Castiel is flying. In Hell, sure, but he's still flying and he sorely misses it. It's curious, that he looks like his vessel, but with wings, just like how most humans imagine angels to be. The last time he was here, he was in his true form, bright and blinding against the blackness of the Pit.
Dean is wrapped in Castiel's arms. The Righteous Man is thrashing, trying to break free. Screaming at him, to let him go. He says he does not deserved to be saved.
Castiel holds on to him tighter in answer, further purging the darkness out of the Righteous Man's soul. Taking up Alistair's blade twisted and blackened his soul, but there are cracks where its former warm light seeps through.
It is beautiful. Even more so now that his soul is devoid of the taint of Hell.
Dean screams at him again. Stop, he begs.
The hellgate is in sight, and Castiel flaps his wings harder. He picks up speed, and he is going faster than he's ever flown before, and before he knew it he bursts out of Hell and into the Earth, Righteous Man in tow.
Dean Winchester is sa—
The first thing Castiel notices about Ethan is his eyes. He never really paid any attention to a person's physical features before, not when you can see their souls. But now that he's human, it's always the first thing he notices: the curve of a neck, the cut of their jaw, the wetness of their lips.
The color of their eyes.
They're green. It isn't the exact shade, but it's close enough to make Castiel's heart clench.
He wishes he could forget, but he only remembers.
It takes the utter look of betrayal in Dean Winchester's face for Castiel to realize that he loves him. It only takes a moment right after this realization to know that it will never be.
Castiel isn't bothered as much as he thought he would. Even if he hadn't betrayed Dean's trust it would never have happened anyway.
They are—were just friends. Family, Dean says, but it doesn't apply to him now, not after what he did, what he's doing, what he will do.
If he dies winning this stupid war, so be it. He doesn't really have that much to look forward to.
At least Dean would be safe.
When Ethan kisses him for the first time, Castiel tenses and slides out the angel blade inside his sleeve. The hunter notices. He quickly backs off and apologizes.
Shit, sorry I didn't mean to—fuck… I'm so sorry, it was a mistake—
Castiel relaxes his grip on the blade.
—totally misread the situation… I didn't want you to be uncomfortable and—
The former angel kisses him back to shut him up. Ethan startles in surprise, and before he could respond Castiel breaks away.
It's okay. I liked it, Castiel says, and he means it. Ethan's lips are warm and soft, faintly tasting like tomato sauce from the pasta they just had. I was just surprised. The… only sexual experience I had got me tortured and killed.
Ethan's eyes widens. Holy shit.
Castiel just shrugs. He doesn't really want to dwell on it. Not so much because he was tortured and stabbed in the stomach (he figures he deserved it anyway, all things considered), but because it reminds him of Dean kicking him out.
Would you like to continue kissing? Castiel asks. Ethan gives him a small smile, snorting while rolling his eyes, but the hunter leans close and kisses the angel again.
Lucifer is in his true form today.
He's beautiful. He has always been beautiful, even after his Fall. It's different now, his beauty, but it has always inspired awe and terror should anyone lay eyes on him.
Hello little angel, how are you? His voice seeps under his skin and crawls along his veins.
Dean visited me today, Castiel says.
Oh? What did the mudmonkey want? Lucifer wraps his grace all around Castiel, covering him inside and out.
Nothing, actually. The archangel tightens his embrace and pain shoots through every atom of Castiel's being. He screams, but he couldn't hear his voice.
You know that's not true, Cassie.
He only wants to see if you're still useful, you know.
I know, the angel screams.
Falling for a human? You should know better, little angel. The pain vanishes instanly, only to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of hate. Castiel can't decide which one is worse.
I can't help it. I don't… I don't care if he's just using me, I just—
Castiel.
Michael appears, also in his true form. Castiel fears him, even more so than Lucifer. At least the Fallen archangel loves him, even if it is a lie. All Michael gives him is his contempt and his righteous fury.
Castiel screams, but no one is there to hear it.
Ethan's on his side in an instant when Castiel wakes up screaming.
