A/N: I hate harming characters normally, but this time it felt great. I've been having a rather crappy past few weeks, and this chapter made it a little better.
(Dealayed) disclamer: I own nothing. I simply manipulate fantastic characters in pitiful ways.
Castiel sat at an old wooden picnic table, enjoying the slight breeze that rolled through the park. He watched a small bird pick through the grass near his feet, hunting for insects.
Heaven was emptier nowadays; the usual mull of angels and souls had nearly been wiped out completely. Castiel wove his fingers together and sighed as the bird flew away, seeming almost frightened.
He felt a presence behind him but didn't dare turn to it. He could feel his power crumbling within him due to the sheer energy that this other being contained. He knew better than to turn and face this impossible thing without the soul power, so he tried to ignore it.
"Castiel." The holy voice washed over him and rattled his vessel's bones. He didn't know who this was, but he did know this confrontation would most likely not end well.
Castiel turned to see a man wearing a casual suit, hands in his pockets. His pale eyes seemed to glow, and Castiel couldn't see Grace shining through the vessel like he usually could with angels.
"I know what you have done. And I am extremely disappointed in you." The man shifted calmly on his feet. "Stealing souls from Purgatory? Because you didn't believe that I existed and take over my place? Who do you think you are, murdering your brothers and sisters?"
Cold guilt and panic rushed through Castiel's veins as he processed the man's question. Could this man be God? "F..Father?" His voice faltered.
"Yes, Castiel. I am God." The man smiled wryly. "I know that you and all the other angels didn't think I was still here. For a while, you did, but even you gave up on me and did this," he motioned a hand around in a circle. "All of those humans believed, but my first children, my angels, ceased to believe in my existence." He took a few calming breaths before asking, "Why?"
He had no response. Castiel's breath hitched and his eyes shifted. Before he could retort, he felt his vessel's throat collapsing and his Father blinked. Castiel fell to his knees as he started to choke, and he clawed at his neck to somehow relieve the pressure. After what seemed like hours, the pain on his windpipe disappeared and several harsh coughs were generated.
He felt his stomach churn, and he leaned forward onto his hands. What was happening to him? The pain that contracted through his body was immense, and he started to wretch. One fragile soul fell from his lips and sank into the grass beneath him, turning it into a sticky, silvery mess. Castiel watched as soul after soul cascaded from his mouth and soaked into the Heavenly grass.
The Lord looked at him and smiled, "Now, Castiel, don't get me wrong. You've always been one of my favorite of my children, so pure and perfect. But after this, I will ensure that you never become an angel again."
The souls continued to leave him, and were now seeping through his pores and the palms of his hands. He felt his wings being ripped from his spine, feather by feather, and he howled in agony around the souls. Castiel soon became overwhelmed with the pain of his power being stripped all at once. When an angel normally falls, it happens over a course of a few days rather than mere minutes.
Eventually, all of the souls were gone and returned to Purgatory through the earth of the Heavenly dirt. Castiel breathed in as much air as he could to regain composure, but it felt like he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. His body curled in on himself and he felt unconsciousness overtake him.
When he next woke, Castiel noticed he was laying on something soft, and he was in an unfamiliar room. He tried to move, but instantly stopped at the searing pain in every joint and muscle in his body. His upper back stung, and he instantly realized the absence of his wings.
He opened his mouth to speak, and his lips cracked at the corners from being so dry. The only sound he could make was a pitiful croak, so he decided to shut his mouth and just wait. Someone would come by soon, right?
While he waited he decided to try and remember what had happened, but all he could remember was more pain. He had fallen once before, but he didn't remember it hurting this much.
"Hey, look, I think he's awake." A familiar voice said nearby, startling Castiel.
"Are you sure? He looked like he was beat up pretty bad." Another voice he just couldn't place through the tremendous headache.
He heard loud footsteps thud on the carpet, approaching him slowly. And then Dean was there, staring into his eyes and peeling off a bandage on his temple.
"Hey buddy, it's okay, you're okay now," Dean said softly, running his fingers through Castiel's silky hair. His friend spoke with such kindness, but how could he? He had been betrayed and Castiel didn't deserve this for what he had done to Dean.
"What? What happ-" Castiel squawked in response. After the searing pain shot down his throat, he decided that trying to talk hurt really bad and should be avoided. He felt the skin around his eyes become wet, and he assumed he was crying, but he didn't know why.
"Shhh, just rest, you'll heal. When you're better we will find out what happened, just relax," Sam softly said. He sounded so far away, but he was standing right next to Dean.
Castiel slowly closed his eyes and drifted into an slumber that couldn't be called peaceful.
