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A gift for gryfindor godess on Ao3

Insane Angel in a Mad World

Castiel opened the door of the rec room. He was wearing his coat over the standard issue hospital clothes. It helped him remember who he was. He was pleased to see the room was empty; he liked the peace. It was a juxtaposition to his ever warring brain. The angel knew he wasn't quite there, knew his mind hadn't quite recovered from taking Sam's madness from him. His brother Lucifer still like to visit on occasion, but this was happening less and less. The silence helped, even having Meg around seemed to help. He was hiding away from his sins, because, he wasn't ready to go back to the world, to deal with what evils he had done. He wanted to rest. But then why should he rest? He shouldn't rest; he should be on his knees, making amends, helping people. Cass put his hands on his head. He wanted to howl but he bit on his tongue instead. The copper tang of blood filled his mouth.
"Hello brother," Lucifer said. "It's been a while."
The angel shivered. "You're not here", he whispered.
"If I'm not really here, then why are you talking aloud?"
Cass turned his back on the apparition and squeezed his eyes shut. "Not real, not real."
His brother laughed. "Goodbye, brother. I'll be seeing you."
Cass kept his eyes closed for a few moments before he dared open them again. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen and he sighed in relief. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
He was supposed to meet Meg here as her shift was starting shortly.

Meg usually did the night shift in the hospital. As most of the residents were in bed asleep she was able to spend more time monitoring the dark cloud of angelness. She may have volunteered for this assignment even she wasn't entirely sure why. Kicking Crowley's ass was a given but babysitting an insane angel…. Still, she enjoyed his company for some reason. His bafflement at human traditions and his inability to sense sarcasm. She smirked. Did he think she didn't see him admiring her legs, the curve of her neck and the fullness of her boobs? The good thing about being a demon was that you could always trade in for a newer model when you felt like it. The bad thing was those physical attributes were never really yours not once you had left your original human body behind. Most angels were indifferent to sex. Castiel was different, tried to pretend he was above such things, but hell she could tell he was a dirty little angel. She would consider a roll in the sack if he wasn't an angel. It was freaky and perverted to even think about. On second thoughts, it probably was right up her alley.

The angel looked around the room and noticed for the first time that there was a carved out pumpkin on the table in the far corner of the room. Wanting a closer look he made his way to the table gazing at the slits on the pumpkin's face for eyes and a mouth. He got down on his knees so that he was level with the table it was on. He ran his fingers over the slits and chuckled darkly.
"Halloween," he mumbled and he straightened up his back and got to his feet. The room was filled with all sorts of festive decorations. Large plastic spiders dangled from the ceiling in paper cobwebs. Spiders were interesting beings, always spinning, catching flies. He liked spiders. Spiders didn't know when to pack it all in, give up. Like humans, like him…like Dean Winchester. He was struck suddenly by a feeling of loss. Would Dean ever be able to forgive his betrayal? He sighed. Probably not. Probably shouldn't. He shook his head as if doing so could dislodge the feelings. He was doing something here to make amends, he'd just have to cope, which would be difficult enough if he was sane. He laughed again, this time it had a hysterical edge to it. Castiel directed his attention to the decorations once again but was interrupted by the opening of the door and a raised eyebrow.

Humans never ceased to amaze him. Pumpkins. Jack o lanterns, candy. This was the first time since Castiel had come to earth that he really viewed the human festival of Halloween. Demons. It made him laugh to see the pathetic representations of demon kind. Most humans never met real demons and he hoped they never would. He looked over at his demon nurse, who was filing her nails with a bored expression on her face. He felt a pang of desire surge through him. All that thorny pain, so beautiful. He wanted Meg and those porn movies he had watched allowed him to fill his imagination. Yet, the knowledge of this wasn't as disturbing as he knew it should be.
Cass found himself simultaneously repulsed and attracted by her. But then he was mad, so it made a kind of sense. Then again…Maybe he was punishing himself? He was a disgraced fallen angel. Didn't demons originate from his fallen brother? They were kin after all. He was a centuries old angel – not a child. He wanted to say all this, confess his peculiar and blasphemous thoughts.
Instead, he just said, "I don't understand this holiday."
Meg smirked. "Have you ever wanted to be somebody, anybody else, get right out of your skin and under someone else's?"
He frowned, his brown eyes looking at her but not really. He was far away in thought. Those times when he saw the betrayal in his best friends' eyes, saw his dead brothers and sisters and realised the stupidity of his deal with Crowley. When he started to feel the Leviathan trying to escape his skin.
He understood it now. Halloween was a go as you weren't day, a chance to be something so entirely different to your life whatever that may be and that was something all humans were guilty of desiring. They wanted they didn't or couldn't have. Centuries ago he would never would have imagined now humanlike he had become. But that was the thing no matter how human he could feel, he never was human and never could be. Maybe Cass could pretend he was human and sane?
"You'll be at the party tomorrow?" he asked.
Meg rolled her eyes, "I don't think so. Demons don't do Hallmark."
"Aren't you doing fancy dress every day?" he pointed out.
She smiled a little, "I don't enjoy playing Florence Nightingale."
Castiel frowned, "Florence Nightingale, I don't understand that reference."
"Playing nursemaid, idiot."
Cass shrugged, still confused. It felt good to talk, he always felt saner with the prickle of wrongness that he felt when Meg walked in the room. It was strange, though he couldn't help but feel that if someone good can do something evil, then someone evil can do something good. Meg might have ulterior motives for helping him, but still she was helping him.

The End