Chapter Seventeen

We're Only Human

December 18, 2009

Crowley was running on adrenaline and instinct. He'd had to make more jumps then he normally would to reach his safe house all while trying to hold 150 lbs of dead weight. He wasn't Azrial, he wasn't used to this level of physical exertion.

Azrial.

Crowley's hands tightened on the still archangel as he made the last jump into the safe house. He almost collapsed as they entered the wards, and as the adrenaline fled his body he remained on his feet out of pure spite.

He wouldn't drop her.

Crowley snarled in aggravation as he stumbled toward the bed in the other room. Why did he care? Why was he feeling like he had failed? If those damn Winchesters had listened this never would have happened! It wasn't his fault things had gone to shit.

You insisted on going.

Crowley ignored the knowing whisper in his mind as he placed Azrial on the bed. She was still covered in blood. Her clothes were a mess and her shirt was barely holding together. He didn't even realize what he was doing until he'd dropped the wrecked shirt on the ground. It felt like his body was on autopilot but his mind wouldn't slow down enough for it to catch up.

"Why did you leave? We were safe."

There was no response. Of course, there was no damn response. Crowley's brow creased as he realized he was talking to himself. Wasn't that the first sign of insanity? Crowley huffed and gave up fighting with the tattered jeans and simply cut them off. This was a mess. A disaster. The only saving grace, Crowley snorted at the thought, had been Azrial jumping into his meat suit. Lucifer would have killed him before taking her vessel. Crowley had no doubts about that, but the feeling of her grace curtained protectively around him was hard to shake. She'd basically put herself between him and Lucifer without hesitation. Her grace was akin to a warm blanket despite how cold her power was, and Crowley realized he missed the security of her power. The bits of grace that remained were fading fast as his own aura tried to cling to it with no avail. It was such a human concept, the idea of a security blanket, and Crowley scoffed. He hadn't acted human since he broke in Hell centuries ago.

Humanity.

His eyes widened as he stepped away from the motionless archangel in realization. That was it. That was why he was feeling so, so-

"Human. You're making me more human."

Disgust and anger destroyed his concern in a single moment. Had that been Azrial's intention all along? To make him more malleable when it came time to take Hell?

Crowley went to walk away but his eyes caught sight of the scar that now dominated Azrial's chest. He stopped and swore he felt physically pulled in two directions.

He'd never look after anyone, but on the other hand, no one had ever saved him. Did that warrant a touch more understanding? Should he return the favor now and clear his debt?

Azrial had only been this vulnerable one other time in their partnership, and even then she'd done most of the leg work to keep herself alive. Now though, Gabriel's words echoed ominously in the back of his head. If Azrial died, if her body gave out, Crowley may as well kill himself now. He was officially on Lucifer's shit list, and likely at the top right after his darling brother. Crowley slowly walked back toward the bed as a plan formed.

He'd take care of her for now. Do what he could to ensure she survived. After that though, Azrial was on her own. They'd go back to how things were. No more blurring the damn lines. No more pseudo-friendship.

It was time to get back to basics, and he wasn't going to let an archangel reawaken his damn humanity.

Line Break

Dean stumbled into the bathroom at Bobby's ignoring the arguing in the living room.

Rowen said he was leaving. Dean couldn't blame the man.

Bobby hadn't taken that announcement well and the men were getting pretty into it. Sam hadn't moved from his chair, and Dean was pretty sure his brother had passed out from the stress of it all. Castiel wasn't much better, but the angel had commandeered the bathroom upstairs to rid himself of the blood and grime. Dean sighed as he turned on the sink and began to scrub the blood and dirt off his hands. It was taking more effort than it should. He huffed and looked in the mirror with a frown.

There was blood caked to his neck and side of his face. It was almost flaking off now, but it left behind a stain of red that he had to scrub hard at. He'd probably be better off waiting for the shower at this point, but he wanted to feel at least a little human.

Human.

Lucifer's words had sunk in toward the end. The idea that humanity didn't deserve an angel's aid because they weren't willing to listen or obey rubbed Dean wrong. If that were the case what made Azrial's help any different than saying yes to Michael? Instant obedience meant the loss of free will.

Yet he'd always obeyed his father.

Dean frowned and shook his head trying to clear his mind. He focused on peeling the dried blood off his face hoping that it would distract him. A stubborn flake of blood had him looking intently in the mirror as he tried to rub it off. It finally came off, falling into the sink and a flash of guilt shot through him as he stared at it.

"What the hell was I thinking?"

Dean muttered the question as he lifted his head to look in the mirror again. Lucifer had almost killed him. He swore he had that cliche 'life flashing before his eyes' moment, and the only thing that had come to mind was how badly he'd fucked Sam. He knew his brother, knew him better than anyone in the world, and his brother would have said yes to bring him back. Lucifer would have got what he wanted, everyone would be killed, and Dean may have been brought back just so the bastard could gloat. He wouldn't put it past Lucifer.

