Title: One Less Regret

Characters/Pairings: Jimmy/Castiel, small mention of Dean/Castiel

Rating: PG

Summary: Castiel clears up some of the issues between him and Jimmy.

Word Count: 2682

Warnings: First SPN fic. Also major schmoop ahead.

Notes: Meant to be crackish, but evolved into angstfest. Not quite sure how that happened. Set around 5x03.

It's not quite the same as having a roommate, but Castiel's behavior cuts pretty close sometimes.

For instance, his habit of leaving random crap around where anyone can find it is pretty reminiscent of Jimmy's college days back when he'd been too broke to pay for his privacy. Castiel always builds elaborate dreams for Jimmy where he can wander about without going quietly insane in the darkness of his own head, and it's a gesture that Jimmy appreciates a lot, really, and would appreciate a lot more if Castiel didn't make those artificial worlds from his own centuries-spanning memories, because angels remember everything. In great and excruciating detail. It's almost humbling, and always awe-inspiring, if Jimmy hadn't just landed right in the middle of what looks like a reenactment of Braveheart.

"Castiel!" Jimmy yells as he ducks down, away from a spear-thrust that goes right through the space where his head had been. All right, so he can't get hurt here since it's all an illusion, but Jimmy feels that he should dodge just out of principle. It's bad enough not being in control of his own body, he doesn't need the disquieting sensation of feeling like a ghost. Castiel used to keep him sleeping all the time, until Jimmy got scared of never waking up, of fading away, no matter how much Castiel assures him that it won't ever happen.

You are my vessel, Jimmy, Castiel had said, not so much in words but a quiet, vibrant singing that still makes Jimmy tingle even after all the crap that the angels have put him through. I will not forget what you have done for me. We will be together as promised until the end of my days on earth.

It's a lot less romantic than it sounds, but Jimmy supposes it's the thought that counts.

There is a low, distant boom close by, rolling like thunder over the horizon. Jimmy looks down in dismay as something blasts through his chest, decimating the ragged group of horsemen behind him. Bloody parts fly about, littering the ground, and Jimmy hastily averts his eyes from a distressingly familiar shape by his foot. Castiel must have been here, to possess this memory. If Castiel has about a few thousand years' worth of scenes like this crammed into what passes for his head, it's no wonder he has such a blasé attitude about keeping Jimmy's body together and just heals whatever cuts, scraps and missing limbs incurred afterward.

Sometimes Jimmy wonders if James Novak was ever real, if he'd ever had a wife called Amelia and a kid called Claire and a perfectly ordinary life where they all lived happily under one roof. Maybe he's just some fragment of Castiel's subconscious, some part of the process of Castiel going human. Or maybe Castiel is his demented alternative personality and they've been wandering about killing innocent people and driving Amelia crazy with fear and worry. Jimmy almost prefers this option. At least that world makes slightly more sense than this ongoing drama of angels vs. demons he'd been dropped into barely without any warning. At least it'd been clear at first which side to root for, right up until the Winchesters decide to go against all good sense and create a whole new side of their own, dragging Castiel—and Jimmy, by unwilling default—along.

"Castiel," he tries again, making his way through the battlefield as best as he can without stepping on any fallen bodies—a completely pointless exercise, he knows, since these men have long crumbled to dust, but it's something he can't help. Panicked horses rear and scream around him, their riders cursing at them in some old dead language that Jimmy is thankful he can't understand. He's even more thankful that the memory is only filtering through his senses of sight and sound. Either Castiel isn't powerful enough to manage the rest, or doing it on purpose, which is a hopeful sign that he's coming to grasp more of the intricacies of being human even if he's not all the way there yet. Jimmy supposes that this battle would be a lot more interesting to someone else who didn't sleep through history class, and now that he's calmed down a little he's beginning to become aware of what incredible opportunities he's been handed, to see things that most people could only have dreamed of. It hadn't been all bad. He'd seen the Grand Canyon, stood on the summit of Mount Everest, watched the primordial seas seethe with emerging life. Any historian or biologist in his place would have exploded in ecstasy. This makes Jimmy feel, weirdly, inadequate sometimes, which makes little sense since Castiel is riding his body. It's just that when Castiel had said you are special back when they'd first met Jimmy had assumed he was talking about some quality other than his apparently extremely prestigious bloodline from some ancient ancestor Jimmy doesn't even know the name of.

