabriel smoothed down his beard. "What? This ol' thing? Nah, this is witch craft." He shrugged and smiled at Castiel again. "I had to go deep undercover after the Lucifer thing at The Elysian Fields. No mojo, had to switch to good old man made witch craft." He tapped his inner elbow a few times like he was some street junkie. "Good thing too, since now we're all cut off. I still have an edge."
Castiel finally picked up his coffee mug and took a sip, nearly burning his tongue. The irritation of humanity was coming off him in waves.
Gabriel frowned. "Where's your boyfriend? Is this his doing? All the clipped wings?"
With all his might, Castiel tried to burn a hole through his brother with just a look. "No, this is entirely my fault. I helped Metatron do this."
"Metatron!?" Gabriel gaped. "That sly dog! Guess he's still bitter about his demotion after Dad left." Gabriel's face drifted passive, "That boy could write the best dirty limericks…"
"Gabriel." Castiel brought his brother back to the conversation. "Metatron has locked us all out of Heaven and it's my fault."
Gabriel made a dismissive noise. "It's not your fault he's got a Napoleon complex." He took another sip from his mug. "So what's the plan? Team Winchester to the rescue again? Where are the boys? Some scummy motel in town?"
Castiel did not answer, he just hunched over his coffee and drank it down despite the burn of the hot liquid. He didn't meet Gabriel's eyes until his brother reached over the table and took his hand. "They're alive, right? I mean, those two are practically bullet proof, even without Dad stepping in to help them."
"I am assuming they lived, at least Dean. Sam was in a precarious position, but, as you said, they always seem to come out alive." Castiel pulled his hand away.
"Great! All we have to do is come up with a plan and find the Winchesters… "
"I can't." Castiel sighed.
"What do you mean, you can't?" Gabriel asked.
"I mean, I can't fight anymore. I can't go back to them, to Dean." There was that pain in his heart again.
"Bro, the Winchesters owe you, big time. No way would they turn you out into the cold!" Gabriel tried to get Castiel to meet his eyes, but he deftly avoided them. Gabriel started to ramble, "There's got to be a way to get through to Metatron, a way to reverse all of this, you know those stubborn boys would help you, heh, especially Dean, you know how sweet he is on you…"
Castiel cut him off with an angry hiss. "Since when are you a team player, Gabriel? Where have you been through all of this? Why did you never tell me about Naomi? Sam may be dead and I'm useless to help them now!" Castiel stood up abruptly, his voice rising. "I'm nothing more than… than… a baby in a trenchcoat!"
The few people in the diner were now staring at Castiel. "What's the matter?" He snapped at them, "Never seen a fallen angel before?"
Castiel turned on his heel and stomped out of the diner and back into the cold.
He had barely made it to the sidewalk when Gabriel caught up to him, looking like his old vessel again. He didn't say a word, he just stepped into line with his brother as they walked down the street. Castiel thought about walking faster, but Gabriel would just keep up with him, and though he wouldn't admit it to his brother, he really didn't want to be alone right now.
They walked in silence for a few blocks, before Gabriel tugged at Castiel's coat and nodded to a motel that boasted continental breakfast and $25 weekday rates. Castiel heaved a sigh and turned toward the office of the dingy place.
Gabriel tugged again at his arm and smiled. "I got this one. Wait here." Then he turned and jogged up to the door and into the office.
Castiel shifted from foot to foot, trying to will away the cold and wondering if he would ever feel his pinky toes again. Gabriel trotted out of the office with a key dangling in his hand and a smile on his face. Castiel stood still and watched him.
"Are you just going to stand there? Not smart enough to come in out of the cold yet?" Gabriel winked and turned to walk down the line of doors that would lead to the room he had just acquired for the night. A room that would potentially be warm, but would also be filled with Gabriel and his sudden optimism.
Castiel forced his feet to move, and followed his brother. Gabriel stopped at a door and waited for Castiel to catch up, then turned the key in the lock and opened it up.
It was the typical no-tell that motel the Winchester's would frequent, with the typical two beds and a kitchenette. It smelled of mold and old cigarettes but it was warmer than outside. Castiel walked to the closest bed and sat down on the end of it, leaning his elbows onto his knees.
Gabriel was spinning in the room like he was Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. As if he was simply delighted to be surrounded by décor from 1978. "Not so bad, is it, Cas?"
Castiel shrugged. He was dirty, he was cold, he was human, and it was all his own damn fault.
Gabriel turned on the light in the bathroom and gestured to it. "Hey, why don't you warm up with a shower. I'll order us some take-out."
"I don't want to shower." Cas said.
Gabriel smirked. "That sounds like the words of an angel who's never tried a shower."
Castiel glared.
"Come on, it will help you feel better, I promise." Gabriel goaded. "Don't make me force you."
"If you will shut up, I will take a shower." Castiel finally agreed.
Gabriel got the water running for his brother and set the towels out for him before shutting him into the bathroom.
Castiel stood there and stared at the water for a moment before he started to peel off his filthy clothes. He'd never had to remove all of his clothing before, it was tedious. Just as tedious as putting them on, which he had only had to do once in some long forgotten hospital room.
