Hello everyone! I'm still currently working on my another fanfiction "More Than A Curse" but I was in mood to write something like that. This fanfiction consists of two parts: Angels Fall First and When a Human Falls. It set after season 6 finale, so it has spoilers. The fanfiction named after the namesake song of Nightwish.
Title: Angels Fall First
Author: Rinienne
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Bobby, Sam, Balthazar. Mentioning of Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah.
Genre: Fallen!Castiel; Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Happy!End.
Spoilers/Warnings: Season 6 finale.
Beta: tigersmt334
Summary:
"If you hate me so much, why do you keep calling my name in your sleep?"
"And if you hate me so much… why do you keep answering my calls?"
Part 1
Angels Fall first
Dean was sitting in the kitchen at Bobby's house. A bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other. He looked at the two objects, considering them before returning the glass where he had gotten it, and opened the bottle bringing its neck to his lips. The bitter liquid burned his throat, but it was exactly what he wanted right now.
It had been three weeks since Castiel had declared himself a new god; It was two weeks after Dean had told Castiel that he'd rather die than bow down and profess his love. It was one week after Castiel actually tried to kill the hunter, and it was three days since Bobby found Castiel in a crater, in his junkyard, unconscious, and covered in blood.
Dean imagined Bobby, Sam, and he would be arguing over what to do with the angel, because clearly he wasn't a god anymore, but they hadn't. Instead, Bobby and Sam just moved Castiel into the panic room and laid him on the bed. Bobby probably had to change Castiel because his coat was a mess, he'd probably had to stitch him up and clean him, too. Dean didn't know. After seeing Castiel in the condition they'd found him in, Dean had just grabbed the keys to the Impala and driven away to the closest bar in Sioux Falls. He returned only the next day.
After that, Dean never came close to the panic room. He was angry, he was pissed, and the current state of the angel didn't help Dean to not forgive or forget. And so he was sitting in Bobby's kitchen, trying to drink his thoughts away.
"Cas woke up." Said Sam, who appeared behind his older brother.
Dean turned his head and looked at his the younger of them. Sam looked tired, his face was pale with dark spots under his eyes, but he was alive. The first few days after the wall had fallen, Sam had been a mess: He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, and he was seeing Lucifer and Michael in every corner of the room. Dean had to stay around his brother every second; holding his brother's hand and brushing his finger's through Sam's hair. But Sam was getting better; he could already sleep on his own. Sometimes he would still wake up crying from the nightmares, but he was safe.
And now Castiel had woken up; that meant he was also safe. Even if Dean couldn't forgive Castiel, he wasn't surprised at the light feeling of relief found somewhere inside of his heart. He would never admit it to anyone else though, because he was Dean. He lived because he buried his feelings somewhere deep and dark; Somewhere even he, himself, couldn't find them.
"Nice for him, I guess." Dean replied indifferently.
"He won't talk; Not to me, and not to Bobby." Sam added.
"Mhm…" Dean nodded, taking one more gulp of Whiskey.
~ooo~
The first several days of Castiel being around were shit-filled. He refused to speak to anyone, he wasn't accepting food, he just sat in the panic room, behind the metal locker, hugging his knees. He looked at everyone who entered the room like a scared stray dog driven into a corner, ready to bite. His injuries started to cover over, but it was far from any angelic healing speed. The fact that he began sleeping, and that his stomach would growl, asking for food from time to time, made it clear that he wasn't even an angel anymore.
Bobby had to leave food on a table in the room, because every time he or Sam would try to get any closer, Castiel would shrink into his corner terrified. Castiel hadn't touched the food for two days after waking up, but Bobby noticed that the food started to disappear. Castiel would only eat when no one was watching him.
At the end of the fourth day Castiel finally spoke for the first time:
"Why wouldn't you just leave me where you found me?" He asked when Bobby brought him some soup.
"Don't be stupid, boy. You know why." Sighed Bobby, glancing up at Castiel.
"I'm not a boy, stop talking to me like I'm a child." Castiel growled.
"Sure thing," nodded the hunter, "when you stop behaving like one."
The fallen angel turned towards Bobby and opened his mouth to say something. But then he changed his mind and took the bowl of soup from the hunter's hands.
"Thank you," he nodded.
"You're welcome son, after you finish your food I'll bring you some clean clothes and a towel; So you can take a shower."
Castiel remained silent after that, but he began leaving the panic room more often than to just use the restroom. But every time Castiel met up with Dean somewhere, he'd simply turn around and wonder elsewhere. Dean, himself, wasn't bothered by Cas' behavior; In fact he was glad he didn't have to spend any time looking at the ex-angel.
