Cascade - Chapter Two
Dean pulled up outside the bunker and looked around at the Impala’s occupants. Sam sat shivering with his eyes shut tight. Crowley looked right back, his expression haunted and wrong. Castiel still stared at the floor, face creased with devastation. Dean was torn, they would all need his help into the bunker, but he didn’t want to leave any alone in the car. So who would he take first? Crowley… it would have to be Crowley. He was the one who might be dangerous. Dean couldn’t risk taking Sam inside and coming back to find Castiel dead at the demon’s hands.
“Okay guys, I’m going to take Crowley inside and chain him up. I’ll be right back”. He looked from Sam to Castiel, but neither one gave him a response.
Reluctantly Dean got out of the Impala and hauled Crowley from his seat. He was quiet and compliant. Dean didn’t have to pull on the chains once, he just followed meekly. They made their way inside to find Kevin at one of the consoles, pushing at buttons.
“Everything went haywire! What’s happening? Did you close the gates?” Kevin did a double take at seeing Crowley standing by Dean. “What the hell is he doing here?!”
“He’s cured… maybe. I can’t risk letting him go though. And Naomi was right, looks like Metatron screwed Cas over, the angels are falling”. Dean paused, knowing Kevin might not take his next words too well. “We didn’t close the gates”.
Kevin stepped away from the console, mouth hanging open. That’s when Dean noticed he had his coat and backpack on. He looked ready to leave. “So it was all for nothing?”
“Sam would have died. I couldn’t let that happen”. Dean’s voice was a growl.
“I have every sympathy with you there Dean, but I lost my mom to this! The demon you’re holding hands with there killed her!”
At that Crowley looked away, Dean swore he heard a quiet sob escape from his throat.
“I know, and I’m sorry. We can work something out… There’s still-”
Kevin cut him off. “No Dean, you can work something out. I’m done, I’m walking away. Especially now you’ve brought that in here”.
Kevin climbed the stairs and brushed past Dean, he threw a look of disgust at Crowley as he went by.
“Wait”. Dean called out.
Kevin paused before reaching the door. “Don’t ask me to stay Dean… I can’t”.
“I won’t try to change your mind. Just do one last thing for me before you go… Sam and Cas are outside in the Impala, will you sit with them, just while I lock Crowley up?”
All of the anger seemed to drain from the prophet as he looked back at Dean. He let a harsh breath out as he paused “… of course. Just make sure you lock him up tight”.
With that Dean led Crowley to the dungeon, the demon looked up before Kevin went out of sight and yelled “I’m sorry!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Down in the dungeon Dean chained Crowley up. The clink of metal echoed around the small, bare, room. Crowley’s snarky manner and the evil glint in his eye had gone. Dean stared at those eyes none too kindly as he knelt in front of the demon to finish securing him. If he looked hard enough Dean felt he might fathom some of the ‘real Crowley’ behind this masquerade. But there was nothing there; he seemed so terribly… human.
“I know you have to chain me up…” Crowley spoke with a soft voice; there was no sense of bravado there. “If I were you I would chain me up… but I just wanted you to know it isn’t necessary. I’m not going to hurt anybody anymore”.
Part of Dean had started to believe Crowley was really cured. But the hunter in him said it was an act, and that he should take precautions. Besides, they hadn’t finished the last trial; this fledgling ‘clean Crowley’ could be temporary. He might fall back into his old ways.
“Good, you don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want you to hurt anyone. We’re on the same page. The chains are there just in case you change your mind”.
“I won’t… I can’t go back to being that”. He spat the last word as if he were talking about his mortal enemy,
“Okay… well sit tight, I’ll be back to check on you later”. Dean had Sam and Castiel in the car. While Crowley was going to need one hell of a confessional he didn’t want to spend any longer down here than he had to. Crowley could sit and think on his sins for now.
