And the Moment Lingers On - DCBB - 1/6

[9_of_clubs]

 Part 1 
  Master Post II  Next Castiel is sitting out in his favorite spot, it’s more like a perch really, a jut of stone that goes so far over the square it makes him dizzy sometimes. But when he sits here, even just for a moment, he can almost pretend that if he only took one more step forward, he could spread his wings and be among them. That, of course, he knows to be a dream and still he wishes. Looks down and pretends. Puts the faces he sees into small carvings, dreaming of a life beyond the walls.

Today though, it’s especially hard. It’s a Celebration Day tomorrow and the square below is bustling with all kinds of life and excited preparation. Sumptuous silk tents rise up from every corner as angels, their wings just visible but tucked away, order humans around to the various tasks that still need to be done. And it’s the humans that Castiel likes best. The angels are beautiful, but they’re nothing compared to the brightly clothed creatures, whose emotions flash wildly across their face in a million different shades and expressions.  Castiel doesn’t pretend to understand what it means to feel even half of them, but it’s a wonderful distraction, he finds, to try and capture the thousands of expressions in paint and wood. He can almost forget, as he works, that the real stranger has long vanished. He never quite manages perfectly though, always feels he loses something.

A burst of music catches his ear and he crawls just a little farther forward, seeing a small band of humans start to play a tune he can’t recognize, certainly not anything that would sound in the cathedral. High as he is, it still fills him with a kind of excitement, especially as other people begin to dance in the square, shrieks of laughter echoing up. Even a few of the angels have stopped to watch, slightly curious amusement written on their faces. He bites his lip as he watches hands clasp together and smiles widening, his eyes fixating on the figures as they start to move together in a dance.

The excitement gives in to hunger as it always does, to the desperate desire to feel so free. His gaze swings to the door of his room without permission; it’s not locked for once, he knows, left open by Lucifer for good behavior, and likely, with the Holiday, his guardian will be busy..so he wouldn’t… Would it really cause so much harm if he... if he crept out?  Only for an hour or so, only to see. He’ll wear his cloak, no one will know. It’s not that he doesn’t understand why he should be kept locked away, he just, he has to see what’s out there, even just once. Yes, he can just, he jumps lightly off the ledge, reaching for his cloak, he can rush down the stairs and he’ll only be a moment. The cloak falls across his shoulders, and then he’ll come back home, straight away. And he’ll -

He rushes towards the door, plans still half forming in his mind, but stops short before he quite manages to leave, blinking, unsure for a moment why he can’t seem to go any farther. Then fingers are twisting around his wrists and he’s thrust backwards into the room.

“Castiel.” Lucifer’s voice sounds half dangerous, half amused, “Are you late to some important engagement?”

“I -” Something about the older angel always disables him instantly, causes the nerves to wrack through him, makes him feel like a child again. “No, I was only...”

Lucifer’s cold eyes travel to the cloak and then out to the ledge, as though he already knows, and of course he knows, he always finds Castiel’s secrets. “You were only?” He laughs again and the hints of danger pick up in the tone. “Tell me Castiel, do I waste my time trying to keep you safe?” A pause and the eyes find his again. Ernest but not sincere. “Do you really wish to be harmed quite so badly?”

The words fall down heavily against Castiel. He doesn’t have an answer for that, Lucifer is right. His heart clenches. But truth is truth, so he only meets the gaze for a moment and then drops his eye, head bowing.

“You know that wishing to be out there is only a -” Lucifer begins the game they often play, the one that makes Castiel want to shrivel up, hide somewhere far from the teasing voice, and never come out.

“A waste of my time.” He answers duly.

“Because you are -”

“An abomination.” He says quietly, eyes still firmly on the floor.

Lucifer comes nearer a hand reaching out to card slowly though Castiel’s hair, fingers stroking down to tilt his head up. “Oh Castiel, I don’t tell you these things to harm you.” A golden smile stretches across Lucifer’s lips. “Only because they are the truth. Angels are meant to be perfection, you understand. And you know they would never accept you, flawed like this. Only I do that.” His fingers tighten, “Only I was willing to do that. I took you away for your own safety when it was clear that wing wouldn’t grow. Locked away your grace so that you might be… safe.”

There’s a silence and slowly the younger angel nods his head. He knows. “I know.”

“Then I expect no more of these clumsy attempts to leave and we won’t speak of it.” Lucifer drops his hand and moves to the table, sets a basket of paints and books on it, and Cas supposes, he is grateful... for the protection, and the…the visits; though all he’d like right now is for Lucifer to leave, so that he can let the raw hurt wear off in peace.

