S4E1: Lazarus Rising [with a bit of S4E20: The Rapture] – Disclaimer – This is my take on Castiel's point of view in the first meeting between he and Dean Winchester. I did not write the dialogue; it was taken directly from the official transcripts.
"...Promise me my family will be okay, and I'll do it." Jimmy Novak's head tilted skyward, bathed in a pure, golden light. He had stepped outside of his house to speak with Castiel alone, away from his family. For that, Castiel had granted Jimmy a peek at his true visage, and it spread across the servant of God as a blanket of light.
Castiel could not very well make the promise Jimmy requested of him. The war between Heaven and Hell would most certainly beget casualties of those who were not even aware such a war was taking place. It was not a pressing concern of theirs to protect those people; Heaven would not spare any angels to watch over Amelia and Claire. But Castiel needed this lamb who could contain his grace without deteriorating. So he lied. He whispered the promises Jimmy needed to hear in order to succumb to Castiel's own need.
"Then... yes," Jimmy accepted. Yes. That was the word Castiel needed. His true form burst forward from the heavens, and Jimmy opened his arms in welcome, staring up at him in awe as he funneled down into the waiting vessel, filling him with his grace and power.
Once inside, Castiel tucked Jimmy's consciousness firmly away in a fold of the man's mind. He had no more use for Jimmy aside from the shell he now examined from the inside out. Castiel stretched within the confines of the vessel and looked out through human eyes for the first time in over one hundred years. Staring up into Castiel's brilliance had brought water to Jimmy's eyes, and Castiel had to focus through it as he lifted Jimmy's right hand to flex it and remind himself how it felt to wear a vessel.
The sound of a door behind him alerted Castiel to another's presence. He slowly lowered his hand and waited.
"Daddy?" came a small, inquiring voice.
He turned to the owner of the voice, a small, blonde girl in a zippered blue coat. It was Jimmy Novak's daughter, Claire. But Jimmy was secreted away in a dark, tiny corner, unaware that his daughter had sought him out. Castiel regarded her with a tilt of his head and stared. He remembered the hollow promise he had given Jimmy in order to gain the acceptance into his vessel. Jimmy was a man of God and had given himself over to the Will of Heaven, yet it had been with a condition. And now, that condition stood above him, up the neat steps of this well-kept home. More than anything, Jimmy wanted the safety of his daughter and that of his wife.
Castiel turned his back on Claire. They were not his priority. There was a war to be fought, and now that he had his vessel, Castiel was able to communicate with the Righteous Man, the breaker of the first Seal. It was time.
"I am not your father," he intoned and walked away from the little girl.
.oOo.
Castiel felt the pull of the spell moments before it ripped him across time and space to stand before a dilapidated barn. The sun had long since set, and darkness settled across his surroundings. Inside the barn, he felt the presence of the man he had saved: Dean Winchester. And he wasn't alone. Castiel could also feel the wardings scrawled across every flat surface in the building. The corner of his mouth twitched with a touch of amusement. None of the wardings would affect him in the slightest. In the near future, he would have to educate the hunter.
Castiel steadied himself and called upon his angelic powers to bring forth a whipping tempest to announce his arrival. Heaven required Dean's subservience, and after what Castiel had seen what Dean was capable of in Hell, he thought it best to step forward with a show of force. It seemed to be working. Just the wind had spiked the anxiety level beyond the closed doors of the barn. Castiel closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Inside the building, a light bulb burst. Then another. Another. Now, they were ready.
Using the flat of his hand to direct it, he pushed his power against the double barn doors to swing them open. He was met with some small resistance which shortly buckled with a crackling snap. From where he stood, Castiel could see every part of the barn as the sparks from the popping light bulbs made tiny fireworks. It was brighter inside than out, and though both men inside squinted through the sparks, they could not see Castiel until he moved forward.
Each step into the building and through the sparks flying about took him closer to Dean, and Castiel couldn't take his eyes away from him. The man who broke the first Seal looked remarkably better than the last time Castiel had seen him. A bleak image of the first time he had seen Dean flashed behind his eyes, and he felt his face harden with the memory.
