Title: Faith
Rating: T ish
Warnings: None
Pre-series - Wee!chesters. We know (via "Houses of the Holy") that Sam prays every day. Castiel travels to earth and runs into the Winchesters. A story of an angel, a boy, and the faith that ties them together.
Castiel tried not to crane his neck as he walked. Around him the buildings were tall and the air was stale and warm. He crossed the street and moved past a woman pushing a small child in a stroller. The young boy reached up towards his mother, pulling at the dress she wore and speaking words of gibberish. She laughed, wiping at her brow and continuing past Castiel.
It had been decades since he'd traveled to earth and so much had changed so quickly that he couldn't help but stare. The buildings had transformed into tall looming structures of steel. They perched like monoliths in the dirt, raised up as if trying to touch the heavens.
The clothing, vehicles, and atmosphere had morphed into something foreign too. Humans propelled themselves in iron they carved from the land and set up civilized societies that struggled to contain its people. Humans were forever surprising him, forever evolving and changing and fighting against anything and everything around them.
He paused, turning to look at two buildings before choosing the one on the left. Part of him was uncertain at entering such a place, surrounded by manmade metals and synthetic materials. Even now he longed for an open field, for a grove of trees or a deep still lake. He sighed slightly, feeling the movement of oxygen as his diaphragm shifted. He was still getting used to having a body once more, to muscles flexing and blood pumping. That Zacharias had sent him down for something so small was of no importance.
The building was slightly older than those around it and the inside of it smelled like a mix of mildew and lemon. At one point the walls had been a sunflower yellow, but now the color was washed out and dirty. He walked towards the front desk, already reaching into his jacket for the paperwork he'd prepared earlier. That humans had gotten so organized was a wonder to him, that they filed and charted and sorted seemed impossible. It felt as if just yesterday they were fashioning wood into crude bows and arrows.
The receptionist was a young woman with straw blond hair and dark brown eyes. She smiled up at him and he began the carefully worded phrases needed to move past her. She had become the new gatekeeper in this world of politics and power, an individual that Castiel could tell was nearly drunk on her own importance. Sweeping back a heavy bang, she smiled again, showing off bright white teeth and the curve of her neck.
"Miss," he started, not sure why she kept blinking her lashes as if there were something stuck in her eyes. "I was hoping-"
Please, could you help Dad not be mad at me?
The whispered voice of a child slid through his mind. Castiel froze, mind split for a moment as the words teased his consciousness.
His eyes automatically searched the lobby, stopping first on a kid slouched in one of the blue plastic chairs. He was sleeping though, his mouth softened and his face still round with baby fat.
I didn't mean to break it, I promise. Maybe Mom could talk to him if she's not busy?
Next to the sleeping boy another child sat, this one a few years younger. The flannel shirt he wore was threadbare and dark brown hair hung in his eyes. He leaned on the boy next to him, hands bunching his shirt as they twisted nervously.
Castiel forced himself to look away and finish his conversation with the woman. She was purposefully being difficult, hiding behind rules and regulations to get whatever it was she wanted. He brought out a signed document, having been told before he'd arrived how much they needed to see proof and permission.
She deflated at the sight of it; her smile slowly leaving her face as her long nails dialed a number on the phone next to her. When it was finally over and she left to get the information he needed, he moved to sit near the children. He was certain it would take at least a few minutes for her to retrieve the necessary items.
The younger boy glanced at him as he approached before turning his head into the arm of the kid next to him.
Please, please, please, don't let him be mad.
The prayer started up again, spoken in a small voice filled with regret. It happened sometimes, mostly with children, where prayers bled out and were heard by angels visiting earth. He'd listened as angels spoke about it, how greedy children were nowadays, how ungrateful they were for the gift of life that had been given to them.
Castiel listened to the boy, trying not to stare as he trembled across from him. Whoever he was, this child didn't seem selfish. He looked skinny and dirty and young enough that prayer still meant something.
"Sam." The boy glanced up, turning to look at a man who had approached.
The man had shadows under his eyes and the crisp white sleeves of his shirt had been pushed up around his elbows. He pulled at the tie he wore and made an annoyed face. In his other hand he held a white bag and as he got closer he gestured to the smaller child.
Sam looked at the sleeping boy, before carefully straightening himself.
"Dad?"
Sam whispered and Castiel watched as the boy pushed himself up. When standing, Castiel noticed that his pants were a hairsbreadth too short and his shirt slightly oversized.
The dad lowered himself until he was crouched in front of the boy and rested his free hand on the boy's skinny shoulders. While Castiel didn't entirely understand the relationship humans had with their fathers, he could see the love that the older man held for the small child.
