A/n;; Hey peeps, thanks for sticking with me till this point! I appreciate it, especially this being my very first fic. I hope it's suitable to your tastes and preferences. If not, then for that I apologize.
Disclaimer;; I do NOT own the show, nor the characters. It is Eric Kripkes - oh so fine - work and I only support the story. Kind of, I guess.
Castiel
I had left the Winchester household in a hurry after Dean and I's.. Interaction. The memoir sent a slightly uneasy chill up my artificial spine, but the odd thing was that I didn't feel disgusted or bothered by the thought and instead; warm. Narrowing my brows very slightly to no one but myself, I wondered what the feeling could mean though found no logical explanation to the occurrence. It was strange, to be that close to a human and have a tenseness thriving between the two of them. I tried to concentrate and comprehend the situation we had been in, but dismissed it soon after. Luckily, there wasn't any angelic presence where I roamed in this heaven. Indeed, I -being an angel - enjoyed roaming about mortal heavens, seeing what they had conjured from the will of their mind and how after-life appeared for them as. In this specific dimension, it was fixed entirely on this one old man in the late thirties who had drowned unfortunately in his bath, and it was peculiar to see that this heaven was made nearly entirely of water.
Gazing intently to the sun that beat down handsomely on my wings, I pushed my relaxed form from the indent within the golden beach-sand, spreading enlarged ebony appendages to their full potential and lifting off to cross into another dimension, a dimension away from heaven and to that upon Earth. I had always found humans to be strangely intriguing creatures of Fathers imagination. So reckless with faults but even as their souls shone dim, there were still a select few of individuals that would surprise me time and time again. I had noted those people as extra-ordinary.
Resting my head against the firm of my vessels chest, I sat upon the stiff of a park bench, staring endlessly at the dark platform of asphalt beneath my feet, stuck in a deep train of thought. Dean was one of those people, along with Sam. The Winchesters were a peculiar bunch, but as much as I'd tried to focus mainly on the two brothers, it always seemed to fix primarily upon Dean. Knitting dark brows together, there was a flutter of wings not far off from where I sat in silence. I knew not to fear or be hostile towards my fellow brethren, so as I fixed my gaze off left to eye my newly arrived brother or sister, my blue eyes widened slightly at who was there,
"Balthazar?" Shaky and oddly small I said aloud with noticeable shock and awe in my naturally deeper tone. It didn't seem real, because the blue-eyes of my current vessel had been there when he had his wings singed into the earth. Scorched brutally unto the flesh of the very fabric of a world he and I had both studied and stood by together as it bent and broke into its very creation. We would in iridescent forms of light, travel over vast oceans and landscapes of hard packed earth in an array of colours. I could recall feeling a sense of peace being with Balthazar, though I could never understand. Then several millennia later, once the great rebellion had overthrown the host of heaven, I had watched him die,
"Hey, Castiel," A French-twisted voice spoke out, the form of a dirty-blond man turned to face his own shocked expression against mine, a smile playing innocently across his lips,
"Long time no see, brother." l still stood there, consumed and conflicted entirely by the awe and slight amazement as the cyan of human-eyes roamed an old comrade up and down, trying to focus blearily if they were truly here or not. I had managed to escape the brink of falling victim to that of a daze, and at that moment, a hand rested gently against the crevice of my shoulder, a hand lifting my chin to peer into endless storm-grey irises, cyan mingling with the battlefields of silver hued optics.
"How are you.. But you," I breathed out the words, still dumbfounded and overwhelmed with surfacing joy. Balthazar and myself had been best-friends, having fought together for many millennia and serve along sides on another since the Great Holy War - or better known as, the Rebellion - when Raphael, our wrathful brother had tried to allow the apocalypse to see itself through. Many of our angelic brethren had fallen under the fists of the archangels fury, though I at one point too. But due to Balthazar's loyalty, I had been spared. I owed this solitary individual so much, so much that I could hardly choke out my following words,
"I-I grieved your death.." A smile played at the French mans lips, pulling me into his taller and tender embrace. The gesture was foreign, though I even awkwardly caught on and lightly hung my arms around the other mans back. Once we had separated, Balthazar had a smirk plastered across his vessels features. Narrowing my brows questioningly at the expression,
"I know, Cas." 'I know?' that's all he could give to me? But despite this, I pried,
"But your wings.. I saw them burn into the ground." I ran a hand through my dark head of hair, explaining with noticeable suspicion knotting tightly in the box of my chest. Balthazar took a few steps away, pacing back and forth until replying solemnly with a hint of mischief behind his voice,
"Yea, yea, long story short. One of our brothers hadn't entirely been loyal to Raphael and aided me into faking my death." A smug smile twitched at the other figures lips, something playing behind light coloured eyes that I couldn't exactly comprehend,
"I see. I am glad you are alive, brother." A hint of relief flowed though the words as they rolled off my tongue.
As time carried on, I and Balthazar spoke endlessly about all that had occurred on either ends to one another since the ending of the war. Balthazar mentioned that he had even travelled back into time itself to undo the tragedy of the titanic but had been sent back due to orders from one of the fates. I tried to ask why he had done so, but the old friend avoided the subject in completeness. I didn't question him any further, and thus was when I - so foolishly - brought up the curious case of Dean Winchester.