As he reached the door Dean shot a last look at the demon over his shoulder. His head was bowed, grazing his chest, and a stray tear made its way down his cheek. These were strange times they were stepping into. Times of weeping demons and falling angels…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On returning to the Impala Dean found Sam partially awake and halfway through a stumbling attempt at apologising to Kevin. The prophet sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead, seeming lost.
“Okay Sam, lets get you to bed”. Dean interrupted. “No, leave Kevin alone… he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s just going on a road trip for a little while. You can explain when he gets back”.
Sam had made a noise of protest when Dean tried to pull him out. He made to grab at Kevin’s arm, as if he could gain forgiveness with a touch. Kevin just swallowed hard, he didn’t respond… but nor did he try to pull away. Sam seemed to sag in Dean’s arms when he got out of the car, so Dean slung an arm over his shoulders and grabbed Sam’s wrist, taking his weight, helping him along.
As they awkwardly stepped away from the Impala Dean turned to Kevin. “Can you see if Cas will get out of the car and follow us?”
The prophet gave a nod and went to open Castiel’s door wide. The former angel’s dead gaze didn’t shift. Dean had seen that same stare when they left Castiel in the hospital with Meg. It was a worry.
“Cas, can you get out?” Kevin asked.
He reached a hand towards Castiel, but seemed wary of touching the former angel. It was as if he expected a smiting, even though that was beyond Castiel’s power now.
With no response from the ex-angel Kevin reluctantly gave his arm a slight pull.
“Dean needs you…” That got Castiel’s attention. “… to follow him”.
He looked up, eyes searching for Dean. On finding him hauling Sam to the bunker’s door Castiel near enough scrabbled his way out of the car to get over there. Dean propped Sam up against the wall while he saw to opening the door. The cool stone against his warm skin seemed a relief if his brother’s briefly relaxed expression was anything to go by. Before leading his ragtag band inside Dean turned to look up at the prophet.
“Kevin…” What could he say? No apology would help and words of comfort would offer no soothing balm. “Thank you”.
Dean loaded those two words with enough meaning to show he wasn’t just thanking Kevin for sitting with Sam and Castiel.
Kevin looked down with a half hearted smile. “See you around Dean. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again, my luck being what it is… Take care of them”.
With that the prophet set off down the road. Dean stood a moment watching his retreating form, contemplating the crap people were dragged through when they got involved with the Winchesters. With a sigh he went back to the door, catching Castiel’s eye as he turned. Yeah… people were dragged through a lot of crap with them. A voice came to Dean from a memory… When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost! ... Did Castiel ever regret reaching that dirty, twisted soul in Hell? Did he ever wish another angel had the ‘honour’? How different things might have been…
On getting them inside Dean sat Castiel down at the table while he settled Sam in bed. Moments later he returned to fill a couple of glasses with water. Dean set one down in front of the ex-angel… so quiet, he was still so quiet. He seemed to be in shock. So Dean hesitated on going straight back to Sam and took a seat opposite the former angel.
“Cas? What did you do? Can you tell me what you did?” He spoke gently, trying to coax words out of the ex-angel.
Castiel looked at him, and spoke slowly, as if he was trying to fathom something he struggled to understand. “It was a spell… all just a spell. My grace was the last piece. I was wrong… I trusted the wrong person, again”.
“Metatron was a slimy little dick; even we thought he was one of the good guys. And Naomi… well, she almost had you kill me. Of course you’re going to trust him over her”.
“I didn’t fix anything, I broke it all…
“He broke it Cas. This is all on Metatron”.
Castiel stared at Dean then, as if he was looking through to his soul. “Metatron pulled the trigger, but I put the gun in his hand”.
Dean sighed. This was going to be a long talk, and Sam still needed him. Well, at least Castiel was talking now, even if he was intent on blaming himself. “Okay, let me just see to Sam. I’ll be right back”.
As Dean took the glass of water and left, Castiel followed him with haunted eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean set the drink down on Sam’s bedside table and pulled his boots off. There was sweat beading on his brother’s brow, but he still shivered.
