SPN Fic: The Stillness, Chapter One- The Lost
Title: The Stillness; Chapter One- The Lost
Author: Aerilex
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Friendship/Pre-slash
Rating: PG
Characters: Castiel, Balthazar, discussed Dean and Sam
Word Count: ~1,000
Disclaimer: Author does not own the characters and is making no profit off this fan-made story
Warnings: None, as long as you’ve seen Season 6
Summary: Balthazar confronts Castiel with a few questions...
A/N: Any tips on a proper mod post for this thing? I have a feeling it's going to get really long really really quickly.
Prologue
“Do you even remember what your wings once were?”
The question startles Castiel. He glances over his shoulder and a curled wing at Balthazar’s smirking face. Despite his mirthful expression, Castiel can see lassitude in the lines cut around his brother’s mouth and the poorly-restrained accusation in his eyes.
Castiel is weary, as well. He is not in the mood for Balthazar’s games. If his brother has something he wants to say, he will say it eventually. Castiel turns his eyes forward, gazing on the edges of light that separate this realm of Heaven from the inner territories that surround the City and the Garden. Anytime he moves into a new territory he must cover his trail, put up new protective wards-this had been his intent before Balthazar’s interruption. He continues with his task, ignoring the huff of laughter behind him.
“Bloomin’ twit.” His tone is warm, almost affectionate, and it reminds Castiel of before. He contains the sigh that threatens to move through him, but discontent still touches his Grace. Before has become a taboo subject for him. Balthazar is here with him now, again, and Castiel is simply lucky to have his brother at his side in this time of war. They have changed, the both of them. “Shove over.” Balthazar bumps a shoulder against Castiel, effectively nudging him aside. “I can handle this. You’d probably just foul it up, state you’re in.”
Castiel inhales deeply. “Thank you.” He keeps a sharp eye on Balthazar, nonetheless, and watches each graceful arc of his brother’s hands closely. He cannot afford to let his guard down simply because he and Balthazar are close friends. He cannot afford to allow mistakes.
As he looks on, silence descends upon them. Castiel knows what it means. It is when his brother seems at peace that Castiel can sense his thoughts raging. In consideration, Castiel turns an eye upon his wings. They glimmer, fluttering in dark iridescence, like oil spilled under light. There are places where the feathers are twisted, ruffled and almost dusty in the lack of care shown to them. There are other patches of soft flesh from where the feathers have been torn, marked by mottled bruises and some still-bleeding abrasions. Castiel can’t find it in him to be surprised by this; his Grace is still afflicted, and even if it weren’t he still bears weariness enough that his wings will take longer to heal than usual. He struggles to understand what Balthazar could have meant.
Fortunately-or perhaps unfortunately-Balthazar does not make him wait very long. “Your wings were glorious, once,” he murmurs as he works, finishing the first ward and moving onto the second. “Do you remember them?”
Castiel sighs now but remains silent. Of course he remembers his wings and how they once were. He used to be told that, despite the frenzied disarray of his feathers, his wings were a sight to behold. Whiter than snow, shining with the sheen of a pure pearl, lined with a dusting of silver upon the edge of each feather. That was, of course, before his trip to Hell. None of his brothers had dared to come near his wings since then. He does not see why this matters now, though.
“You keep sacrificing for them. For him.”
Castiel frowns. Yes, it is true that he has made significant choices in the past and that he has given up much for Dean. And for Sam. Still, he is uncertain why-
“Why are you fighting this war, Cas?”
Ah. So, this argument again. A very unique approach, Castiel will give him that. His frown becomes stern. “You know my reasons, Balthazar.”
“Actually, no. I don’t. This is a fool’s errand, Cas. We could easily leave this to someone else, you and I, and go peruse the more pleasurable experiences of the human world before Raphael brings it to ruin.”
“If you think I am capable of doing that, then it is obvious that I am not the only fool here.” He does not intend to be unkind, but he tires of having to explain himself over and over again. He is simply tired.