~ooo~
Cas had nightmares.
Dean knew that sleeping wasn't an entirely new experience for the ex-angel, but it still must've been unfamiliar. The older Winchester could often hear Castiel screaming at night from his place on the living room couch, his temporary bed. Dean sometimes thought that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back from going to the basement and soothing the fallen angel - this screams were tearing his heart apart. Then Dean would start thinking about his brother, and about how Sam would scream after the wall in his head had fallen. It was all Castiel's fault; he deserved to know what he made Sam go through.
On some nights Dean could see Castiel sneaking out to the junkyard. Of course, Dean would never try going after him, he'd never wanted to see what Cas was doing. Dean would just lie on the couch in the living room, pretending to sleep.
~ooo~
It took two weeks for Castiel to stop running away into another room every time the older Winchester was in the vicinity. But he'd never look at the hunter; Cas would never say a single word to him. Dean, in turn, had nothing but verbal diarrhea for Castiel. Every single word was an attempt to make the fallen angel feel even worse than he already did. And Dean would use anything he could.
"That's my shirt." Dean growled one day.
Castiel was standing in a doorway between the corridor and the living room. He had just left the panic room, Bobby having called him up for dinner. Apparently the old hunter decided that Castiel should eat with them from now on - in the kitchen. And Bobby tried talking to Dean; He tried convincing him that eating all together would help take the heat off. Dean didn't think so.
"You haven't worn it for years, you idjit!" Bobby protested.
It was a light blue shirt with a white picture of a man with a guitar in his hands, and the sign "AC/DC". Some time ago the blue color had been darker, and the picture was more legible. But now the shirt was covered in bleach spots and it had several holes around the neck and right sleeve. It was a very old shirt, and Dean was sure that it was far too small for him now, but it was just the right size for Cas.
Dean was also sure that the jeans Castiel wore were also one of his old ones, but he wasn't starting this argument because he didn't want to share his clothes. He just wanted to say something offensive.
"That's my shirt." Dean repeated in the same manner.
And Castiel took it off right where he was standing, leaving his pale chest bare. He then threw the shirt at Dean, turned around, and left the room.
"Are you happy now?" Bobby asked.
Inviting Castiel to eat with everyone was definitely a bad idea.
~ooo~
"Eating carrots?" Dean asked. He had walked into the living room and saw Castiel sitting on the couch before the TV, a pack of small carrots in his hands. "Was it Sammy who thought you should eat rabbit food?"
Castiel glanced at Dean and turned his head, swelling in pride and refusing to say anything.
"Healthy food prolongs life, Dean." Sam defended.
"Yeah, sadly carrots won't let Cas live for a thousand more years." He chuckled.
At those words Castiel stood up, throwing the bag of carrots to the floor and hastily exiting the room, Dean heard the porch door slamming a moment later.
Sam glanced at his brother with blame in his eyes, but he didn't say anything.
~ooo~
Dean had the urge to return back to the road, to hunt. He wanted to burn some vengeful spirit, or to cut the head off a vampire, or just shooting something would be great. But he couldn't. Sam was feeling better and better with every passing day, but he still wasn't ready for any hunting, and no one would let Dean go hunting alone. Several times Dean thought to run away, every time however, he faced one problem: he couldn't find a single hunt for himself - researching was his weak point.
One morning Dean woke up due to the sound of gun shots, they were coming from the most remote corner of the yard. At first Dean thought that the house was under attack, but the shots were measured with the same time interval. It sounded more like someone was shooting aims.
When the hunter got out of the house he was greeted with the sight of Castiel. The fallen angel was standing in the junk yard. He was surrounded by old rusty cars; a gun was in his hands. Castiel was shooting glass bottles, positioned on a small handmade pedestal built of bricks and wooden planks. According to the number of broken glass around the floor of the pedestal, he wasn't too bad an aim.
Castiel didn't notice Dean, and the hunter watched him for some time. Watched at how Cas' whole body moved abruptly backwards every time he shot; the determination in his face.
"You'll need to do better than that," Dean finally spoke up after a few more shots. He was looking at the number of intact bottles, "to being able to protect yourself."
Castiel said nothing, but his next three shots missed their targets by far. And with every one of them his body was became stiffer.
"But yeah, who gives a gun to a baby anyway?" Dean chuckled.
Dean expected Castiel to drop the gun and run away, like he usually did, but instead the angel turned towards the hunter, pointed the gun at him, and shot.
Dean's heart stopped.
