It was Castiel's day off. He knew that not having to work for a day was generally viewed as a good thing and that when presented with having some time to themselves, most people were happy for the small reprieve from duty.
But Castiel wasn't "most people."
Duty was all he had ever known. There were no "days off" in heaven. There were times of rest, that was true, but even during periods of inactivity, an angel's duty was always in the forefront of their consciousness. A resting angel was still ever vigilant. He had spent thousands and thousands of years watching, waiting, obeying, influencing, strategizing, and executing orders from his superiors. He was a good soldier. A dutiful soldier.
He wasn't a soldier anymore. He wasn't even an angel. He was just a man.
His boss laughed as she pushed him out the back door of the store.
"For goodness sake, Steve, you can't work seven days a week! Besides, I can't afford the overtime. Now go have some fun! I'll see you tomorrow bright and early!"
Fun. Castiel sighed as he made his way away from the store. Some angels knew how to have fun but it usually manifested itself as a perverse sense of humor. Lot's wife? Yeah, that was a joke. God didn't turn her into a pillar of salt; it was Uriel who did, laughing the whole time.
"Stupid monkey liked her salt. Now she can have as much of it as she can stand."
Castiel dug in his pockets for some money. There was enough for either a fancy coffee creation at Starbuck's, or a burger and fries at McDonald's, but not both. Deciding that he was sluggish more than he was hungry, Castiel decided on the coffee.
"What's the name?" the barista asked after she shouted out Castiel's order.
"Steve."
"Okay, Steve. It'll be ready in a few."
Castiel looked around the Starbuck's. People here had purpose: they read the newspaper, they checked their e-mail on their phones, they chatted with each other about their plans, and how their head-up-his-ass boss just didn't understand about the client's needs. Him? He no longer had a purpose. He didn't have a newspaper, or a phone capable of checking his non-existent e-mail, or a client. He smirked as he considered that he may (or may not) have a head-up-her-ass boss, but time will tell on that.
"Steve!"
He smiled and thanked the barista, who had plopped his cup down on the counter and made his way back outside, sipping on his mocha latte with a double shot of espresso. It was a beautiful day. The rain that had been predicted hadn't materialized and the sky was a bright blue and the sun was shining. Having no duties to carry out, or activities to attend to, he made his way to the park to sit and watch the world pass him by. He would likely stay there all day, waiting for the night when he would make his way to the city's homeless shelter. He secretly slept at the convenience store but now he was locked out until tomorrow.
Castiel's favorite bench was unoccupied and he sat, watching the mothers and fathers with their children. He adored children; they were so innocent and pure. They hadn't yet experienced the harshness the world dealt out so freely. He used to protect children, even when he wasn't ordered to. He smiled as he remembered the time he forced a river to spew out a child who had fallen into it and the mother, frantically babbling in Hebrew as she hugged the squalling toddler to her breast, thanking Castiel's father for his mercy.
That was proper. All glory and praise should go to God, after all.
His coffee had now reached the perfect temperature where he could tilt the cup back and drain its contents without burning the inside of his mouth. As he drank, a plastic ball hit his left knee.
"Blake! I told you about kicking that without watching what you are doing. Now, apologize to the man!" the young woman scolded her five year old son who appeared stricken that the stranger his ball had hit might become angry with him. Castiel smiled, picked the ball off the ground, and held it out to the fearful child.
"This is a nice ball, Blake. It was an honor to be hit with it." He smiled wider when the child giggled, realizing he wasn't going to be yelled at by Castiel. The child snatched the ball away from him and smiled shyly.
"I'm so sorry! He's just a bundle of energy, you know?" the young woman said as she pulled her son closer.
"He's a fine boy. You should be proud."
"Yes…well…thanks again." the woman said as she took her son's hand in hers and led him away.
Castiel sighed at the now empty coffee cup and chucked it into the nearest trashcan. Blake and his mother were now far away and the other occupants of the park were too busy in their frivolities to notice him. He leaned back on the bench and stared up at the perfect sky while letting his thoughts associate freely.
Beauty. Purity. Simplicity. Humility. Insignificance. Love.
Yes, love! Despite all that had happened, Castiel still loved. He loved his father. He loved creation. He loved his brothers and sisters even though he failed them miserably. He loved the sky. He loved the clouds. He loved the sun. He loved Blake and his mother. He loved the sanitation worker who was now emptying the trash next to him. He loved the grass. He especially loved…
Castiel shook his head. That particular love was too painful. That love caused him to fall. They were right - that love of a broken man had always been his weakness.
He blinked away the urge to shed tears and straightened his head. It wouldn't do to weep over an action that couldn't be reversed. What was done is done and he had no regrets. He did the right thing, yes?
Yes, he affirmed to himself, and rubbed a hand over his face. Motion from the bench on his right drew his attention. A shabby man had sat down and was unwrapping a sandwich. The man held his meal in his hands and began to move his lips silently until finally he raised his head and uttered "Amen."
Ah, prayer. His father bestowed on his most beloved of all creation the privilege of addressing him directly. Not even animals, no matter how sentient and intelligent they were, or even angels for that matter, had that privilege. No, that honor was reserved for humans alone.
