Hello there! It's been waaaaaay too long since I wrote a Supernatural fic, so I decided to write about our favorite angel/God. This is loosely based on the first two episodes of season 7. I miss my Cassie angel. :(
Anyhoo, I brought in a character from two of my previous stories...if you want his background you can read either Chasm or Wrong. Both if you want! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did Cas would get his own spin-off. However I do own my OC. He's so awesome.
The eyes are what strike Dean the hardest.
They are cold, devoid of anything and everything that was once familiar to him. There won't be any more endearingly baffled looks, no more quiet mirth lurking beneath a stoic gaze, no more wide eyed innocence. And that's all Cas ever was. Innocent. A child.
So even as Castiel stands in front of Dean with his cold and unfamiliar gaze, demanding love and respect and obedience, a small, miniscule part of Dean still hopes with all that he is for that innocence to help bring his friend back to him.
And if an even smaller part of Dean has already accepted the fact that his friend is gone, he refuses to acknowledge it.
"Dean. Come on, talk to me."
Sam watches as his brother continues working on the Impala with a single minded determination. Dean's body is as taut as a bow string from his position over the hood. Two empty bottles of beer lie on the ground next to the front left tire. Sam tries again.
"He's still Cas, Dean. He just needs some help. Maybe if we – "
The hood slams down with a sharp bang. Dean's eyes are angry and Sam doesn't have to look hard to see the pain in them. Since when has he become so easy to read? Sam has always been able to get a gist of what his brother was feeling, but Dean has never been this transparent. These days Dean wears his pain like an oversized coat and it shows in the sluggishness of his gait and the constant hunch of his shoulders.
"Just shut up, okay? That's not Cas." Dean throws down his wrench and stalks past Sam, heading into Bobby's house for what Sam assumes is another beer. Sam sighs heavily as the door slams shut. Really, it's not even noon yet and today can't possibly get any worse.
It begins to rain.
Sam doesn't even bother moving. He doesn't sigh or pull his jacket over his head or curse the skies for this shitty day that has been bestowed upon him. He simply stands there, allowing the rainfall to wash over him. He imagines that all the bad in his life would wash away also, that it would just roll off his skin and seep into the earth beneath his feet, never to be seen again. Sam closes his eyes and tilts his face toward the weeping sky.
If only things were that easy.
"You may want to go inside, Sam. You might find a cold."
Sam whirls around and boggles at the dark haired figure standing in front of him.
Seraphiel.
It's been a shitty day and it's not even noon yet, the rain is chilling and Sam's afraid of losing his brother so soon after Cas, but for the first time in months, a genuine grin spreads across Sam's face and a bark of laughter escapes him as he crushes the angel to his chest in a hug.
"Catch a cold, Seph. I might catch a cold."
"I see. It still does not make sense," is the somewhat amused response from the general area of Sam's right shoulder. It doesn't matter though; Sam's not listening.
He's just glad to be warm again.
There is a woman in Mexico. Her three children were killed by thieves and not soon after her husband left her for a younger woman. She lives on the streets with nothing but the clothes on her back and a rosary around her neck. She is barely alive when Castiel comes to her. He crouches down next to her in the filthy alleyway, touches her arm tenderly and stares with too blue eyes. There is not a shred of kindness in them.
"Your faith is a gift unto me. In return I give you this."
The woman is barely conscious as she looks up with unfocused doe-like eyes at this strange man. She feels the cool touch of a hand on her brow and knows no more.
She is with Him now.
000
"He's out of control, Seph. We don't even recognize him anymore." Dean sighs and slouches back against the couch. He, Sam and Seraphiel are spread out in the living room. Sam is seated at a table and Seraphiel stands with his back to them, staring out at the pouring rain.
"It's like he's been brainwashed or something," Sam muses. The brothers are both looking at Seraphiel, waiting for his response. After a moment he turns around and focuses his golden eyes on Dean.
He will never admit it, but Seraphiel's eyes still kind of freak Dean out.
"I am aware of Castiel's…condition. I will speak with him," Seraphiel finally decides.
Dean is already shaking his head, "I don't think that's a good idea. You haven't seen him. He's not your brother anymore."
"He is."
Seraphiel's response is firm, and for a second the brothers almost believes him.
"No, he's not." Dean's tone mirrors Seraphiel's, both of them so sure of their convictions. "He's not," Dean says again, as if to reassure himself. The two stare at each other, and Dean takes the time to check his friend over. It's been a while since they've last seen each other, and it certainly shows. There is a weariness that surrounds Seraphiel that wasn't there before, a listless look in his usually vibrant eyes. He looks tired. Exhausted, even.
Dean wonders what happened, and Serahpiel wonders the exact same thing as he studies Dean.
"Do not worry yourself, Dean. I will speak with him."
Seraphiel's voice is soft, and with an even softer flutter of wings he is gone.
000
Castiel doesn't understand.
