When Angels Deserve to Die - Chapter Six
Masterpost
Previous Chapter
Chapter 6 - Hope is the Thing with Feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops-at all-
Dean whirled around to find Crowley standing there, smarmy as ever. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“Do you think I live in a cave? Lucifer returns, the cage opens, and you think I’d remain oblivious?” He held his hand out and took a glass of whiskey seemingly from thin air. Then the demon looked at Dean and cringed. “Ouch, looks like someone beat the pretty off your face. Or did you walk into a door love? I’d get some ice on that if I were you”.
“Screw you Crowley” Dean scowled at the demon.
“Shame on you Dean, is that any way to talk to an old friend?” Casually Crowley strolled to the edge of the burning circle. He sipped at his drink and looked at the angel as if he was assessing a building job. “Well well Castiel… I am surprised to find you here alive and kicking. I would say it’s good to see you, but I don’t think it’s really you I’m talking to”.
“Release me” Lucifer levelled a pointed glare at Crowley as if he could compel him with a simple thought.
“How about ‘no’?” Crowley smiled then raised his glass to the angel and took another sip.
“You insipid cockroach, I made you!” The glare had gone; a snarl replaced it with spittle flying as he roared. “I created you to condemn the earth and you whore yourself to these humans!”
“Now, now Luci, be nice”. He turned back to the Winchesters. “So boys, it would seem you’ve got a bit of devil stuck in your angel. I can get it out if you’d like me to”.
“What’s the catch?” Dean asked warily, he knew there would be one. Crowley didn’t exactly do things out of the goodness of his heart.
“Well, to start off with I’ll have to remove his grace…”
“What? No! It’ll turn him human; we can’t do that to Cas!”
“I would have thought he’d prefer being human over being dead, or at best Lucifer’s sock puppet. Lucifer has infected his grace too deeply. There’s nothing to be done, there’s no way to remove Lucifer without taking his grace. It’s diseased… and what do you do with diseased flesh? You cut it away. Look at him. Does he look well to you? Look at his wings, they’re directly connected to his grace, a physical manifestation of his true form, and they’re festering”. Crowley’s voice became harsher and harsher as he went on.
The angel flexed his wings as they watched. It was meant as a threatening gesture, but the ground around his feet was littered with feathers. The few that remained were ragged and glistening with rot. Blood and worse spotted the floor beneath him. The dreadful appendages didn’t look like wings any more. “Leave him like that much longer and you’re going to get flies in here. I’m surprised you can’t smell him, it’s disgusting”.
Dean had remained quiet; he knew in his heart that Crowley was right. There was no need for a demon to lie when the truth was painful enough. Dean recalled the feel of feathers sloughing off at his touch and stifled a gag. If Castiel’s wings were in that condition what must the rest of him be like? It must hurt, the pain of your very heart decaying… to drown on dry land under Lucifer’s suffocation. Dean silently accepted they needed to end Castiel’s suffering and excise his tainted grace. Still, he hated being the one to decide the angel’s fate. He didn’t feel he should be the one pulling Castiel down to humanity. “Sammy… what do you think?”
“Honestly Dean, I don’t think we have much of a choice here. All our options are pretty crappy. We just have to choose the least crappy one”. Sam paused, seeming equally as hesitant about Castiel’s fate. “He’s your angel, you’re the most qualified here to know what he’d want… but I’d choose humanity”.
“How the hell am I supposed to know what he’d want? He’s a being older than dirt; it must feel like he’s known me for all of two seconds…”
“And yet he’s died for you. He clearly thinks a lot of you Dean. He would want it to be you, and whatever happens I’m sure he’ll understand”.
“Tick tock boys” Crowley tapped at his wrist. “I’m a busy guy, haven’t got all day. And he’s deteriorating by the minute”. He stuck a thumb in Castiel’s direction.
“Cas is going to hate being human, I know he is. But… we can deal with it. We’ll help him. If this is the only way to get rid of Lucifer it has to be done”. Though Dean’s voice was quiet, his former bravado all but gone, he gave Crowley a challenging look in the eye. “But how are you going to do it? You’re a demon; you can’t take an angel’s grace”.
“I know a guy who knows a guy”. Crowley shrugged.
“Yeah, I’m sure you do. What’s that supposed to mean?” Though he might be speaking the truth Dean still didn’t trust him.
