[Fic/Art] If An Angel Falls And No One Is Around To Hear, Does It Make A Sound?
Title: If An Angel Falls And No One Is Around To Hear, Does It Make A Sound?
Author: cugami
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Pre-slash, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: The French Mistake
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3,248
Summary: Dean could tell that Cas regretted having to use human feet instead of slamming into them via angel transport to get them out of there earlier.
Note: And wow, I did not expect the fic part to blow up to 3k. I was only thinking of a drabble at the time. The title came from here if you're curious.
They were just wrapping up another case when Cas showed up, forehead creased and wide-eyed with panic one second then his entire features levelled and smoothened into carved marble in the next. This salt and burn just went up several notches in the danger gauge after seeing that. Cas always brought with him bad news these days.
“Leave,” Cas said, tones clipped, low and rumbling. “Now.”
“Yeah, hey, hello. I’m doing great, by the wa…” Dean trailed off when Cas took that menacing step forward that usually meant uncomfortable bowel movements, both arms stretched and ready to send them off wherever. “Wait, my car!”
He felt Sam wrap his huge hand around his elbow and yank him back. “Dean!”
At the same time, Cas pulled his arms back fast enough just as a wall of flames cut through the last couple of steps between them. Dean could tell that Cas regretted having to use human feet instead of slamming into them via angel transport to get them out of there earlier. And the way Cas glared at him now, the blame was apparently on him too.
Yeah, well, what else was new? If he had to count how many things had gone wrong because of him, they’d never get out of this new shithole. Dean shrugged that off and assessed the situation, which was something far welcome than facing Cas.
The fire seemed to stretch from end to end of the cemetery and Dean could not help wondering if this was some really huge ring of holy fire or some demon fire. Cas seemed hesitant to cross it but very likely brewing up a mental storm as to how to do just that. This flame wall could not possibly stretch indefinitely. When he looked to check on Sam, he had already done the visual sweep as well.
“I’ll take left,” Sam said and was already on his way while Dean turned to do the same on his side.
Cas snapped right then. “No. Stay where I can see you.”
Well, that attitude just irked Dean in an instant. And now they’re back to Cas just telling them what to do. Their relationship had been on this fence way too long.
Sam stood to his left, awkward and silent but Dean knew Sam would back him up for anything. Moral support, included. It gave him all the security he needed to keep going.
“Or you can start telling us what this is all about right now!”
Another flame wall blazed from his right, cutting through the one between him and Cas and across like some roadrunner. Dean whipped his head to its source to see whether he could spot the break in the wall, but like the first one this seemed to stretch just as far. Idly, he hoped his car just beyond the cemetery gates wasn’t parked in the middle of these forming walls.
The next one came much faster from their left and Sam instinctively moved closer to Dean even if the fire itself was still a good ten feet away. It officially caged them now, also Cas on the other side. There was still an open path behind them, but that meant leaving Cas here. “Is this holy fire?”
Wary now, Cas’ eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything. He was staring at Dean but his attention was elsewhere, as if he’s having some conversation or was seeing something else. It wouldn’t be too far off from the realm of possibilities.
At least he acknowledged Dean enough to answer, “No. This is Raphael carving a battlefield into the earth with his grace.”
“What? What do you mean battlefield?” Sam almost reached the fire when he stepped closer to Cas and Dean grabbed his jacket by the collar. Sometimes, Sam really was too curious for his own good.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Cas straightened up, his shoulders flexing as if flaring his wings ready to take flight. Dean shoved Sam aside and behind him, taking point once again, “Cas, damnit. This is a bad time to be cryptic.”
“With the weapons now at my disposal, he is at a great disadvantage. To bring me to an even keel, he will bring the war to the ground on this earth.” Cas’ lips thinned, his frustration evident even if his expression hardly faltered from its stone cold indifference. “Everything Raphael chooses as a battlefield is open invitation for the Host to arrive in their true form. And if we fight in our true form, then nothing on this plane will survive. The victor dictates the state of the domain.”
“I thought you needed vessels on earth?” Sam, bless him. Dean was still speechless, scrambling for anything he could grasp to stop Raphael and his army.
