[FIC] All Things Circle, Inevitably (PG) for Feather_Qwill
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: All things circle, inevitably
Recipient: feather_qwill
Author: pesha
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: Potentially for season five? I don’t think so but possibly.
Summary: Castiel is an existentialist and Dean is Dean and that is quite enough for Castiel.
Author notes: This is secretly Christmas fiction. No. I’ve never actually written Christmas fiction for an exchange but this one more or less is and I’m honestly a little amused by that. My recipient requested single-word prompts dead tree, under, and forgetting and wanted fiction that showed off a not-quite-human Castiel. I hope this is at least close to what you were wanting. <3
~*~
The sun roars over the horizon, bold and impossibly inevitable. On Earth, sunrise will not be stopped for all the powers of both Heaven and Hell.
Castiel stretches out a hand to touch the withered bark of the tree at his side. He had hoped to feel the life fighting beneath the worn surface but he is too late, much too late. The tree is long dead and God is nowhere to be found.
Sunrise and death are the only constant things this earthen plane has shown him.
”Cas! Damnit, Cas! I need you. I need you, buddy---“
Dean Winchester’s voice resounds across the miles that separate them. Castiel has forgotten the sound of prayers -penitent or otherwise- but he doubts he will ever forget the sound of his name coming forth from Dean Winchester’s lips.
He pats the corpse of the tree once in memory, in passing farewell, and responds to the call of the only leader he has left.
~*~
Dean jerks back as he enters the room. He is too close; Dean does not care for him being so close. Castiel backs away three paces, enough for Dean’s shoulders to relax and the tightness in his face to smooth away. Even at ease, he appears tired; Castiel’s thoughts return to things inevitable for Dean Winchester.
“Damnit, Cas. You have got to work on your entrance, man. One of these days, you’re gonna come in too close and I’m gonna wind up blind from a wing to the eye.”
Dean offers up a stilted laugh, rubs at the back of his neck. Castiel wishes he once more had the full power of Heaven at his disposal; he could heal the hurt of Dean’s flesh if not that of his soul. He could ease the tired lines around his eyes even if he couldn’t remove them.
“Unlikely. I do not use wings to fly, Dean. In fact, I do not fly at all.”
He stops when Dean holds up a hand. Dean is an odd human. He is smiling now. Statements of fact never cease to entertain him and Castiel cannot help but infer this is because of his delivery rather than the information he is passing along to the hunter.
Castiel knows that a human would feel affronted to be so obviously mocked. He himself is merely grateful that he has the ability to make Dean Winchester smile. That seems a tremendous ability to have, one more than a bit worthy of replacing the ability to mend torn flesh…there is precious little to smile about during the apocalypse.
“Cas, you have got to be less literal. It’s killing me.”
No. Dean’s mortality is not something that can be laid to rest at Castiel’s feet. That inevitability is not one the angel will lay any claim to.
“No. It is not.”
He remembers the sound his brothers made as they died around him while he fought his way forward into Hell. For Dean. Castiel had been working on forgetting the sound of dying angels. He almost smiled at the irony that Dean’s death -the death of one godless mortal- could invoke that memory in him strongly enough to set his vessel’s ears ringing.
As so often seems to be the case for him, Castiel does not have the word skill necessary to convey his thoughts to Dean. He waits for Dean to realize his weakness and commence with the reason for summoning him. The silence that stretches between them is peaceful, lazy: a reminder of a time when time was less precious to him as all his life was wrapped up in the lives of those who were timeless.
“Okay. Right. So I’m not literally dying because you’ve got the sense of humor of a---well, an angel. Moving on. What are your plans for Friday?”
Castiel knows the days of the week. He is aware of the passage of time even if his life is not affected by it. These days, he is even aware of the exact passage of minutes (Most notably those spent with Dean) but he is not aware of the importance of the upcoming date to which Dean is referencing.
“I have no plans for Friday. Do you have need of me?”