Unsurprisingly, Dean lifted the shotgun he was holding and pointed it at Castiel's chest. It went off, and Castiel felt the bullets nestle into his vessel's flesh. It pressure made him blink. As he strolled forward, three more rounds were pumped into him before the men looked at each other in shock. Castiel stepped between them and put his back to the other man; he had eyes only for Dean as Dean turned toward the weapons on the table to drop his shotgun then whirled back to face him. Close enough to touch, close enough to save.
Castiel's garrison had ripped through level after level of the Pit in search of Dean, leaving bodies of demons and angels alike in their wake. Finally, it had been Castiel alone who reached Dean's side, battle-broken and exhausted. He felt as though he might not have had enough strength left within him to even pull Dean from Hell at all. Then Dean had laid torture-crazed eyes upon him. Castiel had interrupted a session in which Dean seemed to have been taking quite a delight, and he did not welcome said interruption. Castiel had been forced to clash with the very man he had been sent to save. And while Dean went for blood, Castiel could only defend and subdue. Dean had not gone down easily, but once Castiel had tamed him, Dean clung to the angel's grip in sobbing desperation as Castiel gruelingly raised them both from the blood-soaked depths of Hell.
"Who are you?" Dean barked. There was no recognition in the hardness of his eyes.
"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."
"Yeah," Dean shifted. There was something behind his back. "Thanks for that." Castiel allowed himself to smile and nod at the thanks Dean had been too frightened to give during his rescue. However, this thanks was punctuated with a sudden slam of a knife blade into the chest of his vessel. Castiel watched Dean's green eyes widen in disbelief when Castiel did not react to what would have been a killing blow to a human or, judging by the feel of the sigils scrawled on the blade, to a demon. Dean backed away, and when Castiel looked down at the knife hilt poking out of his chest, he couldn't help but be amused. A magical knife? This is what Dean chose to use against him? He turned his small smile to Dean who looked back with building fear. That was to the good; Dean needed to know angels were worth fearing. He pulled the knife from his chest and, keeping it level with the stab wound, dropped it to the floor in what he expected would be perceived as frank indifference to such an ineffective weapon.
Dean glanced beyond Castiel's shoulder, and Castiel used the tell to reach up and catch the crow bar that was swinging at the back of his head. He turned to the bearded man in the cap on the other end of the crow bar and used a few extra steps -pulling on the bar to lead the man- to a clear spot to lay the man down safely. With two fingers to the man's forehead, Castiel pulsed angelic power through his body to knock him out and guide him gently to the floor. This man was not only no enemy of his, but he was an ally to Dean Winchester. There was no need to harm him. Castiel dropped the crow bar unceremoniously next to him; he had no need for such a barbaric weapon.
When he turned back to Dean, he could see a storm of emotions in the man's eyes. Fear, anger, concern, and under it all, curiosity. Dean was ready for battle, but Castiel had had his fill of fighting Dean from their first meeting. If only Dean could recall how brutal it had been.
"We need to talk, Dean," he said. He looked down at the other man lying on the floor as though reassuring himself he still slept before fixing his eyes on Dean. Though his chest continued to heave under quick breaths, and his eyes were still wide, the hunter's adrenaline was fading now that the fighting seemed to be at an end. Castiel didn't want to fight. There had been enough of that in Hell before Dean had slumped to the ground in defeat. He willed Dean to remember. "Alone."
.oOo.
Castiel awarded Dean a moment to check on the man sprawled on the floor. While Dean busied his time with that, Castiel flipped idly through a small spell book nestled among the weapons on one of the tables. It was all very rudimentary, some of it completely incorrect, but it gave him something to focus on while Dean performed his act of checking on his friend. Feeling an itch that they were running out of time, Castiel felt compelled to speak.
"Your friend's alive."
He heard Dean shift before his answer. "Who are you?"
This again? "Castiel," he answered with no little boredom and annoyance. He flipped another page in the book, eyes picking out more mistakes. It was a wonder the angel summoning had even worked.
"Yeah, I figured that much." Each word Dean spoke had a biting anger. "I mean what are you?"
Castiel paused and slowly turned his head to look at Dean. Was it possible? Could he really have blocked out so much that he didn't even know what Castiel was? The look in Dean's eyes confirmed his ignorance. "I'm an angel of the Lord," he stated.