Humans.
Humans like he was now.
Castiel sat up straight and his eyes widened. He looked around guiltily, thinking that others may deduce his stupid oversight. He could now directly address his father because he was human! Why hadn't he thought of that before? He told the woman in the church that god was no longer here, but how did he know for sure? Angels could seek revelation, but only from their superiors - never from their father, but humans, in their surety of divine privilege, never doubted it for a moment.
Maybe that's where he went wrong; he was praying to and searching for a being he had no right to pursue until now.
The man on the next bench finished his sandwich and was walking away. Castiel was alone again. He tiled his head up towards the sky again, closed his eyes, and began to pray.
"Heavenly Father, I, Castiel, your son, beseech you to now hear your humble servant."
He stopped.
What should he say? After centuries upon centuries of never speaking to his father directly, now was his opportunity but he found himself unsure. He always disliked humanity's habit of formulaic prayer. It implied laziness and smacked of disrespect to the wonderful gift given them. Rosaries mindlessly clicking together, endless chants counted off on Japa Mala beads, ritualistic dances, none of which performed with the weighty knowledge that they addressing the creator to his face and how he heard every single one of them. Castiel blinked away another tear and decided just to go on feeling alone.
"I was there at the beginning. I saw the void that you filled with galaxies, planets, and stars. Do you remember us falling to our knees in praise and worship and song? I remember how you selected one insignificant little planet and directed all your grace upon it. I remember the first amoeba that divided. I remember the algae and the simple creatures spawned from it and the first lungfish that heaved themselves onto the dry land. I remember the lizards and the dinosaurs and the favored mammals. I remember the Neanderthals and the early humans scraping out an existence. I remember all the civilizations that rose and fell with one blink of an eye.
I never doubted. I never questioned. I never hesitated, even on the day when they told me to deliver the righteous man from hell. He was so broken, Father, I could hardly bear to look upon him, but then I saw. I saw your grace shining within him and I understood why.
I gave up part of my own grace to heal him. I realize now that this meant I could not survive, but if I could, I would do it all again. I made him perfect for you, Father, because I loved you and that meant I loved him. I still do, Father. I love him more than…"
Castiel stopped again. He swallowed and took a breath before resuming.
"More than my own life, but I failed him and you. I've failed in every duty given to me and I have no excuse. I…I can only ask forgiveness."
He stopped again when tears began to stream down his face. He tried crunching up his face and screwing his eyes shut to stop it but no matter what he did, rivulets of saline flowed seamlessly from the corners of his eyes. He didn't know how long he sat there weeping until a small hand patted at his knee.
"Mister?"
Castiel opened his eyes to see a concerned Blake and his mother peering at him.
"I'm sorry but we were getting ready to leave and Blake wanted to…"
The young woman stopped and stood helplessly as they watched the strange man on the bench blink back at them with wet eyes. "Blake, honey, let's go. Your friend isn't feeling well. We'll talk to him another day." she said as she led her son away.
"No, wait." Castiel started but it was too late. Blake's mother was now strapping him into the passenger side of her car. As they drove away, Blake waved at Castiel who could only raise his hand in acknowledgement as he watched them go.
He returned his gaze back to the sky, waiting for some sign or feeling in his bones that his father had heard his prayers, but nothing was forthcoming. He sighed again and sat for the dusk to come.
"Amen."
"Oh hey, Steve. Back again?" said the night supervisor at the homeless shelter as he smiled and pushed a clipboard holding the registration card underneath the partition to Castiel.
"'Fraid so." Castiel shrugged.
"Well, don't you worry. You've got a job now. Soon you'll have your own place and this will just be a memory!"
"Yeah." Castiel said as he made his way to a bunk in the men's quarters.
He was exhausted and sank gratefully into the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, anxious for healing sleep to wash over him. As his eye blinks began to grow heavier and longer in duration, his pocket began to vibrate. He pulled it out and squinted at the caller's id displayed on the LCD screen.
"Dean."
"Hey Cas! How you doin'?" Dean's voice chirped.
"I'm fine. How are you?"
"Oh you know, same as always." Dean's voice chuckled.
"Um hmm."
"Where you at anyway?"
Castiel looked around the large room filled with bunk beds, each containing a ragged and desolate man.
"Home. You?"
"Just putting some gas in the Impala. Thought I'd give you a call and check in."
A long silence filled the conversation as Cas pinched at his eyes. He sniffed in heavily through his nose.
"Cas, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Dean. I think I may be coming down with a cold is all."
"Joys of being human." Dean chuckled.
"Um hmm."
"You sure you're okay? You don't sound like it."
"Yes, Dean. I'm sure." Cas said, trying to sound upbeat.
"Well, alright then. Hey, things are kind of slow here lately. Maybe I can get away. Come see you. We'll grab some beers or something. Whaddaya think?"
Please just hang up, Dean. Please. I can't stand this.
"Yes, I would like that."
"Great! Let me see what I can do. I call you in a day or so. Let you know if I can. Sound good?" Dean said as he resumed his chirping.
"Yes, Dean. Good night." Cas said as he pressed the button to end the call. He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, praying now only for the unconsciousness of sleep.