The kid Sam was shaking, unable to recognize the forgiveness that Castiel could clearly read it in the soft lines around the dad's face, in the comforting way he squeezed Sam's shoulder. He thought it unlikely that the child could do anything that his father wouldn't forgive. In that way, he reminded Castiel of his own father.
"I'm not mad okay."
He spoke in a soft voice to Sam, squeezing at his son's shoulder again when tears started to spill down the younger boy's cheeks. Sam mopped at them with his sleeve, tension draining from his slight shoulders even as his cheeks turned an alarming shade of red.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The words echoed in Castiel's mind as the small child stood there and fought back tears. He wondered for a moment what the child had done that he worried he wouldn't be forgiven, when it seemed clear to Castiel that all one had to do was ask.
The older boy who had been sleeping yawned loudly, eyes blinking blearily as he seemed to take stock of the situation.
"Sam?" He spoke, sitting up and wiping absently at his eyes.
"He's fine Dean." The dad ruffled Sam's hair, smiling as he stood back up. Resting a hand on the younger boy's shoulder, he motioned to Dean. "Let's go."
The dad turned as Dean pushed himself out of the chair, the older man's eyes losing the softness as he scanned the room. Castiel watched, seeing for the first time the danger that seemed to cling to the man. It filled the space around him, and if Castiel had been a lesser being, he probably would have felt frightened instead of intrigued.
Castiel stared blankly when the father's eyes finally found his own, sharpening in intensity as they took him in from head to toe. The angel blinked, head tilting as the man studied him. What was so interesting about a thirty something year old Sunday school teacher, Castiel wasn't certain.
Next to the dad, Dean leaned in close to Sam, whispering in his ear and not fighting it when Sam grabbed at his hand. The Dad frowned, eyes skipping back to the kids before resting on him again.
"C'mon boys."
He steered the young children out of the building, eyes following Castiel as he moved past the heavy set of front doors. Behind him the boys followed, Sam still rubbing at his eyes.
"Sir?"
The secretary had returned, a bundle of files held under her arm and a tight smile on her face. Pulling his attention from the family, he eyed the woman and thought again of his mission.
The next time Castiel was on earth wasn't for some time, there were always things to do in heaven and Anna kept him busy. He didn't mind, wasn't sure how he would pass the time otherwise. Visiting earth was like visiting a foreign country, strange and fascinating, but energy draining and frustrating.
The ground was just as solid as the last time he visited, the mission just as simple. The area of the country was fields and small towns, completely different than the tall steel structures he'd recently seen. Castiel should have found the differences mesmerizing, the diversity in just a few hundred miles riveting.
He found himself distracted however, found his mind wandering in ways it hadn't for a long time. Time in heaven compared to earth was just different enough that he wasn't exactly sure how much time had gone by. The town was tiny, the church and general store the central buildings and the school a small building perched on a hill.
Late at night, he sorted through the even smaller town library, looking for a manuscript he was certain had been stashed there. He paused, still leaning over the filing cabinet he was currently sorting through. Outside a streetlight was just bright enough that he could recognize the words typed out.
Someone started talking and Castiel automatically stiffened, senses searching quickly for whoever had managed to sneak up on him. When he found nothing he paused, listening carefully to the voice. It took only a moment for him to recognize the soft timbre.
Please let dad get home soon. And let him let us stay, okay? I've been working really hard on my project and I know that Mr. Johnson is going to really like it. Okay?
The voice was older but still childlike, and it rang with sincerity and faith. It echoed in Castiel's mind, so earnest that he was certain Sam had been praying for awhile.
Without thought he finished the mission; tucking away the large book in the briefcase he'd brought while in the background Sam's voice rambled on and on.
I have been so good and I know that Dean wants to stay too, even if he hasn't asked. I know. So please?
Castiel paused, running a hand through the thinning hair on the body he currently resided in. He couldn't quite understand the draw he felt to the boy, the interest he had in the older brother and seemingly absent father.
In his time away from earth he had considered the small family occasionally. Why had they been in that building? What had happened to their mother? Who was their father and what had he seen when he'd looked at Castiel?
He wasn't certain why the small boy's prayers had returned; how after all the time that had passed Sam's faith had remained unshakable. It seemed like something that should be impossible; Uriel was always telling him how faithless humans had become. Sam's father didn't seem particularly religious, and when Castiel strained his ears he couldn't hear even a hint of prayer from the boy's brother. How someone from such a faithless home seemed to cling to their faith so tightly, Castiel didn't know.
Pushing the stray thoughts away, he returned to heaven.