The blond had listened intently and thoughtfully to my words, piecing together the fragments until speaking his opinion aloud,
"You're falling for him, aren't you?" I looked down, frowning in the slightest as I glanced back up at the other form with dreadfully confused eyes and a tainted emotion of denial,
"That's preposterous, Balthazar. I still harbour my grace and the full of my wings. I haven't fallen for anything, nor am I 'falling'. We may be made up to that of our fathers emotions of love, though I couldn't first handedly describe or identify that I am or can be in love." Love? I shook my head absurdly at the thought. - I hardly grasped the concept of the subject of family to humans, so how is it comprehendible that could I feel anything related to the uncanny attraction from one being to another at all? He knew I wasn't lying, being there nor sense in the sin. I had always been a dreadful liar - I felt no sort of attraction towards the eldest brother of the two, but there was this strange emotion that would burn in the midst of my grace that hummed each time I grew nearer and nearer towards the Righteous man. At my reply, Balthazar rolled his light eyes and argued,
"Please. The way you speak so fondly of this so called, Dean Winchester is fairly similar to that of the description of affection." Indeed I did feel a slight pull of interest towards the FBI agent, but not in that manner. I had never felt what meant it to be in love, or be loved. - Seeing as there is a significant difference between the two - The attitude towards my angelic brethren was mutual, having that we were tied to one another - even the slimmest way possible - by the essence of our grace. That Is an angels greatest power. Their grace. It's what grants me my celestial abilities and without them, I'd be no less than a standard human,
"I do not harbour any intent of romantic nor sexually-related attraction to the eldest Winchester, Balthazar I can assure you. I just feel the slightest bit more interested by he than Sam, his youngest kin." I explained, but my friend didn't seem to be convinced by the retort. Thankfully, Balthazar no longer pressed and dismissed the subject to enter onto a new one,
"Asides from all that. Have you been tuned in on angel-radio lately, Castiel?" Their voice was slightly more serious in tone, and that slightly concerned I, the angelic counterpart,
"I am afraid not. Why? What is it, brother?" I ask, and for a moment Balthazar almost seems unnerved by something. Frowning at this reaction, I lean in to try and force it out of him through the intensity of unwavering and non-blinking cyan eyes. Everyone knows that I have never lost a staring competition, ever. Even though angels do not require the need to blink, they could hardly stand the intensity of my gaze, being a seraph but for other reasons I can truly never recall,
"Castiel.. You should seek our superiors out for this information.. Not I-"
"Balthazar." I warn, growing suspicion and urgency in my vocalization. For several long moments, Balthazar is still and silent, staring at the walk way just as I had done, before looking up with profusely strained grey eyes to bitterly say,
"Lucifer's risen, Castiel... He's back."
Dean
I took a significant step away from the now shocked and confused Castiel, Angel of the lord. I studied him, some amusement rising to my chest as I eye the dark-haired man curiously until speaking out,
"If only that was it.." I had said, and I waited for that head-tilt of his, almost looking forwards to it a little too intently. I watched him curiously as his chest rose and fell as though he had held his breath. Wait.. Did angels need to breathe? As he continues to do this, I see that he hadn't heard me and manages a gruff,
'What?'
The surprise and worry in his voice brought a laugh to my lungs, letting it slide out smoothly with content as he eyed me thoroughly to see if I was still angered, which I surprisingly wasn't. I had been buckling over from soft laughter, looking up to see dark appendages spread into existence and he disappear from existence. I don't notice that I was frowning, shoulders hanging low until a knock several minutes later at the door broke my daze. I shook my head from the foreign disappointment, gathering myself off my bed which I had fallen over on during my laughing spasm, approaching the door to sluggishly haul it open to hazel-eyes, greatly confused and concerned. Sam,
"Hey man umm.. You okay?" My brother asks and I roll my eyes, smiling very softly at the sincerity in his voice. Man was he such a girl,
"Yea, I'm good. Why?" I ask, now squinting my eyes with suspicion but my question and rough look doesn't seem to bother him at all. Sheesh.. I must be more of a girl than I thought,
"Oh nothing you just ugh.. Blew in here like a storm and stomped off to your room like a moody-teenager." Now it was his turn to smile, smugly of course. I sighed, waving him off as I wander over to my window, drawing back the curtains but flinching softly at the foreign reappearance of light,
"Bitch."
"Jerk," I laugh flatly at the bickering nickname we give each other when arguing, running a hand down my arm self-consciously as though hoping to warm up my chilled form. I didn't know why I was so cold all of a sudden, seeing as it was summer after all. I just felt kind of umm.. Lonely? Eh, great.. Now I'm a chick-flick-y, girl. Lovely,
"So you want to tell me what got you fired up?" Sam's voice breaks my silence, and I glance over his way with dimly amused eyes, eyes green and unusually droopy all of a sudden,
"No."
"But, Dean-"
"Sam. I said, no."
"Well then how am I suppose to help you then?" The tall mans voice bites out, irritation rising to his features,
"Sam-"
"No! Forget it.." I guiltily look down as he walks out the door, muttering something I think that was around the lines of, asshole. I didn't like being emotionally sensitive, let alone have anyone be aware of it. Regardless if Sam is my godforsaken family or not, I wasn't about to confess my problems to Doctor. Sam. Hell no. I didn't need anyone when It came down to that shit. Really, all I needed was silence, a bottle of alcohol and maybe a girl, you never know.
I let out a silent breath, motioning over to my door to close it silently after my brother and returning to the soft of my bed, stepping over the mess that surrounded me. At the reminder, I glanced down to examine my knuckles and wasn't surprised to see that one had split open, blood staining the pale of my fist whereas the others were just unusually swollen and a shade of purple. Not paying much attention to the stinging sensation that flared up my arm as I brushed my opposing hand against the tender flesh, I haul myself onto my bed and burrow my face into the cool of the plush, feathered pillow.
