Title: Color Me Descending
Chapter: 2/?
Author: AntiquityDreams
Co-Creator: BlackFruitBat
Genre: General, Mystery, Romance and some Humor to grease the wheels :D
Pairing: Eventual Dean/Cas
Rating: PG (eventually R?)
Spoilers: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.
Feedback: We're big fans of it. Keeps us going ^^
Warnings: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.
AntiquityDreams notes: Alright, Blackfruitbat and I have gotten our heads around this story pretty well so we'll hopefully be able to produce more chapters at a quicker rate. That is, assuming school and upcoming conventions don't get in the way ^^; Let me know if you guys are like this at all or not. We're totally open to suggestions as well :3
About 100 years B.D.W. (before Dean Winchester, because that's how Castiel learned to keep track of human time) the angel spent a stay in Japan. He had been called to duty for two years of close observation over a human bloodline. It would be his longest consecutive stay on Earth with only the occasional assistance of Ezekiel as back up. Truly an honor for an angel as young as himself.
The project was meant to insure the existence of a profit who would be created around 80 years* A.D.W. (After Dean Winchester). The eventual prophet was being designed from a bloodline of other prophets and powerful psychics in this area, not an easy task considering the rigidly strict rules about minimal human contact. She would be charged with foretelling the involvement of their native country through the upcoming apocalypse and the results of it in her region. Hence their interest in her inception and first moments of life.
"Castiel." The wise man approaching, grandfather of the pregnant woman he was watching over, spoke with a certain amount of authority that demanded an audience. His name was Toshi and he was a blind monk, one whose psychic ability was unmatched by any of his generation, even if most of his generation regarded him as… less than mentally aware. Probably to the benefit of the local angels working the area.
"Yes?" There was no point in hiding his identity from the man because, from the very beginning, the monk knew exactly what he was dealing with long before the angel spoke with the voice of his chosen vessel.
Mayhap it was because his chosen vessel was a foreigner from England and whispers of his presence in the shrine were spreading, or perhaps it was because the monk's hearing had become so keen that the flapping of powerful wings was distinct. Whatever the case may be, Toshi always knew it was Castiel before the angel could manage a single syllable.
"Do you have a special person?"
"Pardon?" Castiel may have known every language given to man but the colloquialisms were something of a mystery to him.
"A person who is special to you." As if that was so much clearer. Toshi was in the habit of talking to Castiel like he was an old friend, asking him peculiar and personal questions such as this. Castiel was in the habit of constantly trying to piece together the riddles and figure out what on earth Toshi was talking about.
When the meaning finally dawned on him, the visitor felt a slight tug at his lips as the muscles pulled tight into a frown. "We are not permitted to covet a single human over another."
The monk evidently thought this was funny. Coming to a stop beside a stone bench so as to rest his apparently weary legs, Toshi clucked softly with laughter. "But you didn't say no."
Craft old men, Castiel found, made his right eye twitch.
"Many years from now I will be given the duty of watching over a very special soul. It will be my first extensive and long term mission, but this does not imply that I will hold him above all others. Such a thing is an unforgivable sin."
"What's his name?" It was like the man wasn't listening at all.
"Dean Wi--"
"Winchester?" Well that was... unexpected.
"Yes."
"Ah." And the monk was smiling. Actually, he wasn't exactly smiling, but it was the only expression Castiel could think of to describe the unexplainable grin painting its way across Toshi's face.
"I do not understand."
Reaching over, the old man patted a small hand gently on the angel's knee before gingerly rising with the aid of his walking stick. That look of amusement was confusing and when Castiel's inner mind gleaned information from Toshi's, all he found was bemused endearment there. "Take good care of him. He will lead you to great things, even if the cost seems more than you can bare."
Toshi was not a prophet.
An amazingly talented psychic and a holy man but by no means a prophet. So the curious advice bestowed upon Castiel was unexpected, to say the least. Mostly because it's very hard to surprise an angel of the lord. Especially when it came to their own future.
"Cost?"
"Don't worry about it." Toshi waved a hand as if attempting to wave the whole conversation off while trudging back towards the main shrine. "Price is trivial when the outcome is so wondrous."
Castiel wasn't allowed to travel forward past his own reference in time. Such an act would make him omnipotent and that was strictly forbidden unless expressly stated otherwise. However, had he the ability to travel forward instead of back, he may have strongly considered bending the rules to get a glimpse at said "wondrous outcome".
Then again, Toshi was just a man. How could he possibly know things so far ahead when even an angel of the lord could only be informed of the most vague of details?
~*~
"Cas?"
The brunette glanced in Dean's direction, pulling his mind back from the places it had been.
"Yes?"
"We should call it a night. Nothing's biting and I'm out of beer."
Castiel knew the latter was probably the more viable reason the older brother was insistent on them leaving, however, the angel also knew it would be very unwise to deny Dean his beer. Much in the same way it would be unwise to deny him his pie, or jump in front of a speeding train trying to get to its already determined destination.
When they reached shore they could see Sam trying to pick up the cabin by means of neurotically cleaning everything in sight. According to Dean, Sam had an affliction that made him incapable of "being manly". Like living by the rule "leave it better than when you came," in most cases. Castiel had offered to heal him when he still was able to, but Dean refused and said it would just end up costing surcharges in the long run. It wasn't until much later that Castiel discovered there was no such human disease and Dean (according to Sam) was a big lying jerk.
