Castiel's eyes are stuck to the ceiling, he can't sleep or rest. This time it has nothing to do with his angelic nature. He's afraid of closing his eyes.
Behind his lids appear images of Metraton taking his grace, leaving him powerless, defenseless. The scribe often defeats him and destroys everyone and everything Castiel has ever cared about.
The images, the flashes of color and sound could be dreams, or nightmares, but that's impossible. Perhaps they're premonitions, but there's nothing certain. He's feeling uneasy, a foreboding sense taking over him.
The darkness of the night covers him, he refuses to close his eyes.
Behind his lids appear images of Metraton taking his grace, leaving him powerless, defenseless. The scribe often defeats him and destroys everyone and everything Castiel has ever cared about.
The images, the flashes of color and sound could be dreams, or nightmares, but that's impossible. Perhaps they're premonitions, but there's nothing certain. He's feeling uneasy, a foreboding sense taking over him.
The darkness of the night covers him, he refuses to close his eyes.
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