“To walk this earth, yes. Consecrated ground elevates this plane of existence into Holy that is close enough to Heaven. The laws our Father made to keep us from earth is nothing more than an afterthought to an angel on sacred ground.”
“Can’t we banish the angels? We can paint blood sigils everywhere if you tell us the places to hit.”
“The sigil is also Holy. The same way you cannot banish an angel when in Heaven.”
What Cas was not saying, as Dean understood Cas-crypticese, was Heaven would be brought down on Earth with the wrath of angels. With no God to tell them what to do, and no authority to dictate the terms of war, they now have an archangel pissed enough to take the law and crush it into a new order.
This was fucking worse than when angels were all over the place trying to execute God’s Plan. At least there was a plan. There were rules of engagement.
Cas’ gaze darted to the left and Dean instinctively followed it with his own eyes. Just in the far distance another flame wall shot up from the ground then ran through a long line until Dean could no longer see where it actually ended. Now that he knew more about these fire walls, he could now see lightning cracks nearer the ground where the fire took its roots. This was Grace… or whatever was the residue of Raphael’s path while he carved whatever it was that sanctified this place.
In his mind, he could imagine a huge sigil being drawn on earth’s surface. They were only seeing bits and pieces of it as the lines went through where they were standing as if they weren’t even there. He tried to imagine what it would be like to get in the way of that literal warpath.
“Cas…”
The ground began to vibrate, and Dean could remember clearly the beginnings of when an angel was about to land… or literally talk his eardrums off his head. And just as Cas insisted to keep an eye on him and Sam, Dean also refused to draw his own eyes away from where Cas stood, two short steps and a wall of Raphael’s wrath in between.
It seemed entirely for Dean’s benefit that Cas began to explain, his eyes softening and the frown on his face almost seemed apologetic. “I will carve my own grace on the surrounding lands, wherever Raphael had made his claims. If I can limit his movement, then perhaps I will be able to…”
Sam almost stepped too close to the fire and Dean had to hold him down once again. “You are playing chess on our world!”
Cas actually understood, to Dean’s surprise and disappointment. He would be playing the game Raphael started in equal measure.
“They will be here soon,” Cas said, looking up to the sky then on the ground with a frown, anywhere but Dean or Sam. “This is now Raphael’s dominion and there will be battle. Run to your vehicle and do not look back.”
“What will happen to this place?” To you, Dean wanted to say.
Blue irises finally met his, cold and flat, “Nothing if I win. But you cannot be here.”
The sound of thunder clapped all around them, and Dean was not sure if this was Cas or Raphael’s imminent arrival. Raphael was likely done burning his sigil into the entire cemetery now.
“There will be fire in the way but do not stop. I will be with you.”
Cas closed his eyes and lifted his hands once again, palm up. The crackling fire in their immediate vicinity climbed higher, towering over Sam’s already gigantic height. The fiery red and white lightning hissed almost sizzling then it burned blue.
Dean reached for Sam right then when he could no longer see Cas from behind the blue fire. “Sammy.”
“Don’t look back, Dean.”
And they’re off, running like their life depended on it --- which was not far from truth. True enough to what Cas had said, there was another flame wall and a layering of several more just ahead of them. He swallowed and was about to yank Sam to the side to where he’s about to turn when something from his right blinked and leapt in great bounds just ahead, leaving a blue streak in his wake.
Dean slowed down but Sam didn’t let him, dragging him forward. With Sam’s longer legs, it was almost a struggle to keep up with this pace until he got over the shock of that apparition and ran again full throttle. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Sam huffed, annoyed, and shot Dean an incredulous look. Of course, Dean should not be sightseeing at this point. The gate was not really close to their salt and burn grave earlier.
When Dean squinted to see as far into the distance as he could, he no longer saw the walls earlier by the gates. But something hovered by it, something large but inscrutable to his senses stood in the middle of the fire and effectively provided a gap they’d be able to go through. Of course, he stopped to stare.
“Dean!” Sam snapped and pulled on his collar, “Come on!”
Overhead, another blue streak dove and literally hovered in front of Dean before pushing forward ahead of them, directly along their path towards the gate. Dean did not understand what he was seeing, but the thing in front of him seemed to grow something akin to a pair of wings. When two great wings stretched, it brought to his attention that the flame walls from their sides were closing in.