Heaven was just as Castiel remembered it, beautiful and magical and somehow filled with red tape and politics. He completed his heavenly assignments quickly and efficiently; lived his life just as he had before his last. He knew that something was going on with Anna, his superior was becoming distant and cold where before they had been close. But he was used to things happening that he was unaware of, in her position he was sure she heard bad news quite a bit. And she was always frustrated when things didn't go her way. It was easy when he thought about it to forgive Anna's coldness.
Somehow though, Sam had followed him home. He heard the boy daily, sometimes for only moments and other times for what seemed like hours. Sam had something to say every day, had questions and requests and ideas that he prayed as if he were best friends with God.
At first Castiel was certain it would fade, that with time the boy's voice would grow fainter and fainter. It had been months since he'd returned to earth however, and still Sam's voice rang clear and true.
It was invigorating, irritating, confusing, and strange for the angel. He wasn't used to the welling up of emotions. Didn't know how to handle even a little bit of irritation. Castiel felt as if there was a string connecting his heart and the smallest Winchester. And Sam was a child who felt so much.
Castiel wanted to punch Uriel, wanted to tell Zacharias to leave him alone. He wanted to go down to earth and run through a field, wanted to make Dean play cards with him.
It was hard to handle and after particularly long sessions, Castiel would pray. For Sam's voice to end, for serenity to return.
He'd asked a few other angels if they'd heard of anything similar happening, but they'd looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. Why it had not yet faded was disturbing. It made him feel different and strange and as more time past, the less he wanted to share what was happening with any other angels. It made him feel human.
Castiel had tried honing in on Sam's brother and father several more times, listened to see if whatever was happening was connected to the family or to the youngest Winchester only. If the older ones were praying in any way, Castiel couldn't hear it. Even when he strained his senses or moved closer to earth it was if there was a wall between him and them.
God?
The angel froze, shaking his head before forcing himself to continue forward. It was time consuming to have to wait for Sam to finish before continuing his work. Castiel had too much to do to wait, even if Sam's voice was distracting.
Can Dean please hurry up and get back? Dad too?
Castiel felt his form instinctively try and move closer to earth, like it always did before he caught himself.
I'm not scared…just worried.
The boy's voice was strained and even with the limited amount of time he'd spent among humans, Castiel could sense the lie. The emotion bled into and seemed to saturate Castiel. He could feel his muscles tighten, feel the sweat on his brow. Sam was terrified.
Forcing his form to remain outwardly calm, Castiel gave into the urge that had been whispering in his ear for what seemed like forever. He traveled closer to the human realm. Around him time and space flexed and spun, miles blurring as he grew closer. The air changed, the sweet scent that permeated heaven lessening before altogether disappearing.
It was hard not having a human body to possess, to linger just beyond the place that humans thrived. He knew that if he got too close humans would suffer. He had heard tales of angels acting irrationally and hurting dozens of people when they'd gotten too near.
The energy on earth was so singular that at times he wasn't sure how the creator had fashioned two realms so different from one another.
He hovered, searching instinctively for the small soul he'd started to recognize as 'Sam'.
It was stupid that he felt the urge to check on the small boy, silly that he hadn't just continued on his business as he needed to do. Humans' lives were so short, to feel connected to one whose life would be over in a flash seemed imprudent.
Please, please, please, please, please.
Castiel moved closer, space bending again as he passed by mountains and rivers in mere moments. The world below him seemed to roll, trees and cities and people passing by so that they were nothing more than a blur.
Please, ple-
The angel mentally frowned as the boy's voice halted mid sentence, not remembering the last time he hadn't finished with a request to 'tell mom hi'. That Sam remembered something so small for a mother Castiel was certain he'd never met was touching.
He paused over a large stretch of woods, eyes automatically searching for humans. Around him the air was dark and cold and the moon hung low in the sky. There were no houses, no wide stretches of pavement or even fields of grain or corn. The place was untouched by man; even the air seemed to taste old and pure.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God
The voice was deeper than Sam's, so different that even as Castiel neared where the Winchesters were his mind struggled to figure out what was happening. Why could he suddenly hear someone who wasn't Sam? Where was the youngest Winchester?
Between two old pine trees two hearts thudded loudly. One was fast while the other one seemed to skip and stutter and stumble. He automatically turned his form towards them, moving as close as he dared.
Please save Sam.
He heard the voice again, loud and clear and so desperate that it set Castiel's teeth on edge. He listened, becoming so still that the he could almost feel the earth shifting below him.
"It's okay Sam. It's fine."
The words were spoken this time out loud and Castiel finally recognized the voice. It was Dean, Sam's older brother. He didn't sound sure of himself, didn't sound at all like Castiel remembered his voice. He sounded like he'd swallowed glass.
Please, please, please save Sam.
