"thud," sounded as the large knife dropped on to the floor.
Followed by its own panting sounds.
"There…" he said with a odd weak voice. The world tilted again. But he didn't care.
He let his eyes wander over the water. This place was so beautiful. Even at night. Then he saw something shiny lay next to his feet.
The moonlight touched the metallic tool. Leaving weird shadows where it was smeared with his blood. He blankly looked at it. His face expressionless.
"Done now…" He let his bloody hand drop in his lap. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as he draws in deep breaths. His whole body was crashing down now. He felt his thoughts even out while his blood seeped through his grave wounds.
"N-no turning back, now…" he raved to himself.
Every word he'd manage to throw out in between his painstaking huffs, his tongue had grown heavier. He most definitely shouldn't be talking right now. Not after what he had done to himself.
It was horrible. There was blood everywhere. It totally ruined the nice grass where he was sitting on. Well, if you called this sitting. He dangerously started sway more and more as he slightly bended to one side.
Even if he wasn't thinking straight, he still was afraid to fall, though. He couldn't imagine how painful it will be if he would hit the floor with his bloody back, and all.
It will hurt.
It will hurt badly.
It had hurt, too
It had hurt so bad.
But, now it was done, he was surprised how, in the name of God, he still was awake.
Wasn't he supposed to be unconscious, right now? His breathing sounds became weaker as his mind started to wander. He thought about what just had happened. He thought about how fast and easy it was to cut off your own wings. They were so fragile. So easy to cut through. It scared him as much as its pleased him this part was over.
Appearing the wings was the easiest part, though. They were already there. So he only had to shift him in this reality. It had cost him almost no Grace at all. And when they were visible for some time, he even felt a little relieved. As the night went on with its peaceful sight, Castiel flapped his wings one more time. Felt the wind brush his odd oil-colored feathers. They looked odd because Castiel had never seen them in this kind of earthly dimension- form. He touched his left wing. He'd stroked his feathers with a strange kind of wonderment. He even liked the softness under his fingertips.
But then he grabbed his huge knife.
That moment was a blur, thankfully. He had taken all those pills Sam had bought for him. And he thought they worked perfectly for the most part. And Castiel was wondering if they still worked, because he was feeling sleepy now. Darkness was forming on the edges of his eyes.
He knew he'll be out cold soon. It has to be. After what he did, he was kind of amazed that he still was mostly okay.
I could be the medicine. Or the shock. He didn't care. Not now, that is. He couldn't.
He felt so numb.
Couldn't feel his arms or legs.
Couldn't move.
A cold wind was brushing his flustered face. Some leaves from the willow tree rustled by the small force. It woke him a little.
"Izh Snow'ng?" he slurred surprised. He blinked up at the darkened sky. Wondering where those soft flakes came from. With all his strength he held out one shivering hand. Eager to catch one. And when he did he gazed at the light soft downy black feather he held. Desperately trying to figure it out, where they came from. In the meantime, more of those soft flakes came down from the sky. Some of them brushed his face. Some of them landed on his lap. Then it had hit him. He swallowed hard end looked at his lap in shock. He knew were they came from, now.
"I-I made a mess. I made a mess…" He slurred weakly as he looked around. The sudden movement almost caused him to fall on his side. He didn't fall. But when he looked at the ground, reality finally had kicked in.
He saw them. Lying onto the soft grassy ground. Lifeless. Bloody. Messy. It was horrific. And they were his! Gasping in his air, Cas tried to feel the stomps on his back. But he couldn't reach it. His hand was getting wet when he stroked his bare skin, though. Presume that it was blood Cas suddenly felt sick.
"D-Dean?" he whispered, hoping it was a bad dream. Like the many other ones he had. "Dean..? Help…" His eyes were getting wet, now. He was crying.
A human thing, and yet so rarely seen by men. Human. Cas blinked as the tears trickled down his cheeks. He was one now. So he did that part right.
Scared and weak Castiel didn't dare to look back down on to the ground. He couldn't stand the smell of his blood. He couldn't stand the horrific sight of his cut-off wings, anymore. Hugging himself he rocked himself back and forward.
"Father… Please! Help me," he lamented. He wanted to say some more things to him so badly… but he couldn't anymore. He was getting tired.
A strange kind of numbness filled him.
He knew what was happening now.
He was on the verge of passing out.
Finally.
It was fair, though. He sure had lost a lot of blood. And the pain had been unbearable.
But when Cas had hit the ground, falling with his teary face on to his left wing, he hoped he was going to wake up soon. With his head on Dean's lap while he was stroking his hair fondly, like the last time.
Before he went completely out he thought he heard his name calling from far away.
"Cas! Oh God, Cas! Oh no no no no. Stupid son of a Bitch! Hey! What have you done!"
*Footsteps…*
*A dropping sound next to him…*
*And… nothing…*
…
A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing me and sending me messages and all. I realy needed it:) Because I sooo wanted to be a better writer. And the English grammar is so different then my own language. Hopefully I would be better every single chapter. Was this chapter what you expected it would be? Tell me! I did leave the bloody part, though, of Cas cutting of his wings. That's even to nasty for me. Well... let me hear what you think!
X Josie.
(Don't forget to review:D)