Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.
Opheliac Angel Chapter Two
With his new and improved senses Castiel was aware, in almost excruciating detail, of the life force of every single living creature that had, or could, or would, have walked the earth. He struggled to rein in his focus until at last he found himself standing in a field by a car and a badly beaten human.
It all seemed so vague, like the memory of the description of someone else's strange dream. Castiel stared in confusion at the man bowed down before him, and it was only after several long minutes that he realized it was someone he hadn't seen for many millennia.
"Cas, you're alive?" the man whispered the question in wonder through the pain of a severe beating, his features swollen and obscured with rivulets of blood.
"I'm better than that," the angel answered with no false pride as he placed a loving touch of his hand to Dean's forehead and in an instant healed him of even his most minor aches and pains. As the super-charged surge of love and strength ran through his body, Dean had never felt so strong and so alive in his entire life.
Dean climbed to his feet and gazed at the angel as if he was seeing him for the first time, the angel who seemed so much more serene than usual. "Cas, are you God?" he asked in awe, feeling like he was teetering on the knife-edge of insanity.
Cas gave a small tranquil smile, "It's a nice compliment, but no," he answered, his mind returning to his encounter with the extraordinary being that had recreated him, "Although I do believe he brought me back," he added with a slight edge of excitement to his voice.
He turned and walked away from Dean, shaking his head in wonder. "New and improved," he said to himself.
He knelt down over Bobby's body and with a single touch brought him back from the dead. Castiel was hit with a sudden, profound prophetic vision and was humbled at the realization of the age of the soul and the great destiny of the holy man in front of him. As Bobby sat up in confusion, Castiel gave him a single nod, an exchange of greeting between equals.
~#~
Later in the Impala, Castiel felt relief that Bobby had decided to make his own way home - he'd struggled not to stare at the halo that it was apparent only he could see over Bobby's head. Future holy man or not, it was obvious the older man had felt some discomfort at the steady, unblinking angelic gaze fixed six inches above his head.
"What you gonna do now?" asked Dean, breaking the flow of Castiel's train of thought.
"Return to heaven I suppose," the angel replied in distraction.
"Heaven?" Dean responded, his voice sounding much higher and tighter than usual.
"I... I know you've been through a lot - I want to, but I can't stay. With Michael in the cage, it'll be total anarchy up there and somebody needs to keep a watch on things," countered Castiel, desperate to try to mollify the feelings he realized he'd just hurt.
"So what, you're the new sheriff in town?" the hunter mocked.
Cas looked over at Dean, and gave a small smile as a strange prescient vision bubbled up at the back of his mind. He had a sudden, vivid image of the hunter costumed in a six year old's idea of how a cowboy should dress, with a bright gold star pinned to his lapel.
"I like that, yeah," he said absently, an odd little shiver running up his spine. "I suppose I am," he added coming back to the moment.
"Well, God gives you a brand new shiny set of wings and suddenly you're his bitch again," grumbled Dean.
"I don't know what… God… wants," said Castiel, not being entirely truthful, thinking back to the resplendent, yet terrifying superior being that had recreated him, "I don't know if he'll even return. It just… seems like the right thing to do."
And the best way to keep you safe, he added to himself, too ashamed to want to say that Heaven was likely the biggest threat, and knowing that Dean would deny he needed the protection in any case.
"Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him," Dean raged, lashing out in pain without really knowing the truth or the meaning of what he was saying.
"You're angry," Cas responded, his voice quiet as another flash of future knowledge flickered through his mind, this time the vision just seemed disturbing. It went too quickly for him to take in, but left him with a disconcerting sense, like a bad taste in the mouth, that he'd somehow made the wrong choice or taken the wrong path home.
"That's an understatement," laughed Dean without a hint of humor, again breaking Cas' train of thought.
"He helped," Castiel answered, desperate to get through to the hunter, "Maybe even more than we realize."
"That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!"
"You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same," said the angel, now starting to get annoyed, "I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?"
Dean glanced over in the angel's direction, somehow sensing that Cas was gone before seeing, or rather not seeing it, with his eyes, "Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"
~#~
Castiel looked down from heaven at Dean, regretting the need for his sudden departure, but eager to try to figure out how to serve what little of God's plan had been revealed to him so far.
However, the first thing he decided to do was to divest himself of some of the power he'd been given – as intoxicating as it was, he felt like he was going to blow apart at the seams, and the constant but fleeting religious revelation persistently lapping at the edges of his mind was distracting to say the least.
The second thing he needed to do was arm himself against the angels he knew would already be actively working to bring the apocalypse back on track; even he'd been around humans long enough to realize that the best defense is a good offense, and if he could combine all of this with the first task, then so much the better.
Focusing and siphoning off some his energies, Cas visualized someone with the wisdom to see the signs, the cunning to navigate the treacherous waters of angelic politics, and the ability to bring him the things he needed. Castiel's lips twitched in wry humor as his creation came into being, "I name thee Balthazar," he intoned.
"Now bring me gifts, wise man," he laughed.
~#~