“Lets just say if Castiel was up before the firing squad there would be a queue a mile long to pull the trigger… well, maybe a bit shorter. Your boy here killed half of Heaven’s finest after all”.
“An angel? You’re bringing an angel down here?! What’s to stop them smiting us all where we stand?”
“Relax, like I said, I know a guy who knows a guy. I got a nice little attack angel lined up that only smites on command. Now if we’re all done here I’ll go get him”. Crowley made to leave, raising a hand to snap his fingers.
“Wait. Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?” Dean figured this was going to be the sting in the tail of the arrangement.
“Oh right, well, finders keepers… If I get dear Castiel’s grace out then it’s mine. I’ve even got a lovely bit of jewellery to keep it contained in”. Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out Dean’s amulet.
“No, you’re not keeping his grace. You think we’d leave you with something that powerful? Never mind that it’s a piece of Cas? And where the hell did you get that?!” Dean was getting angrier as he went on.
“Calm down ducky. While I’m sure I could poke and prod at that grace and find something fun to do with it, I won’t. I’m keeping it as insurance. My own little bit of Lucifer on a string. If he rises he’ll be incomplete without this. And I want him up here wreaking havoc about as much as you do. So I’ll be keeping that grace very far away from the cage, and both our interests will be served by me having it. Lord knows I’m a safer pair of hands than you two chuckleheads”. Crowley held up the amulet and rubbed his chin. “As for this old thing, would you believe somebody actually threw it out with the trash? Terrible I know, all it needs is a bit of spit and polish to bring it up new again”.
“It’s mine” Dean growled. “And we’re supposed to just take your word that you’ll keep Cas’ grace in the cooler?”
“Yes, because you don’t have a choice. I can pinky promise if you’d like?” Crowley scornfully waved his little finger in front of Dean. “And you threw that amulet out, thereby relinquishing any claim to ownership you had on it. It would be a shame to leave it rotting at the bottom of a rubbish dump don’t you think?”
Dean scowled and pointed a finger at Crowley. “If you ever take that grace and-”
“Yeah yeah, if I’m a naughty boy you’ll come and spank me silly, yada yada. We done now?” He gave the brothers a questioning look and was met by silence. “Ok, see you in a bit boys”. And with a snap of his fingers Crowley disappeared.
Dean wiped a hand over his face with a wince and started pacing “I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit… This feels so wrong. Did I mention I don’t like this?”
“You’d be crazy to like anything about this Dean… We’re ripping out Cas’ grace, making him human, and then giving it to Crowley on a silver plate. It doesn’t get much worse than this”. Sam pushed away from the wall to stand in front of Dean. “But what’s the alternative? I mean, talk about being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. We can’t keep him trapped here forever. And I think Crowley’s right, he is getting worse…” Sam was sure he could now detect the sickly scent of decay in the air. He looked across at Castiel to find him with his head bowed and once proud wings now dragging on the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t long before Crowley appeared again, although he was alone.
“Where’s the angel? I thought you were bringing an angel back?” Dean immediately jumped on him.
“Have a bit of patience man. He’s just grabbing a vessel, won’t be a minute”. The few lights they had got to work started flickering. “Ah, speak of the devil… or angel. Here he comes”.
The sound of rushing wings brought forth a young man, little more than a boy really. He had long black hair tied back, and black clothes, his t-shirt bore a pentagram and a band name. The soft lines on his face spoke of a kid that smiled more than he wanted people to believe, but his face held no expression now. Despite his young appearance there was a depth to his eyes telling of a heart that had seen millennia pass.
“Nice vessel. Wannabe goth?” Dean displayed his usual lack of respect which earned him an elbow to the ribs from Sam.
Crowley ignored the slight and ploughed on. “Now let me introduce you to Samael. Some call him the angel of death… some actually confuse him with Lucifer himself, but no, he just has a little trouble picking sides now and then. Samael, these are the Winchester boys I’m sure you’ve heard so much about”.
“Of course, charmed I’m sure…” The angel’s overly formal voice coming from such an immature looking kid was quite strange. He seemed utterly disinterested in the brothers - also strange considering their previous encounters with angel kind. “I am told I have some grace to collect. Shall we?”
“Um, yeah… just try not to hurt him too badly”. Dean seemed a little wrong footed by Samael’s straight to it attitude.