“Sammy, can you drink a bit of water for me?”
Dean helped to prop Sam up and lifted the cool glass to his lips. At first he sipped, and then he gulped, as if he’d been stranded in the desert for innumerable years.
“Easy…” Dean pulled the glass away and settled Sam back down.
His brother blinked up at the ceiling, stray drops of water running from his lips. “Did we… did we do the right thing?” Sam’s voice was small, almost desperate.
“Of course it was the right thing… you’re here”.
“But how many people won’t be because we didn’t close the gates?”
“Don’t think about it right now, just concentrate on getting better”. Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze.
At that Sam closed his eyes, seemingly giving in. “What happened to Crowley?”
“I brought him here; he’s chained up in the dungeon”.
“What? Is he still…”
“Yeah, he’s crying and apologising, it’s… well it’s creepy actually. God knows if it’ll stick”.
“He said he…” Sam’s voice grew fainter, as if he was fighting sleep. “He said he deserved to be loved”.
“Don’t we all?” Dean couldn’t help but crack a smile at the image of Crowley, the King of Hell, begging for love.
A quiet moment passed and Dean’s thoughts turned to their last words in the church. “We’re good aren’t we Sammy? You and me?”
But nothing more came from Sam, his quiet breaths had turned into the light huffs of sleep.
“Okay… we’ll talk later”. Dean said to himself.
Quietly Dean got to his feet and exited Sam’s room. He tried to shut the door as stealthily as possible. As it clicked into place a loud crash came echoing down the corrider. “Shit, Cas!”
Dean set off at a run.
He found Castiel amid a scene of chaos.
Books were strewn across the floor, their pages torn out, like stray feathers scattered around a dead bird. The shelves they once rested on had haphazardly fallen to the ground. A chair lay atop the map, cracks spidered across the glowing coloured countries from the point of impact. There had been two lamps on the table; one was now shattered in pieces on the floor. As Dean stood, speechless, watching, Castiel swept the other lamp aside with a forceful blow. Then he took another chair and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a splintering crack. All the while he yelled. It was a sound that clawed at your heart, as if all the pain the former angel felt was being let loose in an endless howl.
“Cas! Stop!”
Dean finally found his voice.
But his voice alone couldn’t penetrate Castiel’s blind hysteria.
The former angel was like a wild animal… Dean approached, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
“Cas, please calm down… You’re going to hurt yourself”.
Slowly Dean reached out and grabbed a hold of Castiel’s arm. The former angel violently pushed him away. There was no angelic strength behind the action, but it was done forcefully enough that Dean had to take a few steps back to keep his feet.
“Cas” Dean growled his name one last time.
That was all the warning Castiel got before Dean launched himself at the former angel. They were a tangle of flying limbs, but Dean had a slight size and strength advantage now. He managed to wrap his arms tight around Castiel, pinning the former angel’s arms against his body.
“Castiel, stop this. Now”.
Castiel didn’t stop. He struggled like prey caught in a predator’s iron jaws. It broke Dean apart to see him like this, so feral, so… un-angelic. Then the inevitable happened. They crashed to the ground, landing amongst the remains of the ruined lamp. Dean fell on top of Castiel, trapping the former angel under him. Both lay still, breathing hard. Dean took a couple of moments, half expecting Castiel to leap up and continue his rampage if he moved away. But all tension had leaked from the body beneath him. The former angel was quiet.
Dean slid off Castiel, he swept away the debris so he could sit in front of the ex-angel. Castiel was shaking like a leaf as he pushed himself to his knees. Dean offered a hand to help. They ended up facing each other with Dean supporting Castiel firmly at the elbow while the former angel gripped Dean’s shirt. His hand twisted in the material, clutching as if trying to find an anchor in a storm.
Then Castiel’s wild, fearful eyes met Dean’s worried gaze.
“Cas… what the hell man?” Dean’s words might have been strong, but his voice was soft.
