A/N: I wanted to write a story about something from Castiel's life before he met Sam and Dean Winchester. I went my own way with some of the details about angels and the like, just because I wanted to try something new. And I had a little fun with Castiel's Roman name, putting some actual meaning into it: Alexis Adeodatus, which means "Defender" "Given to God", and as an added bit Alexis is the unisex version of the Latin Alexius. It's been a very long time since I've written something fiction, ad copy and short stories don't have much in common. Or maybe they do, come to think about it! Anyway, I hope this doesn't suck too much. ;-)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Small Things
It was a pleasant Tuesday afternoon, a perfect day for sitting in a park and letting one's thoughts roam free in contemplation of whatever strikes one's fancy. The angel Castiel, Warrior of God and Angel of Thursday, was leaning against a tree and reflecting on the attractive symmetry of the landscaping and the contrast of colors in the flowerbeds.
Although "leaning" wasn't exactly accurate, as Castiel wasn't in humanoid form but instead choosing to manifest as a swirl of campfire sparks, a clear, perfect "G" as chimed by a crystalline bell, and the scent of a balsam fir at Christmastime. He especially liked that last touch to his presence….feeling that the first two alone were lacking completeness in his personal expression.
"I believe this Heaven is my favorite," Castiel thought, "but then the Hopi medicine woman's Heaven has been deeply satisfying and will always have a place in my heart." This current autistic man's Heaven was a recent discovery; Castiel had spent many years choosing to spend his meditative hours in the stark beauty of the American southwest desert landscape. He reflected on the contrast between the lush greens and bright colors of the park and the dry reds and ochers and olives of the desert, how each in its own way was a unique and beautiful example of God's handiwork. Both showcased brilliant blue skies…Castiel mused on how two places that could be so very different shared a common sky. But in the Hopi woman's Heaven, the blue of her sky included all the colors of a sunset, high cirrus clouds streaked with yellow, orange and red, pinks and purples and indigos. He had spent many hours – or was it years? – studying the sky with his thoughts empty of everything except enjoyment of the perfection of that setting sun.
"Years," he thought. "Or was it decades? Maybe centuries…no. Decades. I'm certain it was decades." He sighed inwardly, deciding that he needed to make a better effort to understand time as humans did, so he could properly express dimensional increments using their words. After all, one never knew when such a skill might come in handy. One of his angel brothers favored the Heaven of an Australian aborigine….Castiel had visited him and the two had studied and meditated on the uniqueness of that people. "Now there is a human society that understands time very similar to our own angelic comprehension" he thought. He decided that would be a good topic for future contemplation: humans and their imprecise relationship to the true nature of time. "I wonder how this autistic man's perception…."
"Castiel." The sudden appearance of the angel Micah interrupted his thoughts, an unexpected visitor to his solitary refuge. But Micah was a friend, and having some company would be welcome, as he had already achieved a peaceful state and was in a mood for conversation.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a social visit. "I need your help, Castiel" said Micah. "There is a situation we need to intervene in, the proper progression of what-will-be is in jeopardy and we need to step in at the crisis point."
"Why come to me?" Castiel asked. "It has been many hundreds – no – thousands?" he indicated frustration with the human terms with an extra swirl of sparks and a discordant sharp chime. "Perhaps over a thousand years since I last interacted directly with humans. I'm afraid if you are seeking assistance involving anything other than basic communication skills you're asking the wrong angel."
"You understand humans far more than you let on," said Micah. "Or at least all these centuries you have spent on your studies and meditations in these little individual paradises have given you greater insight than those of us who do not choose to spend our time this way."
"Then if you believe I can be of help to you, I will go with you" Castiel replied. "What is the mission?"
"We need to prevent a little girl from attempting a dangerous and foolhardy act," said Micah.
"That hardly seems a task requiring two angels" Castiel mused.
"There is a demon involved," Micah replied.
"Ahh" Castiel indicated understanding with a dance of sparks and sound like the sigh of a gentle breeze through the branches of a fir tree. "Will this require a physical presence? Recalling the body of my last vessel might require some modification to his appearance…current human society has changed a great deal since the days of Trajan's rule."
Micah shook his head. He was currently manifesting in the form of his host, a 30-something man with noble, Mediterranean features and dark eyes that sparkled with gentle humor. Some angels chose to assume the appearance of their most recent host even after returning to Heaven's realms, others returned to their true angelic forms….and then there were those like Castiel, who occasionally changed their dimensional expressions to suit their moods: sometimes as their former hosts, other times as whatever their vast intelligences could create as a means of entertainment. After all, even eternal beings need something interesting to occupy themselves with when not performing Heavenly duties. Castiel was currently in an experimental mood; usually he was one to stick with something when he found satisfaction in it but after centuries of manifesting in the form of the human Alexis Adeodatus, who had been a textiles trader during the height of the Roman Empire, he had decided to experiment a little….thus the sparks. But sentient sparks smelling of Christmas trees and sounding like a crystal bell wouldn't exactly blend in with people when dropping in on Earth.
"No, I have information that indicates what will be required of us is more of subtle guidance, not direct confrontation with the child or demon," Micah offered. He was angel whose purpose was involved with guidance and true paths, and was one of the Host who dealt with the Divine Plan. Castiel was not one of those angels, but had no envy towards those who had greater access to information than he. In fact, it didn't even occur to him to be envious, or curious, or otherwise wanting to be in a position on a level with Micah….he was what he was, he had his own purpose and being and was satisfied with it. After all, what other way was there to be?
