Author's Notes:
Tears of an Angel
Chapter Nine
Part 1. Dean
I cradled lifeless Cass in my arms while I rocked. "Why, Cass, why?"
His eyes were closed forever, and I realized I would never see their sparkling beauty ever again. Not gonna lie, I sobbed like a girl. In case his spirit was still hovering nearby, I said a few words into the air. "Cass, I love you so much. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so sorry…"
I don't know why I blamed myself. Maybe it was the guilt from memories of ripping into his guts, killing him over and over. Or maybe just the fact that I hadn't thought of a way to help him through his pain. I'd made Bobby promise me he wouldn't kill himself. Why hadn't I thought of that with Cass?
I guess I just never thought he'd actually go through with it, hadn't anticipated that the pain of an angel could run as deep as a human's. But I should have. He had left signs—he'd made statements about not wanting to be here. And now I realized why he hadn't gotten his knee fixed. No point in it if you're not going to be alive long. But I'd missed all that. Sad mistake there.
And why hadn't I told him I loved him while he was still alive? Would it have made a difference? I would never know.
I sensed a movement and looked up, and there was Death. He looked the same as always—thin, spindly arms and legs, gaunt face, dressed all in black. "Why are you here?" I sneered. "Why didn't you send a reaper?"
"And miss the death of Castiel, the rogue angel? I had to see this one myself."
I looked down at Cass's peaceful face with longing. "Can't you do something to bring him back? I'll do anything."
"Sorry, but no. He's gotten off the hook way too many times now. It's time for him to go. Besides, he wants to go. I don't get many easy cases like that."
I sniffled back tears. And then something didn't make sense to me, sending off sirens in my mind. Why had Death even appeared to me? Shouldn't he be showing himself to Cass instead?
I looked up at him. "But…there's a reason you're still standing there, and not whisking him away right now."
Death turned to pace. "Oh, boy…you know me too well."
I only paused for a second. "Well, get to it."
"I can't—won't bring him back. But there is something—"
"What is it!" I yelled, ready to rip his head off if he didn't quit stalling.
He sighed. "There is a saying—although I've never seen proof—that angel's tears fall as diamonds."
He paused. I was sure I would punch him. "So? I'm not looking to get rich."
He lifted a finger, as if that would hold me back. "They say that angel's tears are the only thing that can revive a dead angel."
I would've thrown my hands in the air if they hadn't been cradling Cass's head. "Why didn't you just say that!?" My heart pounded so loud that I could hear it. "How does it work? Is there a spell?"
He wagged his finger at me. "Uh-uh, dear boy. I was just giving you a tip. It's up to you to figure it out. You have two minutes."
I lowered Cass to the sofa and knelt beside him. Did he even cry before he slit his own throath? I couldn't remember from the hazy, panicked chaos that had descended during his death.
I examined his face. Wet spots shone against his pale cheeks. That was good—that meant he had shed tears.
I frantically searched everywhere—the couch, the floor, under the coffee table. Nothing. Then I saw something gleaming out of the corner of my eye, a glint of something underneath the couch. I dropped my head to the floor so I could fish it out. And when I gripped it in my fingers, I instantly knew it was exactly what I had been looking for—one single, sparkling diamond.
But now that I had it, what should I do with it? I didn't have time to look through spell books or online. He couldn't swallow it—he was dead. But maybe if I put it in his mouth…
I shoved it in and then clamped his jaws shut. Nothing. And I was running out of time. Then I had to dig it out of his throat with my finger.
Think think think—I had to think. Then I got an idea. There was a hydraulic press in the garage. I palmed the diamond and rushed out to it. I inserted the diamond onto it, powered it up, and lowered the press onto the diamond, and heard a satisfying crushing sound.
I lifted the press and fumbled for a couple of pieces of cardboard on the workbench. And then I scraped some crumbs from the shattered diamond onto the cardboard and ran inside.
