A/N First Supernatural related fic/tag! I realllyy like Castiel and more importantly the chemistry between him and Dean. This idea has been in my head since 4.16, since that was an omni-awesome eppy. But enough with my ranting here you go! SPOILERS FOR ANYONE WHO HASN'T SEEN 'On the Head of a Pin'
Disclamer: I don't own supernatural... no matter how many times i think i do .;
"I failed," whispered the sorrowful angel.
Castiel leaned against the hospital which currently held the dispirited Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester whom seemed to constantly change him, whether he knew it or not. The Dean Winchester whom he previously thought could pull through and be the savior his Father believed he would be. The savior he believed he would be.
The angel sighed, he went through his life always knowing, always being a whisper away from his brothers and sisters. Now he does not know what to do, what to feel, what to think. This was a new experience for him, not in all of his eons of existence had he felt this way, and it was utterly frightening.
Betrayal. Confusion. Isolation. Despair. Disappointment.
It all screamed failure at the angel. He was losing more than this war, he was losing his faith. Castiel now only had his slowly diminishing faith in his Father and Dean.
Yes, Dean. Even now, emotionally and physically broken in almost every way. The angel still had hope, it seemed to be all he had left.
I failed...
The thought kept passing through his head, scorning him, punishing him. He shouldn't have pushed Dean into torturing Alistair. He should have gotten to him in time, both in Hell and in the warehouse. He should have seen it coming and stopped it.
But I'm not strong enough..
He lowered his head, and eventually his body followed the action, leaving the angel sitting on the ground. His knees against his chest, and his arms limp at his sides. His eyes and checks suddenly felt wet and cold. He cautiously brought his hand to his eye and dabbed at the source. Then, pulling his hand back, examined the water which covered his finger tips. His face looked numb with a hint of curiosity, his chapped lips slightly parted.
Castiel tilted his head slightly and looked deeper at the liquid, as if it held the cure to his troubles. The angel's mind flashed to earlier, when Dean was confessing to him, his charge had shed a tear then. But Castiel knew the liquid on his finger was not a tear.
No. Angels can't cry... just like they can't feel.
Then what is happening to me?
Castiel leaned his head back to the cold brick. Everything that was going on was so conflicting, so confusing, so flighty. He wanted something there, something constant. He had Uriel be that, and see where that ended up.
On my knees, about to die.... If only Anna didn't show up.
Anna....
He didn't know what to think about her now, whether to hate her or be grateful towards her. He said what could be described as a mixture of a sigh, a growl, and a moan. Castiel was tired of this. In a mixture of sadness and frustration he ruffled his hand through his vessel's hair.
"What do I do.." His fallen plea, scared even with his roughened voice.
A/N I might continue this, I have some ideas. But thats if anyone really wants me to, so let me know!