Hey Cas, you okay? he asks.
Just a nightmare, the angel says. He's used to them, ever since his Fall.
The hunter sits beside him and wraps his arm around Castiel's shoulders, immediately calming him down. He's grateful Ethan doesn't say anything and let them bask in silence. Castiel lets his head fall into the hunter's shoulders.
They just sit there, Ethan sometimes absentmindedly rubbing the angel's shoulders with his hand.
It's nice and quiet and peaceful, and Castiel knows in his heart and soul and being that he does not deserve it.
Cas… It's me… We're family… We need you… I need y— Castiel cries and screams as his angel blade plunges deep into Dean's heart for the 67th time.
Don't you fucking come near me again you bas— Dean dies at Castiel's hand for the 234th time.
Look man, I… You're it for me, you know? I don't see myself spending the rest of my life with anyone else and—Cas, what are you doing? Cas? Why do you— Castiel loses count how many times he has killed him.
Dean's laugh is beautiful and painful. Oh I know how you feel about me. It's pathetic and disgusting. If you were a chick maybe. I'll make you beg for a good fucking. But falling in love? Don't fucking kid yourself. Nobody's going to love you, least of all me. You wanna know why I kept you around? 'Cause your useful and you'll do everything I tell you, like a good little bi—
Castiel feels tired, so he just stabs Dean quickly in the chest. He can't feel anything anymore. He doesn't want to feel.
He has a moment of reprieve, and so the angel falls into the ground. He's surrounded by thousands and thousands of Dean's corpses. All of them are beautiful, even in death.
He turns to his side and comes face to face with the most recent Dean he just killed. The hunter is on his side too, and Castiel's hand reaches out to his cold, pale cheeks. The angel stares at those lifeless, green eyes as he gently strokes his jaw with his thumb.
Castiel relishes the moment, because it's the closest he is ever going to get.
Have you seen them?
Seen what?
The stars. Up close, I mean.
Yes.
How was it?
When I was an angel it just… is. I've seen billions of stars be born and billions of them die. I've loved them of course, because Father created them and we were made to love His creations. I remember them, every single one, and it was beautiful. But I prefer seeing them from here.
Really?
Yes. It makes me feel more human.
He wakes up in a barn. The walls are painted with sigils upon sigils. He recognizes all of them, although he doesn't know how. The wall with the barn doors however, has a silhouette of wings on them. It isn't painted; It looks more like it's… burned, imprinted onto it. He stares at it curiously and walks towards it.
He stretches his arm out to touch it, but he hesitates at the last moment. The barn doors however, opens itself.
There is a park outside. He can see a lone man flying a kite. He steps out, intending to go to the man.
He greets the man with the kite when he reaches him. Hello.
The man with the kite looks at him and smiles. Hello. The man with the kite then stares at the sky again.
He does the same.
He doesn't know how much time passed, but he says, My name is Castiel.
The man with the kite doesn't say anything; he just smiles.
I am an angel of the Lord. I was an angel of the Lord.
What else do you remember? the man with the kite asks.
Eyes.
Just eyes?
Just eyes.
The man with the kite fishes something out of his pocket. Here, he says, holding out something for Castiel to take.
It's a ball, made of glass, about the size of his palm. He takes it, carefully and with both hands so as not to break it. Inside there is some sort of light; it reminds him of coals and fire, the burning gold of a sunrise and the dusty black of the night sky. It emits a roar, and another, two distinct voices battling each other for dominance.
It's so loud. And blinding, Castiel says.
Good, the man with the kite replies.
Castiel stares at the ball for a few more moments before asking, What should I do?
It's up to you.
So Castiel frees whatever is inside of the ball, letting it drop and shatter in the grass.
Dean couldn't stop pacing. Cas wounds were glowing like an angel wound, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Knowing their lives, it was most likely the latter. It must have been the sigils the fucking bastards carved on Cas's skin that was making him light up like a lamp.
They were in the middle of an empty field. The bare trees were not sufficient enough cover should anything happen, but fortunately for them the road was empty too, with only a few cars speeding towards their destination.