Sam Winchester enters the room carrying a small tree. Castiel thinks it dead as the one he had previously mourned until the light hits it more fully, revealing it to be artificial. He is perplexed. His confusion usually amuses Dean enough to make it worth the blow to a pride he does not have to confess it.
“I am---confused.”
“What else is new?” Dean laughed, good-natured and, yes, entertained.
Castiel can see why God could be drawn down from Heaven to dwell forever amongst mortals such as Dean. He thinks if he were God, there would be many more mortals such as Dean Winchester but then, perhaps it is a good thing Castiel is not God because if Dean were one of many, Dean himself would not be as precious.
“That artificial foliage. That is new. May I ask why Sam has felt the need to obtain obviously fake shrubbery for your room?”
Sam shuffles his feet as he positions the tree upright in its awkward stand. He rarely braves a look at Castiel’s face; today is no exception.
“It’s a Christmas tree,” Sam tells the tree itself rather than Castiel.
He considers this bit of information and works to correlate it with the current calendar date. Christmas is not a holiday widely observed in Heaven. Castiel had honestly not considered that the Winchesters might be inclined to indulge in the rituals humans associated with the date. Dean claims to not even believe in the existence of God, after all.
“You celebrate Christmas?”
Dean’s jaw tenses, “You don’t?”
Castiel opens his mouth to tell Dean the truth -no, no he has never had time to celebrate a blatantly pagan holiday that has no bearing on the date of Christ’s actual birth- but Sam stops him. Sam Winchester often offers words of wisdom that hold more truth in them than any Heavenly decrees Castiel can remember.
“Dean, I told you Christmas wasn’t really a Heaven kind of holiday! I’m sorry, Castiel. Dean just thinks about the presents and the cookies and the alcoholic egg nog and the---“
“Dude! He gets the picture.”
Castiel would think Dean embarrassed at Sam’s interjection but he knows the hunter too well by now to believe real embarrassment something so easily struck into Dean Winchester. He is unable to stop himself from speaking as he realizes…
“You asked me to come to Christmas.”
Both Winchesters freeze. Castiel considers visiting this time and place again at some later date to see if he can uncover how he managed to quiet both Winchesters at once but he is too preoccupied to appreciate the novelty as he should.
“You would have me celebrate with you and Sam during your festivities?”
The brothers exchange a look far more complex than any Castiel has ever shared with his own heavenly brothers. His heart stutters strangely inside his frail vessel’s chest; Dean reminds Castiel too often of things the angel never knew he was missing out on.
“Yes?”
“Why?”
Why: the simplest question. It is the first that children truly learn to ask and that is why it is the most effective.
“Because---“
Castiel smiles, strange and strained in the vessel’s flesh. It is Dean who is confused now. He can finally appreciate the humor that Dean expresses at his expense.
“Because?”
“Because you’re family, Cas. You’re---you’re like family and that’s what Christmas is really about, okay? Sure it’s about the food and the drink and the presents and the tree but it’s really about spending time with the people you love---“
Dean stops himself and the silence yawns up large and awesome between them as it never has before. Castiel would have allowed him to continue speaking forever, until that inevitable time in the future when time itself will run out for Dean Winchester, until the apocalypse has passed and all that is left is a scorched Earth that holds no resemblance to the bright world his Lord created, until forever had found the meaning of forever, until then Castiel would have allowed Dean Winchester to speak if it meant he would have heard Dean Winchester state clearly how he loved the angel Castiel.
“You love me. As your family.”
Sam’s eyes are wide and possibly frightened but Castiel will not look away from him to seek the eyes of his brother instead. There is too much to see inside Dean Winchester’s green gaze. He cannot understand why it is important that Dean answer him, clarify yet one more thing for him, but it is important. It is the most important question Castiel has ever asked.
“Yes.”
Dean’s response is gruff. His voice holds a rough familiarity. Castiel wonders what Dean would think if he were to tell him his voice sounds of his father.
“I am not your family, Dean.”