I closed my eyes, thinking of all the things I had managed to accomplish that day.
One: I offended an angel Two: I got shit-faced, than drove Three: I had been entranced in the eyes of a man. Four: I managed to have Sam think of me as a moody-teenager. Five: I had ram shacked my room and probably busted my hand doing it. Six: I probably greatly unnerved a very serious angel. Seven: I pissed Sam off for the umpteenth time this week. Eight: And last but obviously not least, I probably just changed my sexuality after that..
From as far as I can tell. I was pretty messed up, and maybe even beyond repair but other than that.. Good day.
Running a hand down the rough and slightly dampened surface of my features, I close my eyes and continue to drown my world away into the fabric of a pillow. I didn't understand myself sometimes. I mean, I could be the perfect douche one moment than the next a sappy teenager obsessing over their damn crush. The thoughts stirred away at the distance memories of anger I recently experienced, but didn't feel the drive to vent anytime soon. I was too consumed by my own petty emotions that I hadn't even heard the flutter of wings that broke the silence within my room,
"Dean Winchester." That voice wasn't Cas's. I look up with alarm at the sudden occurrence of a foreign voice, eyeing my newly and uninvited visitor suspiciously with untrusting eyes. I didn't need a frickin sign to see that this new guy was a angel, seeing as the odd glow in their eyes was writhing with whatever holiness an angel has or something,
"The one and only." I bite out a little cockily, earning a humourless and bitterly flat chuckle from the dark-skinned man, a smile tugging too earnestly at his lips. What was with this guy?
"Cute, but lets get to grown-up talk can we?" That grin.. Something about it is twisted. I silently ponder to myself, sliding a hand uncertainly under my pillow and feeling about for the familiar presence of a pistol that normally rested there. I look to eye the vacancy of protection, only to hear an amused chuckle echo from the angel,
"Oh Dean, you never learn do you?" That little shit. In his hands there rested the loaded form of my dark-hued weapon, so close yet so far away. At that moment, I knew not to piss this guy off, but despite myself I bit out roughly,
"What do you want, feather-ass?" At my insult, that grin only crookedly broadens. It was too dark, too writhing with blasphemy that I gritted my teeth against one another,
"Well, I did want to take this the nice way Mr. Winchester but your attitude seems to have enlightened me of a brighter idea."
"Yea? And what is that?" I ask, narrowing my eyes darkly to the tall man,
"Well, I'm no one to lie so basically, your life. I want you and your little brother, Sam dead. Well, someone else does, but I'm more than willing to carry out their request." The hell this guy think he was? At the so simple reply, I push myself off the sheets of my bed and glare with deadly emerald pairs towards the African American man's shape, anger and protection consuming my very being,
"Listen here you sonofabitch," I chew that words out with a deepened tone, taking a foolhardy step towards the man with the negative vibes, pointing an accusing finger his way,
"You won't lay a single hair on my brothers head, and if you do-"
"You'll kill me? Please, Mr. Winchester. I've heard that line one too many times and look where it's gotten anyone. Clearly nowhere, seeing as I am still present in this world."
"Yada, yada, yada who cares? Maybe I'm different from 'anyone' else." The smugness practically dripping from the mans features fades to a shiver-inducing stare, one that seemed too intent and interested that I swallow down the discomfort in the atmosphere,
"I admire your bravery, Mr. Winchester but if my angelic brethren were too foolish and oblivious to defeat me, than how could mud-monkey such as yourself pose as anything greater or different?" At that moment, I am being pressed against the opposing wall sickeningly quickly, rage and alarm being expelled by a surprised grunt as I try to force against the odd pull that kept my form against the flat structure,
"Because unlike them, I have a conscience you bastard. And maybe even a sense of free will." There is a blink of light that fills the room with a bright glow, and once it recedes there are fourteen foot spanned wings that brush against the far walls of my bedroom, a peculiar aura emanating from the angels being,
"Silence, you fool." In a moment, I am being compressed into a useless heap on the floor, my insides beginning to burn with a foreign pain unlike any other along with the searing hurt that writhed behind my eye-balls as though they were being ripped from their sockets. As I bite out an agonizing holler of consuming pain. I cry out for someone in my mind, and for hell's sakes I even prayed for help. Moments serving my desperate hopes, the heat begins to numb away as an ear-shattering pulse of high pitched noise etched my consciousness from this world away once again, and then I am consumed by darkness..
Castiel Lucifer's back..? I sub-consciously mutter under my breath, distaste and unsettlement setting into my posture to the newly received news. I blink at the repeating ordeal that rang like bells throughout my mind. If the Fallen one has truly returned, than his accomplice - a member of our former garrison - has too paid visit to this world. I bite back at the anger I begin to experience laid out towards, Uriel the one who I believed to have raised the Morning Star. Long since faded memories begin to rise to the consciousness of my mind, and I close my eyes to hone in on the familiarity that begins to open up my intelligence.
The sun was shining, the year roughly about the early eighteen thirties in our presence as I stand before my partner, Uriel who had been my acquaintance for many millennia. Though we had never truly bonded to one another as most of my angelic brethren have, we still served our righteous purpose to heaven sole fully to the will of our father. Peasants and folk of lowly standards made by the day doing their regular momentum of work, the oddly dressed humans slaving to one another's orders. I had questioned Uriel about why humans put one another unto law and enslavement, but he hadn't replied until later years passing.
