He had been stuck in the empty warehouse without a word. The lights were low and his footsteps echoed off the distant walls and high ceilings as he moved curiously through the place. An ominous feeling hung about, his stomach churning in anticipation of the task Naomi would lay out for him.
It was then that he heard the second set of footsteps, the sound of feet wearing heavy boots, somewhere in another part of the building.
And it was then that he heard Naomi's voice in his head.
"You must kill him, Castiel. I order you to kill him."
He didn't understand this exercise or what Naomi hoped to accomplish by it, but he understood the order. Castiel had killed before, he had killed so many, human and angel alike; one more surely wouldn't hurt.
He moved through the building, now trying to find the other poor thing trapped in here with him, the thing he needed to kill. The footsteps echoed all around, and it was difficult to pinpoint its location, but Castiel assumed he would find it in time. He was in no hurry to rush this thing into death and Naomi hadn't enforced a time limit.
There was a simple bliss that had always come with following orders. Castiel remembered it well, the feeling of peace that came with acting on orders and knowing he was doing God's work. It had been simple and beautiful, and perhaps it was a bit naive, but there was always a part of him that was willing to go back to that. He'd been made to follow orders, after all; making decisions on his own had been an uphill battle for him from the very start. It still was, to be honest.
So he found it... natural to give in to the order Naomi gave him. He couldn't understand why all the time, but... so long as her orders weren't actively hurting anyone, it hadn't seemed like too much of an issue.
Meanwhile, the footsteps had become close enough for Castiel to locate their position, and he could hear them coming towards him from down a hall. Castiel prepared himself, angel sword falling into hand as he waited for the thing to round the corner...
But as soon as it did, Castiel's heart stopped beating.
He froze in place, unable to move as the thing turned towards him and raised a pistol in his direction.
"Castiel."
He heard Naomi's voice once more, but it only barely registered.
"Castiel, what are you doing?"
The thing cocked the trigger on its pistol.
"You were given an order, Castiel! Follow it!"
Castiel knew his orders, but how could he obey? How could he do what he was told, how could he face this thing down and steal its life away?
How could he kill Dean Winchester?
The pistol fired, hitting Castiel squarely in the shoulder, but he barely felt it. He was numb from shock, too numb to believe what he was seeing. This... this wasn't Dean, not really. Castiel understood that without Naomi needing to say it. He would know if this was really Dean, HIS Dean, and he knew it wasn't, but even still it had Dean's face, and Castiel couldn't kill it.
Dean began to walk towards him, the way Castiel had seen him walk a hundred times before, walking towards something that was about to find itself dead, and Castiel began to back away, a look of terror in his eyes.
"Castiel, don't you dare!"
But it was too late. Castiel's retreat had already started to pick up momentum and despite Naomi's orders echoing through his subconscious, he turned to run.
No sooner had he turned then he ran straight into Dean, slamming into him and stumbling backwards, his mind rushing for answers on HOW before realizing that this Dean was under Naomi's control, and he could do whatever she wanted and be wherever she moved him.
"There is no running, Castiel. There is no hiding. You WILL kill him."
But he couldn't. He couldn't look at that face, he couldn't look into those eyes and summon the will to act against him. He had hurt Dean already, too many times, and he couldn't make himself do it again.
He tried to turn and run again, but suddenly found he was at a dead end. The walls had literally shifted around him and he had nowhere to run. Dean lunged at him with strength above a human's, knocked Castiel back against the wall, the sword falling out of his hand, and pinned him there.
Castiel found his eyes moving over Dean's face, counting freckles, looking at the striations of color in his irises, trying to find anything to distinguish this Dean from his Dean, anything that would make this less painful, but they were physically identical. Even the look Dean was giving him now, while it wasn't a look that had ever been directed at Castiel, was authentic. The lines in Dean's face were an exact match, and Castiel could read the disgust and hatred in the anger in his eyes and the way his lip was curling just so.
"Castiel!"
The voice BOOMED in his head and suddenly their positions were flipped. Castiel had twisted around, and now Dean was against the wall, and Castiel was filled with purpose, filled with the knowledge that he MUST kill Dean and then-
His eyes met Dean's and Castiel's will crumpled at the look in them now. The hatred had flooded away and instead, there was a pleading look in his eyes, a desperate look. He wasn't saying a word, but those eyes were begging Castiel for mercy and Castiel couldn't do it, his heart broke in two and he broke his grip on Dean and released him.
No sooner had he let go of him than Dean was lunging for him again, tackling him to the floor, his own blade picked up and now being held to his throat and the hatred was back as Dean glared down at him.
Before Castiel could make another move, the lights went up, nearly blinding him, and Naomi appeared over Dean's shoulder, her face reflecting Dean's in terms of expression.
"You are a DISGRACE, Castiel. He is only a human. He is one worthless human and you aren't even capable of defending yourself against him. Fight, Castiel! Kill him!"
"I can't," he protested, his voice shaking. "I can't, please, I can't."
"You can," she replied coldly. "And you will."
One more, he found himself moving again, as if being pulled around on puppet strings. It was a sick feeling, but he found himself reversing positions with Dean, straddling him, leaning over him as his hands clamped down over Dean's throat.
Instantly, Dean's hands moved over his and his eyes filled with panic. Once again, he was begging with a look, and Castiel wanted so badly to remove his hands because Dean couldn't breathe, he was CHOKING Dean, but he couldn't move his hands away, he couldn't stop.
"Don't make me do this!" he cried, "Let me stop! I can't - !"
"You don't have a choice. You never had a choice. You are an angel, Castiel, and you will follow the orders you are given."
"No," he said, though he found it impossible to act against her, or against himself. Dean began to thrash desperately beneath him, trying to escape. The terror in Dean's eyes alone was enough to pierce Castiel more painfully than any angel blade, and Castiel wanted to remove his hands, he... he couldn't do this, he couldn't watch Dean die, he couldn't be the cause of it. Every inch of him wanted to resist what was happening but he just couldn't and it was tearing him apart.
"Please," he begged, sounding pitiful, but unable to help that, "Please, no... please don't make me do this..."
But Naomi was silent and Castiel felt his hands gripping tighter.
Drops of moisture were appearing on Dean's cheeks and rolling across the skin and it took Castiel a long moment to realize the tears were from his own eyes, that his own eyes burned and stung and that his heart was in his throat, as if he was trying to choke himself. He watched as his hands stayed firmly locked around Dean's neck, and as he grew weaker and his flailing settled, Castiel watched under the harsh fluorescent lights as Dean's lips began to turn dusky, and the life faded from his eyes until they were cold and empty.
It wasn't until Dean was still and silent and limp beneath him that Castiel finally managed to pull his hands away, but by that point it was already too late.
He skittered away across the floor, pressing himself into the corner of the dead end, curling up. He realized Naomi was still there, but he didn't care. Dean's dead body was lying in front of him and he couldn't face it, he couldn't face what he'd just done. His hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to be sick as he pulled himself into a tiny ball, burying his face into the sleeve of his trench coat, trying to remind himself that the real Dean was still alive somewhere, but finding that the thought didn't help at all when the image of Dean's lifeless eyes was now burned into his mind.
Once more, Naomi's voice broke into his thoughts.
"Pull yourself together, Castiel," she ordered harshly. "Get up. Retrieve your weapon."
She disappeared again, leaving Castiel alone in the warehouse, which had gone dim once more in her absence, the ragged sound of his breathing the only noise left to echo around the place until... until he heard the echo of footsteps, the sound of feet wearing heavy boots, and Naomi's voice came to him once more.
"We're doing this until you get it right."