Death was standing over Castiel. "No!" I shouted, sprinting as fast as I could to Cass's side. I pried open his jaw and dropped the diamond dust down his throat and waited. All was still, even Death.
Cass took a gasping breath, and then sputtered and coughed. Death disappeared.
Cass's shirt was soaked in blood, and he had a line of it coming from the corner of his mouth. But he was coughing and breathing and he was alive. I stared at him, waiting for him to open his eyes. "Thank God," I said. Rethinking it, I said, "Thank you, Death."
As soon as his eyes snapped open, I saw rage in them. His arms flew up to grasp my shoulders and shove me away. "What did you DO?!"
As I stood to catch my balance, he stood too, and he was putting weight on his broken knee. The angel tears must have healed that too. But before I could comment, he punched me, and I stumbled backward. "What did you do, Dean?" he shouted. "I was about to get to see her again!"
He swung for my face again, but I got one arm up in time to block it. "It wasn't your time, Cass!"
"That was for me to decide!" The fury in his eyes grew and spread to the scowl on his lips. "You don't get to take me away from her!"
Now he charged me, barreling into me until I fell back on my ass. And then he climbed on top of me and pummeled me relentlessly with his fists. All I could do was keep my arms up to block as many punches as I could. But soon, my arms fell to my sides in exhaustion. Cass kept up the punches for a few more seconds and then stopped, possibly realizing he would kill me if he didn't.
He stood and walked away. Panicked that he would go right back to try and end his life again, I jumped up and headed toward him. I caught up with him and grabbed his arms in a hold from behind. He struggled with all his might, saying, "Let me go! I need to go back to her. I need her."
"Cass, stop!" I shouted. "I need you."
He still wriggled in my grip, but I sensed the fight draining from him. "You don't need me, Dean. I'm just a fuck-up."
I said softly in his ear, "But you're my fuck-up, Cass. And you're the best friend I ever had. And I know you heard me before. Do I need to say it again?" He didn't say anything, and I didn't wait for him to. "I love you. Please don't leave me."
He slumped in my arms. And then he walked away, and turned to face me. His face—so fallen and despaired, cried out to me to help him. "I can't do this, Dean." He shook his head. "I love you too, but I can't go on like this. I—"
Sobs overtook him, rendering speech impossible. Unable to just stand there and watch my best friend falling apart, I went to him and wrapped him in my arms. "We'll get through this Cass—just you and me and Sammy, okay?" His shoulders shook, and he leaned his head down into the crook of my neck. And now he picked up his weary arms and hugged me back. I pulled him into me so tight, shielding him from all the angst and the agony in the outside world. "I'm so sorry that Nora's gone. I know how lonely you must feel. I've been through it before, with Sammy, remember?"
He didn't answer, just kept sobbing on my shoulder.
Part 2. Castiel
I lost it that day—that's for sure. Before I decided to end my human life (and hence, my angel life as well), I had sat staring at nothing in particular for hours on end. I no longer wanted to watch TV or talk or even think. It was like I was living in an empty vessel. My body heavy and lumbering, I no longer felt anything—not sadness, not anger, certainly not joy. I couldn't see any reason to continue living—after all, I wasn't doing anyone else any good in this condition. It was just the opposite—I was beginning to be a burden on the people I loved.
When Dean left, I had to go to the bathroom. I picked up my crutches and limped in, and when I saw my face in the mirror, it startled me. A dead man's face stared back, just a skull with a couple of sunken eyes. That was when I knew what had to happen next.
I can't say I was happy about it, but there was a sense of relief that I no longer would bear the weight of all this anguish. And then anticipation, because I would soon be with the woman I loved again.
But Dean threw my plans into array with his unexpected arrival home. I was obsessed at that point, and couldn't stop myself from going through with it. Looking back, I now realize how selfish that was of me. It must have hurt him a lot, seeing his best friend slash his own throat. It's why I'll never do anything like that again—I saw the way his face fell, the desperation as he begged me to stop, and I never want to hurt him like that, ever.