Dean splashed some water on his face and took a deep breath. It wasn't Sam, or Bobby, or Rowen, or Castiel's fault what happened though. Things had gone tits up when Crowley had fucked up. It was Crowley who'd made Azrial throw caution to the wind, and Dean somehow doubted Sam ranked above Crowley in the archangel's mind. It had been sheer dumb luck that Azrial was able to spin it to save them both, and he was grateful for that, but he couldn't get rid of the nasty taste that realization left in his mouth. It was adding insult to injury when Gabriel acted like it was no big deal how close the two beings were.

"Disgusting is what it is."

Dean huffed, but the guilt still gnawed at him. Why though? He looked at his face glad to see most of the blood was gone, and he could hear the shower had stopped. With a tired sigh, he left the bathroom ignoring the guilt that still clung to him. He'd make it up to Sammy, and then everything would be back to normal. For now, he wanted a damn shower.

Line Break

Castiel stood in the shower trying to get the dirt off his body. He was mostly uninjured, thanks to Lucifer's inability to handle both he and Azrial at the same time. He frowned at the thought of his sister, and by default Crowley. Gabriel's accusation that none of them had room to judge rubbed Castiel the wrong way. It was putting humans on the same level as angels and holding angels to their Father's standard for humans. Angels weren't human, they were supposed to be above emotions. Michael stressed that things like love, anger, and sorrow were unnecessary to angels, and therefore shouldn't be considered.

Humanity wasn't divine and therefore angels shouldn't feel human emotions.

Yet most days Castiel felt some sort of emotion. Aggravation, anger, amusement, happiness-

Love.

Love was one he couldn't always wrap his head around. He loved, in some facet, the Winchesters and Robert Singer. It was different for each of them though, and it confused Castiel to no end. Love was love was love, right? Father never did spell that out clearly. That left Castiel in a conundrum. Did he push aside all the questions he had and remain a good soldier, or did he explore them? He'd been in a strange rut since he'd outwardly sided with the Winchesters. He felt pulled between Heaven and Earth, and that only worsened when Azrial had shown up again.

Castiel let out a small growl, and forcefully turned off the water as he stepped out of the shower.

Somehow his sister sat at the crux of his doubts. Seeing Azrial with Crowley irritated Castiel to no end. Irritation, another emotion he wasn't overly used to. Castiel sighed, pushing the door to the bathroom open after pulling on a sleeping shirt and pants Bobby had pointed him at earlier, and coming face to face with a startled Dean,

"Uh, sorry man. Thought you'd be done."

Castiel remained silent and eyed his friend. Dean looked exhausted: there were bags under his eyes, and blood still clung to his face and neck despite his obvious attempts to get rid of it. A feeling of guilt curled around Castiel's chest at the blood, and he finally responded.

"I'm sorry."

The apology hung heavily in the air, and Dean stared dumbfounded at him. Castiel went to walk past the hunter but was stopped by Dean's confused voice.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"You almost died. If I hadn't told you where Azrial was headed that wouldn't have happened."

The guilt ebbed at his admission, which was curious. Castiel wasn't used to feeling guilt, let alone how it would fade with an admission of wrongdoing. Dean looked at him strangely, and then snorted.

"Yeah, well, to err is human right? I didn't have to come along."

There was a strange tone in Dean's voice that Castiel couldn't place. It sounded out of place for his normally laid back friend.

"What does that mean?"

Dean stared at him for several seconds and then explained, "It's a saying. To err is human, to forgive is divine."

"That doesn't make sense."

Castiel couldn't keep the mild frustration out of his voice. It constantly felt like he was getting nowhere in regards to human interaction. There were too many meanings in their words, and it was hard enough to figure out the surface of everything said let alone subtext.

"It's not really important. Just know you don't have to apologize when I chose to follow you."

"But if I hadn't told you-"

Dean held up a hand and started to walk past him into the bathroom. The hunter paused at the door and whispered, "Don't play the 'what if' game, Cas. It spirals out of control until every possible scenario seems plausible. At least no one died."

The 'yet' hung ominously in the air. Castiel hoped that it stayed that way, but Azrial dying was still a possibility. It fell firmly under the 'what if' category though, and Castiel decided to listen to his friend.

"Go get some rest, Cas. I'll see you downstairs in a bit."

Dean shut the door after his soft comment, and Castiel stood in the hallway long enough to hear the water being turned back on. It snapped him out of his thoughts and Castiel decided to follow Dean's advice and made his way downstairs to the chair he'd claimed a few days back.

Author's Note:

Hello, lovelies. There are 5 chapters left of "The King's Sword"

As an update: Arc two "Death's Play" is 100% drafted now. I'm working on edits and it will all be set to start posting soon. I'll share more when we get to chapter 22, but there will likely be a hiatus over Christmas so I can get deep into writing Arc three "Dynasty" since "Death's Play" is about half the length of this.