"Oh the shame that sent me off from the God that I once loved
Was the same that sent me into your arms
Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone
And no hope, no hope will overcome..."
"Cas..."
It's been so long since he last heard this simple, yet powerful word. Felt like decades, when in reality, only a few weeks passed. Purgatory might've been pure, but it wasn't an easy place to live in. Especially on the run. All the time.
Those eyes, they captured him. The angel of the Lord was stock-still by the infinite ocean of emerald, and a tingling sensation ran through his spine. It felt like electricity, and the sudden sound of relieved laughing made him shiver for a second.
That man... Was laughing. And he was already dangerously close before the angel could spoke a word.
The next moment, strong and desperate arms grabbed him tightly and that man, the righteous man pulled him into an embrace, which he could never reciprocate. He felt pain, and his fingers clenched. It was so wrong, on so many levels. He lost his way somewhere (he didn't even remember when), and all he knew that it wasn't right. He wanted to step back, to push the man away, to break the feeling of home by just simply disappearing... Yet, he couldn't. He was well aware of his weakness, but he would've never thought he was this helpless.
He knew he wasn't allowed to move, not even a finger. Not where anyone else could see him, not where he could put the only thing that he was breathing for in danger. But he still had something that no one could see, but this human could sense. It was tiny, yet as strong as that one word he was longing to hear for dozens of sleepless nights. And now that he heard it... Nothing seemed to be able to stop him.
He spread his wings wide, and let them fall on the shoulders of his human.
Angel wings were clean, untouched by humans, invisible, leaving only the sound of them for the mortals, the vain desire for possessing them. This particular angel, however, knew very well how this man would never want to deprive him of such a thing. How he would touch the smooth feathers with fear of crushing them, never removing his eyes from them to keep them safe.
Even now, that he couldn't see the man's face, he bit back the all-knowing smile. He closed his eyes for a moment, cosseting the oh-so-younger man's face with the tip of each feather, breathing in his life, the essence of his being.
Just a bit of hope, Castiel, he reassured himself when guilt tried to break through the surface, and he opened his eyes just to see their motionless forms from a whole different point of view, somewhere far in the distance. You earned it, soldier.
So they stayed still. Lingering in the peace and purity of the moment, right in the middle of pestilence.