“There is no greater pain I could inflict on Castiel, and there is no comfort I can offer him. Nor would I… what is, is what must be”. Samael approached the edge of the burning circle and Castiel raised his head.
“Samael, brother, release me…” the angel’s voice was weak.
“Your grace is poisoned, diseased beyond repair. I can only release you from it”. Samael threw his arm out to one side, an angel blade slid into his grip.
Knowing what was about to happen the wrecked angel seemed to call upon a last reserve of strength. “No! Stay your hand Samael you snake! I know you, you stand on the side of the righteous doing their dirty work but I see the heart of you. It is corrupted Samael. You lay with mine and then return to Heaven hiding behind a mask of virtue. Hide no longer. There are no rules now, there is no judgment. You can release me and stand proudly by my side”.
“Your side… their side… You should know by now I stand only at my own side. I am what I am. Your poisonous words can change nothing”.
As they stood off to one side Sam thought Samael was starting to sound like the angelic version of Crowley. The demon turned to them showing an uncharacteristic moment of concern. “You boys might want to take cover. The light show’s going to get quite intense”.
Sam pulled at Dean’s arm. His brother stood watching the two angels with rapt attention. “Come on, lets get out of the way. We can step outside just for a moment”.
“I don’t want to leave him Sammy… he shouldn’t be alone in this with nobody but those two”. Dean sounded lost.
“I know, but if your eyes get melted out of their sockets you won’t be able to help him afterwards, and he’s going to need you more than ever then”. Sam pulled a little harder and reluctantly Dean came away with him.
As they got to the door Sam shot a last look back. Samael reached out a hand and the flames died away, then he shot forwards and sunk his blade into Castiel’s chest. They closed the door just as Castiel let loose a howl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pain, unimaginable pain was all he knew. Pain and confusion. He felt nothing and then felt too much. The body was Jimmy’s, Lucifer’s, Castiel’s… Flashes of all three lives assaulted his senses. A soft kiss with Amelia… sitting side by side with Sam… and then a quiet moment of staring into Dean’s eyes. All the while a burning lance tore at his core. He was falling to pieces, his wings disintegrating. The visions seemed to offer a fleeting solace where he returned to distant, faded times. His sorrow and pain were lured by fragrant, bittersweet memories. An argument with Amelia… falling into the cage with Sam… and then a quiet moment of disbelief after Dean yelled “Just kill him now!”
He felt eons ebb and flow in the span of seconds. The passing of time in heaven, on earth, and down in the depths of hell clashed within him. He lived and suffered as intensely as he could in those endless instants. He wished for death, cried out for this to end. Then mercifully the pain started dying away. The fires of his heart grew dim, becoming only the faintest embers of the roaring blaze they had once been. His limbs, heavy with the weight of the heavens and earth protested. As his mind quieted, settled, and came together as Castiel, he felt a longing for his life. Slowly the agony in his heart began to ease. A lifting of pressure, of the desire for death, even though his nerves still sparked with pain. He was coming back to himself.
Still there seemed a yawning chasm at his core, knowledge of record and history tried desperately to fill it. It slid through him, seemingly intent on a search for freedom and forgetfulness. His angelic self lurched, pained in front of him. He just stared back with tired, vacant eyes, as if watching the most fascinating of nothing. “Cas? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” a voice called out to him and he ignored it. He was distracted by the insurmountable task of trying to gather pieces of himself. He was like a child trying in vain to catch butterflies. They seemed to glide just out of reach, taunting him. Then his mind drifted, only to be slammed back reluctantly, repeatedly, and painfully by those he vaguely remembered knowing, as if from a different life and age. “Cas dammit, wake up”… “Give him a moment”… He couldn’t seem to draw himself together. He knew he was more than this, he felt incomplete… but he was so tired, so weary. It was so easy to let himself go, watch that ethereal part of him fly away and forget it was ever his.
EN-GB;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">So he tried in vain to forgive and forget himself. He remembers, he forgets, he forgets again, he remembers less. He was suddenly saddened at the thought of forgetting. Of not being who he used to be. And yet, at this time of his undoing, he had never felt more real. His mind quietened and he listened to his shallow breaths, the rhythmical beat of his heart. They were his now, his very own. Still, he was torn asunder at the thought of losing that which made him complete. He feared he would never be complete again. He reached for his grace and found nothing. What was he without his grace? He knew only one thing… He was Castiel.
