We look at alien grace,
unfettered
by any determined form,
and we say: balloon, flower,
heart, condom, opera,
lampshade, parasol, ballet.
Hear how the mouth,
so full
of longing for the world,
changes its shape?
—from Difference by Mark Doty
What can words do
but link what we know
to what we don't
i.
When it first saw/met/found Dean Winchester—in hell, yes; in donasdogamatatastos[1], Castiel—wavelength of celestial intent, and that intent (still, ordered to save him, still, yet even if it hadn't been)ALL THAT INTENT on. That soul? Him. Olora balit![2] It had seen many souls before, those human things, power and frequency but not till this moment did Castiel come faces to faces with the power of that incomprehendability. The angels said they were cicle[3], and Castiel knew the fact as it never had. Cicle. Mystery. Oh, even for those of such knowledge as us; cicle.
To define what Dean looked like then—very like an angel, in all things, truer/closer than Castiel would ever see through the body it later remade—he was, still, of a different zna,[4] which brought to its mind not the angels' which had in the past, and only by those humans high enough to perceive a glimpse of the angels' true nature, been described as pild[5]—no, what was it? Wheels? (Castiel would become very familiar with those, squinting at the tires of the Impala on dark evenings and wondering how the human mind came up with such unlikely metaphor—well, surely a wheel was continual, and, Sam explained, they went round, which was probably why. Of course perhaps that WAS the crux of the matter, for "round?" the angels had no word for that; perhaps because, as far as he and the Winchesters had ever managed to hash out [the Winchesters, in this case, being Sam] everything that angels described had the informed attribute of "round" already and so when long ago those humans had seen angels and said "wheels" they meant angels went round and round, moving but back upon itself? Undefeated by time? At certain angles? —While when Castiel saw Dean's soul in hell and thought pild, it was just such a natural exclamation of the continuality of his inner being, a recognition of ah yes—you are the same, and yet there was no roundness to it, really, humans being linear and timebound and piercing, it was instead like an arrow (or rather a sword; it would learn that later; Dean was not just olora balit but napta ialpor.[6])
[1] Hellfire
[2] The Righteous Man
[3] mystery
[4] movement
[5] continually
[6] flaming sword
ii.
"It isn't really used in regards to, I mean—humans, Cas."
"But I'm not human."
"I mean. People. Tend to use that for things. Or animals. You're not a thing, and you're not an animal."
"I know that, Dean. I'm an angel."
"I'm not—look, don't—I'm not telling you what to do. I just know you and Sam get on these translation kicks sometimes and. There was a whole thing about, what did he call it? Denote…"
"Denotation versus connotation."
"Yeah. That's all. The connotation is just a little, uh."
"Inappropriate?"
"Mhm."
"But why? Ontologically, angels have more in common with things, or with animals, than with humans."
"I don't know, Cas. It's probably because we humans are self-centered bastards, and we think everything that's not like us is lower. So it becomes …kind of insulting. Y'know. 'Dehumanizing.'"
"Ah. I see. Because human think of everything non-human as monstrous."
"Pretty much."
"So you're concerned that I'm referring to myself as though I were a monster, because you don't see me that way. Even though I'm not human. Should I bring up the circularity of your argument?"
"You're a bastard."
"Thank you, though. It didn't occur to me that I was making you uncomfortable."
"Damn it, man, it's not about making me uncomfortable. You know that, right? I don't care about you weirdo, junkless angels. Call yourself whatever you want, but just—be careful."
"I'm vastly more powerful than any foe you've encountered so far, Dean."
"Cocky, much?"
"Well, I wasn't going to mention it, but this vessel is endowed with one."
"People'll start thinking you're a comedian at this rate."
"It does seem to be the one thing that translates."
"Angels and humans—just a bunch of sarcastic motherfuckers."
iii.
Still, if it were to ever write its biography—not that it would (what a ridiculous, self-centered, human notion) Castiel thought it would become very tedious, having to write down 'wavelength of celestial intent' every time it referred to itself. Of course, in casual conversation, he was perfectly adequate, though disingenuous, as it was always of the thought (back of its mind but still there) that it was pretending to be human when it did.
Except for Dean. Dean referred to him as he referred to Cas… 'this is my friend' he meant. 'This is not a monster,' he meant. 'This is family. He is family.' (Sam agreed). So when he was with them, he did not feel like he was pretending at all. He just felt: new.
iv.
It's been a long time since that meeting in hell. Subjectively, at least. Cas finds himself thinking of time in a subjective sense more often, now, since he lost the use of his wings. Since he became human. The world has ended—failed to end, really; and then went on. Who is to say that the years since then haven't lasted longer than all the millennia before?
Still, when he stops with Hannah on some back road in late afternoon, because they have lost their way (again) and he sees her frustration at the simple things, well—it brings everything back sharp; questions of translation. Questions he had once asked himself in Purgatory, such as: if vampires are monsters but Dean is friends with one, that makes monstrousness an informed attribute. (Not that he hadn't known that already. The angels said Sam—his brother! Amma.[7]) Still! He had quickly realized that the angels were no apt judge of monstrousness. Yet if Dean could so easily be swayed, then what separated Cas from those kinds? He had killed—not only in battle but his own species, in massive retaliation that may or may not have been necessary, and was certainly morally wrong, either way. If he had still believed in amma, he would have described himself thus wholeheartedly. (He told himself he did not, but still found himself catching his hand when he reached to touch Dean in innocence—but he will be unclean until nightfall). Ridiculous. That held no magical power he had ever discovered. Even if it had: "I'd rather have you," Dean had told him. "Amma or not."
Even if. Even if so—well, he cannot extricate himself from the Winchesters now. But Hannah, though she might wish for his intimacy, does not need a further curse on her name.
It is so hard to hold back, though. It's been so long since his kind (its kind—it's forgetting already) has consented to touch him, song to song; gracetip to gracetip, and when she calls him, then, "brother—I don't understand how you deal with this world, but I admire—so deeply, how deft—"
And then—seeing him pause— "what's wrong?"
"Still?"
For a moment, her face was uncomprehending. Then a pity fell into her eyes. "Always, brother." And she said it again in their own language: esiasch. Brother, sister, whatever they might choose to translate it to, to spare their hosts' tongues the unfamiliar speech, so clumsy when spoken linearly.
Still, even mangled, forward-pointing like a sword—always.
He wept.
[7] literally, curse. Colloquially, abomination; "a thing with the essence of a curse."
.
.
.
NOTES: all the enochian words here are from the Complete Enochian Dictionary. It's a collection of the words/translations of John Dee's enochian, taken from his various notebooks/works. The footnotes above, in the story, describe the words' SPN-universe meanings. The out-ouf-universe/exact translations, taken from the dictionary, are as follows:
1] donasdogamatatastos = hell-fire
2] olora = man
3] balit = righteous
4] cicle = mystery
5] zna = movement
6] pild = continually
7] napta = sword
8] ialpor = flaming
9] amma = curse
10] esiasch = brother