The fear -if it ever was fear- leaves Sam Winchester’s eyes as suddenly as it came. He looks painfully mortal, painfully like Dean as he dares to meet Castiel’s stare with his own.
“Yes you are. You raised my brother from Hell. You fell from Heaven for him, Castiel. You are as much our family as Bobby is and I know I’d be proud to have you for the holidays even if it is a little blasphemous to say so.”
Castiel finds himself nodding slowly. He can understand the logic of Sam’s words; Sam is the logical one for all that Dean would lead one to believe.
“I will come to celebrate with you on Friday. I am---honored that you would extend your family to include me.”
He will leave now. He will let the Winchesters return to their lives and he will resume the search for God and he will hold Dean Winchester’s amulet in his hand when sunrise has long since faded into sunset and darkness has descended once more and Castiel will remember how it felt to almost hear Dean Winchester say he loved him. He will do all of this as soon as he leaves because he has to leave. His vessel is not strong enough to survive staying here, now, in this room with all these feelings.
Dean touches him. Dean Winchester stands too close, ignores proximity and touches him. His vessel’s arm -his arm- aches from the tight grasp of Dean Winchester’s strong fingers and Castiel had forgotten how it felt to be touched by another.
“You are my family, Cas. Sam said it but I’m saying it again because you deserve to hear it from me. Not because you dragged my sorry ass out of Hell and not because you turned your back on Heaven to fight with the humans come Armageddon.”
“Then why?”
Dean leans closer still. His face is tired but painfully wonderful in spite of its lines.
“ Because I do love you. Because you stood with me when it didn’t make a damned bit of sense for you to and because when all the world is literally falling into Hell, I’m the one lucky son of a bitch with a real, honest-to-God, guardian angel.”
Castiel says the first thing that he thinks of, the first thing that comes to mind, a meaningless bit of fact to make Dean Winchester smile after Dean Winchester has said I love you to him, Castiel, a fallen angel of the Lord.
“You should not speak so disrespectfully of your mother. Your father would not approve.”
“Oh yeah?”
Castiel nods succinctly. He is quite certain John Winchester would not approve of disparaging remarks being made about his fallen wife. He is equally certain that John Winchester would not approve of Dean Winchester kissing him but he would sooner die himself -another possible inevitability in these times of apocalypse rising- than point that out.
His lips -his vessel’s lips- tingle while he tries to speak, “Yes. I am certain your father would not approve.”
Dean’s lips are smiling. They taste like peppermint and Castiel finally has something positive to associate with the ridiculous human holiday.
“Well, I’m pretty damned certain your father isn’t going to approve what I’m getting you for Christmas so I guess we’re both going to have to live with the fact we aren’t making our father’s happy.”
He can’t ask any questions -his lips are not functional after peppermint-flavored kisses and confessions of love- so Castiel relies on silence to produce his response for Dean. Silence has never been an uneasy state between them before and Castiel is grateful that it is no different now than it ever has been before.
Dean leans forward and Castiel has to strain to hear him…he had forgotten Sam still standing near the doorway. Dean’s words remind him that they are not alone; it is too easy to imagine a world with himself and Dean alone.
“I promised you wouldn’t die a virgin, right?”
Castiel thinks surely Sam has heard even though Dean was careful to speak soft and he can’t do more than nod. He is certain he wants this, this knowledge of Dean Winchester, this impossible knowledge of an impossibly, inevitably mortal man who will save him if not the world in this now apocalypse.
“I---will come for Christmas. Dean.”
Dean shoves at his chest and he staggers back three paces, come full circle in one movement. Proximity is restored. Sam Winchester is fairly clutching at his sad specimen of a Christmas tree; He is at least brave enough now to look into Castiel’s face and nod a shaky farewell.
“That’s the plan, Cas. See you Friday!”
Castiel smiles with lips that feel like his own for the first time and returns to the place where he had watched the sun rise inexorably over a potentially doomed Earth. His hand drifts out again to touch the weathered bark of the dead tree and his lips tingle with the taste of Dean Winchester’s precious love.