Chapter 7 - Because I Could Not Stop for Death
Previous Chapter
Chapter 6 - Hope is the Thing with Feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops-at all-
Dean whirled around to find Crowley standing there, smarmy as ever. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“Do you think I live in a cave? Lucifer returns, the cage opens, and you think I’d remain oblivious?” He held his hand out and took a glass of whiskey seemingly from thin air. Then the demon looked at Dean and cringed. “Ouch, looks like someone beat the pretty off your face. Or did you walk into a door love? I’d get some ice on that if I were you”.
“Screw you Crowley” Dean scowled at the demon.
“Shame on you Dean, is that any way to talk to an old friend?” Casually Crowley strolled to the edge of the burning circle. He sipped at his drink and looked at the angel as if he was assessing a building job. “Well well Castiel… I am surprised to find you here alive and kicking. I would say it’s good to see you, but I don’t think it’s really you I’m talking to”.
“Release me” Lucifer levelled a pointed glare at Crowley as if he could compel him with a simple thought.
“How about ‘no’?” Crowley smiled then raised his glass to the angel and took another sip.
“You insipid cockroach, I made you!” The glare had gone; a snarl replaced it with spittle flying as he roared. “I created you to condemn the earth and you whore yourself to these humans!”
“Now, now Luci, be nice”. He turned back to the Winchesters. “So boys, it would seem you’ve got a bit of devil stuck in your angel. I can get it out if you’d like me to”.
“What’s the catch?” Dean asked warily, he knew there would be one. Crowley didn’t exactly do things out of the goodness of his heart.
“Well, to start off with I’ll have to remove his grace…”
“What? No! It’ll turn him human; we can’t do that to Cas!”
“I would have thought he’d prefer being human over being dead, or at best Lucifer’s sock puppet. Lucifer has infected his grace too deeply. There’s nothing to be done, there’s no way to remove Lucifer without taking his grace. It’s diseased… and what do you do with diseased flesh? You cut it away. Look at him. Does he look well to you? Look at his wings, they’re directly connected to his grace, a physical manifestation of his true form, and they’re festering”. Crowley’s voice became harsher and harsher as he went on.
The angel flexed his wings as they watched. It was meant as a threatening gesture, but the ground around his feet was littered with feathers. The few that remained were ragged and glistening with rot. Blood and worse spotted the floor beneath him. The dreadful appendages didn’t look like wings any more. “Leave him like that much longer and you’re going to get flies in here. I’m surprised you can’t smell him, it’s disgusting”.
Dean had remained quiet; he knew in his heart that Crowley was right. There was no need for a demon to lie when the truth was painful enough. Dean recalled the feel of feathers sloughing off at his touch and stifled a gag. If Castiel’s wings were in that condition what must the rest of him be like? It must hurt, the pain of your very heart decaying… to drown on dry land under Lucifer’s suffocation. Dean silently accepted they needed to end Castiel’s suffering and excise his tainted grace. Still, he hated being the one to decide the angel’s fate. He didn’t feel he should be the one pulling Castiel down to humanity. “Sammy… what do you think?”
“Honestly Dean, I don’t think we have much of a choice here. All our options are pretty crappy. We just have to choose the least crappy one”. Sam paused, seeming equally as hesitant about Castiel’s fate. “He’s your angel, you’re the most qualified here to know what he’d want… but I’d choose humanity”.
“How the hell am I supposed to know what he’d want? He’s a being older than dirt; it must feel like he’s known me for all of two seconds…”
“And yet he’s died for you. He clearly thinks a lot of you Dean. He would want it to be you, and whatever happens I’m sure he’ll understand”.
“Tick tock boys” Crowley tapped at his wrist. “I’m a busy guy, haven’t got all day. And he’s deteriorating by the minute”. He stuck a thumb in Castiel’s direction.
“Cas is going to hate being human, I know he is. But… we can deal with it. We’ll help him. If this is the only way to get rid of Lucifer it has to be done”. Though Dean’s voice was quiet, his former bravado all but gone, he gave Crowley a challenging look in the eye. “But how are you going to do it? You’re a demon; you can’t take an angel’s grace”.
“I know a guy who knows a guy”. Crowley shrugged.
“Yeah, I’m sure you do. What’s that supposed to mean?” Though he might be speaking the truth Dean still didn’t trust him.