He tries to show them the right path. He cuts down those who oppose Him and he saves those who accept Him. He is fair and just in His decisions.
Why can't they understand that He's doing all of this for them? He is a mighty and fair God, He is. So why do they resist? Why do they rebel? Angels who have been nothing but devout reject Him, and that cannot go unpunished. He doesn't understand. They have been waiting so long for their God to return and this is how they behave?
Castiel plunges His sword into another misguided angel and thinks that everything will turn out alright. His gaze sweeps over the dead rebels littering the field.
"Be obedient, children. Or this will be your fate."
It is a new day, and soon Heaven and Earth alike will be rejoicing in His praise.
Seraphiel is soaring somewhere above Russia when suddenly he isn't anymore. He plunges down, down, down, crashing through a frozen lake and into the icy water below. Steam rises as his searing body heat escapes him and he's terrified because he's cold.
In the eons that have passed in his lifetime, Seraphiel has never been cold.
For a moment he simply sinks in the freezing water, completely disoriented. Then he struggles to the surface and heaves himself over the ice, scrabbling for purchase and shivering violently. His fingers slip over the ice until he digs them in. He pulls himself out of the water and collapses on his back, his breaths short and harsh. The snow whirls around above him, and Father Almighty, he's getting colder. What the hell is wrong with him?
A particularly sharp pain shoots through his chest, and with the force of a tsunami, it finally hits him.
His brothers and sisters are dying.
Hundreds of them, killed in quick succession without remorse. He hears their last thoughts and feels the echoes of their pain and it all sweeps over him in a massive wave of agony. He rolls over and manages to get to his feet, his teeth clacking with the intensity of his shivering. He blinks against the water dripping from his hair and the harsh wind battering his vessel.
He may feel like shit, but he's had much worse and something needs to be done about this right now. Seraphiel musters up his strength and looks to Heaven.
"Castiel!"
His voice cuts down the howling wind and the clouds in the sky darken and churn forebodingly.
The snow stops falling, the sun flares brightly against the inky black clouds, and countless people outside their homes can only look up at the sky in wonder.
In an instant Seraphiel's location changes. He's in a field now, surrounded by the scorched imprints of his siblings, and a profound stab of grief strikes in his chest. There are so many…
"Hello, Seraphiel."
Castiel watches as Seraphiel tears his gaze away from the blackened ground. When they lock eyes, Castiel tilts his head. He expected Seraphiel to be undeniably furious. He expected the scorching heat of his brother's anger, the fiery glint of his eyes. But what he gets instead is somewhat…unsettling.
Sadness. Castiel looks into his brother's eyes, and all he can see is sadness.
"He was right." Seraphiel's voice is quiet, and for an insanely brief moment, Castiel contemplates smiting him where he stands so he would stop looking at Him like that.
That would be rude, of course.
The words hang between them, and Seraphiel finally lowers his eyes once again to stare at the blackened wings decorating the ground. He looks worn. Defeated.
"They were not as faithful as they believed themselves to be," Castiel says simply, as if the answer is that easy. At this Seraphiel flicks his eyes back to Castiel, and a noticeable spark has ignited within them.
"Their deaths suggest otherwise."
They continue to stare at each other.
"You have spoken with the Winchesters."
Seraphiel nods once.
"You have chosen your side."
Again, Seraphiel nods. After a brief moment of silence Castiel speaks again.
"I will give you time to change your mind only because of what you are and what you have done for Heaven. How our next meeting will go is entirely dependent upon you."
The sound of rustling wings is absent when Castiel disappears.
The Winchesters make sure they keep up with Castiel's movements. They listen to the radio, keep the television on the news channels, and read the papers. And despite the circumstances of the situation, it seems that Cas is doing a good job cleaning house. Dean still thinks that Cas has gone off the deep end, but he supposes it could be worse.
Sam is a different story. Dean doesn't know what the hell is going on in his sasquatch brother's head. But if Sam says he's fine, Dean will take that because he honestly can't handle the Cas situation along with Sam's…whatever. Cas and his brother are supposed to be the ones he can trust, yet they're the ones causing so many problems.
Sometimes Dean wishes they would disappear.
Just for a little while, so he could sleep. But they don't, and he never feels rested.
If Sam wants to pretend he's okay, then fine.
If Cas wants to take out the corrupt, then fine. He can have a field day with it. No problem.
The massacre changes that.
Dean sees that maniacal grin and finally accepts the fact that his best friend is gone and never coming back.
000
The nerve of some people. Castiel can't get over the fact that the blind man pointed out His vessel's state after He gave him the gift of sight.
Ungrateful little ants, the lot of them.
Castiel stumbles over a cracked bottle. He steadies himself on the wall of a coffee shop. His hand leaves behind a bloody handprint as he continues to limp along. The streets are empty at this time of night, save for a few homeless people. One of them has the nerve to ask him for money. Castiel simply looks at him. The man takes one look at His bloodied visage and scurries away, looking over his shoulder suspiciously. Castiel keeps moving.
