this is probably not what you wanted. 1/2mortarMarch 16 2010, 07:14:59 UTC
I Castiel had never felt pain before. Never truly. He had been beaten and broken by demon and Brother alike, but never hurt physically. Castiel had never understood how a human could be incapacitated by pain, never. The times where he simply heals the Winchesters because they have a duty is out of impatience. They could handle pain, Castiel knew they could. Why let themselves be slowed down by something so trivial?
It was fitting that the elder Winchester was the one to be there, witnessing the first injury that Castiel felt. The pain was sharp and shocking; making Castiel's gaze fall from the words of his scripture to the pad of his thumb. There was a thin cut across the flesh, the smallest dribble of blood leaking out from the wound.
"Dude, it's just a paper cut. Stop looking at it like it's gonna sprout tentacles. No, seriously Cas, just keep reading."
And Castiel kept reading, ignoring how the slightest bit of blood smeared along the pages.
II The first time Castiel felt tired, Dean had also been there.
Sleep had always been useless to Castiel. It had never been needed. Castiel knew these creatures were his Father's, but to create them so imperfect to need to lay unconscious, vulnerable, for hours on end? Castiel had doubted before, further doubt would do him no more harm. Castiel doubted humans for needing the rest, doubted Father for forcing them to it. The End of Days may have been adverted, but there were still tragedies and Sam's hero-complex was rubbing off on what little of Dean that was left. It filled the elder with purpose.
Castiel did not complain. He never did. He only watched as Dean drank himself into oblivion over not saving one human sooner.
Castiel did not understand the need for rest. Rest was unimportant to humans-- an unneeded break. So when Dean caught Castiel yawning and laughed, Castiel had left.
III Castiel had seen, over the thousands of years that he had been observing, humans kill each other. Over having loyalties betrayed, vows shattered, trust shredded. It was not uncommon and Castiel figured the humans to just be imperfect-- the parts of society scorned. Not everyone slaughtered, not everyone murdered.
Dean was talking to a girl. Anna would have said what Castiel was feeling jealousy. Castiel called it blood-lust. But he swallowed it down along with the beer Dean demanded he have and figuring himself to only be irrational. Feeling this way was unnatural, surely.
Castiel had never felt pain before. Never truly. He had been beaten and broken by demon and Brother alike, but never hurt physically. Castiel had never understood how a human could be incapacitated by pain, never. The times where he simply heals the Winchesters because they have a duty is out of impatience. They could handle pain, Castiel knew they could. Why let themselves be slowed down by something so trivial?
It was fitting that the elder Winchester was the one to be there, witnessing the first injury that Castiel felt. The pain was sharp and shocking; making Castiel's gaze fall from the words of his scripture to the pad of his thumb. There was a thin cut across the flesh, the smallest dribble of blood leaking out from the wound.
"Dude, it's just a paper cut. Stop looking at it like it's gonna sprout tentacles. No, seriously Cas, just keep reading."
And Castiel kept reading, ignoring how the slightest bit of blood smeared along the pages.
II
The first time Castiel felt tired, Dean had also been there.
Sleep had always been useless to Castiel. It had never been needed. Castiel knew these creatures were his Father's, but to create them so imperfect to need to lay unconscious, vulnerable, for hours on end? Castiel had doubted before, further doubt would do him no more harm. Castiel doubted humans for needing the rest, doubted Father for forcing them to it. The End of Days may have been adverted, but there were still tragedies and Sam's hero-complex was rubbing off on what little of Dean that was left. It filled the elder with purpose.
Castiel did not complain. He never did. He only watched as Dean drank himself into oblivion over not saving one human sooner.
Castiel did not understand the need for rest. Rest was unimportant to humans-- an unneeded break. So when Dean caught Castiel yawning and laughed, Castiel had left.
III
Castiel had seen, over the thousands of years that he had been observing, humans kill each other. Over having loyalties betrayed, vows shattered, trust shredded. It was not uncommon and Castiel figured the humans to just be imperfect-- the parts of society scorned. Not everyone slaughtered, not everyone murdered.
Dean was talking to a girl. Anna would have said what Castiel was feeling jealousy. Castiel called it blood-lust. But he swallowed it down along with the beer Dean demanded he have and figuring himself to only be irrational. Feeling this way was unnatural, surely.
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