Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm: for love is strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love, and neither can the floods drown it […]
Song of Solomon 8:6-7
There exist many such words thought capable of expressing this concept. Whole professions are dedicated to the translation of it.
Their word for it is love. In every language ever to be spoken, heard, or written with the hands of men, love exists. There are even classifications of love. There exist different types. Humans are curious creatures. They create boundaries where there are none, and yet often ignore those occurring naturally. It is simultaneously endearing and frustrating.
Humans' love supposedly lives within and escapes from their individual hearts. Stylized versions of this organ are frequently depicted on decorative paper, accompanied by wordy descriptions and explanations. Some humans gift each other with these papers on significant days. The decorative papers are an example of humans' stranger practices. Their mangling of the nature of Cupids is another.
For humans there are many ways to love, through words, images, sounds, ideas.
He much prefers touch, however.
Humans are not completely unlike Angels. The act of embracing is comfortingly similar.
It is somehow not in his Vessel's nature to love in every way. As Castiel seeks to move closer, the body in turn attempts to resist. It is an obstacle easily overcome.
"Cas. . . "
He does not set his hand to the mark again, despite the nearly overpowering urge to do so. They are not fully Close at the moment, but such a thing. . . such a thing can wait. Castiel has learned to be cautious. Too many times has he acted without considering what might lie ahead.
There are no certainties with humans.
Being amongst them has shown him he was correct, though.
Love is God. Love is humans giving each other colorful pieces of paper with ridiculous notions of the acts of Cupids. Love is music and moving pictures and the word 'help.'
Love is His Word forever, and His Word is the face of Man.
God's Love is this moment forever. It is being embraced with hands and body and mouth.
It is the Whisper of a familiar voice.
Love is opening this Vessel's eyes and Seeing bits of himself flaring up within the green of Dean's. The Word is being Close enough that they can no longer be separate. There exist many words, but there is truly only one.
Singular. All.
God, the Word, Truth.
"Dean. . . "
Love.
Often, he wonders about sleep. It is necessary for humans. Their bodies require a certain amount of stillness in order to function.
And, yet, during these periods of stillness there are dreams. There is breath and life and thought without action. He finds it endlessly intriguing.
Sleep is interesting, but dreams are even more so. Each one is unique, not only to the person experiencing it, but also unto itself.
Well, nearly. Some dreams repeat. Looping, it is called. Recurring. This too is intriguing. He has heard of pleasant dreams looping, but rarely does that seem to be the case. More often, what recur are human 'nightmares.'
Too often for some.
Dreams are a phenomenon exclusive to planet life. Angels do not dream, and neither do those Below. Only creatures do, and all have nightmares. All, but not All. It is. . . intriguing, if somewhat unpleasant to Witness.
Castiel has Seen dreams many times now, many people's, many beings'. Animals' dreams are by far simpler in content than humans', but interestingly enough equally as fulfilling. The Chase is common to all dreams, and thrilling, no matter the creature acting as prey. For animals, the Chase is for food or mating. For humans. . . it is for these and more.
The Chase is also from something. Animals attempt to flee from danger. Children run like prey in dreams, as well. Those humans who think themselves weak or lesser, they too are running. Women run; men run. Castiel once thought everyone did.
Samuel Winchester dreams of the Chase, and seldom is he the Hunter. In dreams, Sam runs and runs and runs. His nightmares are those times he looks back, and sees nothing and no one behind him.
Where his brother runs, Dean does not. In dreams, he is always prey, to some degree. He is both like and unlike all other humans and animals. He thinks himself lesser, but he does not run away. Instead, Dean rushes after. He runs toward. Dreaming, he never seeks to hide or escape, but forever confronts. He turns around every time. He Changes. In all the dreams he has Witnessed, Dean is the only human Castiel has Seen always do this.