We were inspecting a breakout of a demonic plague that humans called; The Black Plague. Though man-kind was oblivious to the essence of impurity at the time, monsters roamed freely and carelessly. I still remembered that day when the first Hunter had been born, a man of rough-forties creating the worlds most useful weapon. The Colt. A legendary gun that said to hold the fate of any unlucky victims it's bullet pierced. Uriel had pulled me aside as I had sought to intervene amongst a dispute between one man to another, but hadn't gotten the chance as my arguments had been silenced by the earnest-sense in his monotone vocalization,
"Castiel. You must not be under the influence of these sickening creatures faults. Father created their weakness for a cause, you understand? Because you see, Castiel. We are no lower than they under Father's influence. We are mere instruments that he plays, but we gratefully comply. They play under another's demands, as we do. We are nothing more than slaves."
The end of the memory conflicted my emotions with the rich reminder. I had been so naïve and young to the rebelling presence in my comrades words that I had listened to what he had explained, no longer attempting to step in to end inhuman acts of greed, lust, pride, gluttony, wrath, envy and sloth since that day. Though my faith within our Father remained in tact, Uriel's hadn't since the beginning. He was one of the first after Lucifer to experience, doubt.
Blinking back into the present world, I realized that Balthazar had enveloped my in a securing embrace, his imperceivable appendages brushing against my own with concern. Once he began to dawn of my reflected confusion, he released the connection and cleared his throat. I didn't understand the concept of the human tendency, but I assumed that his time on Earth had earned the angel time to be dawned upon man-made actions,
"Balthazar.. Has Uriel too returned?" I ask, fixing a silent stare upon my old friend who only nods in response. Something too is upsetting him, but as I intend to respond to this a familiar plea for aid fills my mind,
'If anyone's out there, I need help! Please. Don't let him hurt my brother, don't let him! Please! Help me! Cas! Help! My gaze averts from Balthazar, thirty-foot spanned ebony wings spreading in response to Dean's prayers. I don't bother to glance over my shoulder, knowing that Balthazar had too heard the cries but I am too far consumed by determination to give sympathy.
My surroundings begin to zone out of frequency onto another as I am coursing through the skies at hundreds of miles as hour, the crackling echo sounding off in the distance behind my trail as I close into another dimension and appear to find the Winchester writhing upon the wooden panels with an all-too familiar shape looming over his pain-consumed form. Anger and wrath latches sinfully at my being as I surge into the reality more threateningly, tearing Uriel's touch away from the caramel-brunettes body to practically fling them across the room.
Sudden realization escalates to foreign fear across my betrayed partners features, but a smug grin then begins to etch sickeningly at his lips,
"Should have known you were the one who was bound to show up, Castiel. I can see why Father assigned you to this man.." I attempt to urge him forcefully to explain his words, but before I know it he disappears in a flurry of feathers. He's gone, and I'm alone..
Honing onto the single presence in the room as myself, I rush over frantically to Dean's side and fall to my knees in a determined hope to drag the man back into this world but when I press two joined fingers to the sweaty-forms forehead, I sense his soul is fleeting from existence.
My blue-eyes widen in sudden fear, a foreign emotion I haven't truly experienced for another being. - let alone a human - Dean couldn't die, I can't let he and Sam down after God had willed me to the presence of his side. I would be an abomination for allowing the Righteous one to drown into the afterlife, so without a second thought my hands in a single motion dissolve the remnants of his shirt to press a now glowing palm to the Winchester's shoulder, willing my Grace to seek forth and pull the Righteous man from the impending doom of Perdition.
All at once, a pulsating glow emanates painfully from my palm, forcing the wide of my vessels cyan-oculars to glow in pain and wonder as an angels true-essence is being burned into the smooth of the man's bare skin, so soft and tender with my Fathers creation. The igniting blue aura begins to recede to a dull haze as my hand is removed slowly from the presence of the emerald-eyed mans shoulder. Where my fingers and palm had been seared upon existed a red-hand print that sent shivers that were foreign along the trail of my vessels spine.
I had marked the Righteous man.. Branded him as my own.. Tethered the power of an angels Grace to a human soul.. What had I done?
I stared at my hand endlessly as though it were an unworthy abomination, a damned essence of creation I yearned to dispose of in immediate panic. I had moments ago felt the fleeting presence of the Winchesters soul flicker off into the distance of existence, falling down deeper and deeper though before he could impact the cruel and brutality of his impending fate, I had in the non-physical grasped onto his shape, embraced the young man and pulled him from the grips of a demonic claws that had nearly torn at his divinity. Careless of my actions, the results had ended in the seer of my presence and grace into the Righteous man's shoulder, a red welt where my hand had grasped a bitter reminder of the deed I had performed.
Dumbstruck and outright terrified, I stumbled back from the Winchesters shape with majestic appendages fanning out in alarm as a breath was drawn in sharply by the freckled-beings mouth, lips parting and two lavish green of his human eyes to blink into the world of the physical. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe and felt as though my throat had all of a sudden been choked by the realization in which tortured my essence from the fault I had committed. I was sinned, a crime and an abomination upon the holy. I awaited punishment, for my grace to combust but miraculously the strike never dwindled about me. I was astonished, and utterly confused. I had scarred this Righteous soul, tainted it with my needless grace but despite this I still flourished. Or figuratively, of course because inside, I felt as though I were at war. Conflicted by ridicule and distaste. I needed penance for this act of thoughtlessness.
I hadn't paid notice to the life that thrived within the blond-brunette, his gaze flickering about his surroundings as though it were foreign until it derisively landed upon me. But something odd was that it didn't hint that of anger, or of disrespect but that of alarm, surprise and awe. He was just as 'stumped' as I, if that's the correct usage of the term. I am once again snapped out of my daze, but I don't respond to the honey-smooth yet rough desert-dry voice that reached out to my senses. I was too shameful to pick up on the English language, and began to subconsciously mumble Enochian to myself. Cursing vulgar terms unto yours truly, and damning the devastated turmoil of my being.