He had also assumed a lot of other things, such as angels not being dicks and actually caring about people, which just showed how pathetic Jimmy's judgment is. Castiel had known just which buttons to push to get him to say yes, buttering him up with false flattery and promises like some girl at a bar working her way into a rich guy's wallet. Castiel doesn't do that kind of thing anymore, of course, but Jimmy hasn't quite forgiven him for that. More to the point, he hasn't forgiven himself for being taken in by Castiel's schtick. There's blame aplenty on both sides, tangled up into a complicated knot that Jimmy doesn't dare touch. It's enough that Castiel started acknowledging that there's somebody else living in here with him and rearranged his stuff to make some space. He's reluctant to let Jimmy take the reins, sensing, probably correctly, that Jimmy can't possibly let go once he's had a whiff of freedom, but there're times when Jimmy can look through his own eyes and taste hamburger on his tongue and it's enough to make him want to cry.

Castiel once asked him why Jimmy chose to come back with him, the time they died courtesy of pissed-off archangel. The first time Jimmy had been fooled, the second time was because of Claire, but the third… I am fallen, far from the being you once agreed to serve, Castiel had said. My betrayal of Heaven cannot be held against you. You should go; the rewards of Heaven are yours, and well-earned.

And Jimmy had said, "This didn't exactly turn out the way I expected, I admit, but if God brought you back, you must be doing something right. Besides, if you think I'm gonna sit on a cloud and play the harp in the middle of the freaking Apocalypse, think again. I'm in, all the way."

Castiel had said nothing but had sent a wave of quiet gratitude that warmed Jimmy's self right through.

Since then he'd been doing his best to make Jimmy's experience as a vessel less unbearable, crafting dreams and keeping him constantly updated on the events of the Apocalypse unfolding around them. He reminded Jimmy of that one friend he'd had once who kept dragging him around town on evenings trying to persuade him to 'pry that Bible out of his ass'. It hadn't worked out well for either of them, but years later Jimmy can look back and appreciate the effort his friend had gone to. Which is not to say Jimmy likes traipsing around in some of the bloodier portions of Castiel's head, but—he's grateful. Castiel is becoming more and more human everyday, thanks to Dean Winchester, and Jimmy isn't sure what will happen on the day Castiel finally sheds the last of his feathers. There's still a touch of grace about him but that is fading, a small white-hot ember in the core of his being that used to be able to burn out eyes when freed from Jimmy's vessel. Maybe they'll become essentially a human with multiple personalities, maybe they'll meld together into a single being, breaching the last barrier between them; Castiel-and-Jimmy, bound by blood and tears and sweat and all those things left unsaid between them because they don't need something as mundane as words to communicate.

The battlefield is beginning to lose definition, wavering at the edges. Castiel arrives in a flash of white light that washes out the scene completely, and Jimmy breathes out a sigh of relief. He's wearing Jimmy's shape, as usual, but there's always this presence about him that makes it obvious that he isn't just a mirror image. "You called?" he asks, putting his head to one side and regarding him with that usual cocktail of emotions Jimmy has grown accustomed to: worry, happiness, fondness. It still knocks him silly, though, that he can share this…friendship, he supposes, with an angel of the Lord. Even an ex-angel.

"A few times," Jimmy grumbles. "More than that. Where were you?"

"I was speaking with Dean on the cellphone," Castiel says solemnly. He doesn't bother to hide the reverence, among other feelings, in his voice, not that he can hide anything from Jimmy now that they have become so close. Still, it was way too much information, and Jimmy closes his mind to Castiel a bit, wincing. Just what is going on with those two, anyway?—he doesn't want to know. "He is in need of us, and I am now flying to his aid."

"Uh…" Jimmy looks around. "Is it okay for you to be here? You won't crash into any buildings because of me?"

"I am perfectly capable of multi-tasking," Castiel says with some indignation, and Jimmy has to smile. "I assume you called me here because you wished a change in…channels?"

Jimmy nods. "You are the one in charge of the remote control. How about a scenic landscape this time round?"

Castiel doesn't move, but abruptly they are standing on the edge of a lake, its waters still and calm and reflecting the deep blue of the sky. Birds twitter to each other in the trees behind them, and if Jimmy looks closely he can see jewel-toned wings fluttering in the shadows. There's probably plenty of fish in the lake as well, and no sooner has the thought crossed his mind than there's a fishing rod in his hands and a full kit at his feet. He laughs out loud, delighted, trying not to think about Amelia or Claire despite knowing that Castiel will never reproduce them after a failed first attempt had ended with Jimmy going to sleep for the first time of his own volition and refusing to wake up for weeks.