“I told you I would destroy everything again! You didn’t listen! Why did you look for me in purgatory? I should have been left there; it would have been safer for everyone if I was left there!” The former angel’s voice sounded wrecked.
“The only destroying you’ve done has been in this room. You were trying to help Cas… you were trying to do the right thing. That’s what counts”. Dean kept a tight grip on Castiel, as if he could hold the ex-angel together with his hands alone.
“And it’s not fair! I’ve only tried to do the right thing, and it’s always wrong. I tried to fix my family and I’ve mutilated them! I tried to help and I get to become this! Why am I being punished Dean?”
“I don’t know… all I know is that tired cliché: life isn’t fair. You think me and Sam have had it easy? We go from one disaster to the next… starting the apocalypse, raising Lucifer… You asked me once if I’d rather have peace or freedom. We can’t have both I guess. Either we have peace where everything’s fair, and there are puppies and rainbows… or we have freedom, where bad things can happen to good people. It’s bloody and it’s dirty, but at least we have choices. This choice was a wrong one, doesn’t mean the next will be”.
“Choices…” The anger fell from Castiel’s face then, his expression cracked with sorrow. “Metatron took my choice when he took my grace. I didn’t have a choice when he cut it out of me…”
A dry sob tore itself from Castiel’s throat, and Dean silently begged him not to cry. He had seen Castiel crazy, bloody, and more, but he could not bear to see the former angel cry. A stray line filtered through Dean’s mind from a film he watched with Sammy a million years ago… Don't cry. If you have become human enough to cry, then all the magic in the world cannot change you back… He didn’t want Castiel human enough to cry. He didn’t want an angel maimed and violated into humanity.
The former angel’s face crumpled, his head bowed and the tears came. “He cut it out of me Dean… he cut it out and my wings burned”.
Those first few tears had opened the floodgates, and Castiel cried. He cried so completely it almost scared Dean. It reminded him of John, after their mom had died. When he thought the boys weren’t around there were quiet moments when he allowed himself to break down with grief. It seemed there would never be anything more in life than raw, clawing, pain. And it scared Dean - Dads were strong and unbreakable, they weren’t allowed to cry. Neither were angels. Though Castiel wasn’t one any longer… Dean pulled him into a tight embrace.
“I know Cas… we’re going to get you through this, you’re going to be okay”.
“No I won’t… I have a soul and it hurts”.
“Mine does too, every damn day”. Dean felt his own eyes begin to well and shine with unshed tears.
Castiel’s hitched breaths began to even out. “And my hands hurt”.
Then Dean realised his shirt was sticky where the former angel was clutching it tightly. Gently he pushed Castiel upright and pried his hand away. It was wet with blood. The other was similarly sliced. He must have caught them on the lamp debris when they fell.
Dean looked up to scout for something to wrap around Castiel’s hands. The room looked like a hurricane had hit it. He had left the former angel sitting quietly at the table, how had he gone from that to ‘force 10’ so suddenly?
“Why Cas? What brought this on?” Dean swept an arm at the room.
Castiel surveyed the scene of destruction then looked at him somewhat sheepishly. “I dropped the glass of water you brought me”.
In any other situation Dean would have laughed.
Then a shadow darkened the former angel’s eyes. “I reached for my grace to fix it, and there was nothing there. The glass just remained on the floor, in pieces”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After cleaning up Castiel’s hands and getting him to bed, Dean returned to the main room of the bunker. He walked through the wreckage, setting chairs right and picking up books. If only the wreckage of their lives would be as easy to clean up. Sam was hurting from the trials, Castiel was fallen and human, and Crowley had been granted a heart. Dean wasn’t sure how he would even begin to pick up the pieces.
Eventually Dean came to the glass that Castiel had dropped. He knelt down and gingerly picked up one of the shards. It caught the light as Dean held it up. On twisting it around between his fingers Dean caught his reflection. A sad transparent eye stared back at him. This little insubstantial thing had triggered Castiel’s breakdown. Out of everything he had been through it took this for him to crack. It seemed one more thing he couldn’t fix was too much…
Dean straightened and tossed the piece of glass in the bin. They were not too broken to fix, none of them were.
