Castiel found himself back at the greasy diner. Fortunately nobody in there was paying attention to his sudden appearance. He perched himself in a booth, alone and tried to lose himself in a sonder. He looked out at the Normals walking by on the street. An occasional tainted green eye mingled in the crowd. After a while an overworked waitress asked his order.
To appease her, he requested a tea and toast. Castiel focused and tried to remind himself how unimportant he was. That every turbulent emotion he was feeling is insignificant in the face of reality. He's just a silent man in the crowd. A piece of dust on a speck of a planet, hurling through the universe. Every concern he was drowning in paled in comparison to existence. He was alive, he was breathing, and for that alone he should be grateful to God above.
The notion allowed him to reign in his emotions long enough to analyze them. He began by pondering Gabriel. What would his brother's reaction be if he knew what Castiel has done? What Castiel considered doing.
A reverberation of Gabriel's laugh echoed in his mind. His older brother would be amused, and probably say that Cas was getting too involved. Make some sort of comment on how his younger brother is too serious. And what about Uriel? How had the priest come to murder, and suspicion? Castiel examined what he could of Devron's fragmented memories.
Uriel was looking into the details of collecting souls. That much he could deduce from clippets of conversation. Castiel already knew how a blue eyes can, in a way, take a person's soul. It has to do with belief, trust, and willingness. Rarely, through history, have people actually released their soul to the church. Every story Catiel had been told, involved either lovers or monks sacrificing themselves.
The gentle sound of ceramic clinking drew him from his musings. His beverage and light meal had been placed before him. Idly he grasped the warm cup and let the comforting heat seep into his hands. Temperate relaxation worked it's way ever so slowly up his arms, soothing the tense muscles. He sipped at the tea. Liquid repose slid down his thoat and warming his chest. Uninstigated, a sigh released itself from his lips.
Images of Anna's last meal drifted by like a ghost. Castiel opened his eye to the diner. Finally observing for the first time. He'd seated himself in the same booth the small group had occupied hours earlier. Dean had sat there, he remembered. He'd happily eaten something with bacon in it.
Dean.
That wasn't a topic Castiel was eager to address. The man was so much... everything. From intelligent, to caring. Graceful in combat, yet brutal in his anger. The Winchester clearly loved his brother and holds family like a treasure. The concern he expresses for the kids at the school was as powerful as a father's love. All of these qualities striking, and so far from what Cas expects to see. Dean has proven several times that he has the capability to stun the priest.
He thought back to Dean's vengeance on Devron. The images still vividly bright in his mind's eye. Probably the most conflicting moment in his life. Mesmerized by the visceral beauty, simultaneously repulsed for the very same reason. Castiel felt his chest tighten, negating the soothing tea's efforts. Dean was amazing in his pain. Swift and powerful.
Castiel had stood there aching to sooth the jagged tears in Dean Winchester's soul. The knowledge that his father was tortured without mercy must have hurt him so deeply. A darker part of the priest's mind mutterd 'Not hurt as badly as that scum bag was.'
Unbidden memories of Dean's sure hands, as he taught Castiel how to handle a pistol, surged to the forefront of his mind. Dean's star stuck expression when Cas had cleaned himself up. Castiel felt his heart thump painfully in response. He didn't like it. but his mind insisted on replying the images over and over. Consuming thoughts swarmed him before the priest shook his head pitifully.
Upset with himself, Cas drank his now cool tea. A distraction presented itself in the shape of his toast. It wasn't fabulous by any stretch. What it did do was drag the memory of Anna's chicken to the surface. He seized the chance and studied his reaction. Food in such simplicity, had given his body pleasure. His indulging in warm tea caused a similar effect. A sort of contentment he'd never experienced. His body craved. Not for the nourishment but for that feeling.
A prayer reached his mind then. Sam's voice asked, 'Cas. If you can hear me, we are worried about you. Please come back.'
The younger man sounded sincere, and uncomfortable. Almost as though he wasn't adjusted to praying. Well, now is as good of a time as any. Castiel finished off his tea, and smoothed out the last frayed edges of his sentiments. His body's peaceful balance felt tentative at best. As the priest dug out a few bits of loose change, he took the last bites of his toast. The brothers were probably eager to learn what was pulled from Devron's mind.
That means he has to decide which information to share. Those two didn't have to know about Uriel. Not yet. Not until he has a better grip on what is going on. Just as he swallowed his last bite another prayer filtered in. This time Dean, 'Castiel. we don't know where you are. So fly your ass down here...' Castiel flashed over so quickly, the priest managed to hear the last of the prayer aloud. This time he reappeared behind Dean, and entrenched in his "personal space" as always. He observed silently.
"...so we can talk and shit. Breaker, breaker. Over and out," Dean's voice held a slight edge of amusement. Making himself smile at his own jokes for a moment, "See Sam. The dick's not answering for anyone."
That comment made Castiel smirk inwardly. His composure remained unmoving as the two men before him continued on. Castiel had a clear view of Sam's face and recognized the 'My-brother-is-embarassing-me' expression.
"Hello," Cas interrupted, "You wished to speak to me?" His deep baritone startled Dean causing him to spin around. The green eyed man at least had the decency to look embarrassed. The priest appreciatively noticed the blush across his freckled cheeks.
"Where the hell've you been?" Instead of indulging in such a vulnerable emotion, Dean instead turned it into righteous indignation.
