/AU where Naomi manages to stop and kill Metatron, but banishes Cas to Earth. Stay tuned for why and how etc etc haha. Thanks to all the people who have been reading, reviewing and favouriting! I cannot tell you how much that means to me :') Like always, please comment if you liked it, and send me a PM if you have a request! Much love!/
First time falling
Castiel fell. He didn't know how or why. He appeared at Bobby's doorstep, smaller somehow in his usual trench coat and suit ensemble. He was shaking, his eyes distant, and the first thing Bobby did was to haul his ass indoors, stoke the fire, wrap Castiel up and get him comfy with a hot cuppa tea. Then he called Dean.
"Dean, you get your ass over here. Your angel buddy's in a bad way."
Dean was in the middle of a case in Texas, but he drove back immediately, leaving Sam to take care of it. From what Bobby had told him over the phone, Castiel seemed to have fallen from grace. Guilt wrapped its icy fingers around Dean and made him step on the gas. He knew there was only one reason why Castiel would have been kicked out from heaven and that reason was sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, praying that he'd get there in time. Before Cas did something stupid.
It took Dean hours of constant driving but he needed to get to his friend. The angel needed him. Dean cursed aloud. He still couldn't stop himself from referring to Cas as his angel. Not anymore, Dean thought, bitterly. Not anymore. Soon, relief flooded him as he pulled up to the scrap yard. Locking the Impala, Dean hurried to the house and knocked on the door, frantically. "He's in the spare bedroom," Bobby told him as he opened the door. Dean grasped Bobby's shoulder, fear making his green eyes wild.
"He's fine boy. Go up and see 'im."
Dean tried to communicate his gratitude, but the old hunter would have none of it. "Go on kid, ain't like this is the first time…" Dean didn't wait, simply rushed up the stairs to see Cas.
The angel was sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the white wall ahead of him. Dean stopped short in the doorway, hesitantly peering in. "Cas?" He began, unsteadily. Castiel turned his unblinking gaze on him.
"Dean."
"You okay, buddy..?" Dean asked, hopefully.
"I am not okay, Dean. I no longer have my grace." Castiel told him, matter-of-factly, as was his way. His blue eyes returned to the blank wall, as if it was a TV screen only he could see.
Pain stabbed through Dean. Castiel used to be powerful. He used to be a fucking angel for God's sakes. It must not have been easy to have been reduced to this, this feeling of weakness, of helplessness in the face of fate. Dean knew that this, added to the guilt of almost removing all angels for good, must be hurting Cas big time. But Dean couldn't do anything about it. What consolation could one ever give or something like this? Dean smiled sadly. As far as he knew, there weren't any cards that said, "I'm Sorry You Lost Your Wings," or "Guess You're A Human Now. It's Not So Bad!" Christ it was painful to watch Cas like this. He didn't deserve this. Dean felt a lump gather in his throat. He pushed off the wall and joined Castiel on the bed.
"You need to eat Cas."
Castiel didn't look away from the wall, blinking unresponsively. Dean sighed in frustration. He wasn't going to get anywhere like this. He wondered if it would be best to leave the former angel alone, and was about to go ask Bobby to fill him in, when Castiel began to speak.
"It hurt." Castiel began in a strangely faraway voice.
"What did, Cas?" Dean asked, his throat constricting.
"When Naomi tore out my grace." He closed his eyes tight, as if reliving the memory. Dean watched the pale face, with its five o'clock shadow scrunch up in pain, his eyes roving over the mop of dark hair. It had grown slightly, the change almost unnoticeable, but Dean knew that face well enough to notice the little changes.
"It burned…" Castiel whimpered. "Like this light was being forced out of me. But it didn't want to leave, and she just pulled harder."
"Oh, Cas." Dean slung his arm around the smaller man. It was impossible not to seek some way to comfort Castiel, seeing him look like that: small and alone in his grief.
There was no telling how long the two remained that way, Castiel scrunched up in his bed, Dean sitting on the edge of it, his arm around the angel's shoulders. There was no room for words, Dean knew. Any words spoken would sound hollow and fake, so he just sat there in silence, knowing there was nothing he could ever do or say to make any of this right.
It wasn't long before Castiel fell asleep, and Dean quietly snuck out of the room, and joined Bobby on the couch in the living room.
"How's he doin'?" Bobby asked, sympathetically, holding a beer out.
"Sleeping…why'd they do this to him Bobby?" Dean asked, gratefully taking the beer Bobby offered.
"He didn't say. I just found him out here, lookin' like he'd walked for miles. His clothes were all torn up, and he was shakin' like he was freezin'." Bobby shook his head.
"Angels, man." Dean swigged his beer irritably.
Bobby chuckled. "Boy, you seem pretty damn fond of 'em."
Dean shot Bobby a glare. "Castiel isn't all of them Bobby. I owe the guy."
"I know you do, son. You better take care of him though. He ain't been right."
Bobby looked like he was about to say something else, but the sound of thrashing and yelling from Castiel's room interrupted him. Instantly, Dean was on his feet and up the stairs. He burst into Castiel's room and rushed to the struggling former angel. Castiel groaned, tears sliding down his ghostly pale cheeks. Dean ripped the sheets off the other man's sweating, writhing body and steadied Castiel's head, speaking soothing words of comfort. Slowly, the angel's face smoothened and his body stilled. Castiel opened his beautiful blue eyes, darkened with fury and sorrow and stared into Dean's green eyes.
"They wanted me to kill you." Castiel said, in a moment of crystal clarity, before he succumbed to the darkness. All Dean could do was stare at the man passed out in his arms, before looking up at Bobby, who seemed just as shocked and worried as he felt. Dean stayed by his side for the rest of the night, getting up only in the early hours of the morning when he felt sure Castiel was not going to have another nightmare.
He lay down on Bobby's couch, but couldn't sleep. What did Castiel mean? Why did Naomi want Castiel to kill him? Dean wanted answers but he didn't see how he could get them He wasn't even sure if Castiel remembered what made Naomi cast him out of the pearly gates, much less the rationale behind it. Dean could only guess, and the closest he got was that it was punishment for Castiel's disobedience with Metatron that almost led to the extinction of the angels, even though it wasn't Castiel's fault at all. Dean sighed, exhausted. He missed Sam. Sam would have been logical, and comforting. He always knew what to say. Sam would have been able to do something, and he would have kept Dean from doing anything rash. Right now, all Dean wanted to do was kill that bitch Naomi, but even he knew that wasn't the smartest thing to do. His gut told him that he needed to keep Castiel hidden for a while longer.
Dean, unable to go to sleep, called the only person he knew would understand. He called his brother.
"Hello?"
"Sammy." Dean sighed with relief. His brother's voice was like a wave of comfort washing over him and he basked in it as he continued. "How'd the case go?"
"Vengeful spirit. I called in Garth to help, and we finished up pretty quick. How's Cas?"
"Not good man. How soon can you get here?"
"I'll be there by noon."
"Awesome."
"You okay Dean?"
Dean sighed. "We'll talk when you get back."
"Sure. Don't worry, I'm leaving in the morning."
"Take care, Sammy."
"You too Dean." Sam hesitated. "Take care of Cas."
"Yeah. Bye." He hung up, the constriction in his chest easing up slightly. He slept pretty well after that.