Balthazar gives him a hard look, eyes glinting like starlit pinpricks. He finishes the last ward and turns to tuck his jacket over his chest, crossing his arms overtop the folds. His laugh is a cold thing, not like the before Balthazar at all. “Right, Cas. I know that already. What’s really roasting my noodle here is that I don’t know the why anymore.” He shakes his head, gaze turned from Castiel’s. “Is this for your brothers…or for your humans?”
Another sigh escapes Castiel’s lips, wearier this time than the first. “Does it have to be one or the other?”
“I’ve told you already, you can’t stop the fighting. Our brothers are stubborn little pricks, you know that.”
Castiel finds his throat moving over short bursts of aborted syllables that stutter from his lips for a moment before he finally says with difficulty, “I have to try. I have to try so that we have anyone left to govern Heaven after this war.”
“And for the Winchesters,” Balthazar adds none-too-warmly.
Castiel flinches at his tone. “Yes. And for Dean and Sam. To keep the human world they love so much safe. To keep things…the same, for awhile longer.”
“I don’t bloody know why-”
“You never will,” Castiel assures him. “Not if you choose to blatantly misunderstand.”
Balthazar takes a few moments to digest this. He and Castiel, in an infallibly human way, manage to avoid looking at one another while they respectively contemplate the other’s words. Then, Balthazar says quietly, “You’ve already given too much to him, Cas. How many more lives are you willing to lay at his feet?”
Castiel looks up, but Balthazar has already stepped into flight. Castiel’s Grace wavers with deep-seated sorrow, and his vessel’s body sags under its weight. Yes, he reaffirms to himself, he is decidedly lucky to have his brother at his side through this war. And if it was unclear before, it is very clear now-they both have changed.
Castiel only hopes that he has changed for the better, though he carries no doubt that he has been lessened by this war.
Not for the first time, he wonders if his Father made the right choice rewarding him with a second resurrection.
TBC...
Chapter Two
Author: Aerilex
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Friendship/Pre-slash
Rating: PG
Characters: Castiel, Balthazar, discussed Dean and Sam
Word Count: ~1,000
Disclaimer: Author does not own the characters and is making no profit off this fan-made story
Warnings: None, as long as you’ve seen Season 6
Summary: Balthazar confronts Castiel with a few questions...
A/N: Any tips on a proper mod post for this thing? I have a feeling it's going to get really long really really quickly.
Prologue
“Do you even remember what your wings once were?”
The question startles Castiel. He glances over his shoulder and a curled wing at Balthazar’s smirking face. Despite his mirthful expression, Castiel can see lassitude in the lines cut around his brother’s mouth and the poorly-restrained accusation in his eyes.
Castiel is weary, as well. He is not in the mood for Balthazar’s games. If his brother has something he wants to say, he will say it eventually. Castiel turns his eyes forward, gazing on the edges of light that separate this realm of Heaven from the inner territories that surround the City and the Garden. Anytime he moves into a new territory he must cover his trail, put up new protective wards-this had been his intent before Balthazar’s interruption. He continues with his task, ignoring the huff of laughter behind him.
“Bloomin’ twit.” His tone is warm, almost affectionate, and it reminds Castiel of before. He contains the sigh that threatens to move through him, but discontent still touches his Grace. Before has become a taboo subject for him. Balthazar is here with him now, again, and Castiel is simply lucky to have his brother at his side in this time of war. They have changed, the both of them. “Shove over.” Balthazar bumps a shoulder against Castiel, effectively nudging him aside. “I can handle this. You’d probably just foul it up, state you’re in.”
Castiel inhales deeply. “Thank you.” He keeps a sharp eye on Balthazar, nonetheless, and watches each graceful arc of his brother’s hands closely. He cannot afford to let his guard down simply because he and Balthazar are close friends. He cannot afford to allow mistakes.