I know something is broken
And I'm trying to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way I can
Chapter Three
“Okay guys, I’m going to take Crowley inside and chain him up. I’ll be right back”. He looked from Sam to Castiel, but neither one gave him a response.
Reluctantly Dean got out of the Impala and hauled Crowley from his seat. He was quiet and compliant. Dean didn’t have to pull on the chains once, he just followed meekly. They made their way inside to find Kevin at one of the consoles, pushing at buttons.
“Everything went haywire! What’s happening? Did you close the gates?” Kevin did a double take at seeing Crowley standing by Dean. “What the hell is he doing here?!”
“He’s cured… maybe. I can’t risk letting him go though. And Naomi was right, looks like Metatron screwed Cas over, the angels are falling”. Dean paused, knowing Kevin might not take his next words too well. “We didn’t close the gates”.
Kevin stepped away from the console, mouth hanging open. That’s when Dean noticed he had his coat and backpack on. He looked ready to leave. “So it was all for nothing?”
“Sam would have died. I couldn’t let that happen”. Dean’s voice was a growl.
“I have every sympathy with you there Dean, but I lost my mom to this! The demon you’re holding hands with there killed her!”
At that Crowley looked away, Dean swore he heard a quiet sob escape from his throat.
“I know, and I’m sorry. We can work something out… There’s still-”
Kevin cut him off. “No Dean, you can work something out. I’m done, I’m walking away. Especially now you’ve brought that in here”.
Kevin climbed the stairs and brushed past Dean, he threw a look of disgust at Crowley as he went by.
“Wait”. Dean called out.
Kevin paused before reaching the door. “Don’t ask me to stay Dean… I can’t”.
“I won’t try to change your mind. Just do one last thing for me before you go… Sam and Cas are outside in the Impala, will you sit with them, just while I lock Crowley up?”
All of the anger seemed to drain from the prophet as he looked back at Dean. He let a harsh breath out as he paused “… of course. Just make sure you lock him up tight”.
With that Dean led Crowley to the dungeon, the demon looked up before Kevin went out of sight and yelled “I’m sorry!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Down in the dungeon Dean chained Crowley up. The clink of metal echoed around the small, bare, room. Crowley’s snarky manner and the evil glint in his eye had gone. Dean stared at those eyes none too kindly as he knelt in front of the demon to finish securing him. If he looked hard enough Dean felt he might fathom some of the ‘real Crowley’ behind this masquerade. But there was nothing there; he seemed so terribly… human.
“I know you have to chain me up…” Crowley spoke with a soft voice; there was no sense of bravado there. “If I were you I would chain me up… but I just wanted you to know it isn’t necessary. I’m not going to hurt anybody anymore”.
Part of Dean had started to believe Crowley was really cured. But the hunter in him said it was an act, and that he should take precautions. Besides, they hadn’t finished the last trial; this fledgling ‘clean Crowley’ could be temporary. He might fall back into his old ways.
“Good, you don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want you to hurt anyone. We’re on the same page. The chains are there just in case you change your mind”.
“I won’t… I can’t go back to being that”. He spat the last word as if he were talking about his mortal enemy,
“Okay… well sit tight, I’ll be back to check on you later”. Dean had Sam and Castiel in the car. While Crowley was going to need one hell of a confessional he didn’t want to spend any longer down here than he had to. Crowley could sit and think on his sins for now.
As he reached the door Dean shot a last look at the demon over his shoulder. His head was bowed, grazing his chest, and a stray tear made its way down his cheek. These were strange times they were stepping into. Times of weeping demons and falling angels…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On returning to the Impala Dean found Sam partially awake and halfway through a stumbling attempt at apologising to Kevin. The prophet sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead, seeming lost.