Lucifer starts to talk about something and he nods here and there, but doesn’t really hear. He wants, despite himself, to believe the words aren’t true, the ones Lucifer says, and yet he can’t really find a way to believe otherwise. Still, he has the memories, distant as they may be, of laughter and companionship. Someone, someone important, close. But he might’ve he’d only imagined them -  it would be tempting, for his mind to play such a trick on him, with the cold stone walls bearing down endlessly. Or perhaps…even worse, the memories are real, but the angel finally saw the error in his ways. If this other existed, he would have been very wrong to care about him, very wrong.

“Castiel....Castiel...CASTIEL?” Lucifer’s voice cuts sharply through and he jumps, blinks to attention and sees Lucifer holding a few of his carvings, playing them back and forth in his hands. “I asked you,” The words drag out purposefully slow now, and Castiel blushes a little, as though he weren’t feeling low enough. “I asked you, why on earth you would want to carve this, this scum?”

“Scum?” He repeats, looking at the carvings Lucifer is thrusting forward into his vision, trying to concentrate, he doesn’t know them, who they are, perhaps they were criminals or -

“Humans. Castiel. Human scum.” There’s distaste in the hiss and something more vicious, something bitter and poisonously angry.

“I - “ He frowns, he feels like this is a trap of sorts, but he has no answer but he’s too drained to find any answer but an honest one. “I find them fascinating.” He almost tells Lucifer about the expressions and the emotions, but he bites it back, he doesn’t think the other would really understand.

All the words earn him are an eyeroll and a dismissive, “Yes, you would.” And another laugh, “Well darling, don’t get too attached. I’m not sure they’ll be around for much longer.”

He rises, the wood suddenly blazing to life in his fingers, ashes falling to the floor.

“And don’t you dare leave again.”

With a blink, Castiel is alone again. For a moment, he stands there frozen. Then slowly he walks himself over to the ledge again and curls up, trying to lose himself in the sights below.

His only wing opens of its own accord wrapping itself around his body and he curls into it.

Useless.

--

The sultry, clashing tones fill the square, and it’s a good day, Dean thinks. The sun’s out, Sammy’s safe, sitting on a trunk behind the band, reading a book like the giant nerd that he is, and the coins have been falling into their hats. Begging isn’t exactly his cup of tea, but playing is better than the real jobs they’re allowed to have in this damned city. And those are few and far between anyway. Plus, he gets to see the looks on some of those emotionless prick’s faces when they hit on some of their lewder songs, pissing off the angels is always a bonus. Okay, so they aren’t all as straight laced and tight faced as the officials, hell if a whole bunch of them didn’t stop and clap, they’d never make a living. But even the ones that smile, even the ones that toss money, he hates them.

And hell, they brought an audience with them today, which only makes it better, an unusually large group of them down to see the festival preparations. The women have already started dancing, and Dean never turns down the chance to watch that. He’s pretty much equal opportunity when it comes to what ends up in his bed, but women dance better than men do, and that’s fact. He grins at Risa, out in the crowd, and she glares back, still hasn’t forgiven him for that misunderstanding then. He’ll have to apologize again later, maybe pick her a flower or two.

He almost misses a note though, when a coin clatters directly at his feet instead of the hats they’ve set up and he looks up to follow it back to a blonde angel who’s leaning nonchalantly against the nearest wall, smirking at him. Fucking entitled pricks, there’s a place for the damn coin and it’s not tossed at his feet, something about it too personal, making him feel like a fucking dog. In response, he glares back, fingers strumming harder, eyes narrowed. At least until Ash elbows him in the side between lyrics. And yeah, they need the fucking money, but - he sends one more glare over, tempted to do so much more when the other sends him a wink. But starting a fight right now…He forces himself to concentrate again, to ignore the way the damn angel makes anger spark through him. A good day, he reminds himself, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let it be ruined.

But it seems like somehow fate is determined to screw him anyway, because no sooner has he gotten back into the swing of things, does a sudden roar come from the crowd and the Guards of Justice come charging out of nowhere, swords glinting in the sun.  Fuck.

“Sammy,” Dean yells, as they all start to scramble, and damn it’s his turn to grab the money, he swears again and starts to pull it all into his guitar case, shoving his instrument in as well. The guards are getting closer quickly and he knows it won’t matter what he says if they catch him. Gone, he needs to be gone.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees his little brother struggling with his overlarge book. He wants to tell Sam to just leave the damn thing, but it’d taken them so long to get a hold of it in the first place and Sam isn’t done with it yet. Books are expensive and even harder to steal; he knows it has to come with.

“Run Sam, okay.” He doubles back to grab the book from his brother’s hands and nudges him with his elbow, and Sam looks at him, slightly terrified, but nods, taking off in the direction of home, this isn’t the first time this has happened. They’ve never been so far behind in the escaping, though, never so close to the guards. Dean takes off after him, but he’s slower between the weight of the money and his full hands.

