Going through some old stuff, found this quote from ages ago, and was suddenly struck with a fic idea. Not much of wings in it but there you have it.
Tarnished Silver
"But his guardian star shines silver. He is a destructive force who puts the weak to the sword and seeks the blood of the strong. He disavows the existence of the weak and bares his teeth like some animal towards the strong. He's a pathetic man forced to live alone because the weakness of his own heart makes him keep others at arm's length." – Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Castiel does not want to be in Heaven. He wants to be down on Earth, helping Sam and Dean with their latest hunt.
But when the High Courts call you, it's better to answer than to ignore them and risk the consequences.
"Dean Winchester."
It is not a voice. There are no real voices in Heaven but for the sake of cataloging the event to relay to the Winchesters, Castiel will call it a voice. And he will tell them that the room is white and silver and gold even though colors have no substance in the High Courts, he will tell them of marble and clouds even though there is nothing physical nor nonexistent about the place, he will tell them of whispers and silver bells and choirs with voices raised in song even though everything is not-thought and absolute intention and perfect will.
"What about him?" Castiel knew his tone was arrogant. To speak in such a way to the High Courts…
"You love him." Not anger, not even disgust. Curiosity. They want to know why, how, why, why, why, why this lowly human mud monkey that crawls through the dirt, scrambling for life, life so short, so pathetic, so weak and easily broken.
Castiel can hear all of these thoughts, all of these intentions, all of these ideas. And it fills him with a surprising amount of rage. But he had always been fascinated by humans, his Father's most imperfect and most glorious creation.
"Yes." He won't answer their question unless they ask it directly. No tip-toeing around it, no hiding behind phrases. Or thoughts or feelings They would ask him.
Exasperation at his stubbornness, "Why?"
"Why not." There is no question in Castiel's voice, only a defiance, "He is perfect—."
"He is human."
"He is the Righteous Man!"
"He broke the first seal!"
Castiel made a frustrated noise, or that is what he will tell Sam and Dean later. Using human words, what really happened was something more like a hot, burning wave of Grace bursting in angry red fireworks and firefly sparks that swirl in a tornado. But a frustrated noise is close enough.
"His star is tinted red." The High Court continued, "From his time in the Pit. He is destructive and broken. Why have you chosen him?"
"His star is tarnished silver." Castiel growled, "It is not red. I have seen it, I held it, I rebuilt it. He is human, he makes mistakes. He trips and I catch him before he falls. I am his support."
"And what does he do for you?"
The question caught Castiel by surprise. He had never considered what Dean was doing for him, only what he could do for Dean. He had to think about it and when he did, he realized that Dean had done so much, so, so much, for him.
"He has done everything for me." Castiel answered, sending a glare at the High Court, "Yes, there have been times when he has made a choice that has…hurt me. But he has given me his attention, his trust, his love. He has made me a part of his family. It is an honor."
"And you have chosen to make him part of ours."
Oh, there's the contempt. They didn't like the decision. Not because it was a human; humans joined the ranks of the angels every so often, it was nothing unusual. They didn't like it because he had chosen Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man who had broken the first seal to Lucifer's cage, the one who had first caused Castiel to fall. Poor, sad, broken, lonely, hurt Dean Winchester.
Damaged goods.
Poor thing.
Lonely thing.
Such a broken man.
Pity, Castiel, pity his choice.
Pity him and his broken toy.
The anger that Castiel felt at the thoughts, the intentions, the feelings of the High Court—of his brothers and sisters—is overpowering.
He wanted to tear, to rip, to shred. He wanted to grab their wings and rip the feathers from them, let his intentions stab into their Grace and dissolve it. He wanted to sent them aflame, to show them how much it had hurt when he had tore through Hell to get to the soul of Dean Winchester. He wanted to pull, to pull and pull and pull at their wings until they popped and tore and muscles ripped and Grace-light and thought and intention and being were spilled across not-marble floors. He wanted to lash out because they didn't understand.
How could they not understand?
He had watched others mate with humans, he had watched others manifest their wings, watched as their human companions ran fingers through streams of light and fire and radiance.
How could they not understand how he felt!
"I love him!" The word was spat with such passion that the not-room shook with it. Castiel knew his Grace was glowing, was shedding light and feathers everywhere and he simply did not care. He stretched his wings out as far as he could, tips reaching for a ceiling that did not even exist. This, he decided, would show them. The utter devotion he had towards Dean was saturated into his wings. Every touch, every whisper, every prayer, every idle thought, every motion, every intention, every memory of their time together, all of it powered his Grace. Dean was his fuel, his existence, his passion, his devotion.
The High Court simply watched as much as intention can watch. They let the light of Castiel's Grace wash over them and, when Castiel finally closed his wings, his self aching with force and love he had poured out, they said nothing for a long time.
"You may not understand this. In fact, I do not expect you to." Fuck the consequences, Dean would say. Castiel was speaking his mind, "Dean is my everything. He comes first. And if you cannot accept that decision, brothers and sisters, then my garrison will lose another angel. I will fall, right here, right now, for him! I will do it all over again for him!"
Silence. The quietest of all stillnesses. You could hear the air breathe if you listened.
"We know." The High Court finally said, "You would fall for him over and over again. You have already done it once, we do not doubt you, Castiel. We do not wish to separate you, only understand. Of all the humans on Earth, of all the billions and billions of them, why the Winchester boy? Why Dean Winchester? Why the broken Righteous Man? Why the scarred and damaged Dean?"
There was only one answer.
Castiel didn't think they would ever understand, love is not something that could simply be comprehended or understood in a few, mere words or transferred through intentions and thought. It is so much deeper, so much stronger.
But there was still only one answer.
Why Dean Winchester?
Why the scarred, bruised, broken, shattered, hurt, but never beaten Dean Winchester?
"I chose Dean Winchester because he is all of those things."
