"I thought God was supposed to love everybody?" "My Father loves all His creations, great and small." "So does any of that rub off on you angel folks? Because I sure as hell ain't feeling it."
Dean, Castiel
Cursing. No pairings.
Dean woke with a start; years of hunting the paranormal molded his sleeping habits to that of a cat's. He didn't move and regulated his breathing, his eyes flickering open. He was met with complete darkness; he closed his eyes, counted to ten, opened them. Shapes of the cheesy motel room decor became visible: light reflected off the funky wall clock and was absorbed into the dark, door-less closet. Neither presented a threat. He closed his eyes again, counted, and opened. Nothing was out of the ordinary, no strange figures or freakish noises. No demons, thank God. Nor angels, speaking of which.
'It's too freaking hot in here.' Even when he'd stripped down to just a pair of stolen-from-Sam-flannel-pants he was sweating beneath the covers. Dean got up as quietly as possible and went to the sickeningly eighties-style refrigerator. Opening it flooded the room and his eyes with light. He fumbled blindly for a beer but left the fridge door open, basking in the radiating cool. His eyes adjusting to the light, he scanned the room again. Sam was still sleeping like a baby. Or like a rock, Dean figured. As always. He turned to the window, appreciating the lack of any supernatural baddies trying to make his brother and him into Winchester-kabobs, and wondering how hot he might be looking with his sweaty, topless body glistening in the moonlight. Probably pretty damn sexy.
"You should lay off the alcohol."
Dean whirled around, wishing he hadn't abandoned his pistol under the pillow. But he immediately relaxed; it was just his friendly neighborhood guardian angel. Castiel stood on the tile/carpet border which served as the only separation between kitchen and bedroom. Staring. Dean tried to calm his body despite the building adrenaline. "Shit, dude, do you have to just appear like that?" He took a deep breath and a swig of beer. Castiel turned towards the wall, hands in pockets. As relaxed as he ever got, Dean thought.
"This is my only effective way of transportation."
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Too much a Sammy thing to do. "Whatever, Jeannie. Why don't you just wiggle your nose and poof outa here, if it isn't anything important?"
Castiel didn't reply and didn't even try to fathom what Dean was talking about. He didn't wish to reveal how he would come to watch over the Winchesters whenever he wasn't on an assignment. Especially since their last 'incident'... though he knew being cornered be demons and instigating an angel/demon death match was a perfectly good reason to up the surveillance on the brothers.
"Slow night in Heaven?" More silence. 'This conversation is going just swimmingly.' Dean went back to the fridge. "Beer?" Castiel just blinked. Dean felt thoroughly chastised. "Just kidding..." He gave up with the 'being friendly' thing and shuffled across the room, parking his ass on the large yellow sofa. "So, how can I help you?"
Castiel hadn't moved from his spot in bedroom/kitchen twilight. "I can ask you the same thing. I'm here to make sure you and Sam are... doing alright." 'And staying out of trouble.'
"Oh, we're just peachy, thanks." Dean looked over at his brother drooling on the pillow. "Unless you came to rock Sam to sleep, and in that case, I already have it covered. So thanks but no thanks." Dean realized he was getting irritated; he always got chatty when he was pissed off.
The angel glanced at sleeping Sam and Dean caught the flash of bitterness in his eyes. Dean could almost see the disapproval wafting off the angel like waves of heat. Dean pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, feeling defensive. "I thought God was supposed to love everybody?"
The look Dean got back was the closest he'd ever seen to the angel looking offended. "My Father loves all His creations, great and small." The angel held his gaze stubbornly.
"So does any of that rub off on you angel folks? Because I sure as hell ain't feeling it." He wondered if he was being too hard on the angel, but immediately banished the idea from his head. It wasn't the first time Castiel had given Sam that scathing look.
Castiel's eyes went to the floor again. "Most of us are... compelled to follow in our Father's example."
Inner Dean, the part of him that enjoyed provoking confrontations, giggled with glee. Cas was being evasive. "Are you telling me you actually love everyone? All of your daddy's 'creations'? Even that prick Uriel?" Even Sam?