He dodges to the right to avoid a guard but ends up slamming right into someone else instead, his body flying backwards as his eyes travel up the once clean, white robes that are now colored with dirt and dust, up to eyes that  looking down at him as though he were some particularly ugly bug. He freezes, heart sticking in his chest, as he recognizes the man on second glance. Lucifer. The High Judge, the one they say would see them all murdered, the one who’d destroyed their last camp, who’d lit the fire that -

With another jolt, he realizes his amulet has fallen at the man’s feet, and he’s picked it up, looking at it with a derisive smirk, the piece of gold dangling mockingly through his fingers. But if he manages to get that...Dean can’t let that happen.

“Steal this human?” The angel laughs, taking a step closer, At least he doesn’t seem to recognize it for what it is, Dean sucks in a breath, trying to steady himself, eyes on nothing more than his necklace. He just has to time this right.

Lucifer bends closer, “You know, you look remarkably like my older brother. But I assure you one of him is enou-“

He senses the momentary distraction and launches, snatching the amulet away as he scrambles to his feet. Then he’s running, doesn’t bother to look back, ignores his aching side and goes. Book, case, and amulet, all in hand, thank fucking God.

He hears the furious orders to seize him echoing behind him as he goes, spotting Sam lingering in the crowd, watching, even though he’d told the kid to scram. Well, he wouldn’t have left either and he’s half relieved he gets to keep him in sight.

“Come on,” He says breathlessly, the moment he’s close enough for Sam to hear him, the guards getting closer, they just have to run, to get far enough away for it to be okay for them to sneak quietly back home. He chooses a street at random. But fuck, he swears loudly as they round the corner, the road is blocked by some tent, so they have to veer around, but the other way is cut off by a gate, the voices of their pursuers getting louder. He tosses the guitar case and the book over without thinking, and reaches for Sam, just in time for the ugly angel brutes to come into view.

“Dean,” Sam yells, even as he’s hoisted over. “Dean.” But there’s no way he’s letting his little brother get caught up in this.

“Just go Sam,” He says, again, “I’ll be fine,” and he turns around, knowing he won’t be able to make it over fast enough, ready to face the ends of the swords, fists up, even though he knows he’s unmatched and untrained in the face of this enemy. Still, he’ll try for it, he has to.

The leader gives him an ugly smirk, which promises pain and Dean sneers back, “Come and get me, you fucking cowards.” He growls.
It sounds braver than he feels and he’s trying his best not to think about that sharp piece of metal piercing through his stomach, but it’s kinda hard not to. He hopes Sam is not listening to this, even though he knows he is.

The angel takes another step closer, and then another, lazily taking his time, drawing it out.  Dean considers just lunging, as the other angels titter around him, drawing some kind of blood before his own is spilled, but then, something is too bright, and it’s burning his eyes, so he ducks to the side, arms thrown up over his head. Is this normal, he tries to think past the light exploding in his vision even with his eyes shut, some damn angel attack?

But just as suddenly, the light is gone...and so are the angels. Confused, he looks around him, tries to figure out what could have made them all disappear like that, nothing he’s ever seen, that’s for sure. They wouldn’t have just…left? Would they?  His roving eyes land on a smirking face and the confusion turns into annoyance again.

“I could have taken them.” He growls, arms crossing over his chest, ignoring the droplets of blood still falling off the, now healed, cut on the angel’s arm, and the design painted onto the wall that he’s sure just saved his life.

Blue eyes fall on him, “Well that was a marvelous first attempt at a thank you, I’m touched. Care to try again?”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” Dean grits out, he doesn’t need the damn things protecting him. “I would have been fucking fine.”

“Oh I’m sure you would have, darling.”

And the amusement makes him growl even harder, makes him sorely tempted, once again, to throw a punch. He’s not some cute, little, human stray.

“Would have scared them away with those sounds you’re making alone.”

Before he can respond to that one though, the angel looks up as though seeing something, gaze vanishing into god knows where for a moment, before it turns back onto Dean, smirk still in place, but there’s something harder there now, and fuck if he’s not the slightest bit curious to know what just went down.

The angel beats him to the punch. “Well, it seems I am needed elsewhere,” The hardness vanishes again momentarily for the ever present condescending mirth and Dean finds another coin tossed in his direction, this one he catches.

“I quite enjoyed your show.”

And then the blonde is gone as well, leaving Dean glowering at the spot he was standing, but he pockets the coin with an eye roll, fucking bastard.

“Come on Sam,” He calls, throwing himself over to the other side as well. “Let’s get out of here.”

--

Balthazar appears before Lucifer, the smile is gone from his face, and he only watches the other warily from across the room. They’ve had meetings like this before and none of them have ever gone particularly well for Balthazar. Any pleasure teasing the human had brought drains away.