"I have been preoccupied. Do you wish to know what I have learned?" Came the smooth response. Blue eyes gazed steadily at Dean, as unwavering as the accompanying voice. Unable to speak under the magnetic azure Dean made a non-specific gesture of impatience and grunted.
"Devron never met Alistair in person," Castiel cut straight to the important facts. Dean walked around the room and over to Sam. This way it would almost seem like Castiel was looking at both of them. When Castiel opened his mouth to go on a warm breeze swirled around the room briefly before Anna materialized.
"I was listening," She chirped and sat herself near her brother intent on the conversation, "Go on."
"He had no memory of Alistair's face. I now know Alistair's voice. That is all." Keeping it concise should prevent prying questions about Uriel.
Sam asked the question Castiel had been expecting, "What about our father?"
Dean kept his poker face despite his inner turmoil. He'd snapped in front of Castiel, but he couldn't manage to loose it in front of Sam. His baby brother needed a rock to lean on, and Dean was trying to provide just that. The weight of expectation settled around the priest as he answered, "He didn't know your father personally. Devron worked deeper in the city as a converter. But it was he who tortured John Winchester."
"So, you have the memories?" Sam asked quietly. Castiel nodded. The priest was able to review the memories in a detached way. They weren't his own, and he didn't know the man in them. "How bad was it?" Sam met his eyes, imploring for the truth.
"They tried to break him for six months. John was... Devron's favourite." Being the bearer of bad new was never something Castiel enjoyed. Dean didn't speak. Instead he moved to retrieve his bottle of whiskey. Instinct urged Cas to peer into the Winchester's minds and assess how bad the damage was. It was proper manners that held him back. To Cas's left Anna sat immobile, almost like an intruder who was afraid of drawing a guard dog's attention. Even without invading their minds pain filled the atmosphere.
"He never broke," Castiel whispered. Trying to relieve what strain he could. The brother's emotions seemed to permeate into him. "They took him away to brand him. But- he left alive and he was defiant." Dean tipped his glass in a wordless cheer to his father resilience.
"He could still be alive," Sam voiced in meager hope.
This caused Dean to snort at his brother's naivete, "They'll only keep him alive if he converts. We both know he's dead by now," Dean countered jadedly.
The words tore at Sam. Older brothers are meant to protect and Cas did not approve of Dean's petty actions. "Maybe dad escaped," Sam continued to fight back.
"What kinda shape was our father in when they dragged him away?" Dean addressed Castiel this time. Blue eyes couldn't meet hazel. John was barely breathing when Devron had him removed. Castiel knew Devron expected him to die. The priest didn't want to destroy Sam any more than he already was. Hope is such a pure and wonderful thing.
"He fought even as the cult took him away. Never giving up," The response was dodgy but truthful. It was time to change the subject. "Have you called in an anonymous tip regarding Devron's body yet?" Cas asked the room.
The looks he received were blank. "Devron's dead?" Sam asked, disbelief causing his voice to waiver.
"Yes. I stabbed him to death," Dean concluded his words by swallowing the last bit of Maker's Mark, and examining the glass in his hand as though it held all the answers. The act of revenge has tainted a part of himself. Dean wondered if his soul was the colour of the whiskey he drank. Muddied and impure.
"Since when do we kill people, Dean?" Anger and confusion lashed out across the room with the words. This is the second fight Castiel has become privy to. It almost seemed as though these two disagreed more than anything else.
"That wasn't a person. That was a monster who sacrificed his humanity when he began to Torture People," Dean shouted back, justifying his actions, "He killed people! Innocent people! Guy was a lunatic, and he tried to kill our father!"
"And now, so do you," Disgust dripped from Sam's lips. "Just absolve yourself from guilt Dean, because clearly you can't be the one at fault here."
Dean didn't answer. Tension hummed through his muscles. Castiel hadn't realized a good portion of the room's unease manifested itself in Green Eye power. He's slowly becoming more adapted to how the foreign magics feel. Waves of unnatural heat beat against him, not causing him to sweat, instead causing his body to tense up preparing for a fight.
"You know what? I'm done." Sam stood and turned to leave, "I don't know what we are going to do now, but I can't give up hope just because you have." He left briskly, not wishing to hear any retort his older brother may have.
Castiel looked around the room and realized that Anna must have left sometime during the argument.
Dean glanced at Castiel, of course the priest was already looking at him. Expression pensive.
'I can't deal with him right now.' Dean decided quickly that a bender was in order. Quickly gathering his leather coat he muttered, "I'm going out," before practically fleeing to his car for a night of debauchery.
Unsure of what to do next Castiel prepared himself for the burgeoning evening. He snatched the cell phone that Dean left behind and placed the call to the police. Twice now. This really shouldn't become a habit of his. Castiel is not unfamiliar with death. It is murder that doesn't settle well in his stomach.
With that task complete it was out of idle curiosity that Cas turned on the TV. The fascinating little box captured his attention. There were no TVs in the church. He knew they existed. He knew people enjoyed them, and it was only now that Castiel could understand why.
Images flickered to and fro before him. Information, both useful and useless presented in such a colourful array the priest found it difficult to pull away. It was several episodes on animal planet later that he felt his eye lids droop in exhaustion. Castiel didn't understand a lot of what he saw today, but right now he didn't have a manner in which to find the answer. Not bothering to turn off the magical box, Cas took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and lay back on top of the sheet quickly falling asleep.
He had many question unanswered, and tomorrow would be the time to seek the truth.
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Just had a lot of major things happen for work, but I'm grateful for any readers who are sticking by me. I love you all!