“Lets just say if Castiel was up before the firing squad there would be a queue a mile long to pull the trigger… well, maybe a bit shorter. Your boy here killed half of Heaven’s finest after all”.
“An angel? You’re bringing an angel down here?! What’s to stop them smiting us all where we stand?”
“Relax, like I said, I know a guy who knows a guy. I got a nice little attack angel lined up that only smites on command. Now if we’re all done here I’ll go get him”. Crowley made to leave, raising a hand to snap his fingers.
“Wait. Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?” Dean figured this was going to be the sting in the tail of the arrangement.
“Oh right, well, finders keepers… If I get dear Castiel’s grace out then it’s mine. I’ve even got a lovely bit of jewellery to keep it contained in”. Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out Dean’s amulet.
“No, you’re not keeping his grace. You think we’d leave you with something that powerful? Never mind that it’s a piece of Cas? And where the hell did you get that?!” Dean was getting angrier as he went on.
“Calm down ducky. While I’m sure I could poke and prod at that grace and find something fun to do with it, I won’t. I’m keeping it as insurance. My own little bit of Lucifer on a string. If he rises he’ll be incomplete without this. And I want him up here wreaking havoc about as much as you do. So I’ll be keeping that grace very far away from the cage, and both our interests will be served by me having it. Lord knows I’m a safer pair of hands than you two chuckleheads”. Crowley held up the amulet and rubbed his chin. “As for this old thing, would you believe somebody actually threw it out with the trash? Terrible I know, all it needs is a bit of spit and polish to bring it up new again”.
“It’s mine” Dean growled. “And we’re supposed to just take your word that you’ll keep Cas’ grace in the cooler?”
“Yes, because you don’t have a choice. I can pinky promise if you’d like?” Crowley scornfully waved his little finger in front of Dean. “And you threw that amulet out, thereby relinquishing any claim to ownership you had on it. It would be a shame to leave it rotting at the bottom of a rubbish dump don’t you think?”
Dean scowled and pointed a finger at Crowley. “If you ever take that grace and-”
“Yeah yeah, if I’m a naughty boy you’ll come and spank me silly, yada yada. We done now?” He gave the brothers a questioning look and was met by silence. “Ok, see you in a bit boys”. And with a snap of his fingers Crowley disappeared.
Dean wiped a hand over his face with a wince and started pacing “I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit… This feels so wrong. Did I mention I don’t like this?”
“You’d be crazy to like anything about this Dean… We’re ripping out Cas’ grace, making him human, and then giving it to Crowley on a silver plate. It doesn’t get much worse than this”. Sam pushed away from the wall to stand in front of Dean. “But what’s the alternative? I mean, talk about being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. We can’t keep him trapped here forever. And I think Crowley’s right, he is getting worse…” Sam was sure he could now detect the sickly scent of decay in the air. He looked across at Castiel to find him with his head bowed and once proud wings now dragging on the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t long before Crowley appeared again, although he was alone.
“Where’s the angel? I thought you were bringing an angel back?” Dean immediately jumped on him.
“Have a bit of patience man. He’s just grabbing a vessel, won’t be a minute”. The few lights they had got to work started flickering. “Ah, speak of the devil… or angel. Here he comes”.
The sound of rushing wings brought forth a young man, little more than a boy really. He had long black hair tied back, and black clothes, his t-shirt bore a pentagram and a band name. The soft lines on his face spoke of a kid that smiled more than he wanted people to believe, but his face held no expression now. Despite his young appearance there was a depth to his eyes telling of a heart that had seen millennia pass.
“Nice vessel. Wannabe goth?” Dean displayed his usual lack of respect which earned him an elbow to the ribs from Sam.
Crowley ignored the slight and ploughed on. “Now let me introduce you to Samael. Some call him the angel of death… some actually confuse him with Lucifer himself, but no, he just has a little trouble picking sides now and then. Samael, these are the Winchester boys I’m sure you’ve heard so much about”.
“Of course, charmed I’m sure…” The angel’s overly formal voice coming from such an immature looking kid was quite strange. He seemed utterly disinterested in the brothers - also strange considering their previous encounters with angel kind. “I am told I have some grace to collect. Shall we?”
“Um, yeah… just try not to hurt him too badly”. Dean seemed a little wrong footed by Samael’s straight to it attitude.
“There is no greater pain I could inflict on Castiel, and there is no comfort I can offer him. Nor would I… what is, is what must be”. Samael approached the edge of the burning circle and Castiel raised his head.