Dean seemed to have picked up on my hushed wording, his structure raising from the cold and flat of the wooden panels that groaned under his weight that now towered above my own, concern and obvious question in his emerald centres,
"Castiel?" He asked, and the usage of my shunned full-title sent heated shivers of disgust throughout my spine. I shouldn't be accepted, be concerned for by anyone. Especially by such a pure soul, a soul stained by its own suffering and torture that had been shadowed by own greed.
When I didn't respond in any method at all, he settled down before my poorly hunched and pathetic appearance, pressing two warm and sturdy hands on my shoulders as though trying to grasp my attention. I blearily blinked and looked up towards this tainted-being, my heart dropping at the contemplation of my mark. But as I stare at it, I don't feel just the presence of disgust and shame but that of.. Pride? Now why is that?
"Hey. Cas? Can you hear me? Cas!" I am reawakened from my own dilemma, virid hued irises blinking with worry innocent in his tone as my shape begins to shake from the other mans actions. I avert my gaze from the everlasting scar that existed due to my egocentric plight of ripping the taller figures doom to the clutches of the field of damnation. I scanned bright, yet dull-green orbs for anything emanating anger or disgust but found not a single trace. Even as I honed in on his emotions with a caress of my grace, there wasn't a hint of distrust or odium.
Feeling my limbs relax slightly, the feathery touch of my skin begins to lean forwards sub-consciously and then I am falling into the touch of the Winchesters warm and inviting hold, my consciousness slipping from this world. Fading as I whisper the name of the damned,
"Dean..." I drag the name on breathlessly, weakness from ordeal I had responded to in such a frantic manner, beginning to clutch at my will and soon I am being dragged down under the snares of exhaustion.
Dean
There was numbness that graced my being, veiled me in a rough grain of stagnant air that crisped the burn of heat that plundered below, where I sought to impact into its fiery depths. The sensation of falling is like no other, you see because, it's when you feel yourself plunging into an endless abyss, it is those terrorizing moments that seem to legitimately claw fear into your heart and soul and inflict snippets of madness. As I fell, I screamed for Sam, screamed for his help, for him to catch me but I continued to descend into the impending void that seemed to swallow me in darkness below,
"Sam! Help me! Anyone! Please! Help me!" I screamed myself until my throat had begun to choke up as I endlessly drowned in shadows of sin, of dark deeds that reflected my impure past. But as I neared closer to the end of my voyage into what I guessed to be the pit-of-hell, there were arms that embraced my form, a hand cupping too tightly against the sharp of my bare shoulders until there was the sizzling of melting flesh. I uttered out cries of agony, squeezing my eyes shut from the near-unbearable pain as though my body were being ripped in two.
However, as the ablaze of heat began to cool I wrenched my neck in awe to the purity that caught and began to ascend me back towards the light above, a light that I yearned to see. I felt myself strangely at peace within this creature of lights aura, nearly lulling me off to a sleep of relaxation until the tearing returned and I was being stuffed inside of something, or more like urged. They were gentle, two cerulean eyes blinking expectantly towards me with omniscient age of knowledge that looked between me and my body.
Had I.. Died? The thought sent an uncertain shudder along the mentally physical part of my mind, but I swallow it down and nod before stopping myself and looking towards the form that watched me with such affection, such.. Such admiration and hope that I hadn't understood what I had done next.
Approaching the being of pure light, I wrap an arm around what I presume to be its neck and plant my lips against a non-existent theirs. The beauty was huge, but with it being hunched over before me I could easily let my mouth meet theirs with sincerity and gratitude. As I part my lips from its own, I take a moment to take in the entire dignified appearance of my saviour and eye the two extra heads which seemed to be that of an ox and the other a zebra. It had gigantic ebony wings, flakes of ivory and metallic specks acting as stars. I could picture this things wings being similar to that of the galaxy, bestowing such grace and wonder, yet an astonishing wisdom. They regarded me quietly, unresponsive to my gesture and I smile at its naivety silence, only to turn away and venture towards my physical body and when I did, I gave one last longing glance the majesties way before melting back into my body.
Air sharply entered my lungs as my eyes blinked back into existence, recalling the moment I had pressed an impure grace upon such a purifying being. I remembered feeling that I felt myself being cleansed just by being enveloped in its celestial embrace. I didn't know what it was, who it was, and why it saved me but as I take several deep intakes of oxygen to my being, I come to realize that off to my left there planted a cyan-eyed man, dishevelled locks and unruly bunched up wings that resembled that of the galaxy.
They were familiar, but as I try to press on the thought, the memory of my saviour begins to fade from the presence of my mind. I flinch with displeasure at the lack of understanding of the situation, but don't hesitate to make my frantic way over to Castiel who was on his knees, head dipped and mumbling an unidentifiable language,
"Castiel?" I had asked, receiving no response from him at all whatsoever to my voice, taking his form and shaking it back and forth as though it would snap the angel out of his self-tormenting trance,
"Hey. Cas? Can you hear me? Cas!" I repeat this two more times, trying desperately to meet my Guardian's opaline gaze that seemed distant and absolutely lifeless. Moments after he responds with stirring a little, his eyes falling upon something and I can almost see fear ignite within his blue pools. I let out a relieved breath, whispering out something along the lines of sounding like, thank goodness but I would never admit it. Yea, over my dead body - quite literally. I was about to release his shoulders, comprehending the state he lingered in until I could feel each muscle under my hands sudden loosen. At first, I assume that his tension faded and was beginning to subside from the apathetic deadness in his once-bright blue irises.