But at the time, I was still swimming in a sea of grief, and not too happy that he had saved me from myself. That's when all those numbed-out emotions came out in a flood, and he let me use his shoulder to cry on.
Sobbing had an interesting effect. At first, it was intense and scary, and I wondered if my body going into convulsions could permanently damage me in some way. But over time, I noticed something different.
Maybe it was the physicality of the tremors, or maybe it was the mountain of tears released all at once, but suddenly something began to lift from me. I think it actually started when Dean told me he loved me. That opened a crack in my despair, one that slowly grew until it released everything that had held me down.
And then when I stood crying in his arms, I remembered how he had cried over my dead body, and it warmed my heart even more and made me realize that other people did care about me, and I wasn't just a useless, broken tool in Heaven's toolkit. No, here I was, an angel without powers, with broken wings and a broken knee, and Dean still loved me like I was a priceless jewel.
And that devotion and admiration washed over me with the tears like a blanket, giving me a safe place to let go of the bad memories I'd stashed inside my body. When he held me, I was lighter, and I knew he had taken some of my burdens from me, given me strength that I didn't have at that moment.
When my crying slowed, I didn't want to let go of him. But he didn't seem to be in any hurry either, and he clutched me while softly saying, "Cass, you've been through a lot. You've lost your powers, you've been tortured while dealing with the newness of pain, and you've lost someone you loved. And, oh yeah—you went through a pretty nasty detox. All these things, by themselves, can make you feel like the world is crashing down on you. But please believe me when I say, this too shall pass."
My sobs had slowed down to sniffles, and I pulled my heavy head off his shoulder and nodded. "Okay. It just…hasn't, not for weeks."
He slid his hand from my back to my shoulder, gripping it firmly. "I know, man. It takes time. But Cass, try to remember that me and Sam…we wouldn't be the same without you. You're not just hurting yourself when you…do what you did."
I wiped my cheek, and then my nose. "I know, Dean. I'm sorry."
He patted me now. "It's okay, Cass. And I'm going to be here to help you get better. Oh, and hey! Your knee is better now, so you can get up out of the house again. That should help."
I nodded. My head hurt, I guess from the crying, and my body was weak, but for the first time in weeks, I felt…better. The love of my life may be gone, but there was love for me here on Earth too, and that wrenched my heart open the rest of the way. And there was purpose as well—if only as a guardian angel to one pair of brothers. It was a big job.
I made eye contact with Dean. "Thank you, Dean. You're a true friend. And I'm sorry for hitting you."
"It's fine. You ready to stop playing Dr. Phil and get some ice cream?"
"Sure."
As we headed to the kitchen, he said, "But I have a question. If angels' tears are diamonds, why aren't we flooded with them? You cried before—"
"But I cried as a human before. I think that when I died, I converted back to my natural state, and that's when my last tear turned into a diamond."
He was spooning out the ice cream now, and he paused. "Oh. Well, dang. If you ever get your powers back, we'll have to work on making you cry. What does that? A good beating? Torture?"
I smiled, knowing that he was kidding. "Nope. Angels don't cry."
"But…"
"I know, technically, the angel tears…but I've never seen another angel cry before, and I never knew it was possible. Must be the unique set of circumstances. The probability of all those events occurring simultaneously would be exponentially—"
"Okay, okay, I get it. But what if we jammed your thumb with a hammer? That hurts real bad." He held up a finger. "Oh, wait! We could put an onion under your nose…"
"Nope."
He went on and on like that until late in the night, and we talked more than I had since I'd been thrown out of Heaven. And it felt good—warm, like hope. Like I was finally at home. Maybe being human wasn't so bad after all. Yeah, the lows were so far down they felt impossible to climb back up. But with that came joy and love that's boundless and full of grace. And knowing that, and with the help of my people, human life is more than just bearable—it's an adventure.
END