Those are his 'good' dreams. Facing danger in his sleep produces a more pleasant reaction from Dean than do his other dreams. When Dean is solely prey, his body is still, his mind calm. It is when he somehow simultaneously acts as Hunter and prey that the reverse is true.
Hunter in dreams is universal. Hunter is anything feared. One man in Oregon, in whose dream Castiel once walked, was the prey of ink while asleep. Awake, Castiel discovered, that man wrote human books. He was not unlike the Prophet Chuck, actually, in that he drank copious amounts of alcohol and had the unusual habit of talking to himself at length.
Castiel is forever able to See back, Look behind, but he cannot Know what comes ahead. This is true inside dreams and without. The past is not gone to his eyes, never can be. It and the present are interchangeable, one and the same. It is the future that does not exist, not for him, anyway. The future is Possibility, or so it is Said. Castiel has never been able to See forward. He cannot. It is beyond his reach, as it is for few others of his kind. Where he is unable to go, that also seems to be where his brothers Plan and converse. That is where they Lie and Tell falsities. Where he does Look, can go, is worthless to them, for who among the Heavenly Host does not already Know what has happened?
Witnessing dreams, as interesting as it is, is also potentially dangerous, at least for Castiel. In doing so, he is being reckless. He does not Know if it is the same for all Angels, for there exist none anymore whom he could safely ask. He thinks the answer is 'no,' however. He theorizes only those of high Grace are able to effortlessly navigate through human dreams, and Speak to, cajole, woo humans from therein. Zachariah is one of these. Anael was as well and is again. Perhaps easy manipulation is a gift of Archangels, for Uriel too, Castiel recalls, could walk unharmed and remain constant within dreams. He even took great pleasure in changing them.
The future, it is Said, is Possibility. But what are dreams, if not endless possibilities? They are not Truth, but dreams do not strictly Lie, either. Is it not feasible then that dreams, from humans, animals, Lesser beings, are in fact. . . the future? Why were only the highest of Angels Given the ability to walk dreams and shape them? Why such a gift, when humans, and anything to do with humans, are so looked down upon?
Doesn't it make sense that some connection must exist between dreams and the future, for Angels, Archangels, the most powerful of the powerful, the First Born, Highest of All, to be the only ones capable of navigating dreams. . . and also the only ones able to Lie? His lofty brothers do not Speak to him. They hide, and they hide where he cannot See. Castiel, it is Known, cannot Know the future.
And he cannot See the end of dreams. The outcome of each one is as much a surprise to him as it is to the being dreaming it. Even in dreams, he cannot See what lies ahead.
Or what Lies are ahead.
And does it not seem also that the greatest among them decline to interact with planet life in any other way but through dreams? Dreamscapes are considered places relatively uncorrupted, where bodies cannot pollute the Spirit, where the physical is not in evidence. Rare is it anymore that an Angel takes a Host, which is why Vessels have in turn become few in number. To inhabit a Vessel is thought to be distasteful - necessary, in certain cases, but undesirable. What once was commonplace and routine, is now atypical, odd.
To walk amongst humans, he has also heard it Said, is disgusting. To walk in their dreams, however. . . now that is another matter, altogether.
Castiel. . . quite enjoys his Vessel. He has, he realizes now, always been as he is thus. The human words are deviant, abnormal. He cannot walk unaffected or remain unmoved in dreams. He cannot stand apart from human suffering. More than this, though, is the fact he does not wish to. Castiel is intrigued. He enjoys.
He Loves, and it has become apparent to him that somehow his brothers do not.
It was smell at first, then Feeling. Sight was dimmed within a Vessel, as hearing was, but he'd anticipated that. It was the smell that had taken him aback, and then as he manipulated the body, twisting and turning it around, Feeling welled up. Emotion, human and strange, infused every fiber of his Vessel. It was woven in and as Castiel fit himself inside, he of necessity became part of the pattern, as well.
