Fly
Castiel has always loved flying. He revels in the beginning. The feeling of a coppery heat pooled tightly around his feet, soaking deep into the grated earth. The base of his wings coiled tightly around, and the pressure of a moment waiting for release. Surely then, something in his veins begins to stir, thicken, throb into a sluggish rhythm before peaking and boiling over. Between exaggerated heartbeats Castiel thinks he sees a little sliver of time that has been caught off guard, photographed just shy of stillness. Such transitory peace, he could never quite tire of. Such scalding beauty.
And so Castiel thinks something like eternity must feel like this. Feather light, as delicate as the sound of his feathers settling into the soft curve of a note. Or the tip of his wings ghosting past the edges of this plane. Such is the feeling of certainty, he thinks. Such is the feeling, when Castiel truly believes.
So he continues on, light darkening into twilight, believing. He watches one day spin into one another, unchanging, unchanging...and changing. Somewhere along the way, a weight settles just beyond his vision, a little blur in the awakening space. It begins as a weak pulse, slowly unraveling, spilling out, spilling forth and over. Millions of little lights that flicker, with deep breaths, burst and sputter into the rise and fall of stars in the sky.
Little orbs thrum against his feathers, pressed against his cheek, in lingering warmth. Their yellow waves, flare, rub catlike around his ankles, and nip lightly at his toes. Cheeky but tender, life cascades all around him in droves. It is then Castiel discovers this love for the human soul. Thousands of vivid stars pulsating, falling over one another, falling over him.
In time, Castiel spots a single soul. A blue pulse, in this stream of endless beats. A single cold flame. Castiel cannot look away. The tendrils wrap around his wrists, formless silk crawling its way up, weightless, and painful. Inch by inch it bites into his soft flesh, carves into him a raw welt.
Castiel is captured. He sees beauty pour forth, it is a vibrant blue, colored in self-doubt, pain, sacrifice. It carries the burden of hundreds, acts as fuel for hundreds more. Always at the expense of its own. He sees how the tiny blister of a soul slowly hollows itself out, and little by little whittles away.
And somehow Castiel thinks, he wants to be there when it happens. At the soul's end. To feel the cold flames gradually encircle his figure, and erupt into a single flare. He wants to see a flash of lightning tear across his endless sky.
So Castiel allows the millions of little lights to dance across his wings. A steady trickling in. One by one, it is utter rapture. Castiel's eyes begin to fill with stars. His vision blurs.
He allows his wings to catch on fire.
Castiel watches the last of his feathers die. Eternity drifts away on shriveled ashes. A single crimson spark kisses the side of his cheek. His back feels entirely too light.
Castiel has always loved flying.
And for Dean, he trades his wings.
Author's note: Hoped you enjoyed this. I feel like it was more of a ramble than anything...like my brain just farted on screen! And lastly, please leave reviews, they are like fluffy balls of happiness :D