“You summoned me?” He tries to keep some kind of respect in his voice, but there are some things he’s still never forgiven Lucifer for. And being in his presence reminds him of every one, brings back a slew of memories he’d rather forget.

Lucifer smiles pleasantly up at him from where he’s seated and nods. “Prompt for once, I see, there’s a fine start.” He lounges back and just watches for another minute or two, and it’s all Balthazar can do to just stand there, before he speaks again. “Good boy.”

“You summoned me?” He repeats, itching to leave the dark, stifling room Lucifer has chosen for himself, the place where Lucifer plays judge and jury to all the inhabitants of the city. He’s sure it was once a dungeon…he’s not so sure it’s not anymore.

“But still so rash,” Lucifer lazily shakes his head. “It’s part of why I called you here, Balthazar. Can you not imagine yourself the rest of the reason?”

“I haven’t done anything,” The angel straightens, defensive, taut. Nothing worth this private audience in any case.

“Haven’t you?” Lucifer tilts his head in mock wonder, and rises to his feet, starting to circle casually around Balthazar. “Really? Nothing at all?”

He shifts uncomfortably, but resists the urge to turn his neck and follow Lucifer’s path. “Not a toe out of line.”  He tries for even, tries not to sound mocking, or worse, scared, but his voice is a little too false to accept, and the bravado, put on. He’s an ant compared to Lucifer, and they both know it. And he won’t really push, through every part of him wishes he could. The punishment for his last indiscretions had almost cracked him, he knows Lucifer knows that.

“Well that’s interesting,” The taller anger hums in his ear, pausing directly behind Balthazar, bending close enough to whisper in his ear. “You reek of them.” The words are casual, but there’s a menace that glitters beneath. Balthazar sucks in a breath and opens his mouth, but Lucifer cuts him off.  “And darling,” The other continues mockingly, starting his steps once more. “We understand a little rebellion, I like that even, I do... But this , Balthazar,” He stops again, their gaze meeting. “This has become dangerous, and more than that sloppy. I thought I had made it clear during your last visit that it was to stop.”

“You made your point perfectly clear.” Balthazar grits out, not daring to move away, but he can’t quite seem to return the gaze.

“And still you continue.” Lucifer shakes his head. “Others now, I’m told, seem to find you a worthy of emulating, did you know? Sleeping with humans, men, women, several at a time. Getting drunk, being foolish. It’s you who that threatens everything I am working so hard for.” He’s walking forward now, forcing Balthazar to walk back. “Setting a tainted examples that make the rest wonder and stray, forget their blessedness. We’re angels Balthazar.” His mouth twists cruelly. “We are to be better, we are chosen, we are pure. You do remember what happens to those who are otherwise, don’t you?” There’s a pointedness to his tone, a playful cruelty. “Remember your dear, little, ugly friend.”

Balthazar’s back is against the wall now, Lucifer towering over him, power crackling along the surface of his skin, massive white wings puffing up. But the last words that came out of the other’s mouth might have been the only ones that could have made Balthazar forget to be afraid.

“Cas was better than any of them.” He hisses, trying to ignore the sudden pain that wells up in him, the shock of hearing the name aloud and not only in his head. He takes his own half step forward. “It wasn’t his fault that he -”

“Yes and he’s dead.”The anger glances of Lucifer and he doesn’t bother to note how the other angel’s face crumples at his words. “ As you shall be soon, if you don’t heed what happens to those who can’t uphold our purpose. But I’m forgiving, so I shall give you one last chance to repent.”

Balthazar knows the pause is there for him to respond, but he only stares blankly forward, willing the thoughts of Cas away. It’s been seven years since they killed him, since Lucifer killed him, and still the burn of the memories doesn’t ease in his mind. He barely remembers the threats to his own life that were thrown into the mix as well, wants to hurl himself at Lucifer, stab right through him until he ceases to be. But the thought of Cas’s expression, if he knew that he’d willing goaded Lucifer into killing him on his behalf, forces him still, makes him open his mouth and reply.  “What must I do?” Seven years and he still plays, What would Cas think, far too often.

“Hrm, a good choice,” Lucifer sounds much as though he’s talking to an animal, and in his mind, Balthazar supposes he is.  “So you see, they’re going to have to cease.” Lucifer turns away, walks slowly back to his desk and Balthazar can’t help but letting out the breath hadn’t realized he’d been holding, “All your extracurricular activities. All the rules you’re breaking. And more than that, you’re going to have to show your little flock that you find yourself mistaken; though,” He adds, “I still can’t imagine why they would listen to a pathetic, useless, excuse for an angel like you.” Balthazar cringes a little.

“We’re going to exterminate the filth and you,” Lucifer finishes with a smile, “ And you are going to lead the charge.”

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