"I am sorry that my dreamworld upset you," Castiel says. "I had thought…"

Jimmy glances over, struck by the disappointment coming from the angel. "Did you want to show me something?" he asks uneasily. Has he offended Castiel somehow? He feels that uncomfortable, off-kilter sensation again, like a spider scuttling around in his guts, but pushes it down, reminding himself again that he doesn't owe anything to Castiel.

"Your ancestor was on that battlefield," Castiel explains. "I was there. A demon had possessed a powerful warlord, driving him and his army to commit many atrocities in God's name. I was among the soldiers sent to dispatch it."

Jimmy has no idea where this is heading. Unless he's trying to say in the politest way possible that Jimmy is no soldier, but then both of them already know it. "Well, my ancestor was a lot tougher than I am," Jimmy says, shrugging. "I couldn't even stand it for more than five minutes, and that was with my nose switched off."

Castiel is suddenly in his face, looking thunderous. "Stop it, Jimmy. What you feel…does both of us no favors."

"What do I feel?" Jimmy asks, genuinely curious. He sits down on the grass, putting his feet close to the water. To his surprise Castiel joins him, mimicking his pose so that their identical shoes line up neatly. The angel is obviously trying so hard to relax that he winds up completely defeating his purpose. Jimmy holds back a smile, deciding to give Castiel a break. This has to be the first time he's ever seen Castiel out of his rigid military stance, and he doesn't want to ruin the beauty of the moment.

"Small," Castiel says. "Unworthy of the role chosen for you. You think that your bloodline is all that matters, that the honor could so easily have gone to someone else more deserving of it."

Jimmy stares at Castiel, mouth hanging open. Castiel sure didn't pull punches, he thought weakly. "I wouldn't quite put it in those words…" he mutters. "But yeah, you go out and fight demons in my body while I hide in here. Forgive me if I feel lacking in the ass-kicking department."

Castiel gives him a look. "Worth is not measured by one's…ah…fighting skills, Jimmy," he chides. "My brothers…had the ability to turn the tide of war if they truly wished, but they chose to allow the Apocalypse to happen instead. I played no little part in that as well." He sighs, and the wind picks up in response, ruffling their hair. "Had I given you greater leeway then, as now, I might have thrown my lot in with Dean Winchester sooner and possibly averted this tragedy."

"I hated you," Jimmy says honestly. "I'm not sure how much good advice you could have gotten out of me without us descending into a shouting match."

"Do you still hate me?" Castiel asks, his tone much too neutral for such a loaded question.

Jimmy shakes his head. "Not anymore. You've changed and given up so much, I'd be a real asshole if I didn't change my mind."

"I am glad to hear it," Castiel says. "You are valued highly, Jimmy, more than you know. I remember my vessels, from the first to the last. Even then I knew I had…favorites. Men and women whom I found it a pleasure to deal with, whom I stayed with longer than necessary."He looks away—not at the tiny green border of trees at the other end of the lake, Jimmy guesses, but instead somewhere much further back. "Your ancestor died on that field," Castiel says softly. "He was killed by a cursed projectile that I failed to avoid in my distraction. That is why I remember that time and place with such clarity."

Jimmy's throat feels too tight for the words he's squeezing through it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Not all my vessels inspired me," Castiel says, looking too goddamned calm for someone engaging in a heart-to-heart talk. "You're a good man, Jimmy Novak. Not many people would have said yes to me twice."

"It wasn't for you," Jimmy argues.

Castiel smiles and touches his face with the tips of his fingers. "True," he agrees. "You did it for the one you loved—your reason for fighting. The reason you and Dean refused the offer of Paradise. It had been a long time since I last walked the earth, and you…reminded me of all that I had forgotten."

Jimmy leans into the touch, closing his eyes. "And you're the reason I still have faith," he confesses in a rush, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. "You'll find God, Castiel. I'm sure of it. He wouldn't bring you back just to hide in the sidelines again."

Castiel inclines his head so that their foreheads press together. "Thank you," he says gravely.

Jimmy sighs. "I just wish you had a better method for finding Him. I'm not that thrilled about running into Raphael again. Angel of healing, my ass."

Castiel stands up, carrying Jimmy along with him easily. "At the very least, if we die again," he says into Jimmy's ear, "we will do so with one less regret."

They hold each other close, a single silhouette before the sun, and it is impossible to tell where the man ends and the angel begins.

-end-