Title: All things circle, inevitably
Recipient: feather_qwill
Author: pesha
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: Potentially for season five? I don’t think so but possibly.
Summary: Castiel is an existentialist and Dean is Dean and that is quite enough for Castiel.
Author notes: This is secretly Christmas fiction. No. I’ve never actually written Christmas fiction for an exchange but this one more or less is and I’m honestly a little amused by that. My recipient requested single-word prompts dead tree, under, and forgetting and wanted fiction that showed off a not-quite-human Castiel. I hope this is at least close to what you were wanting. <3
~*~
The sun roars over the horizon, bold and impossibly inevitable. On Earth, sunrise will not be stopped for all the powers of both Heaven and Hell.
Castiel stretches out a hand to touch the withered bark of the tree at his side. He had hoped to feel the life fighting beneath the worn surface but he is too late, much too late. The tree is long dead and God is nowhere to be found.
Sunrise and death are the only constant things this earthen plane has shown him.
”Cas! Damnit, Cas! I need you. I need you, buddy---“
Dean Winchester’s voice resounds across the miles that separate them. Castiel has forgotten the sound of prayers -penitent or otherwise- but he doubts he will ever forget the sound of his name coming forth from Dean Winchester’s lips.
He pats the corpse of the tree once in memory, in passing farewell, and responds to the call of the only leader he has left.
~*~
Dean jerks back as he enters the room. He is too close; Dean does not care for him being so close. Castiel backs away three paces, enough for Dean’s shoulders to relax and the tightness in his face to smooth away. Even at ease, he appears tired; Castiel’s thoughts return to things inevitable for Dean Winchester.
“Damnit, Cas. You have got to work on your entrance, man. One of these days, you’re gonna come in too close and I’m gonna wind up blind from a wing to the eye.”
Dean offers up a stilted laugh, rubs at the back of his neck. Castiel wishes he once more had the full power of Heaven at his disposal; he could heal the hurt of Dean’s flesh if not that of his soul. He could ease the tired lines around his eyes even if he couldn’t remove them.
“Unlikely. I do not use wings to fly, Dean. In fact, I do not fly at all.”
He stops when Dean holds up a hand. Dean is an odd human. He is smiling now. Statements of fact never cease to entertain him and Castiel cannot help but infer this is because of his delivery rather than the information he is passing along to the hunter.
Castiel knows that a human would feel affronted to be so obviously mocked. He himself is merely grateful that he has the ability to make Dean Winchester smile. That seems a tremendous ability to have, one more than a bit worthy of replacing the ability to mend torn flesh…there is precious little to smile about during the apocalypse.
“Cas, you have got to be less literal. It’s killing me.”
No. Dean’s mortality is not something that can be laid to rest at Castiel’s feet. That inevitability is not one the angel will lay any claim to.
“No. It is not.”
He remembers the sound his brothers made as they died around him while he fought his way forward into Hell. For Dean. Castiel had been working on forgetting the sound of dying angels. He almost smiled at the irony that Dean’s death -the death of one godless mortal- could invoke that memory in him strongly enough to set his vessel’s ears ringing.
As so often seems to be the case for him, Castiel does not have the word skill necessary to convey his thoughts to Dean. He waits for Dean to realize his weakness and commence with the reason for summoning him. The silence that stretches between them is peaceful, lazy: a reminder of a time when time was less precious to him as all his life was wrapped up in the lives of those who were timeless.
“Okay. Right. So I’m not literally dying because you’ve got the sense of humor of a---well, an angel. Moving on. What are your plans for Friday?”
Castiel knows the days of the week. He is aware of the passage of time even if his life is not affected by it. These days, he is even aware of the exact passage of minutes (Most notably those spent with Dean) but he is not aware of the importance of the upcoming date to which Dean is referencing.
“I have no plans for Friday. Do you have need of me?”
