OK, so this is the second installment in Ready to Fall. It picks up where Ch.1 left off, Castiel having fallen from Grace. I'm not sure how many installments there are gonna be with this story because I only intended it to be a one-shot. But now I'm kind of liking the idea of it being a whole EPIC SAGA OF FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE! ...or something.
Please review, let me know if you like how it's coming along. Thanks guys.
Chapter 2
When the Smoke Clears.
Bobby was surprised to say the least, to see Dean stumbling into the back door with the Angel of Thursday hanging crumpled from his side.
"The Hell happened to him?"
Dean answered grimly, "Genius here took a nose-dive into the mortal coil."
Bobby straightened up immediately in surprise, and looked to Castiel for confirmation. Cas simply looked away, not wanting to have to explain himself. Dean plopped him down onto the couch and the former angel winced.
"Why in the Hell would you do that?" Bobby demanded.
"Because I enjoy your company so much, Bobby," Castiel deadpanned.
The two men stared at him. Did Castiel just make a joke? Was that...sarcasm? Good God, he was already more human than he'd ever been.
Just then Sam walked in with a bag of groceries, giving the others a quick nod before heading to the fridge. But as he reached for the refrigerator's handle he paused - he turned back toward the others and squinted over at Castiel. "What's wrong with you?" he asked curiously, sensing something was off. "You don't look right."
"Sharp eye, Sammy," Dean said impressed.
"I'm mortal." Cas said it as though he was exhausted from having to say it over and over, letting the words out with a sigh.
"What? Again? What happened?" Sam stepped closer.
"I Fell. Ripped out my Grace and plummeted to Earth. I landed in Bobby's back yard."
"Landed is putting it nicely," Dean jibed.
"Wait, why would you do that? Did you want to? I mean, was it...intentional?"
"Yes."
"Oh..." Sam wrapped his mind around this, trying to be as accepting and understanding as possible despite the fact that his brain hadn't entirely processed it yet. "Well... congratulations."
Dean and Bobby shot Sam a look.
"What?" Sam yelled defensively, "What are you supposed to say in this situation?"
Dean shook his head at his little brother, looking back at Castiel, noticing he was looking uncomfortable. "Cas, you ok?"
"Uh...yes. I am, I think...I feel...Unfortunately, I do not know what I feel."
"You look hot."
Sam and Bobby glanced at each other.
Castiel cocked his head at Dean and he explained, "Your face is all red. I can see from here you're sweating bullets. It's ninety degrees out and you're still wearing the damn trench coat." He moved to the couch to help the now very sore Castiel remove his coat. Once it was off, Castiel took a deep breath. "I think you were right," he said to Dean. "I feel better."
"Here, you don't need this," Dean said, sliding off the suit jacket as well. When it was off, Castiel sat back hard against the couch as if it had taken every ounce of effort to lean forward and remove those layers. He leaned his head back against the couch and he closed his eyes, obviously spent. His hand reached up lazily for his tie loosening it even further than usual.
"How could you not know what you feel?" Sam asked, brows furrowed. "You were mortal once before, remember? Isn't it the same now as it was then?" Leave it to Sam to acknowledge the small details.
"I think there must have been something different about what happened to me then. Everything feels different now."
"Are you, you know, gonna be alright?" Dean asked sitting down on the couch beside him.
"I have no idea," Cas responded, closing his eyes.
"I'll get researching," Bobby said, already heading downstairs to the panic room for a certain book he thought might have useful lore.
With his eyes still closed Castiel started rubbing his hands across his smudged face, then scratching at his arms. When he started scratching his chest Dean asked, "What is that? What are you doing?"
"I'm itchy."
"You know 'itchy' but you don't know 'hot'?" Sam asked confused.
Dean ignored his brother. "You've got little bits of car on you I think," he said observing the dirt and grime and probably pulverized glass on Castiel's face and neck. "It might feel good to wash up. Go take a shower if you want." But Cas didn't move. He was too exhausted and the pull of sleep was so inviting. Dean saw him about to drift off and he nudged him awake. "You'll feel awful if you go to sleep like this. Go on. Take a shower. I'll find you some clothes that aren't that," he said motioning to Castiel's oh so familiar holy tax accountant get-up.
Castiel nodded, leaning forward to get up but not getting any farther than that - everything hurt, he felt so heavy. Dean noticed him struggle and got up, moving in front of Castiel and reaching out a hand. Cas reached for it and Dean helped pull him off the couch, leading him toward the bathroom. He turned on the water for him, explaining it would need a minute to warm up.