Castiel didn't answer. Dean's internal giddiness died down. "What about my brother, you don't seem to love him very much."
The angel blinked and stared, but Dean fixed his eyes stubbornly on the angel. He wasn't going to give up so easily, not that the angel was getting under his skin. Castiel's eyes remained fixed to the carpet. "I wouldn't expect a human to understand."
Dean scoffed. His beer sat forgotten on the table. Memories of being shoved, talked down on, and ridiculed zoomed through his head. "You're right, I don't understand. You and your angel buddies are constantly riding us and I'm sick of it. You order us around like we're part of your brainwashed flock and treat us like the two thousand year old dirt you guys spend all your time licking off the Big Man's shoes. If there's any compassion under that cold bastard exterior, I sure as hell don't see it! So please enlighten me on the situation."
Dean expected silence, or to wake up suddenly back in bed feeling hot and wanting a beer. The last thing he expected was for Castiel to whip around violently, grab him by his shoulders and slam him against the wall. He did not expect to feel the crappy wallpaper pushed into his bare skin, or see almost tangible anger reflecting in the angel's eyes.
"Do you not remember that I dragged you from Hell? Are you honestly so ungrateful?" His voice was barely a whisper, but the still essence of fury itself. Dean grabbed his wrists but the angel was made of steel. Castiel seemed to grow in stature, radiate with his wrath, beyond the scope of the mortal shell he wore. His raspy voice continued. "Should we have left you there to burn and smolder for the rest of the eternity, to spare you the agony of keeping you and Sam on track to prevent the end of this world? Next time it is too inconvenient for you, Dean, remind us that you prefer the stripping of flesh from your bones day after day and the consumption of this planet in flames and brimstone. Just because you forsake God's will does not mean billions deserve to die!" He spit the last line with such fierceness Dean thought he would be smited on the spot. Neither man nor angel breathed. Their eyes locked on to each other. Then Castiel released Dean's shirt, stepping away.
Dean didn't know what he would say. He was stunned by the outburst but still too bitter to apologize. He could feel his face flushed with anger and shame. Castiel turned his back to Dean, and he seemed once more just a man. Dean looked down at his feet.
"I do love this world."
The Winchester looked up again.
"I love all of my Father's creations. They are works of art but they are more. The value of a living being is so beautiful; you cannot understand what it is like to..." He paused, as if he struggled for words. As if Dean were the first person to hear this confession. "To an angel who doesn't know life but merely existence... You take for granted the world you have, Dean. How do you not love every ray of sun and every blade of grass? And every insect and animal, and every single human being? Each fleeting life is a miracle. That it does not last forever means it should be cherished. Do you know how much it hurts to kill? Even for us beings created to do just that. It kills me. My grace withers every time I must cut down one of my own siblings and the human vessel they inhabit. It hurts me to see demons staining such beautiful creations. My Father has created all of this and it was all created to be loved, not destroyed. How could you live with the possibility that it would all disappear? You know what Hell is, Dean, could you wish that upon the entire world?" He turned, finally, after ages, and looked into Dean's eyes. To the Winchester's surprise and embarrassment, Castiel's eyes were moist. "Dean, promise me you will not give up."
Dean had barely recovered from the first outburst, but he was once again speechless. He stared at Castiel with mouth agape. What else could he say? "Cas, I'm sorry..." He was going to question the angel when Castiel's expression suddenly changed. His previously concerned brow furrowed in a panic, his lips pursed in a guilty way. Dean wondered if something was wrong. Then he wondered why Sam hadn't waken up from the noise of the argument.
"Cas-"
"Stay out of trouble, Dean."
Dean blinked-
He was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He got lazily out of the sheets. "It's too freaking hot in here..." He mumbled, heading for the darkness that was the kitchen. Grabbing for a beer out of the sickeningly eighties-styled fridge, he remembered the dream-convo with his perspective-altering guardian angel. Beer-less, he slammed the fridge door shut and put his head against the plastic.
"Damnit Cas..."
He just didn't know anymore, but when the angel put it that way... he was gonna have to try.
Prompt #2: Love