He pauses, and is overtaken by hacking coughs. He spits out the blood and continues on His way. He climbs the stone steps and with a wave of His hand the large wooden doors of the church open. As He walks down the aisle He hears the flutter of wings and Seraphiel appears before Him. They stare at each other, bathed in the moonlight streaming through the windows.
"You are not well," Seraphiel says by way of greeting.
"Thank you for your astute observation." Castiel braces one hand on a pew and starts coughing again. The wood smoulders under his touch. Seraphiel watches him, eyes narrowed into gleaming slits, his body quaking slightly as if he's still cold. When Castiel is finished Seraphiel takes one step forward.
"I have come to tell you that my answer has not changed."
Castiel straightens and observes the angel before Him. "I know. What I don't understand is why. You would rather die than serve me? Where is your faith?"
Seraphiel is on Him in an instant.
Castiel is slammed against the wall, Seraphiel's forearm pressing into His throat. The heat that normally lies in Seraphiel's body is still gone, but the fury in his eyes more than makes up for it. Seraphiel leans in closer, his expression fierce. His entire frame is trembling, and Castiel can't decide if it's from the cold or his anger. Maybe both.
"You are not my father," Seraphiel snarls, and the ground beneath their feet begins to shake with the power imbedded in those words. "You will never compare to Him and that is why I choose death willingly. I am nothing without Him." Seraphiel stares fearlessly into the eyes of his wayward brother.
Castiel stares back and sees desperation in the seraph's gaze. He finally understands.
He wants me to kill him.
Castiel isn't surprised. Seraphiel always had a strong sense of family. With the loss of Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel, he is the only one of the inner circle left. And as much as Castiel would like to be, He is not their father, and so Seraphiel has no purpose. He's useless. Burned out.
Castiel makes His decision.
"You have been an integral part of heaven, Seraphiel. You will not be forgotten."
Seraphiel exhales heavily, as if a great weight has been taken off his shoulders. The barest of smiles graces his features and he bows his head, his forehead almost touching Castiel's. Castiel raises one hand and lays it flat against Seraphiel's abdomen. He can feel the angel's grace softly humming, completely at peace.
Heaven will feel this loss greatly.
"Goodbye, Seraphiel."
Just before Castiel can strip Seraphiel's grace, they both pause suddenly and cock their heads to one side, eyes shut. Listening.
Sam Winchester is praying.
Castiel doesn't care. He begins to resume His actions when He makes the mistake of looking at Seraphiel's face. The angel is listening intently, and Castiel realizes that this will be the last prayer Seraphiel will ever hear. The thought causes the tiniest pang of regret in Castiel. So out of respect for Seraphiel, Castiel bows His head also.
He listens to Sam. And he's struck by the amount of sincerity in the human. Why is he still faithful after He threatened him with death? Everyone else has given up, but Sam still believes in Him.
And with a startling amount of clarity, Castiel finallly understands. Sam is the only one who believes in Him, who has faith in Him, and it's not because of who He is now, but who He was before. He's lost everyone who ever believed in Him because of who He is now.
He's lost Dean.
The man he raised from perdition, guided, and protected, was one of the first to give up on Him. And it was all His fault.
Castiel opens His eyes to see Seraphiel staring at Him, a sad smile in place.
"Another day," the angel says, removing his arm and taking a step back.
"Another day," Castiel echoes hollowly.
They both know that day won't come.
Seraphiel is left standing in the church, completely and utterly alone.
000
Castiel stares at the bloody symbols on the wall in front of Him and accepts that He has failed.
He looks back at Dean, and thinks of all that they've been through together. All of the trust and sacrifice, the blood and tears, and this is how it ends. He takes in Dean's conflicted expression and feels guilty for all the pain He's caused.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
He turns to meet his fate.
When Castiel drops, Dean rushes to turn him over. Bobby's fingers meet icy skin, Castiel isn't breathing, and Dean wishes that this is just all some fucked up nightmare because Cas can't be dead, he just can't…
And then Castiel opens his eyes and Dean is so relieved he could cry.
"That was unpleasant," Castiel grumbles, and Dean and Bobby help him to his feet. He immediately begins to apologize, and Dean is just happy that he's back to normal. Maybe things are going to be alright.
But then Castiel is pushing them away, and Dean can only watch as his friend is destroyed from the inside out.
Dean folds the soggy trench coat, trying desperately to reign in his emotions. Sam and Bobby are silent.
He's really gone.
Dean can't help but feel angry at him for being so goddamned stupid. So innocent. And no matter all that he did on his crazy power high, that's all he really was. Innocent.
A child.
Phew! I wasn't planning on making it this long...I wasn't even going to add Seraphiel in but I missed writing him.
Now...you know what time it is! Reviewing time! How will I improve as a writer if I don't get feedback? And me improving means better quality entertainment for you! It's a win-win scenario!