The stuttering heartbeat skipped and Castiel tried to process what he was seeing, what he was feeling, even as below him Sam struggled to stay alive. Even if he hadn't seen it in a long time, the angel could make out the blood that seemed to cover both of the boys. From his position he could smell the hot scent of iron beneath the crisp pine trees and running water.
There was too much of it, it pooled on the ground and ran like a small river out of Sam.
The oldest one continued to talk softly to his brother, ripping large pieces of cloth from what used to be a flannel shirt and wrapping them around Sam's torso. Sam remained unmoving, trembling slightly, but not waking.
Castiel listened to the prayers, felt the sincerity wash over him. Whatever it was that Dean did or did not believe, Castiel had the feeling that he would do whatever was necessary to keep Sam safe. It made his throat close up and heart ache for the two brothers.
He watched, unmoving, and considered helping a human with no direct orders to do so. The angel liked Sam, liked his faith and sincerity and honesty. The boy wanted his family to be safe, wanted them to be happy, wanted to live a good life.
Those were things that Castiel identified with, things that he strove to accomplish every day. To see something so violent happen to someone so innocent reminded him of how much he could do to help the earth below him.
He drifted even closer, uncertain how someone had gotten so hurt and what the boys had been doing in the middle of nowhere. It seemed unfair that for as much as he knew about Sam, there were still great parts of him that remained hidden.
Please save Sam. Please please please save Sam.
"Dean!"
The older boy started, glancing over as his father tore through the woods. The man was a mess of cuts and bruises, limping slightly even as he called again for his son. Over his shoulder a gun rested and from his position Castiel could smell that it had been recently fired.
"Dad, help me. Sam's - " Dean cut off, too choked up to speak for a moment, "He's hurt real bad."
Snapping twigs and breaking branches, John closed the rest of the distance and gently picked up Sam. The child, and really, Sam was nothing more than a baby still, was pale and sweaty. He rolled his head into his father's shoulder and didn't wake when his father began to pick his way across the woods.
Please save him, save Sam.
"Come on Dean."
_
After that Castiel couldn't help but stop in to see the family. The hospital had been nearby, an old brick building with only one or two nurses and a doctor far past his prime. It had been a miracle that the family had made it there before Sam had bled out. The doctor had been amazed, had told John again and again that he couldn't understand how the boy hadn't died on the ride over.
Castiel agreed. The angel had felt the boy's soul, stretching and twisting and wriggling away from its body as they'd driven. He had felt it dip and reach, as if wishing for nothing more than to escape the confines of the form it had been constrained to.
He had been certain the boy wouldn't make it, even as Dean continued to hold his brother close and pray as if his own life depended on it.
But Sam had stayed alive. He hadn't woken up for nearly a week before finally Castiel had seen him blink his eyes blearily and ask for a glass of water. There had been dark circles under his eyes and the thin hospital gown he'd worn had made him look frail and gaunt.
Castiel waited for it. Waited for the prayers to return and Sam's voice to once again fill his mind. Part of him was looking forward to it; he missed feeling so connected. Already he was colder inside; already it was hard for him to understand just what it was about the boy that had been so interesting. It scared him that he felt so empty, so lifeless, without Sam's voice and emotions filling him.
The voice did not return and neither did the voice of Sam's brother. How it happened, why it had happened, Castiel had no idea. Even weeks later when Sam left the hospital, glowing and happy, Castiel could not hear his prayers.
His life was busy: meetings, missions, and reports lasting weeks and weeks. Castiel tried to check in on the family, tried to stay caught up in what was happening in their lives. It was hard however, and with time he only looked back on the strange occurrence with fond remembrance. How and why it had happened he couldn't ever figure out.
But he was glad that for a few months he had been given the opportunity to explore the thoughts of someone so pure. It had been an honor he would not soon forget. How angels could call all of humanity selfish, when Castiel had heard nothing but selfless love from a boy, he didn't know. But it made him aware for the first time that things weren't always what they seemed.
God had made humanity for a reason. The Lord had given them thoughts, feelings, and choice for a reason. How anyone could think that something the Almighty had created could be only bad was baffling and insulting.
The Lord was mysterious, yes. And Castiel wouldn't pretend to understand just what the greater plan was. And humans struggled daily to be good, to make the right decisions, and be all that they could.
He had heard people and angels complain that God had created humans and then ignored them. That they were like a failed experiment that had long been given up on.
Castiel knew now that there was no way something so cold could be true. God had heard the older Winchester's voice that day. There was no way that God hadn't listened and answered.
There was conviction in Sam's voice when he prayed and Castiel was certain that God had to have heard that. Sam had unstoppable faith, and for the first time in what Castiel realized was a long time, that really meant something to him.