"You know how to do this right?" he asked suddenly, realizing the things Cas did and didn't understand about the logistics of humanity were random at best. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason he could discern as to what he knew and what he didn't.
Cas nodded, "I've seen people take showers before," he said as if it should be obvious.
"Ok," Dean said turning to leave. Then it hit him what Cas had actually said and he turned back. So what...Cas was a peeping Tom now? Watching people shower from up in Heaven? Dean was tempted to ask for clarification but instead just shook his head, "You know what, I'm just gonna pretend like I don't want to know."
Cas was too tired to ask what Dean meant. Dean stepped out, closing the door behind him and Castiel shed his clothes, folding them neatly on the sink. He stepped into the shower and reveled in the feel of the spray against his skin, the warmth of the water spreading relaxation through his muscles. As a man, this felt different; each droplet of water felt almost solid. He let it hit his face, just standing there for minutes on end. He rubbed his skin until he felt like all of the dust and debris was gone. He was so comfortable in the shower, so enjoying the revitalizing feel of the water thrumming against his skin, that he could have stayed there for hours. But he was becoming too tired to lift his arms. He turned off the water and stepped out.
There in the foggy mirror, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar. Castiel stopped, and took a proper look at his reflection. The man in the glass looked...wet. But other than that, he just looked normal. A regular guy, with pale skin and dark hair and pink lips and blue eyes with subtle lines at their corners. Before now, Castiel had never looked at himself, never bothered to see himself as this man. But now here he was. This was him. He smiled, noticing that it looked strange - not at all how he would picture himself to look.
As humans went, he was almost...pretty. He didn't look nearly as odd as he always felt.
He examined himself for a long time. It felt necessary, like an introduction that was long overdue. Usually he felt very out of sorts with his physical self. But he was feeling more and more like he and this body were one by the minute.
There was a knock at the door. "Cas?" Dean called from the other side, "I've got some clothes. Their mine. Sam is too huge - his pants would just fall right off you. They're clean. You want 'em?"
"Yes," Castiel answered concisely.
Dean opened the door and was met with the sight of naked Cas and immediately whirled around, "Woah! - dude..." He reached behind himself to offer Cas the clothes, "Here, take them." Castiel did, and started getting dressed straight away. Dean simply waited, his back to Cas, until he could hear he was decent. Then he turned to see the angel of Thursday in a white undershirt, ripped blue-jeans that were riding low as a result of being just a tad too big, and a messy mop of dark, wet hair. Dean laughed to himself at the sight of it.
"What?" Castiel asked, looking over his body self-conscious, "is it not sufficient?"
"No, no. You look fine. You just look so...normal." Dean laughed again, "Dude, you look like an add for Hanes or something."
"Is that good?"
"I guess. I think, from a distance at least, you're gonna blend in just fine." Dean tossed him a pair of socks and walked out.
Castiel put on his socks and shoes, grabbed the dusty remnants of his 'Castiel-suit' from off the sink and headed downstairs, practically sleepwalking.
Cas barely made it to the cot they'd set up for him before he was utterly unconscious. He practically collapsed onto the thing, sitting upright with his head hanging low, his shoulders stooped, his eyes fluttering open and shut as he tried desperately to stay awake. He couldn't even life his arms, which felt like lead, and he couldn't even muster the strength to actually lay back. Dean had to go over and give him a shove about the shoulders; Cas fell straight back. "Thanks," he barely made out.
"Don't mention it," Dean retorted walking away. Cas was asleep before he heard the footsteps fade.
Several hours later Castiel was still sprawled across the cot in Bobby's living room, now face-down with an arm hanging off, his shoes still on, his white under-shirt riding up around his ribs. Bobby stood with his arms crossed against his chest observing this mess of a man. He shook his head. "Oh boy..." he let out quietly. He hadn't noticed Dean walk in quietly behind him.
"What's up?" Dean whispered, not wanting to wake Castiel.
Bobby turned to look at him, "Oh nothin'. Angel-face is snoozin' away in here." Bobby took a deep breath and headed for the stairs, "Never thought I'd see the day," he said starting up the stairs. "Good night," he gave a half-assed wave to Dean.
"Night. I'm gonna stay down here-"
"I figured."
Dean looked over to see a pillow and blanket already laid out on the couch. "Thanks," he called up the stairs after Bobby, getting a tired, "yep" in reply.
Dean stepped as quietly as he could over to the cot and looked down at the former angel sleeping there. He was breathing slowly and evenly and appeared to be at peace, even if his brows were furrowed. Satisfied there was no imminent threat of Castiel exploding or anything, Dean went over to the couch, kicked off his boots, and settled in to the faded cushions.