Incredulity flashed through Dean's eyes for only a moment, and Castiel watched as Dean armored himself in anger instead. He slowly stood from kneeling next to his friend and squared himself before Castiel. He seemed ready to fight again, and the sight brought a sadeness upon the angel.
"Get the hell out of here," Dean argued in a strained voice. "There's no such thing."
After what Castiel and the other angels had gone through to get this man out of Hell, his flat denial of their existence was downright comical. Castiel felt a smile come on, but he controlled it before he laughed in Dean's face. He knew the hunter would not take kindly to it. Instead, he mirrored Dean's stance and lowered his chin to stare him down.
"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." With that, Castiel released his grace with a thunderous flash. Dean flinched from the light and then cast his eyes about to find it's source before coming to the correct conclusion that it was the angel himself. Castiel watched as Dean's eyes widened in wonder at the silhouette of his wings. A kernel inside of him wished his wings weren't so damaged, that Dean could gaze upon them in their full glory. Alas, they had suffered in his trip to Hell to collect the hunter and hadn't yet finished molting from the strain of it. Look, then, Dean. Look at what I went through for you. As soon as the thought formed, Castiel realized how petty it was and dropped the light, hiding his wings once more.
Dean quickly recovered from being awestruck and returned to the anger he knew so well. "Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."
'That poor woman' was nowhere near special enough to behold sight of an angel in their true visage. She was actually quite fortunate that her eyes were the only thing she had lost. Though it hadn't been his fault that she had been hurt, the accusation stung coming from Dean, and Castiel drooped under the weight of it. He looked down at the floor with a sigh and shook his head before stepping forward with his explanation. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be..." he looked up from the floor; serious conversation deserved eye contact. "...Overwhelming to humans. So can my true voice, but you already knew that."
"You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you talking?" Dean's brow folded down in consideration with his questions. Castiel meekly nodded in answer. It pained him that Dean had not been able to hear his words after they had ascended from Hell. He had been able to hear Castiel's calming reassurances in the journey they made out of Hell. Dean had been so broken inside; Castiel was uncertain how much worse it would have been if he hadn't been able to communicate with his charge. "Buddy, next time lower the volume."
"It was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong." It confused him that it was so. He and the other angels had been sent to Hell to bring the Righteous Man out because he was special; it seemed a reasonable assumption that he would have been able to still look upon and hear angels once he was returned to Earth.
"And what 'visage' are you in now, huh?" Dean seemed less pleased with the thought of his inability to see angels than Castiel was. "What? Holy tax accountant?"
Castiel allowed himself a glance down at the clothes Jimmy had been wearing when he accepted Castiel into him. "This," he slid his hands over the hole-filled lapels of the coat. "This is... a vessel." He looked up at Dean with a bit of a smile. Dean had no idea just how pleased Castiel felt at his good fortune of having gotten a yes from the one vessel that could contain him properly.
"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Well, when he put it like that...
"He's a devout man," Castiel replied proudly, refusing to allow Dean's biting words shake his confidence. "He actually prayed for this."
"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"
Dean's question crushed Castiel, and his worry for Dean came out in a quiet reply. "I told you."
"Right. And why would an angel... rescue me from Hell?"
"Good things do happen, Dean." Sadness washed over him as he stepped closer and gazed up at the hunter. He pressed his will through his gaze and into Dean. Remember, Dean. Please remember. Their meeting and the rescue had created a profound bond between the two of them. Castiel still felt it, would always feel it. They were linked, and Dean couldn't remember.
"Not in my experience," was the tight reply.
"What's the matter?" he asked, leaning slightly nearer, suddenly aware there was more to this than Dean's missing memories. He rifled through Dean's emotions to get a better understanding of the situation. There it was, and it was a horrible feeling Dean was carrying. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."
Dean huffed at him, trying to dismiss the comment instead of addressing it. "Why'd you do it?" he asked.
That was the question Castiel had been waiting for. If Dean was asking, he was ready to hear the answer. Castiel felt the tip of his tongue touch his lip before responding. "Because God commanded it," he paused to allow Dean to process the information. "Because we have work for you."