The world was clothed in winter-white, snow drifting in soft heaps around the edges of what would have been a soccer field in warmer seasons. In front of the two angels was a playground, slides and swing sets glittering with ice in the watery sunlight. They stood, invisible to the human eye, and watched as one small fair-haired girl played by herself on a metal structure that Micah identified as "monkey bars" to Castiel's unspoken question. He indicated amusement at the information, communicating that it was rather unhelpful and sounded vaguely insulting – some angels not having the best of opinions concerning humans and frequently referred to them as hairless apes.
"She is a beautiful child," said Castiel, meaning in the understanding of angels that she was beautiful both physical and spiritual, as well as beauty-that-was, beauty-that-is, and beauty-that-will be.
"Yes," agreed Micah. "But her importance in what-is-to-come is what makes this one particular child so special. Her beauty on this plane of existence won't matter if she drowns under the ice of that frozen lake this day."
The two gazed out at the lake, a good-sized body of water that bordered the left edge of the soccer field and playground. The clouded winter sky reflected grey off the ice, the dark, deep water that could freeze flesh in a minute lurking just under the frozen surface. A dangerous place, one where a small child could get into trouble so quickly that no one would be able to help until it was long past too late.
But the idea was to prevent the girl from needing an angel-rescue, miraculous survivals from icy lakes were all well and good, but Micah was firm that in her case, there must not be any appearance of supernatural goings-on. Castiel wondered about this, but Micah was the one with the inside-knowledge and so he didn't question.
So together they stood and waited, alert for demonic trouble but with the calm, unmoving infinite patience that angels frequently called upon when engaged in their work. Although, in Castiel's case, he wasn't exactly either standing or unmoving….but his swirl of sparks had slowed to a lazy spiral and the bright chime has turned into a more quiet and meditative tone.
They waited for an hour, then two, as the cloud-hidden sun slowly made its way across the sky. Towards the end of the third hour, the day now subtly turning into early evening, what the two angels had been so patiently waiting for finally happened.
All during this time, the little girl had been amusing herself on the playground equipment, playing with and talking to what appeared to be some sort of imaginary friend. (Castiel found that fascinating, and was amused to think that his own presence would be just as invisible and unbelievable to the child's parents.) Behind the angels, the field and playground backed up to a row of neat and well-cared for houses, a neighborhood where already a few street lights were flickering on in the lengthening evening shadows, and windows were coming alight with the warm cheer of home and a suggestion that it was time to come in from the cold and have some dinner. In the windows of the kitchen and living room of the house nearest the playground, a woman had been engaged in various domestic activities, occasionally looking out to check on the girl. The mother, Castiel thought, perceiving the family connection between the two.
The demonic plan was so subtle that if the angels hadn't been there and attentive, it would have passed by unnoticed. A simple little manipulation, something that would appear as no more than a terrible tragedy, an awful but unfortunately ordinary accident. A small stray puppy had been nosing around the snow-capped hedges that bordered one side of the playground, a lost little beagle whose wandering path took it into view of the girl long enough to be noticed. As soon as it had the child's attention, it turned and trotted off in the direction of the lake. Only the angels would have noticed that the eyes were far darker than normal for such an animal.
The little girl, seeing the dog heading out onto the dangerous ice, naturally responded as little girls will do and immediately jumped down from the swing she had been sitting on and ran after the puppy. The ice was substantial enough to hold the dog's weight, and so it could easily lure the girl farther out on to the increasingly thinner ice until the frozen surface could no longer bear even her slight weight and crack. She would be out on the lake and gone before her mother would even see what had happened.
She had almost reached the lake's edge when Micah stopped time, and Castiel moved in close to the child and whispered in her ear. Understanding how stubborn and single-minded humans could be, he needed to imprint in her consciousness the need for careful consideration, for assessment of risk, and restraint when it came to the impulsive acts of a generous heart. He counseled caution, and awareness of the dangers of a larger world. All these things he wound into her thoughts, binding them into her being so that the next time a demon tried to tempt her into danger with a helpless-seeming animal, she would resist the trap.
The little girl that walked away from the lake, back through the playground and towards the welcoming lights of her home was a different girl that sat in that swing only minutes before. Her footsteps weren't quite so light, her smile not quite so carefree, her eyes holding a bit more wisdom and seriousness than a human of seven years should have. Castiel regretted the loss of the girl's childish innocence, the new wariness in her gaze. But that caution was necessary, part of the larger plan according to Micah, it would serve her well in her future…so Castiel accepted the fact that what was done was for the greater good and kept silent.
Castiel and Micah stood in the quiet darkness of the little girl's room, the soft light of the quarter moon acting as a heavenly nightlight as it shone through the sheer window curtains. The room was filled with the toys and objects of an active child, and evidence that she was far more the tomboy than a girl interested in dolls and tea parties. Castiel studied the bow and arrow set in one corner, and what appeared to be a small hunting knife on her nightstand. Strange items for a little girl to own, he mused, but then again he wasn't all that familiar with human children of either gender and these might be within the norm for seven year old females. Micah would probably know the meaning behind these items, but that was his information to share or not, and Castiel didn't ask.
The new, more serious set to her features was relaxed away in sleep, but her dreams were not easy. She twitched and one small fist gripped the edge of her quilt, twisting it.
"A nightmare," said Micah.
"Yes," agreed Castiel.
Micah turned his gaze upwards. "We can leave now, she is safe and the future-that-is-to-be will unfold as it is Written."
He vanished, returning to Heaven, but Castiel lingered. He studied the little girl, her sweet face frowning in the grip of her dream.
He leaned over, and gently kissed her on the forehead. Then he too slipped away.
Little Mary Campbell's face relaxed into a smile, her bad dreams fading into visions of brilliant blue skies, campfire sparks, and the sound of angel wings.