He opened his belt and the fly of his pants, and then found he was stuck with the irritating problem of not being able to get the pants over his shoes. He tried to untie his shoes, but the thin laces were in a knot and his fingers were still too cold to work right. He nearly fell over trying to pry the shoe off his foot before he sat down on the toilet and gave one hearty yank and freed his foot. He was surprised to find a hole in his sock, but yanked it off along with his pants and they joined the rest of his clothes in a pile in the corner.
He almost stepped into the shower before he remembered he still had underwear on. Why did humans need so many layers of clothing? What was the purpose of underwear anyway?
He yanked the sensible white briefs down and kicked them into the pile. He looked down at himself. This simple human body, created from earth and the breath of God. So fragile and easily broken, with all its strange parts that he'd never really bothered with before.
He held onto the curtain and stepped into the tub. The water was very hot and his feet were very cold. This was not a pleasing combination at first, but slowly his feet warmed up and Castiel was able to relax and let the water pour down over his head and shoulders. He hated to admit it, but Gabriel was right, he was feeling better already.
He knew he wasn't supposed to just stand there; he'd watched Dean shower plenty of times, not that Dean knew that. He learned after showing up in the bathroom once at an inappropriate time that Dean didn't like sharing the bathroom with others, and Castiel learned to just watch and wait it out until Dean was out of the shower and covered in a towel.
He looked around the tub and found the tiny wrapped bar of soap. The paper was already wet, and it made it difficult to get out of the wrapper, but Castiel finally had a fresh bar of soap in his hand and he began to rub it on himself like he had seen Dean do.
He rubbed his hand along the stubble on his chin. He supposed he would have to learn to shave now, too. He really wished Dean were here to teach him these things he needed to know. It was clear that that was just not in the cards.
Dean needed Castiel for his strength, his powers and his flight. He had been without power a few times in Dean's presence, and the man had always treated him differently in those cases. If Sam was alive, then Dean would be very busy trying to keep him that way. He didn't need to babysit a fallen angel as well. Castiel would only be in the way, nothing more than an inconvenience. Dean would probably yell at him for what had happened to Heaven. He was beating himself up enough about it, he didn't need Dean to help.
Why did anyone let him out of Purgatory? The entire world was safer with him there, trapped and hunted where he couldn't harm the other planes of existence ever again.
"Hey! You're going to get all pruned if you stay in there much longer!" Gabriel's voice broke him out of his latest round of self-pity. "Dry off! I got some moo goo gai pan on its way!"
Castiel fumbled with the knobs in the shower, freezing himself slightly before figuring out how to turn the shower off, and grabbed a towel. It was rough and scratchy but he swiped it over his body and through his hair before he stepped out into the room beyond.
Gabriel looked up at him. "Whoa, hey! Nice choice for a vessel there, stud, but you might want to put that thing away before you intimidate the hell out of the delivery boy!"
Castiel looked down at himself. Why were human's so offended by their own body parts? He could understand the need to keep warm, but Gabriel had turned on the heater and it was clearly warm enough in the room to forgo the need for clothing.
"I don't have any clean clothes. Human's seem to put on clean clothing after showering." Castiel responded.
Gabriel scoffed. "Please, you hang out with the Winchesters. I've smelled them enough to know they recycle." Gabriel peeked into the bathroom and daintily recovered Castiel's underwear and pants. "Here, at least put these back on for now. You can sleep sky clad for all I care, but I don't want you winking at me while we eat."
Castiel frowned as he put his underwear on and nearly tipped over again. Gabriel retrieved the rest of Castiel's clothing, shook them out, and hung them up in the indentation in the wall that served as a closet. Just as he zipped up his pants, there was a knock at the door.
After paying for the food, Gabriel set it all out on the table and handed Castiel a box and some chopsticks. Opening a box of sweet and sour pork for himself, he sat cross-legged on the bed closest to the bathroom, and dug in, closing his eyes as he took his first bite. "MmMmmM, sweet MSG this is good."
Castiel opened his box and picked at a piece of the chicken inside. He gingerly used the chopsticks to bring the meaty morsel to his mouth. He'd never had to eat for actual sustenance before. He would occasionally eat to maintain looks of normality at diners. Dean always made him try the latest slice of pie he had acquired, and of course, there was that little problem with Famine, but this was new and different; his mouth watered when the flavors hit his tongue, and then the empty pull from his stomach encouraged him to continue to put the food into his mouth.
Before long he had a rhythm going between the food going to his mouth, his mouth chewing it up, swallowing, and then next bite. As he reached the bottom of the small box, he turned to find Gabriel grinning at him and he smiled back. "It's good."
"Well, it's not exactly good for you, but it's good." Gabriel got up to take the empty container from his brother, and then turned to clean up the mess a bit and put the left overs in the mini-fridge. When he turned back around, he found that Castiel had lain back on the bed, and was sound asleep.
Gabriel sighed softly, pulled the blanket free from the edge of the bed, and draped it over Castiel's sleeping form. "You've had a shitty first day being mortal, little brother. Here's hoping you sleep well."
Gabriel turned off the lights, shucked his over shirt, and climbed into the other bed, wondering where in the world Dean and Sam could be, and why his brother didn't want to find them, then gently drifted off to sleep himself.
TO BE CONTINUED...