AN: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. I enjoy writing and I enjoy the show so I thought I'd give it a go. This fiction will be Castiel centric and from his point of view and takes place after right after the episode, "point of no return". Since I'll be taking the characters in a different direction, everything that happens in subsequent episodes I am going to have to ignore. I hope you enjoy it.
Forever Altered
Castiel leaned against the cold brick wall of the dark alleyway breathing heavily. His instant travels between destinations were becoming more and more difficult, the once effortless task now required not only a great amount of energy but highly focused thought as well. He knew it was only a matter of time before his travels would be restricted to the physical power of his own legs or that of human mechanical conveyances. It was not a future he looked forward to. He'd had these thoughts many times before but they were not the predominant ones in his mind at present. At the moment, he was more focused on what had just happened in the warehouse and how Dean had almost given up.
The latter still angered him, an emotion he was becoming more familiar with as time went on along with all the rest. The farther the powers of heaven moved from him, the greater the humanity he was now glued to overshadowed his former self. He had a hard time remembering how he'd once felt, how he'd remained mostly aloof from the mundane but constant barrage of emotions from his vessel. Every time he attempted to regain that once easy composure he'd become frustrated and restless, so much so that he'd stopped trying. With the choices he'd made, it didn't make much sense to hold onto something he knew he had no way of keeping or regaining once lost.
He would never be quite human but he would never be the angel he'd once been. He'd removed himself from the brotherhood on the faith that the Winchester brothers would be able to avoid their predestined fate. Most of that faith had been placed in Dean since Sam had demonstrated his weakness and allowed the final stones of the apocalypse to fall into place when he killed Lillith. Castiel had also had faith that his father would aid them in their struggle once he could be found. His faith on both fronts was being tested and he wasn't sure if he could hold onto it. His father had flat out refused to help and Dean had very nearly said yes to Michael.
He closed his eyes and allowed his knees to buckle under the physical and emotional weight. He was tired, so unbelievably tired. For all the human qualities that had been steadily growing stronger within him and harder to suppress, sleep had not been one of them. He longed to be able to close his eyes and sleep as the Winchesters did but the ability eluded him. Again he felt frustration wash over him, almost to the point of the overwhelming. Crouched on the ground of that dirty, nowhere alley, he let his head drop into his hands as he grit his teeth.
Where would they go from here? There was no plan. There was no solution in sight. All that remained was uncertainty. He didn't even know where the Winchesters were now. After using his own vessel as a device for ridding the warehouse of it's angel guards he'd found himself here. It was unpredictable where one would wind up after the symbols were activated and the act of putting on his own body had effectively destroyed his cell phone. Moving one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he sighed and decided that his only option would be to teleport back to Bobby Singer's place. He stood and gathered himself mentally, hoping that in his exhausted state he would make it there in one piece. He visualized his destination and concentrated.
The normal bright light engulfed him but he knew immediately that he had not arrived at Bobby Singers house. A warmth he had almost forgotten washed over him; he knew where he was before he opened his eyes. He was home.
It felt amazing but different that he remembered, muted and distant somehow. Despite that, he wanted nothing more than to just sit down and let the sensation of familiarity wash over him. How long had it been, a year? The momentary tranquility was broken by voice… one he recognized. It was a voice he didn't want to hear, whose owner had recently been the source of so much sadness and disappointment.
Joshua.
"You can't stay long. They'll know you're here before too long." Castiel opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself in a literal garden, like humans sometimes created for themselves. It wasn't one he recognized and he looked around himself trying to gain his bearing. "Don't even try to identify it. This is the Winchester's visualization of the garden. I couldn't physically bring you here but this will be enough to give you what you need to be given. Head to St. Augustine's cemetery in Artesia, New Mexico. Find the oldest gravestone there and go to where it says."
Before Castiel had time to ask him even a single question, he suddenly found himself standing on Bobby Singer's front porch.