As he looks on, silence descends upon them. Castiel knows what it means. It is when his brother seems at peace that Castiel can sense his thoughts raging. In consideration, Castiel turns an eye upon his wings. They glimmer, fluttering in dark iridescence, like oil spilled under light. There are places where the feathers are twisted, ruffled and almost dusty in the lack of care shown to them. There are other patches of soft flesh from where the feathers have been torn, marked by mottled bruises and some still-bleeding abrasions. Castiel can’t find it in him to be surprised by this; his Grace is still afflicted, and even if it weren’t he still bears weariness enough that his wings will take longer to heal than usual. He struggles to understand what Balthazar could have meant.
Fortunately-or perhaps unfortunately-Balthazar does not make him wait very long. “Your wings were glorious, once,” he murmurs as he works, finishing the first ward and moving onto the second. “Do you remember them?”
Castiel sighs now but remains silent. Of course he remembers his wings and how they once were. He used to be told that, despite the frenzied disarray of his feathers, his wings were a sight to behold. Whiter than snow, shining with the sheen of a pure pearl, lined with a dusting of silver upon the edge of each feather. That was, of course, before his trip to Hell. None of his brothers had dared to come near his wings since then. He does not see why this matters now, though.
“You keep sacrificing for them. For him.”
Castiel frowns. Yes, it is true that he has made significant choices in the past and that he has given up much for Dean. And for Sam. Still, he is uncertain why-
“Why are you fighting this war, Cas?”
Ah. So, this argument again. A very unique approach, Castiel will give him that. His frown becomes stern. “You know my reasons, Balthazar.”
“Actually, no. I don’t. This is a fool’s errand, Cas. We could easily leave this to someone else, you and I, and go peruse the more pleasurable experiences of the human world before Raphael brings it to ruin.”
“If you think I am capable of doing that, then it is obvious that I am not the only fool here.” He does not intend to be unkind, but he tires of having to explain himself over and over again. He is simply tired.
Balthazar gives him a hard look, eyes glinting like starlit pinpricks. He finishes the last ward and turns to tuck his jacket over his chest, crossing his arms overtop the folds. His laugh is a cold thing, not like the before Balthazar at all. “Right, Cas. I know that already. What’s really roasting my noodle here is that I don’t know the why anymore.” He shakes his head, gaze turned from Castiel’s. “Is this for your brothers…or for your humans?”
Another sigh escapes Castiel’s lips, wearier this time than the first. “Does it have to be one or the other?”
“I’ve told you already, you can’t stop the fighting. Our brothers are stubborn little pricks, you know that.”
Castiel finds his throat moving over short bursts of aborted syllables that stutter from his lips for a moment before he finally says with difficulty, “I have to try. I have to try so that we have anyone left to govern Heaven after this war.”
“And for the Winchesters,” Balthazar adds none-too-warmly.
Castiel flinches at his tone. “Yes. And for Dean and Sam. To keep the human world they love so much safe. To keep things…the same, for awhile longer.”
“I don’t bloody know why-”
“You never will,” Castiel assures him. “Not if you choose to blatantly misunderstand.”
Balthazar takes a few moments to digest this. He and Castiel, in an infallibly human way, manage to avoid looking at one another while they respectively contemplate the other’s words. Then, Balthazar says quietly, “You’ve already given too much to him, Cas. How many more lives are you willing to lay at his feet?”
Castiel looks up, but Balthazar has already stepped into flight. Castiel’s Grace wavers with deep-seated sorrow, and his vessel’s body sags under its weight. Yes, he reaffirms to himself, he is decidedly lucky to have his brother at his side through this war. And if it was unclear before, it is very clear now-they both have changed.
Castiel only hopes that he has changed for the better, though he carries no doubt that he has been lessened by this war.
Not for the first time, he wonders if his Father made the right choice rewarding him with a second resurrection.
TBC...
Chapter Two