Sam Winchester enters the room carrying a small tree. Castiel thinks it dead as the one he had previously mourned until the light hits it more fully, revealing it to be artificial. He is perplexed. His confusion usually amuses Dean enough to make it worth the blow to a pride he does not have to confess it.
“I am---confused.”
“What else is new?” Dean laughed, good-natured and, yes, entertained.
Castiel can see why God could be drawn down from Heaven to dwell forever amongst mortals such as Dean. He thinks if he were God, there would be many more mortals such as Dean Winchester but then, perhaps it is a good thing Castiel is not God because if Dean were one of many, Dean himself would not be as precious.
“That artificial foliage. That is new. May I ask why Sam has felt the need to obtain obviously fake shrubbery for your room?”
Sam shuffles his feet as he positions the tree upright in its awkward stand. He rarely braves a look at Castiel’s face; today is no exception.
“It’s a Christmas tree,” Sam tells the tree itself rather than Castiel.
He considers this bit of information and works to correlate it with the current calendar date. Christmas is not a holiday widely observed in Heaven. Castiel had honestly not considered that the Winchesters might be inclined to indulge in the rituals humans associated with the date. Dean claims to not even believe in the existence of God, after all.
“You celebrate Christmas?”
Dean’s jaw tenses, “You don’t?”
Castiel opens his mouth to tell Dean the truth -no, no he has never had time to celebrate a blatantly pagan holiday that has no bearing on the date of Christ’s actual birth- but Sam stops him. Sam Winchester often offers words of wisdom that hold more truth in them than any Heavenly decrees Castiel can remember.
“Dean, I told you Christmas wasn’t really a Heaven kind of holiday! I’m sorry, Castiel. Dean just thinks about the presents and the cookies and the alcoholic egg nog and the---“
“Dude! He gets the picture.”
Castiel would think Dean embarrassed at Sam’s interjection but he knows the hunter too well by now to believe real embarrassment something so easily struck into Dean Winchester. He is unable to stop himself from speaking as he realizes…
“You asked me to come to Christmas.”
Both Winchesters freeze. Castiel considers visiting this time and place again at some later date to see if he can uncover how he managed to quiet both Winchesters at once but he is too preoccupied to appreciate the novelty as he should.
“You would have me celebrate with you and Sam during your festivities?”
The brothers exchange a look far more complex than any Castiel has ever shared with his own heavenly brothers. His heart stutters strangely inside his frail vessel’s chest; Dean reminds Castiel too often of things the angel never knew he was missing out on.
“Yes?”
“Why?”
Why: the simplest question. It is the first that children truly learn to ask and that is why it is the most effective.
“Because---“
Castiel smiles, strange and strained in the vessel’s flesh. It is Dean who is confused now. He can finally appreciate the humor that Dean expresses at his expense.
“Because?”
“Because you’re family, Cas. You’re---you’re like family and that’s what Christmas is really about, okay? Sure it’s about the food and the drink and the presents and the tree but it’s really about spending time with the people you love---“
Dean stops himself and the silence yawns up large and awesome between them as it never has before. Castiel would have allowed him to continue speaking forever, until that inevitable time in the future when time itself will run out for Dean Winchester, until the apocalypse has passed and all that is left is a scorched Earth that holds no resemblance to the bright world his Lord created, until forever had found the meaning of forever, until then Castiel would have allowed Dean Winchester to speak if it meant he would have heard Dean Winchester state clearly how he loved the angel Castiel.
“You love me. As your family.”
Sam’s eyes are wide and possibly frightened but Castiel will not look away from him to seek the eyes of his brother instead. There is too much to see inside Dean Winchester’s green gaze. He cannot understand why it is important that Dean answer him, clarify yet one more thing for him, but it is important. It is the most important question Castiel has ever asked.
“Yes.”
Dean’s response is gruff. His voice holds a rough familiarity. Castiel wonders what Dean would think if he were to tell him his voice sounds of his father.
“I am not your family, Dean.”
