I remember appearing before the Winchesters, weak and full of betrayal, asking for help. I had broken their trust, turned my back on everything they believed in, and denied them when they asked me to stop. I had killed. I had played at being god. As it should have been, Sam's face was incredulous; mistrustful. Yet, I remember looking to Dean, as I always seemed to do. I remember that fear was not the first emotion I read there. Nor was it suspicion. Dean Winchester, full of grace, so loyal to those he let in to his heart. The first thing I read in his eyes was acceptance, and a readiness to tear the world from its very roots should I ask it of him. I could see the question on his lips, What do you need Cas? It was more than I deserved, this faithfulness, this willingness to forgive, even if he had not yet consciously forgiven.
The reluctance followed mere moments after, and he shared the misgivings his brother had; but I had seen what came before. I knew in that moment that not all was lost between us. I also knew that redemption would be a long road, should I survive what was to happen next. As fate would have it, I both survived, and did not survive. I both died and lived on, as we both had before. I regret the pain he had to live through, thinking me lost and beyond the chance of deliverance.
I remember seeing Dean again, believing it the first time. He was just a man to me then, standing on the porch I called home and holding a knife covered in blood and strange runes. As far as my memories then I had never seen a person die or a demon's face. I remember thinking what incredible calm he maintained under the circumstances. Yet he looked down on me as the messiah returned, his Garden of Eden personified. I didn't understand how a stranger could look at someone like that. I suddenly thought of the phrase 'love at first sight'. I wondered if he believed in it.
The car ride on the way to see his brother was tense and the air was full of things unsaid. I could almost hear them but for the fog in my mind and the unexplained need to see this stranger smile. It seemed to me then that he had been sad for far too long. He deserved happiness. I had no idea then what made me think such things – I knew nothing of this person – but I believed it with my entirety. I believe it more with every day that passes.
I remember remembering. The flash of images in my mind's eye, the influx of information, sensory recall, and the memory of what I had done. The emotions were overwhelming. Angels are not supposed to feel emotion. For most of history it was rare for an angel to descend to earth, even more rare to take a vessel. We do not experience the five senses the same way humans do, yet they have become addictive; even the memory of them.
The senses humans experience amaze me. In my true form I could not fully appreciate just how much the green of Dean's eyes resembles moss on a rock in an untouched forest. I would not be able to describe the smoothness of the scar I left on his shoulder, or the roughness of his voice as it fills with emotions he tried so hard not to feel. The taste of salt as tears course down my face. Angels do not cry. I suppose in some way that makes me less of an angel. In many ways, Dean has made me less of an angel. I do not see this as a bad thing. He says it only makes me more of a human.
There are many things I remember about Dean. I remember places we have been together, things he has told me, information about his past, expressions he has worn, food he has eaten, and things he has killed. The most precious memories to me, however, are sometimes not significant ones.
I remember the pain of becoming human. It wasn't physical, more so emotional, and this was not something I was accustomed to. The memory, however, is a good one, because Dean stayed by my side and helped me through, taught me how to survive. More importantly, he taught me how to live. Precious to me is the memory of the first time I tried a bite of his beloved pie. The taste was sweet and heavy on my tongue – decadent. Upon hearing I approved, his eyes shone with a pride and happiness that I have seldom seen directed at anything but me.
Many hunts we have been on together, and many monsters have we killed. Some are more easily recalled than others. One in particular I enjoy remembering. It was not my first hunt as a human and it definitely would not be my last. It was a shape shifter, and a particularly clever one at that. In the end it was me who dealt the final blow. I swung recklessly and frantically, forgetting every bit of combat training the brothers had so carefully drilled in to me. Yet, Dean did not scold me. He thanked me for saving his life. Or rather, he thanked me for saving his 'bacon'. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, smiling in a carefree manner. The memory of that moment often brings a smile to my own face. I remember my shoulder continued to feel warm long after he removed his hand.
I remember my first nightmare, the terror of waking and not understanding. To this day I do not know how Dean knew I was in distress. He says I did not cry out, as Sam sometimes does in his sleep. Yet it seemed no sooner was I awake and in need of comfort then he appeared, his eyes full of concern and his heart protective of a fallen angel. That was the first time he drew me in to his arms and held me. I had little experience with humans; I could not have known how significant that was. I believe he was counting on that, on my lack of understanding.
I remember my first hangover, and Dean's all-consuming anger. It was strange to watch his face, soft and sympathetic as he soothed my head with a cold cloth and small white pills, turning hard and vicious as he lashed out at Sam for thinking it was funny to let me have alcohol while Dean had been away. I recall wondering how Dean could manage to make a soft whisper sound so violent. How one hand could be so pliant against my hair while the other balled in to a fist so tight it might never come unlocked. I remember watching Sam, who was watching Dean, and seeing the light of understanding dawn in his face. I had no idea what he was suddenly realizing, and at the time I had no interest. I was too much interested in how the previous night's dinner was trying to reappear.
There are many things I remember about Dean. I know where every scar is hidden, and how they came to be there. I knew every freckle on his face. I know the flecks of gray and yellow in his eyes. I know the one crooked tooth that makes his smile seem so rakish. My favourite memory has no visual stimulus, though. I have no picture to go along with it. My eyes were closed.
I remember the first time Dean kissed me. Frightened and confused, I told him how I felt strange around him, how I longed to be nearer, and yet it made my chest ache in an alien way. Ashamed, I hung my head and closed my eyes, awaiting his disapproval. I remember the feeling of his lips pressing softly against mine, the ache in my chest swelling, and my heart singing. I no longer feared retribution. I recall pressing forward, seeking more, yet unsure what the more was that I sought for. His chuckle was in my ears, and then his hand was on my cheek and I made some sort of noise that I am embarrassed to remember. Yet I remember the moment after the kiss. His lips no longer pressed against mine and I opened my eyes, afraid something was wrong. I remember his eyes.
No one has ever looked at anyone the way he looked at me then. I thought I knew love. Certainly I loved my father, and I followed his will. Certainly I loved my brother and sisters, and I fought at their side for millennia. Yet, I was born, bred to feel that kinship. Dean Winchester was not born loving me. He chose to do so. It grew inside of him because we met and he saw me and understood me and accepted me for who I was. Dean Winchester loved me in that moment, and has in every moment since. I remember seeing it in his eyes, understanding what it was I felt, and I remember the tear I shed. Happiness filled my entire being so fully I felt as if I might grow a new set of wings and fly us both round the world, to land right back here to exist in perfect togetherness.
I remember the laugh resounding in my ears, the sound of pure joy that he could not contain, and him pulling me to his chest tightly. I wound my arms around him as well because I understood now that we were in love, and I could hold him whenever it should please me to do so.
This is what I remember. I have many memories of Dean, but these are my most precious, my most revisited. I have memories of millennia before him, the years passing with nothing but a sense of duty pressing me onward. The short years I have lived with love, however, have been my best, and I would not see them end, not even to re-enter the service of my god. From the day I raised him from perdition, Dean has been the eternity that I have chosen. I have gained free will, and with it, I chose Dean. There has never been a moment that I have regretted it.
Father grant me entrance to your kingdom, not as a servant of your will but as a human soul come to rest in your eternal grace.
And why should I, Castiel? What is it in eternal rest that should come above my will?
I remember...