An Angel's Humanity

Castiel did his best not to stare at people on the bus. He had discovered before that invading "personal space" and even just looking too hard at someone seemed to bother strangers even more than it bothered Dean. It made Castiel wonder why people had such a problem with each other. It was difficult to practice his "people skills" when so few of them seemed willing to talk to him. When he was an angel, his problem was a tendency to tell people more than they wanted to know, like Chastity, who didn't seem to appreciate the real reasons for her father's departure, or the pregnant woman several months ago, who Castiel was simply trying to convince to buy boy clothing rather than girl clothing.

Castiel looked down the row of people spaced out. There was a heavyset woman nearby who was clearly pregnant. Perhaps he could try again with a gentler, human approach.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Castiel asked, leaning over and trying his best to look anything but creepy.

"Is what a boy or a girl?" the woman shot back, her face reddening almost instantly.

"The, er…the baby?" Castiel ventured, already regretting this attempt and trying to figure out what he had done wrong this time. A thinner woman next to the heavyset one loudly spoke up, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself! My sister has a condition, you ass!" The bus driver pulled over.

"Is there a problem?" the driver said, turning around.

"Yeah, this guy's being a jerk!" the thin woman said. "He called my sister fat!"

"That's not exactly-" Castiel began, but he was cut off.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave this bus, Steve," the driver said, glancing at Castiel's work uniform. Castiel gladly complied, apologizing to the red-faced woman before hopping off the bus and watching it quickly drive away. That was enough "people skills" training for one day, he decided. Now he had to walk to work, and hope his only duties for the day would involve cleaning and fixing machines, rather than human interaction.

Castiel found himself in a residential area, which went on a lot longer than was comfortable. He kept to the sidewalk, often glancing nervously at the dogs barking at him from the backyards across the street. He wondered if the dogs would bark at anyone, or if it was just him. He quickened his pace, determined not to be late for work.

He was just reaching the end of the residential street when a flash of pink caught his eye. He looked over and saw a little girl playing by herself in one particularly unkempt yard. Well, she wasn't exactly playing, he noticed. She was sitting very close to the chain-link fence, pulling up bits of long grass and dropping them in the light breeze. From the moment he saw her, Castiel knew that something was wrong.

Back when he had his grace, he would have known immediately. Perhaps it was leukemia, cystic fibrosis, hemophilia, or some other condition that would devastate a worrying parent. If only he wasn't human, he would be able to do at least something, even if it was just to ease any pain she might be in.

The girl looked up, and their eyes locked.

"I'm sorry," Castiel helplessly whispered, though he knew she could not hear him. He turned away and continued his walk.

"Wait!" the girl said, and though her voice was urgent, it was also barely above a whisper.

Castiel looked back and saw the girl motioning desperately for him to come to her, one little hand waving toward herself. He did not hesitate; he quickly crossed the street and walked right up to the chain-link fence separating the two of them. Up close, he could see that the pink shorts and snowflake-patterned shirt she wore were dirty and had several holes. Her eyes were green and full of fear.

"What is your name?" Castiel asked, crouching down so that he was at eye-level with her.

The girl continued to stare at him with a mixture of terror and wonder. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally said, "Molly."

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

That was strange, Castiel thought. She looked more like a five-year-old.

A loud noise, like something hard and heavy being dropped, came from the house. Molly visibly flinched and froze for a moment, listening intently. After several seconds of silence, she spoke very quietly.

"Are you an angel?" she asked.

Before Castiel could think of a more suitable, safe answer, he had already answered, "Yes. How did you know?"

"Because I think I can…see you," Molly said, using the word "see" as if it was foreign to her. And Castiel suddenly realized that it was. Her beautiful, sightless eyes only seemed to focus on him.

Impossible, Castiel thought. My grace is gone. How can she possibly see my light?

"I'm not supposed to be out here," Molly said.

"Do your parents want you to stay inside?" Castiel asked. Molly leaned forward and pushed her little hand through the fence, holding it open. Castiel grasped it in his own hand, and felt Molly tug him closer to her. Their faces were now inches apart.

"The man in there is not my Daddy," Molly said, very slowly and deliberately. Castiel understood her meaning immediately, but still asked, "Is he your stepfather? Uncle? Grandfather?"

"No. He took me away."

"From where?"

"I don't know. I was shopping with Mommy for Christmas and he took me away."

Castiel had to hide his shock. Christmas had been over a month ago. Her story certainly explained the dirty, snowflaked shirt. So much for getting to work on time, he thought. He made note of the house's address.

"All right, Molly, I need you to listen to me. I'm going to get you back to your Mommy. You just need to trust me."

The girl's eyes lit up. "Okay!" she whispered loudly.

"Can you raise your arms up? I'm need to get you over this fence," Castiel said, still not believing he was doing this. Molly obeyed, raising her hands high above her head. The shirt lifted with her arms to reveal bruises on her ribs. The sight filled Castiel with both sorrow and rage. Who would do this to a little girl?

The fence was a bit high, but he was just barely able to get a hold of Molly and lift her over to his side. She certainly was small for her age. As soon as she was over the fence and in Castiel's arms, the little girl hugged him tightly with both her arms and legs.

"I wanna go home now," she said, suddenly sobbing.

"I'll get you home, I promise," Castiel said.

A door slammed, and a loud, raspy voice yelled out: "Put the girl down!"

Castiel turned and saw the man: He was in his late thirties, thin, eyes bloodshot, and he was quickly crossing the yard.

"Don't let him take me back!" Molly cried, holding even tighter to Castiel's body. Castiel took several steps back from the fence.

"I said put her down!" the man shouted again. He pulled a pistol from back of his greasy jeans and aimed it at Castiel. "Take another step and you're a dead man!"

Castiel turned away, shielding Molly with his body. "It's all right," he whispered to her. He started walking.

The gun went off. Molly screamed. Castiel ran.

A/N: I hope you liked it, and I would love some feedback! Happy Boxing Day!

-Samuel