The fear -if it ever was fear- leaves Sam Winchester’s eyes as suddenly as it came. He looks painfully mortal, painfully like Dean as he dares to meet Castiel’s stare with his own.
“Yes you are. You raised my brother from Hell. You fell from Heaven for him, Castiel. You are as much our family as Bobby is and I know I’d be proud to have you for the holidays even if it is a little blasphemous to say so.”
Castiel finds himself nodding slowly. He can understand the logic of Sam’s words; Sam is the logical one for all that Dean would lead one to believe.
“I will come to celebrate with you on Friday. I am---honored that you would extend your family to include me.”
He will leave now. He will let the Winchesters return to their lives and he will resume the search for God and he will hold Dean Winchester’s amulet in his hand when sunrise has long since faded into sunset and darkness has descended once more and Castiel will remember how it felt to almost hear Dean Winchester say he loved him. He will do all of this as soon as he leaves because he has to leave. His vessel is not strong enough to survive staying here, now, in this room with all these feelings.
Dean touches him. Dean Winchester stands too close, ignores proximity and touches him. His vessel’s arm -his arm- aches from the tight grasp of Dean Winchester’s strong fingers and Castiel had forgotten how it felt to be touched by another.
“You are my family, Cas. Sam said it but I’m saying it again because you deserve to hear it from me. Not because you dragged my sorry ass out of Hell and not because you turned your back on Heaven to fight with the humans come Armageddon.”
“Then why?”
Dean leans closer still. His face is tired but painfully wonderful in spite of its lines.
“ Because I do love you. Because you stood with me when it didn’t make a damned bit of sense for you to and because when all the world is literally falling into Hell, I’m the one lucky son of a bitch with a real, honest-to-God, guardian angel.”
Castiel says the first thing that he thinks of, the first thing that comes to mind, a meaningless bit of fact to make Dean Winchester smile after Dean Winchester has said I love you to him, Castiel, a fallen angel of the Lord.
“You should not speak so disrespectfully of your mother. Your father would not approve.”
“Oh yeah?”
Castiel nods succinctly. He is quite certain John Winchester would not approve of disparaging remarks being made about his fallen wife. He is equally certain that John Winchester would not approve of Dean Winchester kissing him but he would sooner die himself -another possible inevitability in these times of apocalypse rising- than point that out.
His lips -his vessel’s lips- tingle while he tries to speak, “Yes. I am certain your father would not approve.”
Dean’s lips are smiling. They taste like peppermint and Castiel finally has something positive to associate with the ridiculous human holiday.
“Well, I’m pretty damned certain your father isn’t going to approve what I’m getting you for Christmas so I guess we’re both going to have to live with the fact we aren’t making our father’s happy.”
He can’t ask any questions -his lips are not functional after peppermint-flavored kisses and confessions of love- so Castiel relies on silence to produce his response for Dean. Silence has never been an uneasy state between them before and Castiel is grateful that it is no different now than it ever has been before.
Dean leans forward and Castiel has to strain to hear him…he had forgotten Sam still standing near the doorway. Dean’s words remind him that they are not alone; it is too easy to imagine a world with himself and Dean alone.
“I promised you wouldn’t die a virgin, right?”
Castiel thinks surely Sam has heard even though Dean was careful to speak soft and he can’t do more than nod. He is certain he wants this, this knowledge of Dean Winchester, this impossible knowledge of an impossibly, inevitably mortal man who will save him if not the world in this now apocalypse.
“I---will come for Christmas. Dean.”
Dean shoves at his chest and he staggers back three paces, come full circle in one movement. Proximity is restored. Sam Winchester is fairly clutching at his sad specimen of a Christmas tree; He is at least brave enough now to look into Castiel’s face and nod a shaky farewell.
“That’s the plan, Cas. See you Friday!”
Castiel smiles with lips that feel like his own for the first time and returns to the place where he had watched the sun rise inexorably over a potentially doomed Earth. His hand drifts out again to touch the weathered bark of the dead tree and his lips tingle with the taste of Dean Winchester’s precious love.