I think this fic is turning me into a terrible person. I hated what I had to put into this chapter! And I know it's only going to get worse, ack! I still love it, though. I already know this fic is going to be dark and agsty. And let me tell you, I practically survive on angst. I'm going to blame my Sabriel RP partner for that. Every time we try to have happiness, she's just like LET'S MAKE GABE ANGSTY NOW! Yeah... I'm now addicted to angst, all thanks to Agu. Anyways! Sidenote, it was recommended that I do a Tarzan AU for Dean and Castiel as well, and I'm honestly considering it! Rewriting movies, especially Disney movies like these, is so much fun. But I'm wondering, does anyone else have ideas for what movies I could make into AUs? Tell me in a review, if you want! No guarantees on anything, but I'll certainly consider it! Just let me know :3

"Good morning, Castiel," Michael said as he walked into the open space of the tower.

"Oh, um, good morning, Michael," Castiel sputtered, blood running cold and wondering just how much Michael had heard.

"My dear boy, who, may I ask, were you talking to?" There was an edge of disdain in Michael's tone, but Castiel knew better than to call Michael out on even the most blatant, outright insults.

"My…friends," he finally admitted, struggling over the second word. It felt strange upon his tongue, and he couldn't remember exactly having said it before. He hadn't really had a chance, the only people he'd ever met were Michael and the archdeacon, and one angry churchgoer in an unfortunate incident a few years before, but that wasn't something anyone really liked to get into.

"I see," Michael nodded as he tapped Gabriel on the head. "And what are your friends made of, Castiel?" He was always like that-so formal. He never called him anything but Castiel. Not Cas or anything else. Castiel was all that would do for one as upstanding as Michael. Castiel suspected there was some disdain in it, but he was never completely sure.

"Stone," he finally conceded.

"And can stone talk?" Michael continued. His face was still firmly set, as ever, but there was a definite sneer in his tone.

"No, it can't," Castiel mumbled.

"That's right," Michael agreed, breezing past Castiel. "You're a smart lad. Now, time for lunch."

Michael sat at the small, scarred wooden table while Castiel retrieved the settings-identical plates for both of them, and while Michael had a decadent silver chalice, Castiel drank from a crude wooden cup.

"Shall we review your alphabet, then?" Michael asked as Castiel poured the wine. Michael popped a perfect grape into his mouth; Castiel ate a lump of stale bread.

"Yes, Michael," Castiel said after hurriedly swallowing his bread. "I would like that very much." There was an obvious reluctance in his voice, but Michael was either ignoring it or had long since grown accustomed to it.

"Very well. A?"

"Abomination," Castiel supplied, working from memory.

"B?"

"Blasphemy."

"C?"

"Contrition?" That one always gave him trouble.

"D?"

"Damnation." He was certain about that one.

"E?"

"Eternal damnation." That one never gave him difficulties either.

"Good," Michael said. The side of his mouth twitched up in what could almost be called a smile; when it came to Michael, it was close enough. "And F?"

"Festival," Castiel blurted, eyes widening as he realized his mistake. Michael, who had been taking a draught of the wine, choked and coughed, eyes bulging dangerously. "I mean forgiveness!"

"You said 'festival,'" Michael accused through his teeth.

"No!" Castiel exclaimed, panicking.

"You are thinking about going to the festival, are you?" Michael was getting extremely worked up about this.

"I-it's just that," Castiel's mind flew, searching through an excuse. "You go every year, and I thought…"

"I'm a public official!" Michael reminded him. "I have to go, but I assure you, I don't enjoy a moment of it!" He reigned himself in, restoring himself to his former control. "Thieves and hustlers and the dregs of humankind, all mixed together in a shallow, drunken stupor. There is nothing to enjoy there, Castiel."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Michael," Castiel murmured, almost afraid to raise his voice any louder.

"Castiel, do you understand?" Michael said. He sounded almost caring in that moment, but his voice was marred by…something. Castiel couldn't quite tell what, though. "When your heartless mother abandoned you as a child, any one else would have drowned you on the spot!" Michael met his gaze seriously. "And this is how you thank me? For taking you in? Raising you as my own?"

"I'm sorry!" Castiel exclaimed. "Please, forgive me."

"Oh, my dear Castiel," Michael said, almost as if he hadn't heard the other man's words. "You don't know what it's like out there. But I do… I do. The world is cruel, wicked, and it is I along whom you can trust in this entire city. I, Castiel, am your only friend. I who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you, who looks upon you without fear! How can I protect you, unless you always stay in here?" He paused, then continued, voice getting stronger. "You are deformed."

"I am deformed," Castiel repeated.

"And you are ugly."

"And I am ugly," he repeated once more.

"I assure you, these are crimes for which the world shows very little pity. You do not understand, Castiel."

"You are my one defender." He wasn't sure if he actually believed it, but he didn't want to incur andy more of the man's anger.

"Out there, people will revile you. They will call you a monster."

"I am a monster," Castiel went on, receiving an approving nod every time he spoke.

"They would hate you, gift you only with jeers and scorn. Of this, I am certain!" Michael leaned forward, lacing his fingers together in front of his face. "Why invite their calumny and consternation? Please, just stay in here, be grateful, be faithful. Just…please obey me, Castiel. Stay in this tower."

"I will stay." Castiel's head fell. "You are good to me, Michael. Please, forgive me."

"You are forgiven," Michael told him. "But remember, Castiel. This tower is your sanctuary."

"Sanctuary…" Castiel said. The word was strange upon his tongue. He'd never thought of the tower as such before, and he wasn't sure how accurate of a description it really was.

Michael left, then, leaving behind the grapes, almost completely uneaten. Castiel didn't touch them, though. He instead wandered to the railing, gazing down at the street below and wondering, what would it be like, to be down there, living among them? What would it be like, to be normal? To live a life among the other citizens of Paris? Not above them but part of them. He'd often wondered this, but he'd never felt a longing this strong before.

He sighed, staring down at the beginnings of the festival. The festivities hadn't officially started yet, but there was already music, dancing, performing, and a general crowd present.

Oh, what he'd give to be down there with them