I am about to ask if he was alright, but as his shape begins to fall forwards I tense in surprise and discomfort before realizing he had fainted from what I can assume to be; exhaustion,
"Cas? Cas!" I bark my dark tone into his face, eyes closed and each tendon limp from unconsciousness. Cursing self-consciously under my breath I wrap my arms around his waist, under both arms and begin to hoist him up onto his feet with great effort. Seeing that he isn't stirring, I grunt to myself as his head comes to rest against my shoulder with head tilted towards my neck. The mans warm breath ghosts across the pale and clammy-feel of my skin and I shudder at the awkward stance we were in.
Feeling my heart lurch as I attempt to drag that angelic-being over to my bed, I back up and hope to be able to get him onto the mattress by doing so but am taken strongly aback as the dark-haired figure limply falls against my form. I gasp and grunt in discomfort, not at all liking the position we were in. I try my best for the next minute to get the other being off of me, and prevail just as Sam wanders into the room with a ghostly-pale appearance to his features. I must have something on my face, because the smug grin that tugs to the corners of my brothers lips is enough to say that I was probably flustered.
I eye him once Cas plops against the soft of my bed, his shape in awkward positions but I don't seek to try and fix them. If the guy wants to fall asleep on me - practically - then he's gotta pay for it. Not just anyone collapses into the arms of Dean Winchester and gets away with it.
No one.
Castiel
Iridescent lighted poured like a flush into the darkened room where I had laid siege to under the influence of wrath upon a past comrade. My mind pulsated in unimaginable waves, either sides of my cranium pounding with some foreign agony that I winced when my body had began to function once again. However, as my upper torso began to lift up off what I presumed to be a mattress there were hands suddenly pushing me down. With a still-hazy perception, my blue-eyes blinked uncertainly towards a blurry figure, taking a few moments to process who stood over my bedside with concerned hazel-irises. It was Sam.
Narrowing my eyes curiously and cautiously, I helplessly complied to his wishes, straining to gaze at the relaxed Winchester,
"Samuel?" My voice was unnaturally cracked, bitterly dry to my liking. It was an unpleasant feeling that coaxed itself into my body, but I knew very little of my own condition at the moment to heal myself to whatever magnitude.
In response to my voice, the burnet-haired male's brows knit together with clear sympathy and dislike to whatever I had done or said. Feeling my own features begin to narrow with an unknown frustration and utter naivety the tall figure let out a silent huff of air, staring back down at my shape with an unreadable expression - which was surprising because, I could peer into ones mind to contemplate whatever emotions humans were feeling. Perhaps somehow, the Winchester was different,
"Please, just call me Sam.." Ah, that was what he had been referring to it regards to the drop in positive vision. Nodding a little awkwardly, I let my cerulean gaze slip from his features - which I had been silently observing - to fix it upon the ceiling, my head dipping displeasingly deep into the pillow of whoever bed it belonged to,
"Cas?" A deeper voice asked, a familiar one that I rued to hear once again. Closing my eyes tight with disobedient negativity generated towards my being, I am forced self-consciously to respond to the eldest Winchesters tone with pained, cyan eyes. I was ashamed, and completely disgusted in myself to taint such a pleasant being. Penance is what I deserved, and certainly not the hospitality of these two men I knew very little, yet so much about. When raising the Righteous man from the clutches of Perdition, I had peered into the glory and captivating beauty of his soul, a reflective green that mirrored the sheer brilliance of alluring irises manufactured so carefully and proudly by the Host,
"Yes, Dean..?" My voice came out hushed, and unnaturally low. Sam seemed to notice this, the boys form shifting slightly left to right until meeting gazes with his kin. A shallow conversation passed between the brothers, and I willed myself to not hone in and eavesdrop seeing as it would be low and nonetheless shameful than I already was. Looking over however with a brief glance, a nod was exchanged between the Winchester's before Sam left in an expectantly, rushed manner.
Swallowing down a wad of saliva at the settling discomfort in the room, I fixed my still-unwavering attention towards the burnet-blond, his features mixed and contorted with several emotions. From what I could read, there were frames of awkwardness and uneasiness, yet between the crevices of his mind there hid a serene gratitude for whatever reason. There was no logical explanation to be gracious for my sinful act, being the one that had an unrighteous burn of my non-physical presence into the mans sun-licked flesh. A constant reminder of how my irrationality resulted to the FBI agents permanent memory of my hand being seared into his skin. I quivered uneasily at the thought, remembering how I could still feel the way his cries of agony had coursed throughout my true-being - which he evidently could perceive without being mutilated beyond repair. But then again, he had been dead and had nothing much to lose - and rendered me weak in the aftermath of the quick expedition into hell.
Perdition's memoir flickered in the back of my mind, still able to touch and feel the way his lips had been pressed against my absent-own. The way warmth tethered at my Grace and had blended into his soul for a brief memento before it had been all over. Completely a loss for contemplation and a response, I had through bright, unblinking metallic irises as he returned to the physical being of his true-shape,
"Hey Cas? You with me?" A voice invaded the unconscious space of my mind, two fingers snapping together to make popping noises before my bleared-irises of a perplexing blue hue. Blinking back into the presence of the moment at hand, I titled my head off to the right out of confusion to the gesture and what he had said,
"What?" I blurted mindlessly, an abnormal flare of heat igniting patches of iridescent redness beginning to settle into the flush at the back of my neck. Though the feeling was foreign, I simple-mindedly dismissed it but was only to be taken aback once again as a humorous and almost-amused chuckle drowned out my reply,
"Dean?" I asked, concern evident in my gravelly-tone but the taller figure continued to childishly laugh away for some unknown cause. Shifting into a position so I could eye him more clearly and comfortably, Deans humorous gleam behind twin, virid irises began to recede and I was almost disappointed to see it disappear to the dull visage they originally were. Eyes so drugged with the perception of negativity that I began to express pity upon the average human. At the word choice, I frown with vexation clearing the worry in my features. Of all ways to describe Dean Winchester, 'ordinary' or, 'average' most certainly was not one of them.