“Okay Sam, lets get you to bed”. Dean interrupted. “No, leave Kevin alone… he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s just going on a road trip for a little while. You can explain when he gets back”.
Sam had made a noise of protest when Dean tried to pull him out. He made to grab at Kevin’s arm, as if he could gain forgiveness with a touch. Kevin just swallowed hard, he didn’t respond… but nor did he try to pull away. Sam seemed to sag in Dean’s arms when he got out of the car, so Dean slung an arm over his shoulders and grabbed Sam’s wrist, taking his weight, helping him along.
As they awkwardly stepped away from the Impala Dean turned to Kevin. “Can you see if Cas will get out of the car and follow us?”
The prophet gave a nod and went to open Castiel’s door wide. The former angel’s dead gaze didn’t shift. Dean had seen that same stare when they left Castiel in the hospital with Meg. It was a worry.
“Cas, can you get out?” Kevin asked.
He reached a hand towards Castiel, but seemed wary of touching the former angel. It was as if he expected a smiting, even though that was beyond Castiel’s power now.
With no response from the ex-angel Kevin reluctantly gave his arm a slight pull.
“Dean needs you…” That got Castiel’s attention. “… to follow him”.
He looked up, eyes searching for Dean. On finding him hauling Sam to the bunker’s door Castiel near enough scrabbled his way out of the car to get over there. Dean propped Sam up against the wall while he saw to opening the door. The cool stone against his warm skin seemed a relief if his brother’s briefly relaxed expression was anything to go by. Before leading his ragtag band inside Dean turned to look up at the prophet.
“Kevin…” What could he say? No apology would help and words of comfort would offer no soothing balm. “Thank you”.
Dean loaded those two words with enough meaning to show he wasn’t just thanking Kevin for sitting with Sam and Castiel.
Kevin looked down with a half hearted smile. “See you around Dean. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again, my luck being what it is… Take care of them”.
With that the prophet set off down the road. Dean stood a moment watching his retreating form, contemplating the crap people were dragged through when they got involved with the Winchesters. With a sigh he went back to the door, catching Castiel’s eye as he turned. Yeah… people were dragged through a lot of crap with them. A voice came to Dean from a memory… When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost! ... Did Castiel ever regret reaching that dirty, twisted soul in Hell? Did he ever wish another angel had the ‘honour’? How different things might have been…
On getting them inside Dean sat Castiel down at the table while he settled Sam in bed. Moments later he returned to fill a couple of glasses with water. Dean set one down in front of the ex-angel… so quiet, he was still so quiet. He seemed to be in shock. So Dean hesitated on going straight back to Sam and took a seat opposite the former angel.
“Cas? What did you do? Can you tell me what you did?” He spoke gently, trying to coax words out of the ex-angel.
Castiel looked at him, and spoke slowly, as if he was trying to fathom something he struggled to understand. “It was a spell… all just a spell. My grace was the last piece. I was wrong… I trusted the wrong person, again”.
“Metatron was a slimy little dick; even we thought he was one of the good guys. And Naomi… well, she almost had you kill me. Of course you’re going to trust him over her”.
“I didn’t fix anything, I broke it all…
“He broke it Cas. This is all on Metatron”.
Castiel stared at Dean then, as if he was looking through to his soul. “Metatron pulled the trigger, but I put the gun in his hand”.
Dean sighed. This was going to be a long talk, and Sam still needed him. Well, at least Castiel was talking now, even if he was intent on blaming himself. “Okay, let me just see to Sam. I’ll be right back”.
As Dean took the glass of water and left, Castiel followed him with haunted eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean set the drink down on Sam’s bedside table and pulled his boots off. There was sweat beading on his brother’s brow, but he still shivered.
“Sammy, can you drink a bit of water for me?”
Dean helped to prop Sam up and lifted the cool glass to his lips. At first he sipped, and then he gulped, as if he’d been stranded in the desert for innumerable years.
“Easy…” Dean pulled the glass away and settled Sam back down.