"Hey Sammy, miss me?" Dean was grinning and Castiel suspected it had more to do with his muddy boots tracking dirt in than happiness at seeing his sibling.
"Dean!" Sam's face was wrinkling at the nose, brow pulling down in a look Dean called Sam's "bitch face". Castiel knew this well if only because he was around Dean so often and Dean was frequently under the scrutiny of said look.
Instead of actually replying, the eldest Winchester merely toed off his boots and meandered further into the house. Castiel copied the motion but closer to the door so as not to illicit a foul mood from the younger brother.
"Well at least someone has manners." Sam grumbled after his brother, turning to Cas a second later.
"Dean has manners." It was true. Castiel had seen him use "please" and "thank you" many times.
"Yeah, but only if it's benefiting him."
Oh. Good point.
"Dean is a good person. He means well..." was Castiel's final resolve, even if it wasn't a defense or at all convincing when he said it. It was more a thing of habit and devotion rather than a sincerely (and thoroughly thought out) response. That WAS his job after all, to protect and defend Dean. Just as it eventually became his mission to also follow him. And follow he did, to a point that some would call excessive and possibly stalker-ish. Not that Castiel was a stalker, but the brothers liked to joke about it often.
Granted, the defected angel had his own duties to attend to (read: finding Father) but Dean had always been and always would be a special project and his orders were clear... but so was his all encompassing determination.
Besides, it wasn't like he was getting orders anymore. Or getting anything from that line anymore. The "angelic radio" as Dean put it, was silent. Not a whisper or a hint of connection left. He was completely cut off. And he was lonely.
It's part of the reason he habitually checked in with the trouble making duo. Team "free will' as (once AGAIN) Dean put it, became his tourniquet from the encroaching deafening silence. And wasn't that one of the biggest indicators he was losing his grace? Outside of the obvious (slow healing time, slower travel, no "angelic radio" etc), it was not the silence that bothered him but HOW it bothered him. Loneliness was a new concept to him.
When you're an angel, it simply isn't possible to feel lonely. Not only is feeling the emotion itself a foreign concept but the opportunity to feel it never exactly presents itself. And how could it? When you're connected to the host, there isn't any room to be lonely with all your brothers and sisters so palpably connected to you. No room when you can feel their consciousness in your soul, their voices whispering rhythmic murmurs to your mind and their love... their all encompassing love wrapping around you.
It's really a shame Dean Winchester had only ever met warrior angels because Castiel believes that the human's opinion on angels may have been swayed to a more positive outlook had he had the opportunity to meet a guardian angel. Even just once. They were on a lesser tier of the heavenly hierarchy but they were so very much more understanding of human nature than the warriors, like cupids but... less disturbing.
"I found something, by the way," Sam announced. The loud grunt from the kitchen signaled to them both that Dean was listening. "It's a box."
Castiel merely stared, no recognition in his eyes. And why should there be? Humans were fond of that particular geometric shape and used it for practically everything. Personally, Cas liked triangles.
"There's a ritual blade inside," Sam continued, "one of four said to be able to kill anything, including the devil."
At that, Dean popped his head out of the kitchen door way and into the hallway where his brother and angel were standing still. "Like the colt?"
"Older." Sam quirked an eyebrow, "Much older. Like, from ancient Egypt older."
Green eyes flickered over to Castiel who was doing his best impersonation of a statue. Not on purpose, mind you, but out of sheer habit. The less attention one drew to themselves, the higher their tactical advantage became.
"Cas? You know anything about it?"
"No." And it was true. In all his years he had never heard of a box containing a ritual dagger that could kill the devil, and THAT was enough reason to raise suspicion. Surely if such a thing existed, the Host would have been made aware of it. Then again...
"Huh. That's comforting. Well, where do we find it?"
Sam's face instantly lit up like Vegas and Dean knew, just KNEW, it had to be something implausibly nerdy. Oh god, please don't be another museum.
"The S.A.M. is holding an exhibit..."
"The... Sam?" It was nerdy enough to share the same name as Gigantor so it was bound to be nerdy beyond comprehension. Which meant it was totally going to be a museum. Dammit.
"The Seattle Art Museum." Cas chimed in suddenly, forcing both human pair of eyes to turn and look at him. Evidently the statue thing was no longer in season.
Sam lightly cleared his throat and looked back at Dean, still bearing "that" expression- the one that signaled it was time to share one of his history lessons. But just as the explanation was about to begin, he was cut off by Dean who lifted up both hands in a gesture that signaled weary defeat.
"Fine. We'll check it out tomorrow." And that was that. Dean dropped his head and rubbed at his face. He was going to have to go to another museum. He really had no luck. Either that, or someone up there had a really sick sense of humor. And judging by his experience with most heavenly beings, that wouldn't be that unlikely.
With a roll of the eyes, the eldest Winchester pulled himself back into the kitchen and looked over his sandwich plans. The bread was laid out already (nice bread too, no wondercrap... though he secretly kind of liked the stuff) along with the gourmet meets and cheeses. All that was left was deciding how many to make.
"Cas do you need a--" but by the time Dean managed to stick his head back into the hallway, the angel was gone. Seriously? Someone needed to house break that bird.
"You say something?" Sam blinked up from his disgruntled scrubbing position on the floor, avidly getting to work on the footprint remains.
"Yeah. You missed a spot over there."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
TBC