It had been a few weeks since Castiel had fallen, and now he could talk and mostly move. He constantly complained about the soreness between his shoulder blades, where his wings had been ripped out, and he couldn't bend or lay down very well, but he was getting better. Mostly.
Mostly, without the nightmares and separation anxiety. Castiel constantly dreamed of the things he had seen and been through over the course of his life. He dreamed of endless torture and the voices that had been in his head while he had the souls, all sounding lost and confused. He didn't want to be left alone, listening to the broken voices in his head, echoing that the Lord would come finish Castiel for the soul kidnapping.
Castiel had essentially lost his angelic powers once, although he had not fallen. He was now completely cut off from Heaven, and lacked all previous powers he had once held. He had gone from a powerful God to a mere mortal in less than a day.
Sam and Dean never asked what had happened to Castiel. He had a feeling they knew what had happened, to an extent, but he didn't want rip open the terrifying memories that he endured every time he closed his eyes by telling them the details. The nightmares that had been planted in his head were horrifing and extremely difficult to deal with as it was. They never asked anything about it, that is, until now.
So Castiel told them. He left out the torturous pain, and simply told him the injuries were from when he fell. They didn't believe it for a moment.
Dean looked at his brother for a moment and shook his head. "So, what you're trying to tell me is God sought you out and tortured you until you threw up the souls? Just because He never really seemed to show up and you didn't know if He was still there or not?"
"Pretty much," Castiel replied dryly. Both Sam and Dean had gone through similar suffering in Hell, so they understood what torture was.
Later that day, Dean sat with Castiel at the little table in the motel. Outside, lightning flashed and rain fell lightly from the sky. "Look, Cas, I know I was mad at you when you were planning on pulling the souls. I said some things that I probably shouldn't have," he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I should have trusted you, but you went behind our backs, man. Surely you can understand that."
"Of course I understand, Dean." Castiel smiled. His smiles were few and far between, and this one lit up his face brilliantly. "I should be the one apologizing. I don't know what I was thinking, trying to make a deal like that with Crowley." The demon's name sent fury down his spine. "I'm sorry I caused you so much stress, Dean. I just didn't know how to ask for help."
"Look man, it's fine. I have issues with that too." Dean patted Castiel's arm comfortingly. "Now I know you just wanted to do it for the wellbeing of Heaven and earth, and to defeat that Raphael guy. He was a real dick. I can understand why you'd wanna kill him."
Castiel laughed at that. "Dean, he wasn't a 'dick'," Castiel used the air quotations around the slang term he didn't fully understand, earning boisterous laughter from Dean. "He just wanted to turn the earth into a giant graveyard and destroy humanity."
Dean snorted. "Oh, yeah, cause that's just the nicest thing to do."
Castiel shrugged, "Angels have strange ways of obtaining power."
"You're one to talk," Dean joked.
Castiel chuckled and his grin stretched from ear to ear.
The three set out to eat at the local diner as soon as Castiel was fully healed. Dean was tired of Sam's cooking, and Sam was tired of Dean's complaining. Castiel had just begun to enjoy human food and didn't really care where it came from, just so long as he ate.
They sat in the booth and skimmed through their paper menus. Castiel tried his best at picking what he wanted, even though he didn't know what half of the items on the menu were.
Sam sipped on his tea after they ordered. "Well, Cas, how's your first dining experience going so far?"
"I've been in a diner before, Sam," He answered simply.
Dean chuckled. "He means the first one you've actually eaten at. You've never sat down and eaten at a diner before, Cas."
Castiel shrugged. "It's not that bad, mostly what I expected. I'm not sure about this waitress, though. She keeps looking at me as if she wants to eat me," he looked down at his beverage uncomfortably.
Dean snorted and barely succeeded in swallowing a mouthful of soda, on the verge of spitting it all over his brother. "Dude, chill. She's not gonna eat you. She just thinks you're hot." He took another drink and Sam gave him the evil eye. "What?" Dean shrank under the accusing glare.
Castiel's face turned a dreadful shade of pink and the waitress chose this moment to return to the table. She smiled and bent over the table a little bit, giving him an unwanted cleavage shot. Sam cleared his throat and her flirty smile turned to an uncomfortable grimace as she handed out the food.
They ate mostly in silence, which was welcomed. As they left the diner, Sam looked up at the stars and sighed.
"That's your 'I'm actually thinking' sigh. What's your grand idea?" Dean mumbled.
Sam laughed a little, "I just remembered something. We forgot all about Crowley, we gotta get rid of him!"
The three exchanged a look. Castiel swallowed nervously, "how do you suppose we do that without me being an angel?"
Sam shrugged. "We'll figure it out. Don't you worry, we'll kick his ass."
A/N: I know this chapter probably isn't as good as the other two, and I kinda went over my plan of 3 chapters. Reviews are love.