The bullet passed just to the left of his head, leaving a loud ringing noise in his ear. All his body became rigid for a split second and he nearly fell when his legs softened. Gladly, Dean was able to regain control of his body, but after that he could do nothing more. He just stared as Castiel unloaded his gun and returned back inside the house.
~ooo~
The next day Castiel disappeared. He wasn't in the house, wasn't in the junkyard. Dean decided that the Castiel had his Angel-Mojo returned to him somehow, and left them. But Bobby announced that some of the money he had hidden in the library disappeared also.
"You aren't going to go and find that idjit?" Bobby acquired.
"No, I can't drive after drinking." Dean sneered.
"But you ain't been drinking yet."
"Yet..."
Dean stood from where he was sitting and moved toward the cupboard in the kitchen, extracting a bottle of whiskey and opening it. Bobby sighed and left Dean alone with his precious bottle.
Dean was, of course, worried for Castiel, but he just couldn't bring himself to admit it. He promised Bobby and Sam that he would go and look for Cas if he didn't return before the evening. Luckily, the ex-angel returned just before this time, saving Dean from the inconvenience of searching.
Dean was outside, cleaning his Impala. He was glad that after their last encounter with the demons, his baby wasn't damaged too much. Just a huge bump on the roof, really. Dean would have it fixed within a week.
Castiel passed Dean and walked up to the porch. Dean noticed the ex-angel, but acted like he didn't. He was sure Castiel would go inside the house and lock himself again in the panic room, before Bobby starts questioning about missing money. But Castiel just settled on porch, looking in no particular direction. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a cigarette, lightened it and started to smoke, chocking on it at first.
Dean noticed Castiel with the corner of his eye, but he didn't move. Instead, he turned back to the Impala, washing it's windshield with a sponge.
But the scent wafted over to Dean and he inhaled the smell; and this cigarette the ex-angel was smoking was definitely not a normal one. Dean turned on his heel and moved towards Castiel with bold steps. When he was in reach of the ex-angel, he pulled the joint from Castiel's mouth and threw it on the floor, smothered it with his shoe.
"What the hell?" He exclaimed angrily. "Where'd you get this shit?"
But the ex-angel didn't answer him.
"Doesn't matter. Listen, if ever I catch you with one of these one more time, you'll regret it!" Dean growled.
"I was following your advice, Dean." Castiel spoke finally. And his voice made Dean shiver with goose bumps. It had been a month since Dean heard his voice. "You were right; I won't be able to live a thousand years more. So, why bother about my health or about my safety? Ten years more, ten less, it doesn't matter."
Dean remembered one variant of the future Zachariah had once shown him, remembered the stoned and drunk Castiel. He wasn't surprised that the ex-angel decided to try drugs, wasn't surprised he chose to burry himself in them, because angelic grace was everything to Cas. Without is grace, Castiel felt like he had an empty spot, and no reason to live. But the question was, how could Dean from the future let it happen? Didn't he care at all? Or he did, but no one could tell because of the huge stick in his ass.
The problem was, in fact, that the present Dean had the same stick in the same place. Dean could tell, he just wouldn't. For Dean, it would be the same as drawing a bulls-eye on his back with a neon sign that reads, "Look at me. I'm so vulnerable."
So, from all the variants, Dean chose the one which seemed the most appropriate for the moment. He grabbed the neck of Cas' old black shirt, which also once belonged to Dean, and pulled Cas up. The ex-angel opened his mouth to say something but a hard fist landing in his stomach, cutting the words off. Cas moaned from the pain, bending and bracing his stomach with his hands.
"I said, if I catch you with that shit again, you will regret it."
Dean was about to turn around and move away from Castiel and back to his baby, but suddenly the ex-angel moved towards him, punching him in the face. Dean was pretty sure, that without his angelic-mojo Castiel would be a weak opponent, but now he could surely see how wrong he was. Castiel's body knew how to move on simple reflexes, his punches were precise and strong. Soon, the two men fell onto the floor, panting, grabbing each-other's collars, and tumbling into dirt and rock.
Castiel ended up on top of the hunter, holding his neck with one his hand and sending punches to Dean's face with the other. Castiel's face was nearly red from anger and pain, it covered in bruises, his bottom lip had split and there was blood on his brow. Dean probably looked even worse, but it didn't matter. Dean was used to it.
Castiel took one more swing, but his hand stopped half way. He groaned and stood up off of the hunter and tried to catch his breath. Then he turned around and moved towards the door, disappearing behind it and leaving the hunter alone, splayed across the ground in the dusky evening.