At my sudden action of silence and gesture of regarded fondness, the burnet-blond seemed to smile for a fraction of a second, a very faint quirking up of the lips before a frown was plastered across his characteristics,
"Nothing, you're just really awkward y'know?" I blink, cluelessness becoming me all at once. I didn't understand what he meant, so I just shift around until my back was straightened and my shoulders squared even. Seeming to sense my unsettled state, he begins to move about restlessly with his back still pressed firm against the walls of the farmhouse room, the opal-hued wallpaper beginning to peel with age,
"What is the matter?" I ask, concern set adrift to flow endlessly in the gruff deepness of my voice. Though Jimmy - my vessels true name - had a voice of a higher pitch, my own had overcome his and had eventually coaxed itself into one another to create a gravelly voice that was yet strangely smooth and soft. I was a younger angel within my garrison, yet I stood superior over many of my angelic-brethren. Recently climbing to that of a justifiable hierarchy amongst the angels. Being that of a middle-tier wave length of celestial intent had its perks, along with that of simplified abilities to that of resurrection as I had prioritized my abilities upon the Winchester. Such foolishness.
Letting out a needless huff of air that I did not require, the substantial amount of relaxation that had moments ago, coursed throughout my very being long since faded to a dull thrum of anxiety and a reminder of my egotistical aspiration.
It wasn't until a hand came to fall warm against the crook of my shoulder did I snap back into the conscious dimension, drifting my head up-right to watch forlornly up to the emerald-eyed characteristics of a man, my pellucid onyx plumed appendages being melded into existence before I honed in elsewhere and disappeared from the presence of the Winchester household. But before I left, I could have sworn I heard my name being called. A hand reaching out to grasp and drag me down before I had blinked out.
I must have been mistaken.
Dean
Driving desolate fingers to dig into the clean-shaved mans arm, narrowing my eyes before they're distracted by the low hum of ruffling as wings began to shape into existence. Captured by their enticing serenity for a brief moment before I feel myself stumble into the empty bed, my hands bringing fistfuls of sheet into my arms as I tumble against the mattress unstably.
Letting out a low and irritated grunt, my bright hued irises darken a deeper shade of virid green before narrowing with ill aggravation. The damn ass couldn't at least stay a minute to explain himself? My mind bitterly mutters to itself over and over, clogging my temples with irascible contemplations and foreign expressions that crisscrossed my characteristics in fluent, yet peculiar motives.
Someone's throat clears behind me, and I am whirling around sheepishly to meet my brothers gaze who's brows are up with clear amusement smug across his features,
"Shut up." I warn him dangerously with a hiss, standing upright and passing by Sam with an indescribable emotion toying with my thoughts. He let out a solemn little grunt in response, bringing his hands up in defence before calling after me,
"Dean." He breathes out, I turn back to face him with flushed cheeks. But I'm not embarrassed, or angry. Nah, that's understatement. I was downright pissed! I mean, who the hell gets saved by two guys - in which one of them allows the bastard to snooze like sleeping beauty in their damn bed - then ditches? That asshole, and I swear the next time I see him..
"Dean!" Tight hands are rapped around my shoulders, squeezing into the tender flesh on my left shoulder with brooding intensive eyes boring into mine. I shake him off, snapping back with a bitterly rash,
"What?!" I'm about to loose it,
"The hell do you want from me Sam? To say, 'I'm sorry'? Well, hate to burst your bubble, princess but it's time to put faith in something that actually matters!" The moose charges passed me unconfidently, throwing his arms in the air before whirling around to growl right on through,
"You know what I just don't get you, man! One moment, you're in a semi-decent mood, the next a pissy teenager-one and now this? Something is wrong, and I can't keep doing this Dean! I hate arguing and fighting with you, I hate that you drink away all your 'problems' instead of talking to your own family. I hate that you still believe you're not worth believing in, that you don't matter! I'm sick of your damn, shit-faced attitude."
I blink at him, completely taken aback by the length and cuss-quality of his response. Sam didn't swear often, but when he did.. You knew that shit just got real. I feel unnaturally uncomfortable, and what is that.. A hint of shame? No, I'm Dean Winchester and there' no way that I'm,
"So man-up, grow a pair or whatever and talk or so help me.." Giganto looks as though he wants to punch something, judging by the way his fists clench and unclench with absolute fury. I haven't seen Sammy this mad since.. Well since he and dad had that fight, involving the one where he took off because he wanted to be 'normal' and not be the freak in the family for once because, we don't really have a regular-life. Sam never wanted to be the, 'boy with the alcoholic father'.
Running a hand through my short amber hairs, the gesture rather soothing and calming for some odd reason. But I never was one for the, touchy feely relationships. Ever. Hell drag me down under if I did, but.. Been there, done that right?