His brother blinked up at the ceiling, stray drops of water running from his lips. “Did we… did we do the right thing?” Sam’s voice was small, almost desperate.
“Of course it was the right thing… you’re here”.
“But how many people won’t be because we didn’t close the gates?”
“Don’t think about it right now, just concentrate on getting better”. Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze.
At that Sam closed his eyes, seemingly giving in. “What happened to Crowley?”
“I brought him here; he’s chained up in the dungeon”.
“What? Is he still…”
“Yeah, he’s crying and apologising, it’s… well it’s creepy actually. God knows if it’ll stick”.
“He said he…” Sam’s voice grew fainter, as if he was fighting sleep. “He said he deserved to be loved”.
“Don’t we all?” Dean couldn’t help but crack a smile at the image of Crowley, the King of Hell, begging for love.
A quiet moment passed and Dean’s thoughts turned to their last words in the church. “We’re good aren’t we Sammy? You and me?”
But nothing more came from Sam, his quiet breaths had turned into the light huffs of sleep.
“Okay… we’ll talk later”. Dean said to himself.
Quietly Dean got to his feet and exited Sam’s room. He tried to shut the door as stealthily as possible. As it clicked into place a loud crash came echoing down the corrider. “Shit, Cas!”
Dean set off at a run.
He found Castiel amid a scene of chaos.
Books were strewn across the floor, their pages torn out, like stray feathers scattered around a dead bird. The shelves they once rested on had haphazardly fallen to the ground. A chair lay atop the map, cracks spidered across the glowing coloured countries from the point of impact. There had been two lamps on the table; one was now shattered in pieces on the floor. As Dean stood, speechless, watching, Castiel swept the other lamp aside with a forceful blow. Then he took another chair and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a splintering crack. All the while he yelled. It was a sound that clawed at your heart, as if all the pain the former angel felt was being let loose in an endless howl.
“Cas! Stop!”
Dean finally found his voice.
But his voice alone couldn’t penetrate Castiel’s blind hysteria.
The former angel was like a wild animal… Dean approached, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
“Cas, please calm down… You’re going to hurt yourself”.
Slowly Dean reached out and grabbed a hold of Castiel’s arm. The former angel violently pushed him away. There was no angelic strength behind the action, but it was done forcefully enough that Dean had to take a few steps back to keep his feet.
“Cas” Dean growled his name one last time.
That was all the warning Castiel got before Dean launched himself at the former angel. They were a tangle of flying limbs, but Dean had a slight size and strength advantage now. He managed to wrap his arms tight around Castiel, pinning the former angel’s arms against his body.
“Castiel, stop this. Now”.
Castiel didn’t stop. He struggled like prey caught in a predator’s iron jaws. It broke Dean apart to see him like this, so feral, so… un-angelic. Then the inevitable happened. They crashed to the ground, landing amongst the remains of the ruined lamp. Dean fell on top of Castiel, trapping the former angel under him. Both lay still, breathing hard. Dean took a couple of moments, half expecting Castiel to leap up and continue his rampage if he moved away. But all tension had leaked from the body beneath him. The former angel was quiet.
Dean slid off Castiel, he swept away the debris so he could sit in front of the ex-angel. Castiel was shaking like a leaf as he pushed himself to his knees. Dean offered a hand to help. They ended up facing each other with Dean supporting Castiel firmly at the elbow while the former angel gripped Dean’s shirt. His hand twisted in the material, clutching as if trying to find an anchor in a storm.
Then Castiel’s wild, fearful eyes met Dean’s worried gaze.
“Cas… what the hell man?” Dean’s words might have been strong, but his voice was soft.
“I told you I would destroy everything again! You didn’t listen! Why did you look for me in purgatory? I should have been left there; it would have been safer for everyone if I was left there!” The former angel’s voice sounded wrecked.
