Castiel is hurting. He has hurt before, many times; countless injuries to his vessel, endless hurts to his grace and being in heaven, back when he knew his cause was just, the light of God guiding his sword. But this isn't the same. This is some new, unfathomable hurt that Castiel knows no angel would ever experience. That he's now human is the least of his worries.

(He can feel it though, every cell in this—his?—body dying, nearing the end. And it's something an immortal being has a hard time understanding. How do humans function, with death clinging to their every fiber? It's a cold, cloying feeling that has Cas wanting to yell stop and have time obey him, but it will not, it will never obey him again.)

The pain is emotional. He knows this, and yet it feels as though something is constricting around his heart, making every beat painful. Castiel has never heard of having 'a broken heart', but he would agree, and then wonder why God cursed his favorite creations with them.

He finds himself standing outside the Impala, looking over the black frame that shines, even in the dim lights of the motel parking lot. Dean loves this car, adores every imperfection and nuance.

Cas wants to be jealous or angry, to be able to blame something, to yell at the car for being show love from the man that Cas wants to be shown affections from so deeply, and he knows its crazy and senseless, but he thinks it would give him release.

But he can't muster the effort that that takes. All he sees when he looks at the Impala is the trusted companion of Sam and Dean Winchester, the one thing that has stayed a constant, been with them for far longer than Castiel. He can only see a safe haven and a home. Castiel's home is closed off from him now, in more ways than ever (he refuses to look up, as if the gates to heaven will be visibly closed, unyielding to Castiel and the sins he now carries). He can only hope that the Impala will be willing to spare some of that comfort as he opens the back door, using a bit of what he has left of his grace to unlock it silently.

He slips in, shuts the door behind him and runs his hand along the interior, feeling it warm. He leans back against the door and rests his side along the back of the seat, curling his legs up and wrapping his arms loosely around them.

He will not cry. Although it feels as though an angel's blade is in his chest, not destroying outright, but slowly tearing at what is left of his grace until what remains is tatters not worthy of the title. This does not deserve his tears. There are heartaches far worse than this that humans have gone through for millennia, are going through now, and will go through again in the future. The pain of one fallen and disgraced angel does not deserve tears.

The silence of the Impala, so like the silence in his head, is a comfort where the other is a terror. It is solid against him as so many things are not, letting him be without expectation or orders. A wrinkle in time, however fake, that is much appreciated.

There's a tap on the glass, and as Cas whips around, astonished (scared) that he did not know of someone coming this close, the illusion is ruined. It's Sam, and Cas is hastening to open the door.

"Hey Cas," Sam is leaning on the frame, a drop of confusion marring his tone, "What're you doing out here? I was just gonna bring in the food." He raises a plastic bag a touch.

Just as he did not think to hide his love for Dean, he does not think to hide from Sam, only having the slightest hesitation, "I told Dean that I love him."

Cas can tell Sam is trying to keep any reaction inward, and he looks away, unwilling to sit through the emotions that still flash through Sam's eyes. That must tell Sam something, because his tone is infinitely softer.

"Oh Cas, was Dean an idiot again?" He's sympathetic and Cas doesn't know what to do with it, "you know he loves you too, right?"

"I do," and Cas does. He knows Dean better than he knows himself, he knows how deeply Dean can love, and he knows that Dean loves him. But…"I think he is afraid of being hurt, Sam, he thinks I would hurt him." Which is preposterous and entirely unfounded. Castiel has loved Dean since he saw his soul through the fires of hell, putting a name to that love is not a mark of an approaching end.

Sam sees that too, "Dean's an idiot," he sighs.

"He thinks I can't love"

"Oh, um, wow, that's a new level, even for him."

"It is my fault, I should have known that Dean would not like a 'chick-flick moment," he tries to keep the rueful quality from his voice.

"No, Cas, screw him! He can be a jerk if he wants, be he can't go around screwing with the people he loves and who love him" Sam is seething, "he can't take the best thing that's going for him and shove it away! He's sabotaging his own fucking happiness, he's-!" Sam is cut off by a growl, "…was that you?"

"…I seem to be hungry."

Sam lets out a bark of laugher, choosing to take amusement from the human condition instead of allowing it to horror him, and reaches into his bag, grabbing a wrapped hamburger and passing it over.

"I'm guessing that you don't want to eat inside." Cas simply starts to unwrap the burger, "Yeah, okay, I'll go in and talk to him."

"Don't, Sam" Cas doesn't take his eyes off the burger, "just—don't."

Sam's huff is less than sympathetic, "between the two of you, you'll never be happy. I'm starting to think you're both masochists."

"Sam."

Sam raises his hands in surrender and walks away, shaking his head as he goes.

so I'm back! I finally got Word on my computer, but I'm leaving for the airport in half an hour, so I had to be quick with this, so please excuse any mistakes, any and all are entirely of my own doing.

like it? hate it? abhor it? don't leave me in the dark!