Disclaimer: I own nothing, however, I do enjoy it!
Word of the Week: lost/glade
Word count: 400….yeah, I know. SORRY! Truly, I can count, but this story really wanted out.
This is for Lazerwolf314's birthday! Sorry it's late! Hope you like it! If not…..I'll try again!
He watched as the young man finally pushed through the soil. He didn't know how long it should have taken, but it seems to take forever for the young human to rise from his grave. Patience or impatience, he knew neither one. There was no beginning or end to the wait, there was just a continuous stream of orders to follow. If this order took a century to carry out, it would hardly seem a blip in the millennia he had served through.
With his own strength, he could have done it instantly, moving mountains with a sheer wave of his hand. But he needed to see that this man, this holy man, had the will to live. That he had been worth the effort that Heaven had gone through to claim him.
He watched as the young man gazed around the glade, obviously struggling with his surroundings. Not many rose from Hell, not unless they had returned as something far worse, a demon. He knew his charge's history, knew he would need to put himself to the test at some point. That he would crave validation of his own humanity.
He watched as the young man turned, looking in either direction, broken trees blocking every path. He could see the man's shaking hands. He could see the slight jump in his chest of his heartbeats, terror pumping through his veins; most likely expecting this to be some sort of hellish hallucination meant to further break him. Only, he didn't seem to realize he couldn't be more broken.
He watched as the young man worked away from his grave, tears dotting his freckled cheeks. He could feel the young man's desperation, to be away from the hole in the ground, to find his brother, to be healed in his very soul; he needed hell to be washed away.
Without a vessel, he had no way to communicate with the man, not yet anyways. He would have to find a way. After all, he was his responsibility now.
He pulled rain from the sky. He watched as the young man fell to his knees, his arms at his sides.
The rain washed the dirt and tears from his face.
Gradually the rain washed away the smell of sulfur and brimstone that seemed to cling to him.
His fear of being lost dissipated.
Slowly, the rain cleansed him. Slowly, it renewed him.
Please review! Let me know what you thought about this..
Okay, so I know I don't technically call Castiel by name anywhere in here, but it's obvious, right?