He touched human Feelings, Jimmy Novak's, and they stuck to him. He was enveloped, surrounded, immersed. Bombarded. All he Saw and heard, all that he processed from within the confines of the Vessel, was colored by Emotion.
Anger vibrated around him when he manipulated the Vessel in certain ways, and Despair burst forth other times. Confusion, uncertainty, Doubt, all these blazed in Jimmy Novak's body. All these struck Castiel in Jimmy Novak's body.
Strange. Unfamiliar. Unpleasant. There were no words to accurately describe those human Emotions. They were the beginning of Change.
Castiel does not Know whether it was the Emotion or the object of the Emotion that brought about his. . . Fall. He often wonders, but briefly. It was a painful affair, after all.
But he does not Regret it. Falling is a Choice. It is Rebellion. For ever before, Castiel Knew Rebellion existed only against God. God was every thing, and to Refuse one's Task was to Refuse God's Will. This was Truth, unquestionable.
He once was certain of that, but not anymore. Now he Knows there are many Rebellions. Humans have it right. Some things are different.
Sometimes with some things there are types, classifications, and Rebellion is such a thing.
For ever it was only that Castiel Knew. And then Emotion filled him, and he. . . Felt, as well. It was Knowing, but Knowing the inside of the likes of Despair and Anger, not just the waves of Jimmy Novak's. Castiel can recall perfectly, and the Change started in October.
He Knew, however, for certain when-
It was not solely Anger or Despair that filled him at that moment, but both and more besides. It was Shame, most foul and painful. Guilt and Regret poured out as from a polluted sore. Castiel Felt, and Knew he Felt, and for the first time in his forever found it difficult to Look.
He found it so, when it was upon Dean whom he must Look. Castiel Felt Doubt when Dean could not move his body without Pain. Actions that he had taken, he, Castiel, Angel of The Lord and Agent of Heaven, were the cause of Dean's Pain.
Had he acted wrongly? Had he not fulfilled his Task, that a man should suffer so? Castiel's actions should not bring Pain to a good man. His was the Path of Goodness, and Evil was not in him.
It couldn't Be, and yet he had Brought Evil onto Dean. Dean.
Castiel Felt and he Doubted, and both were not supposed to Be, not within an Angel. But Emotions were there. He was Called back, Forced back. The Heavenly Host did not Feel, it was Said. It was Said to him, with Pain and Punishment. With Disgust and Hate.
And not God's Word.
And it was then Change took firm hold of him and began to grow. Heaven Caused him Pain, and Heavenly actions Created within Castiel Regret and Shame. How? He had followed the Path, even to being the instrument of Dean Winchester's Pain. And this was where his Path Led? His actions had always forever eternally been those Set before him. He had assumed their origin in God.
But if the Path Led to Pain, Shame, Confusion, Guilt, Anger. . . how could It too Be from God? How could such a Path exist and Be Just? God had Created him. Father and Leader, His Hand He Placed upon the winds of Heaven and Formed Castiel. All that Castiel was, is, and shall ever be is God's Will.
If he felt Emotion, was that Wrong? Was he Wrong? Had God Made him Wrong? Was Castiel a. . . mistake? He had only ever Spoken The Lord's Word, followed the Path upon which he was Set.
Until he did and Pain came from it. He never Questioned until the day came he was called a 'hammer.' Castiel did his Task, to the letter, until he not only thought it to be Wrong. . . but Knew it also.
God's Word was Love. It was Known. God Was Love, and Angels were of God. Angels were His Creations. Angels, from the Highest of the High to the Last of the First, were Right, Just, First and most Holy. But they were of God, never Him. Their word was not the Word.
And it was as Dean spoke of humanity that Castiel Knew the Truth. He did Know it. He Felt it. He is not a. . . hammer. He does not follow orders. Castiel is Angel. He follows only God's Order, God's Law, God's Will. He obeys the Word, not the ones who repeat it. Castiel Serves, but he Serves God.
