Castiel remembers. He remembers Heaven, white and pure and painless. Light laughter and hopes and dreams before Lucifer fell, and Heaven fell with him.
Castiel remembers humanity, curious little creatures so full of potential and light and love. He remembers watching them grow and develop entire countries and governments and religions, making their own path in their confusing and short lives. He remembers watching in awe as they blundered about their small planet and made something incredible out of it.
Castiel remembers Hell. He remembers searing flames and cruel laughter and horrible black eyes. He remembers screaming, so loud and so agonizingly human it hurts to think about. He remembers the Righteous Man, standing with a knife, his soul pulsing against the darkness he was falling into. And as he gazes at the terrified human with his wings arching up behind him, Castiel remembers. Dean Winchester does not.
Castiel remembers Hell, and he thinks it might be better than the slow torture that was his Fall. Heaven was gone, the presence that had held him up was gone and they were wrong. Castiel was merely a pawn in their games and everything he remembered was lies, manipulations to keep him in line. They had twisted him into their tool, and they had left him, broken and rusted and stranded on Earth. The search for God was all that Castiel had to hold himself together, and without it, Castiel knew he would truly fall.
Castiel remembers the end of the world. He remembers the final sacrifice of Sam Winchester, and his plea to keep his brother safe. Castiel remembers two brothers, drinking, laughing, together. He remembers how two brothers, an old drunk, and a falling angel saved the world. He remembers all of this and decides to follow the King of Hell and leave the eldest Winchester in peace. He has damaged the Winchester's life enough already.
Castiel remembers. He is barely holding himself together in the jumbled mess that his mind and body had become. He has been overtaken. Leviathan, he recalls faintly. He remembers Dean Winchester, his best friend- but no, Dean hated him, didn't trust him, wanted him dead. Just kill him now! And all that filled Castiel was crippling pain. As he waded into the waters and drowned, Castiel felt that he could finally breathe.
Castiel remembers. A thousand million lives torn apart by a single angel so far gone Lucifer seemed mild in comparison. He remembers blood and death and how he was the angel, or ex-angel, he supposed, who had destroyed the marvel that had been Sam Winchester. It was only right that he should fix him, even at the cost of his own sanity. It wasn't like anyone would miss him anyway. Castiel was no one.
Castiel remembers war, tearing through the ranks of those once considered family as they turned on one another. He remembers pain and loss and utter destruction. He made the choice, but it wasn't the right one. And now Castiel remembers, and wishes he couldn't, the blood dripping from his hands. And as he flees from the side of Dean Winchester to protect him as he couldn't before, Castiel found that being killed by one of the monsters that he had become killing him would only be fitting.
Castiel remembers. But it's not right, Naomi's words are twisting, driving like the drill into his head and soul. Castiel doesn't know what is real and what isn't, he remembers wrong. Everything is so confusing and Castiel is lost. He doesn't know how to feel, but he remembers.
Castiel remembers. He remembers hope that he could finally be of service, finally do some good. But fate had other plans, or at least Metatron did. He had fallen for the angel's game, and now the angels had fallen. He was the angel who had torn heaven apart. He had ruined countless lives, and as he stared up at Dean, lost, confused, and so human he realized he truly was nothing. The Winchesters had no need of him, so what was his purpose?
Castiel remembers. He remembers a thousand small moments, the Winchesters and Castiel. Everything had been lost for one human, and as Metatron gazed at him for a moment Castiel forgot how to breathe. Dean Winchester was dead. He was gone and Castiel was dying and Sam was falling apart. Castiel wonders if the memories were so wonderful why remembering hurt so much.
Castiel remembers dying. He rembers the darkness that followed before drawing a painful breath of life. He remembers Leviathans and devils and demons, but nothing has terrified him more than watching Dean sink into the darkness. Such a place was for only those as Castiel, not Dean Winchester. He had lost and sacrificed so much, Dean Winchester did not deserve this. Castiel knew he would do whatever it takes to save Dean Winchester, even if that meant the cost of his (rather insignificant) life.
Castiel remembers everything. A thousand insignificant moments to some, but to him they pointed to one conclusion. We're both expendable. Ambriel had been right, before he had gotten her killed. He would have to add another life to those lost at his hands. Castiel had no use. He was used up, broken, ready to be thrown into the fire. A thousand words spoken throughout the past six years all piling up to one huge fact.
Miracle,now!Gethealing!Idon'tcareaboutyourstupidpissingmatchwithRaphael!Nobodycaresthat you'rebroken,Cas!Whatareyou?Youdon'tevendieright,doyou?Youhavetochoose, Castiel. Usorthem?Deadmanwalking!Itwasallforonehuman,right? Youhelp,butSamandDeanWinchester aretherealheroes.
There was no use for Castiel anymore. The Winchesters had moved on without him before. There would be the lack of angelic power, but Castiel was barely an angel anymore. As Castiel looked up at Lucifer, he remembered. And he said the only thing he could. Yes.
As light filled the cage, Castiel could only pray that this time he would die right.
My gosh, remember doesn't even sound like a word anymore! Anyway, I just finished this angsty little drabbley thing about Castiel. I really have a thing about beating up our poor angel in a trench coat. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.