You Misunderstand Me
A/N: This was also sort of inspired by Dean asking Castiel "You get your freak on by watching other people sleep?" in It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester (4x07) and Cas saying "I'll watch over you." all nonchalantly in Hunter Heroici (8x08). This can be set around Hunter Heroici or basically any time the boys are in a motel room and what Cas is thinking while he waits for them to wake up. Sorry about all the art references too, it's probably because of my art history class. If you enjoy it, thank you for reading and reviewing though, if you do!
He and his brothers and sisters had witnessed many things throughout the eternally, long lasting lifespans God had bestowed upon them.
His own eyes had caught a glimpse of the early formations of galaxies and nebulae. Some of which he had seen would actually later be known as the Milky Way and stars. He had once envisioned how these stars burned, swirling passionately, in his father's welcoming palms. He often imagined the bursts of light that shot from his father's fingertips when he adorned the night sky with these specks of grace that illuminated the cold, darkness.
He had seen the creation of the cave paintings of Altimira, the works of Da Vinci, Rodin, and MichelAngelo, including many others. He could understand why these artisans had been revered among people.
However, his favorite artist had been his father.
Perhaps, it was due to his own personal bias, but Castiel had never been able to find any adjective from any language that could fully describe the majesty of God's creation.
Van Gogh's Starry Night was a good portrayal of the night sky. However, that moon and those stars would not be present, had not been for God's firm brushstroke that used the darkness on the Fourth Day of Creation as his own canvas.
MichelAngelo's David and Rodin's The Thinker, were admirable pieces, as well. Yet, these sculptures carved from stone were merely second hand imitations of the real pieces of art crafted from his father's likeness.
Humans.
Humanity, had been his father's greatest work and he had given the angels the ability and privilege to see the beauty of his creation continuously evolve, even from a small, grey fish.
Castiel now let his blue eyes meet the sleeping figures on the two beds of the small motel room. His steps were gentle as he stood in front of a wooden dresser that created an aisle, separating the two mattresses. He glanced from his left to right; the sleeping figures now lying at either side of him.
He recalled how many of his brothers and sisters had viewed these mortal beings as fragile, weak, and flawed. His head tilted at the sight of their arms, some bruises and scars had still been visible from the countless battles or terrors they had faced. These arms were protected by multiple layers of skin only to cut and tear easily, and give way to the supposedly durable bones that broke as quickly as a tree branch would snap in half from a particularly strong gust of wind.
Despite how "fragile, weak, and flawed" they were, Castiel had felt those same arms wrap around him tightly in support or grip painfully and push away, fighting against him. These arms had possessed an unmistakable, unyielding ability to produce strength from sheer willpower, something angels had been unable to do. Even the scars left at their exposed skin held beauty in the way they symbolized the countless sacrifices made that only continued to empower and fuel their stubborn ambition.
Castiel finally smiled at the sleeping brothers as he quietly watched the rise and fall of their chests and listened to the rhythm created by the soft breaths that escaped their lips. God had created these beautiful beings that were strong enough to carry the angel on even his heaviest of days. Perhaps, his father was his favorite artist because Castiel simply favored his work of art the most.