He does not Serve his brothers, and he most definitely does not Serve them when they are Wrong. Castiel is Last. He is not Lesser, though, and he is not. . . weak.
What Castiel is is God's Creation. God Set His Hand to the air and Brought Forth Castiel. He Shaped him, Defined him. He Set him upon a Path. If Castiel follows, is he not Doing God's Will? The Path cannot be Wrong if it is God's.
And if Castiel Knows the Path is Wrong. . . then it is not God's, and he must not follow it.
If it is Wrong, then neither can he abide it. No matter the cost to himself, he must for Goodness' sake. . . turn around. He must confront. Castiel is Changed, and he too Changes. By existing, there are differences.
He will not hide or seek to escape. If danger comes, it comes. Castiel will face it. He too will be Hunter.
Castiel does not Regret Falling from his brothers' heaven, for he Knows, Feels, that he has not Fallen from God's Heaven. He will always be Last of the First, but such a standing is ultimately meaningless. The First Born have Fallen before. No one thing in existence is too high. Nothing is Perfect except God.
God is Love. God's Word is Love.
And Castiel Speaks Love now, no matter the consequences. He Speaks it. . .
And he Feels it, too.
"You think too much."
Castiel opens these eyes and Feels Confusion. It seeps out from within him, touching even the Vessel and affecting its appearance.
The brows draw together and the mouth turns down at the edges. In turn, as though amused by this, Dean's facial features become fluid and mobile.
"How can you Know the quantity of my thoughts?" Castiel asks through the mouth.
One of Dean's hands comes to rest on the skin of this cheek. It is a gentle touch, present but not overly firm or forceful. The lips of Dean's mouth once again curl upward.
He is smiling. Castiel can See happiness written on the features of Dean's face. More importantly, though, is the Emotion that flares and shines within his eyes of green. Even from inside this body, with its dim vision and limited focus, Castiel can See that clearly.
He can See Dean, infused inside his own body, but shining out most strongly through the eyes. Unlike Castiel, Dean is both body and Spirit.
Unlike Castiel, Dean is also impatient in both body and Spirit. His hand that once rested on the cheek of this body now moves to the back of its head. Castiel can Feel fingers and palm. There is an odd sensation, a localized Feeling at the back of this body's skull.
It is. . . pulling.
Dean's face comes closer, his whole body, in fact. It obscures this Vessel's eyesight. Castiel decides to go without Seeing. He shuts this body's eyes, and is left with. . . only touch to Know what is happening.
The strange pulling at the back of the head occurs again. It is Dean's hand. It must be.
"I can guess," Dean Speaks aloud, and Castiel must briefly cast back to what was earlier Said. "You get this look on your face, and then it's. . . Cas, are you still thinking?" The tone of Dean's voice shifts. It becomes sharper somehow. This is Irritation, and yet for some reason Castiel is more interested in the sensation of Dean's fingers pulling the Vessel's hair where he can not See, and the both cold and hot breath that escapes with every word issued forth from Dean's lips, and the odd warmth that continues to grow all throughout Castiel's Vessel, and-
"For cryin' out loud!" Dean Whispers. More Irritation, but the fingers do not let go of the Vessel's hair, and Dean's body does not pull away. "Know one thing that always works. . . "
It is Dean's mouth, the lips of his mouth, once more down upon this body's. More than that, though, is that warmth which seems to be coming from them both. It is. . .
Now lips, but also heat. The opening of mouths and Dean's tongue, from which Feeling is Spoken and turned into words, touches the tongue of this Vessel. There remains a hand at the back of this head and one is now curling around its thigh. The hands are Dean's. The thigh is this Vessel's.
The words are silent, but there. They are truly only the Word. This Vessel breathes in and exhales the same air as Dean's body, but it is Castiel who Speaks to Dean's Spirit.
And what is there to say, but:
Love.
And over all these things, put on love, which binds together all in unity.
Colossians 3:14