Castiel had strange visions in his sleep, memories of war and Heaven and strange thoughts of fire. It felt bizarre to dream, to see something he knew not to be real. But even in his deep sleep he felt the sudden change in his actual surroundings - a familiar presence had entered Bobby's house, and Castiel awoke almost immediately upon feeling it. The house was dark and quiet. As consciousness slowly dawned on Cas he took note of a soothing, rhythmic sound in the room and looked over to see Dean asleep on the couch, breathing lowly and steadily. Castiel felt again the presence that had woken him, and stood up slowly from his cot, feeling almost unbearably sore all over. He followed his instincts and went silently to the kitchen, where he was met with the sight of the mighty archangel. It was him, the one he had lied to, the one with the compassionate voice. The one to whom he'd promised to end Dean Winchester.
Castiel stood in place, staring at the archangel, trying to compose himself. He didn't want it to show that he was fragile, mortal, frightened. He wanted his brother to see "Castiel" the angel who had defeated Raphael. Not "Cas" - tired, hungry, confused.
There was a long moment of silence where the two just stood and stared at each other, Castiel finally understanding how it felt to be under the weight of one of those angelic gazes being only a mere mortal yourself.
The archangel looked at him with sadness in his eyes. "This was foolish Castiel." He crossed the room to his young brother, now a fragile incarnation of his once powerful self. "You are smarter than this. You had to know that we would find you, that we would know what you had done and come for you."
"Yes. But it is done. It cannot be undone. God is the only one who can make an angel. There is no way you can force me back."
The archangel shook his head. "You leave yourself unprotected. You leave him unprotected." Castiel glanced over at the sleeping form of Dean Winchester. He knew that was true - now that he was mortal, he couldn't protect Dean or heal him or give him the inside intel on what danger could be coming their way. He'd given all that up and left his friends with an unprotected blindside. The archangel watched all of this play on Castiel's face. "What is your intent Castiel? Where do you go from here?"
Cas shook his head, "I don't know," he answered honestly.
The elder angel thought on that a moment. Then he said, "I am ordered to kill him." The archangel stared at the flannel and denim-clad lump on the couch, studying him.
Heaven could be just as cruel as the rest; they would give the order to kill Dean out of spite, and then say that it was righteous. Castiel watched his gentle giant of a brother very closely, knowing that if he had resolved to kill Dean he would have done it already. Cas hoped, with every fiber of his being, that his brother was swaying in his duties. Castiel prayed to the Father he'd forsaken that the archangel would show mercy.
Castiel knew the score - an archangel was unbeatable. He was desperate now, and scared, and if it came down to it he would die in some ridiculous attempt to give Dean a chance to escape - all of this showed in Castiel's soul, which the archangel found all too easy to read. Cas' knuckles were white, balled into fists at his sides as if the act was the only thing keeping him composed.
The archangel studied Castiel for what felt like an hour, but Cas knew to an angel (like he used to be), it was really only a moment. He was already losing his ability to relate to his brethren; it made him sad, and yet it also made him feel independent.
The archangel too looked somber. He smiled ever so slightly at Castiel, a complicated look behind his eyes. That shadow of a smile he gave was in both sadness, and fondness. "Goodbye Castiel." He said it softly, then he was gone.
As the breeze of the archangel's departure gusted through the room, Dean awoke with a sharp intake of breath. He sat up stiffly and blinked his eyes into focus, seeing Castiel standing in the middle of Bobby's dimly lit kitchen with his back to him. The hue of the room was almost blue, that first bit of morning light seeping through the unwashed windowpanes with the last moonlight of night. Dean got up and walked over to the man, stepping around in front of him. What he saw made him stop cold - Castiel was standing still as stone, silent tears rolling down his face.
"Cas?" Dean asked as gently as he could, his voice rough from sleep.
Slowly Castiel's eyes rose and met Dean's, and the former angel smiled at him. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean in a hug, and the Hunter was taken aback; he didn't quite know how to react. He slowly let his arms do the natural thing, wrapping around Castiel and patting him on the back.
It was only a moment, a simple gesture normal people do millions of times in their lives. But Cas had never done it before. And Dean, he hadn't done it enough.
It was...nice. Brief. Uncomplicated.
Cas pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. It was Dean's turn to tilt his head to the side in confusion, not understanding his friend. Cas patted him on the shoulder and went back to his cot, lying down under the warm blankets, so comfortable, so strangely at ease.
Dean stood, watching him settle in, thinking over his guardian angel's new humanity. He walked back to the couch and laid down, finding it easy to drift back into a pleasantly dreamless sleep.
It would be a long time before Castiel told Dean the true entirety of that morning's events.
