Chapter 3

As Castiel whipped around and started to walk around the TARDIS console, the Doctor dared to get a good look at him for the first time. The angel looked common enough; a mob of dark brown hair rebelling against its owner's will, a round face with a five o' clock shadow, average height, and good posture. But there was something distinctly non-human about Castiel, and it wasn't just that his clothes – a tattered trench coat, a white, collared shirt, black pants, and blue tie – were covered in dirt and… blood? The Doctor had seen enough humans to know exactly what they looked like, and although Castiel had fooled him at first, he quickly understood the difference. It was the eyes.

This same phenomenon had shown itself in many places. Many species throughout the galaxies were quite humanoid, but usually the difference was in the eyes. The number of pupils, the color range and width of the iris, the number of eyes themselves. But most importantly, eyes spoke for their species. Human eyes were warm; even when the humans thought they were unhappy, their eyes always showed signs of hope and light. Timelord eyes were wise, they looked upon others as if they had seen them before, almost with a bored calm.

Castiel's eyes were sad. The Doctor wondered if this was particular to angels or just this one. Castiel's eyes had seen Creation and they had witnessed its corruption and demise. The Doctor supposed that there was almost nothing worse in the history of time.