[Supernatural Fic] Breathe in the Air 1/2
Michael laughs with the same bitterness that Castiel feels every day that he wakes up, Graceless and hungover. "This was never about them. Do you really think that we'd waste our energy -our lives- now? There are better prospects out there."
"Then why haven't you left already?"
"Haven't we? Castiel, when was the last time you felt any sort of call from us? When was the last time that your resident Prophet had a vision? I am the last Angel on Earth who still serves Heaven. The rest have gone already.”
“Where to?” This is the chosen world, the one upon which Paradise was to be brought -but of course, nothing ever seems to go according to the Plan.
“To greener fields,” replies Michael, “And I will be going with them shortly. But first…” he steps forwards and Castiel tries to back away, but Michael is faster than him and grips his shoulder with one hand and presses the other to his chest.
Castiel cries out as a sensation like flame beneath his ribs fills his chest and then travels through his blood, burning him from the inside without leaving a stray mark. His head jerks back and only Michael’s hand keeps him from falling to the rocky shore.
It lasts for less than a minute, he thinks, and the pain is gone as soon as Michael pulls his hand from his chest and places it on his other shoulder to steady him, but something else is different.
“I am sorry,” his brother admits. “Even after everything that you’ve done, it pains me to have to remove your Grace, but I couldn’t leave you here unsupervised, with access to Heaven, as minimal as it might have been.”
“You didn’t have to,” gasps Castiel, and he grips Michael’s arm and stares into his face, finds a trace of sympathy and tries to focus on it. “Please. If you took it, you can restore it…”
“I won’t. You lost your right to consider yourself an Angel of the Lord long ago,” says Michael in an almost chiding voice, “And you long ago made the choice to call Earth your home, and the Humans your people. You brought this upon yourself, my former brother.”
“I take it back,” he begs, feeling the void within him. Where fragile strands of Grace once clung to him, promising him that as long as he could feel them he would still be an Angel, there is nothing. This is emptiness too complete for drugs or physical pleasures to fill. This is the absence of something that was always, doubtlessly a part of him. It is an amputation of soul far more than it is of limb or appendage.
“It’s too late for that,” says Michael as he gently lowers him to the rocky shore, and then straightens. Castiel sees a gentle bluish glow begin to intensify around the edges of Michael’s form, and he realizes that he needs to shield his eyes. For the first time, he cannot look upon his siblings as they truly are.
Michael disappears in a blaze of glory as Castiel cowers on the bed of stones, and as if his Grace were all that had been sustaining him, he finds that he cannot muster the will to get to his feet and continue on with the night, so he just stays in that position, alone and Human, as the night continues its slow transformation to morning.
Part Two
"Then why haven't you left already?"
"Haven't we? Castiel, when was the last time you felt any sort of call from us? When was the last time that your resident Prophet had a vision? I am the last Angel on Earth who still serves Heaven. The rest have gone already.”
“Where to?” This is the chosen world, the one upon which Paradise was to be brought -but of course, nothing ever seems to go according to the Plan.
“To greener fields,” replies Michael, “And I will be going with them shortly. But first…” he steps forwards and Castiel tries to back away, but Michael is faster than him and grips his shoulder with one hand and presses the other to his chest.
Castiel cries out as a sensation like flame beneath his ribs fills his chest and then travels through his blood, burning him from the inside without leaving a stray mark. His head jerks back and only Michael’s hand keeps him from falling to the rocky shore.
It lasts for less than a minute, he thinks, and the pain is gone as soon as Michael pulls his hand from his chest and places it on his other shoulder to steady him, but something else is different.
“I am sorry,” his brother admits. “Even after everything that you’ve done, it pains me to have to remove your Grace, but I couldn’t leave you here unsupervised, with access to Heaven, as minimal as it might have been.”
“You didn’t have to,” gasps Castiel, and he grips Michael’s arm and stares into his face, finds a trace of sympathy and tries to focus on it. “Please. If you took it, you can restore it…”
“I won’t. You lost your right to consider yourself an Angel of the Lord long ago,” says Michael in an almost chiding voice, “And you long ago made the choice to call Earth your home, and the Humans your people. You brought this upon yourself, my former brother.”
“I take it back,” he begs, feeling the void within him. Where fragile strands of Grace once clung to him, promising him that as long as he could feel them he would still be an Angel, there is nothing. This is emptiness too complete for drugs or physical pleasures to fill. This is the absence of something that was always, doubtlessly a part of him. It is an amputation of soul far more than it is of limb or appendage.
“It’s too late for that,” says Michael as he gently lowers him to the rocky shore, and then straightens. Castiel sees a gentle bluish glow begin to intensify around the edges of Michael’s form, and he realizes that he needs to shield his eyes. For the first time, he cannot look upon his siblings as they truly are.
Michael disappears in a blaze of glory as Castiel cowers on the bed of stones, and as if his Grace were all that had been sustaining him, he finds that he cannot muster the will to get to his feet and continue on with the night, so he just stays in that position, alone and Human, as the night continues its slow transformation to morning.
Part Two