“The only destroying you’ve done has been in this room. You were trying to help Cas… you were trying to do the right thing. That’s what counts”. Dean kept a tight grip on Castiel, as if he could hold the ex-angel together with his hands alone.
“And it’s not fair! I’ve only tried to do the right thing, and it’s always wrong. I tried to fix my family and I’ve mutilated them! I tried to help and I get to become this! Why am I being punished Dean?”
“I don’t know… all I know is that tired cliché: life isn’t fair. You think me and Sam have had it easy? We go from one disaster to the next… starting the apocalypse, raising Lucifer… You asked me once if I’d rather have peace or freedom. We can’t have both I guess. Either we have peace where everything’s fair, and there are puppies and rainbows… or we have freedom, where bad things can happen to good people. It’s bloody and it’s dirty, but at least we have choices. This choice was a wrong one, doesn’t mean the next will be”.
“Choices…” The anger fell from Castiel’s face then, his expression cracked with sorrow. “Metatron took my choice when he took my grace. I didn’t have a choice when he cut it out of me…”
A dry sob tore itself from Castiel’s throat, and Dean silently begged him not to cry. He had seen Castiel crazy, bloody, and more, but he could not bear to see the former angel cry. A stray line filtered through Dean’s mind from a film he watched with Sammy a million years ago… Don't cry. If you have become human enough to cry, then all the magic in the world cannot change you back… He didn’t want Castiel human enough to cry. He didn’t want an angel maimed and violated into humanity.
The former angel’s face crumpled, his head bowed and the tears came. “He cut it out of me Dean… he cut it out and my wings burned”.
Those first few tears had opened the floodgates, and Castiel cried. He cried so completely it almost scared Dean. It reminded him of John, after their mom had died. When he thought the boys weren’t around there were quiet moments when he allowed himself to break down with grief. It seemed there would never be anything more in life than raw, clawing, pain. And it scared Dean - Dads were strong and unbreakable, they weren’t allowed to cry. Neither were angels. Though Castiel wasn’t one any longer… Dean pulled him into a tight embrace.
“I know Cas… we’re going to get you through this, you’re going to be okay”.
“No I won’t… I have a soul and it hurts”.
“Mine does too, every damn day”. Dean felt his own eyes begin to well and shine with unshed tears.
Castiel’s hitched breaths began to even out. “And my hands hurt”.
Then Dean realised his shirt was sticky where the former angel was clutching it tightly. Gently he pushed Castiel upright and pried his hand away. It was wet with blood. The other was similarly sliced. He must have caught them on the lamp debris when they fell.
Dean looked up to scout for something to wrap around Castiel’s hands. The room looked like a hurricane had hit it. He had left the former angel sitting quietly at the table, how had he gone from that to ‘force 10’ so suddenly?
“Why Cas? What brought this on?” Dean swept an arm at the room.
Castiel surveyed the scene of destruction then looked at him somewhat sheepishly. “I dropped the glass of water you brought me”.
In any other situation Dean would have laughed.
Then a shadow darkened the former angel’s eyes. “I reached for my grace to fix it, and there was nothing there. The glass just remained on the floor, in pieces”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After cleaning up Castiel’s hands and getting him to bed, Dean returned to the main room of the bunker. He walked through the wreckage, setting chairs right and picking up books. If only the wreckage of their lives would be as easy to clean up. Sam was hurting from the trials, Castiel was fallen and human, and Crowley had been granted a heart. Dean wasn’t sure how he would even begin to pick up the pieces.
Eventually Dean came to the glass that Castiel had dropped. He knelt down and gingerly picked up one of the shards. It caught the light as Dean held it up. On twisting it around between his fingers Dean caught his reflection. A sad transparent eye stared back at him. This little insubstantial thing had triggered Castiel’s breakdown. Out of everything he had been through it took this for him to crack. It seemed one more thing he couldn’t fix was too much…
Dean straightened and tossed the piece of glass in the bin. They were not too broken to fix, none of them were.
I know something is broken
And I'm trying to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way I can
Chapter Three