“Samael, brother, release me…” the angel’s voice was weak.
“Your grace is poisoned, diseased beyond repair. I can only release you from it”. Samael threw his arm out to one side, an angel blade slid into his grip.
Knowing what was about to happen the wrecked angel seemed to call upon a last reserve of strength. “No! Stay your hand Samael you snake! I know you, you stand on the side of the righteous doing their dirty work but I see the heart of you. It is corrupted Samael. You lay with mine and then return to Heaven hiding behind a mask of virtue. Hide no longer. There are no rules now, there is no judgment. You can release me and stand proudly by my side”.
“Your side… their side… You should know by now I stand only at my own side. I am what I am. Your poisonous words can change nothing”.
As they stood off to one side Sam thought Samael was starting to sound like the angelic version of Crowley. The demon turned to them showing an uncharacteristic moment of concern. “You boys might want to take cover. The light show’s going to get quite intense”.
Sam pulled at Dean’s arm. His brother stood watching the two angels with rapt attention. “Come on, lets get out of the way. We can step outside just for a moment”.
“I don’t want to leave him Sammy… he shouldn’t be alone in this with nobody but those two”. Dean sounded lost.
“I know, but if your eyes get melted out of their sockets you won’t be able to help him afterwards, and he’s going to need you more than ever then”. Sam pulled a little harder and reluctantly Dean came away with him.
As they got to the door Sam shot a last look back. Samael reached out a hand and the flames died away, then he shot forwards and sunk his blade into Castiel’s chest. They closed the door just as Castiel let loose a howl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pain, unimaginable pain was all he knew. Pain and confusion. He felt nothing and then felt too much. The body was Jimmy’s, Lucifer’s, Castiel’s… Flashes of all three lives assaulted his senses. A soft kiss with Amelia… sitting side by side with Sam… and then a quiet moment of staring into Dean’s eyes. All the while a burning lance tore at his core. He was falling to pieces, his wings disintegrating. The visions seemed to offer a fleeting solace where he returned to distant, faded times. His sorrow and pain were lured by fragrant, bittersweet memories. An argument with Amelia… falling into the cage with Sam… and then a quiet moment of disbelief after Dean yelled “Just kill him now!”
He felt eons ebb and flow in the span of seconds. The passing of time in heaven, on earth, and down in the depths of hell clashed within him. He lived and suffered as intensely as he could in those endless instants. He wished for death, cried out for this to end. Then mercifully the pain started dying away. The fires of his heart grew dim, becoming only the faintest embers of the roaring blaze they had once been. His limbs, heavy with the weight of the heavens and earth protested. As his mind quieted, settled, and came together as Castiel, he felt a longing for his life. Slowly the agony in his heart began to ease. A lifting of pressure, of the desire for death, even though his nerves still sparked with pain. He was coming back to himself.
Still there seemed a yawning chasm at his core, knowledge of record and history tried desperately to fill it. It slid through him, seemingly intent on a search for freedom and forgetfulness. His angelic self lurched, pained in front of him. He just stared back with tired, vacant eyes, as if watching the most fascinating of nothing. “Cas? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” a voice called out to him and he ignored it. He was distracted by the insurmountable task of trying to gather pieces of himself. He was like a child trying in vain to catch butterflies. They seemed to glide just out of reach, taunting him. Then his mind drifted, only to be slammed back reluctantly, repeatedly, and painfully by those he vaguely remembered knowing, as if from a different life and age. “Cas dammit, wake up”… “Give him a moment”… He couldn’t seem to draw himself together. He knew he was more than this, he felt incomplete… but he was so tired, so weary. It was so easy to let himself go, watch that ethereal part of him fly away and forget it was ever his.
EN-GB;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">So he tried in vain to forgive and forget himself. He remembers, he forgets, he forgets again, he remembers less. He was suddenly saddened at the thought of forgetting. Of not being who he used to be. And yet, at this time of his undoing, he had never felt more real. His mind quietened and he listened to his shallow breaths, the rhythmical beat of his heart. They were his now, his very own. Still, he was torn asunder at the thought of losing that which made him complete. He feared he would never be complete again. He reached for his grace and found nothing. What was he without his grace? He knew only one thing… He was Castiel.
Chapter 7 - Because I Could Not Stop for Death