thought-ironing for taxonomites
The more Castiel thinks about it, the more afraid he becomes.
He knows for sure by now that this is not the work of God. None of that applies here. There is no God. There is no Lucifer, no Apocalypse. None of the firm, deep-rooted facts from home. And that's what scares him.
For several thousand years, Castiel has existed with a purpose. He has had rules and orders, and he has followed them. Now he is in a world of transient faith and belief, where he's been left to think for himself and work out for himself the thoughs and feelings he's being continuously exposed to. He doesn't know what to do. He needs grounding, needs rules. He would have been executed for interfering and healing Dean yesterday, but he did it regardless, knowing there would be no consequence. Why? Because of obligation? Friendship? Loyalty? Human sentiments that he is getting more and more attuned to? The questions plague him, which frustrates himm further. He is an angel. A soldier. He shouldn't feel this way.
More's the guilt when he thinks that in the last few thousand years he hasn't felt so real.
He understands Anna now, if only a little more. Why she envied the humans, why she chose to fall. To be an angel is to be an observer, but to be among humans is to be a part of something. And for all the promise of eternal love from his Heavenly father on the condition of unwavering faith and devotion, he now knows that that 'love' he was feeling was merely a word compared to the hope, fear, anger, loyalty, companionship, determination and love of humanity that comes at no cost and doesn't judge or discriminate.
He likes it, and it scares the hell out of him.
He knows for sure by now that this is not the work of God. None of that applies here. There is no God. There is no Lucifer, no Apocalypse. None of the firm, deep-rooted facts from home. And that's what scares him.
For several thousand years, Castiel has existed with a purpose. He has had rules and orders, and he has followed them. Now he is in a world of transient faith and belief, where he's been left to think for himself and work out for himself the thoughs and feelings he's being continuously exposed to. He doesn't know what to do. He needs grounding, needs rules. He would have been executed for interfering and healing Dean yesterday, but he did it regardless, knowing there would be no consequence. Why? Because of obligation? Friendship? Loyalty? Human sentiments that he is getting more and more attuned to? The questions plague him, which frustrates himm further. He is an angel. A soldier. He shouldn't feel this way.
More's the guilt when he thinks that in the last few thousand years he hasn't felt so real.
He understands Anna now, if only a little more. Why she envied the humans, why she chose to fall. To be an angel is to be an observer, but to be among humans is to be a part of something. And for all the promise of eternal love from his Heavenly father on the condition of unwavering faith and devotion, he now knows that that 'love' he was feeling was merely a word compared to the hope, fear, anger, loyalty, companionship, determination and love of humanity that comes at no cost and doesn't judge or discriminate.
He likes it, and it scares the hell out of him.