"Want me to talk? Fine, but I need a drink first." This was my problem, and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I was slowly but surely turning into my father. An old drunk who'll have nothing to live for, for the rest of my life and this time I'll lose Sam because - as much I regret saying this - he's the closest thing I got, and is the one thing that gets me to hold onto.. Well, living. But I guess I wasn't really living If I drank a bottle dry each week and did a piss-poor job at work. I was just like dad, and inside, deep inside of Sammy. He knows that too. Maybe that's why he constantly insists on me trying to open up, but I never have been someone for the 'feelings-talk' or whatever the hell they call it.
The tall burnet simply nods, cooling off on steam just a tad before I grin a little cheekily, brushing past his abnormally large sharp and trudging a little sluggishly down the steps.
If I know Sam by now, he'd follow me just in case I fucked off somewhere in the meantime of my conditioning, but to hell with that idea. I was tired, and had nothing left over to run stream on. My 'mojo' was completely drained, but in a matter of hours I'd be back up to speed, if I hadn't transformed into a girl after our little 'talk'.
Sam
Dean had always been awful at hiding his emotions, well normally that is. It's been bugging me for a while now, and I couldn't bring myself to believe that all these years of constant prying to crack him open and free the guy of whatever ate at his well-being, would just settle out like that. It was too good to be true, y'know.
For the first few minutes, I was tempted to call Cas but then I realize that I had no idea how or that it was a good idea. Call it a hunch, but I figured that his mood-swing was all at cause to the guy but I had no clue what happened between them. It seemed that ever since the angel invaded our lives, it's made Dean more skittish. Actually, it was like a teenager obsessing over her crush but of all people.. Dean wouldn't get the 'magical feeling' over a dude, let alone an 'Angel of the lord' as Castiel so proudly puts it.
Dismissing these thoughts, I let a breath pass through my lips, heat radiating off my harm as though the anger I had unharnessed was already beginning to seep from my bones. Honestly, I hated being angry but it was hard to feel anything else when you a had a dick for a brother. Downstairs, I come to find myself stupefied that Dean had actually kept his word or whatever and was sitting comfortably in the seat of a rundown couch, his dark greens eyeing me for something, anything. After a while, I cleared my throat and made my over, ignoring the comment of him calling me 'Alice' and contently settling down on the couch on the far left of where he sat, eyes wide and profoundly curious as to whatever he was going to say. But I wasn't prepared for what spilled out,
"It's Cas." The words are mumbled, low and raspy as though he couldn't believe himself for saying it. It took me a few moments to understand and contemplate what he had said, taking deep thought into the peculiar notion of information before he rolled his eyes and sat back further heatedly into the cushion of his seat, gaze shifting elsewhere awkwardly,
"Oh." His brows narrow,
"'Oh'? I say one of the gayest things ever and all you got is, 'oh'? Hell no, get on with the damn queer jokes and shit like that, or, or that it's wrong or something dammit!" I am shocked by his desperate pleas to be mocked. Who'd want to be mocked for practically 'coming out' exactly? Sure, I had suspected that he and Cas had something odd between them, but never had I imagined it like.. This,
"Sorry, I'm just surprised that's all." I probably look dumb and sound stupid saying this, but I was happy to hear anything come out of my brother. It was better than being wound up tighter than a wind-up toy. I sure as hell couldn't manage what he has,
"Surprised? The hell you mean by that?" Ignoring the rashness in his voice, I pity him subconsciously in the absent section of my mind. He was probably beating on himself for admitting such a great deal, and harbouring such a 'girly-emotion' or whatnot and however he put it in that messed up mind of his,
"Nothing, it's just that of all things you decide to tell me about how you feel about someone, or at least kind of. That's it." I smile genuinely, my brows knitting together with sympathy but no matter how much I try to convince my brother that it was okay to feel this way, I knew that deep down he'd keep beating himself up about it. Deciding against this, I continue,
"Like, what do you mean? What do you feel when you're around him..?" It's more awkward than I expect it to sound, but Dean nevertheless shrugs and clasps his palms together, rubbing the heels nervously as though trying to find a suitable response to make the situation less-awkward,
"Well for one thing, it's not how I feel around a woman that's for sure. But there's just this.. Thing that just pokes at me every time he does something. Kind of like the other-other little brother I never wanted." His gaze shifts into the distance, captured by something seemingly interesting as though meeting my eyes would burn his own out or something.
My mouth gapes open, a light chuckle passing through my lips,
"What? You f-ing laughing at me, you ass?" Though the question isn't significantly irritated or guilty, I stop my low chuckles and clear my throat from non-existent phlegm,
"No, no! It's just, it's just really nice actually that you seem happy or at least mildly amused of something other than me.." His gaze shifts back and focuses on me, death arrows practically stabbing me all over. Uh oh.. There's the snap,
"You know what, fuck you for that." My frown deepens with confusion as to what I said was wrong, but I didn't feel like it was my place to question whatever ran through Dean's mind. I knew my brother had never been quite experienced in telling people how he felt, but it had to happen one day right?
"Okay, sorry.." I look up in hopes of meeting the shorter mans eyes but found them wandering and doing everything in their power from meeting mine. Perhaps there was still hope for the broken shell of a man I saw in him. There just needed to be someone good enough, and strong him enough to raise him from this state. The person inside that was hidden under lock and key that seemed to be impossible to open. He just needed that one thing that no one has ever offered him. And that was faith.
"Pssh, last time I 'open' my heart up to you Sammy. Next time, I'm ordering us some cowboy junkies on the dial, then we can sip on some herbal tea and watch 'say yes to the dress'." A smug-ass grin twitches plastically to the corners of his lips. He's putting on the tough-act, brushing it off as though it were nothing. Typical,
"Y'know what? Think I'll have that beer now."