At least Cas stopped screaming. When he first heard him, his blood had run cold. The pain in Cas's voice was enough to make Dean want to rip his own ears out, and the feeling of helplessness almost swallowed him whole.
He had no fucking idea what to do.
Castiel wakes up in a vast blankness. It isn't the devouring darkness he's expecting, but it isn't a blinding whiteness either. If he had never been an angel, he's sure he would have gone mad trying to make sense of it.
But he hasn't gone mad, because it's probably just a different plane of existence. A plane he hasn't been before by the looks of it, which is rare. Visiting all of them would only take moments for an angel, and Castiel has taken that trip many times before.
He doesn't bother looking around, because there is only the blankness and the sameness around him. So Castiel looks at himself.
He's vaguely human-shaped. Two arms, two legs. He can see through himself though, and instead of flesh and muscle and bone there is only a bluish, pulsing light inside. It's constantly moving and flowing, agitated.
CASTIEL.
He feels a sudden urge to kneel and crumple into the ground (or wherever he's standing on, because he's not even sure he's actually standing). The voice is powerful, loving, beautiful, and commanding. Castiel has never heard it before, but he is paralyzed with disbelief at the possibility—
Father?
A wave of emotion washed over Castiel which he can only describe as a smile and an affirmation.
His insides threaten to rip him apart as emotion after emotion clash and conflict with each other: joy, anger, love, hate, forgiveness, resentment. He doesn't know what to feel, but he does manage to speak.
Am I dead?
YES.
Castiel thinks of his brothers and sisters, He thinks of Balthazar, of Samandriel, of Rachel, and Hael and the countless others who died at his hand.
Does… does every angel get to see You after they die?
NO, CHILD.
Then why do I— Castiel stops. A thought dawns on him. It's punishment. For all I've done. Surprisingly, the angel doesn't feel fear. He realizes he has been waiting for this, because no amount of penance would ever absolve him of his sins and crimes.
He does feel a twinge of regret, because accepting this would mean he would never get to see Ethan again, or Sam.
Or Dean.
I'm… ready, Castiel says after a while.
ARE YOU, LITTLE ONE? The angel felt His amusement, although he doesn't understand what's amusing.
Yes.
Whatever's happening to Cas seemed to be getting worse, since the light coming out of his wounds intensified, almost blinding.
Dean wanted to be close—tried to be close to Cas, but he couldn't. Looking at him was too painful, especially now that he can't do shit to help his angel.
He must have been getting pretty desperate, because he was actually contemplating on praying—to God, for fuck's sake. Dean almost didn't, mainly because God's a deadbeat, and a massive prick.
Dean prayed anyway. Not that he can do much else.
Please—
He didn't finish as light erupted from Cas. Dean instinctively shut his eyes, although colors still bled through his eyelids. It was surprisingly not the bluish-white he was expecting; it was gold and red and green, and a lot of other shades he didn't have a name for.
Dean kept his eyes closed even after he knew the light show was over. He's afraid of what he's gonna see if he opened them. Cas could be… dead, or turned to ash or something. Maybe there's going to be wings burnt into the ground, even if Cas wasn't an angel anymore. Maybe—
"Holy shit." The voice was from that Ethan guy.
It was the last thing he expected to see when Dean opened his eyes.
What used to be a bare field with yellowed grass and withered trees was now lush and full of life. The grass was green; tall and upright as it swayed with a gentle breeze. The trees were bursting with leaves. There were also a lot more of them than before.
A multitude of flowers in various colors surrounded Cas. Most of them were blue, but there were reds and pinks and yellows scattered among it.
The most surprising (and most relieving) part was that Cas's wounds were… gone. No scars, just his skin fully unblemished and his face perfectly pristine.
Dean inched closer, slowly, holding out any hope that Cas had survived whatever the hell just happened moments before. Surely, trees and flowers were a good thing, right? And his wounds healed so—
"He's breathing."
When Castiel wakes up, he sees three faces staring at him.