So I wrote this for becausedestiel on tumblr for pointing me towards the theme tag (I really wanted it) and this is a thank you that I wrote for her... at 1 am. Gosh, forgive me for my horrible English
I do not own Supernatural, or any of it's characters.
A bright light flashed across the sky, streaking over Russia as the Angel descended upon the mundane, his name? Castiel, warrior of his father and the Angel of Thursday. He landed gracelessly upon the snow encrusted ground, blasting a crater two miles in diameter; he still saw no point in his deployment, then again, when had he ever questioned an order? Peering down at the tan trench coat and wrinkled white shirt, a spark of disdain lit within his shocking blue eyes. Humans were disgusting, disheveled, tainted, and sinful creatures; the sylph couldn't understand why his father loved such reckless creatures so much, since free will was a curse from what he heard, undoubtedly, it has caused even the most faithful to fall, and the thought itself sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Who would wish to abandon the glory of their father?
With another shudder Castiel willed his wings to take action, carrying himself to where he was posted as the guardian angel of the Righteous Man; the man who went against Fate, the same man who had sullied his father's words, the man whom he hated with something akin to hell fire.
He was a warrior of God, not a guardian to some brainless human, but for whatever reason, Castiel could not prevent his eyes from roaming down the man's form, a warm sensation blooming in his chest as he saw that no harm had befallen the human. For that, he gave himself a baffled inquisition, why would he care about this lower being? For this was the first time the angel had laid eyes upon Dean, yet his eyes follow every movement, every twitch this ape makes, and each action makes him tingle like a metaphorical man who has had his fill of water after days wandering the desert… He was beautiful, intricate, and feminine yet so far from female it was laughable, but it did not excuse the way blue eyes listlessly raked down the well muscled form… and when Castiel caught himself grinning, that was the end of "examine-your-charge-that-makes-you-react-oddly-because-ihe-makes-you-feel-happiness-that-should-only-be-reserved-for-your-father-so-it-makes-you-that-much-more-confused." He barred himself from all other human simulation as glimmering aquatic wings were forcefully pushed into a separate plane to prevent the harm of one very fragile creature.
With a subtle twitch of slim fingers, a shiver of barely restrained power, and icy hatred that was embedded so deeply, it was etched into his grace, Castiel uncloaked himself.
"Dean Winchester"
The man in question snapped his head around so rapidly that he had to regain his balance. Dean was so human, so, so painfully human that Castiel wondered with unreserved distaste as to why another could not take his place. As he watched his charge, his charge gazed back with familiarity, unflinching under the pressure of his poorly contained grace; the human was visibly conflicted, features shifting through emotions which roiled about within him to the point of inflicting slight discomfort upon the Angel. It could not be healthy to rapidly fling through so many emotions: first came the disbelief, quickly followed by joy, hope, relief, devastation, and lingered upon anger, rage, hurt, grief though settled firmly back to a mixture of humming disbelief and crippling relief, "Cas, is that you buddy?" he man asked, voice scratchy as though he had been on the verge of tears moments before.
"I do not know of this Cas you speak of, Dean Winchester. I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, I have come to guard you under the orders of my Father. Rejoice human, for you are saved." and just like that, all the joy and hope seeps out of the human's conscious, replaced just as quickly with frigid rage.
As an Angel, anger at salvation could not be understood understand; why was this mortal not overjoyed by the Heavenly Father's generosity? This man should be prostrated before the holy being who breathed life onto this desolate rock, not boiling over with anger when just before he was very nearly bursting with joy.
With equal amounts of anger to match Castiel's lack of emotions, and burning rage to sooth the Angel's frigid tone, Dean spat out a string of crass profanities, which generally ran along the lines of "Screw God," "What did those feathery fuckers do to you," "Cas, please tell me you're in there," "I'll kill every one of them," and so forth. After the first two minutes under the itchy temperament of one very angry Winchester, Castiel has had more than enough, "Quiet human, your concerns were not needed, I was ordered to warn you of your precedent before I begin my duty." and with that, he vanished, waiting with anticipation for his order to end the suffering of this tainted, filthy soul. Oh he could barely restrain his glee, for when the inevitable came, for it would, as that was the goal of his mission, he would be the one to end the blasphemy that was this man's life.
Yet somewhere, locked deep within his grace, a panicked scream cried out. It begged for mercy not for himself, but for the man who was, and still is his friend, family, companion and possibly, even the target of his slightly awkward affection. The Castiel who was locked within, the Castiel who had free will, who remembered everything struggled to break free; he threw himself feebly against the resilient walls which lined his subconscious, smothering his memories of everything. Of the good, the bad, and the unbearably painful. It robbed him of who he was and what he loved, it barred him from everything that made Castiel what he had become. His free will was forcefully disciplined, locked away under layers upon layers of Angel hardwiring (for nothing could eliminate free will once it has obtained it, his father had made certain of that…free will was absolute) until he was once again, a Hammer for his missing Father. And now, he had the sinking feeling that he would be forced to kill his only family, forced to live with the blood of those who trusted him upon his hands…
For the first time since Castiel came into creation, he slumped into himself, and cried the cries of the powerless, of the hopeless… cried the cries of a broken man who knew he would be the doom to befall his first and last lover…
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