The bird thing’s wings extended far enough that the walls actually stopped moving, at least temporarily. The path did not narrow further after that and the bird thing was always a step ahead of them. He stole a glance at Sam to check if he’s seeing it, too, but didn’t look like it. Or if he was, he dismissed these phantom animals as norm.
His lips went dry and he could feel himself slowing down, but once again Sam yelled at him. Apparently his brother was more aware about things than he was letting on. He was, at least, paying attention to Dean.
Dean forced himself to focus. To not be tempted. Even if his mind, his heart, and everything in him wanted to stop, and turn around right now.
There was this secret he held tight to his chest since Zachariah’s death. It wasn’t anything he could discuss, not even with Sam. Especially not with Sam during all the soulless robotic stint that lasted too damn long. So many things had happened since then, so there was really no need to bring it up. He’d forgotten about it, if he were honest.
Until now. The memory wasn’t so much as a trickle of awareness in the back of his mind but was more along the lines of a nuke exploding in his face, blasting all his senses to almost nothing.
At the time, Zachariah had reached far beyond the level of his hatred for Azazel. Zachariah’s actions had betrayed his mother’s words, his life, Sam‘s faith, the faith of those who sincerely believed in the goodness of God and the angels like Jimmy and his family, and for everything he and his brother had gone through. Cas, too. All because Zachariah and his angels were royal dicks.
He had wanted Zachariah to die that when the opportunity came up, he refused to look away. Even if it meant he would go blind, he had wanted to witness the death of this particular angel.
So he had looked. He’d simply refused to blink. He’d wanted to bear witness to every second of Zachariah’s passing and he would remember it. And that was all it took.
He wanted to see it so badly and so he did.
There was a lump in his throat as he thought about it, still running away as instructed but the rest of him was back there already. Heart hammering and not from the adrenaline, he slowed down until he stopped moving. Sam did as well, almost as soon as Dean did.
“Dean! What the hell? We have to go.” Sam pulled on his wrist but Dean dug his heels, swallowing. He looked at Sam, not able to voice out his own thoughts and Sam’s face contorted into that stubborn mulish expression. “Dean, don’t be stupid.”
The air around them was thick enough that he could actually feel it like a physical thing. And he could tell that Sam felt it too, the way Sam’s shoulders were stiff with tension and every instinct must be yelling to run and run. The vein on his forehead was practically threatening to explode, it was so visible.
“I gotta do this, Sammy.”
“No, Dean. I’m going to drag you out of here if I have to.”
Their path was clear ahead of them, the walls no longer moving and each side had a visible blue streak. Far ahead, Dean could still see the phantom bird clearing a path and even farther from it, a thing with four legs stood guard by the gate. They were so close to getting the hell out of here.
“Get the car running, I won’t be long.”
“Dean!”
But Dean was already running back.
He wanted to see this.
It wasn’t too far when the echo of voices assaulted his ears. He brought his hands up for cover but he kept running. Not too long after that, he’d fallen to his knees with the weight of something he couldn’t really see. Everything overwhelmed him, all his senses were hyper aware of every little thing that moved. He could hear the wind, the sway of grass, the rustle of leaves. His own breathing and heartbeat were akin to drums beating out a call to war.
But he could hear it. Hear them.
“You insult me in your insistence to wear that face even in your true form, Castiel. Even more so, that you have split your Grace to guide your pets out of my domain. Do you think me weak enough that you would dare battle with half the strength?”
“You are wrong, brother. I honor you with the face of humanity, of a man who had given up his family, his life and everything he could hope for because he did not wish those he loved to suffer.”
Dean forced his head up right then, struggling to keep his hands off his ears. He forced his eyes open so he could see, even though he already knew what face Castiel wore.
He knew, on hindsight, that Castiel was roughly the size of the Chrysler building but witnessing it even from this distance was a staggering experience. Castiel in his true form was not what he expected, although he must admit that he hadn’t really given it much thought until today.
Zachariah was a monstrous beast, hideous and devastatingly ugly that would give nightmares even to the nastiest trucker with a bone to pick. When they said an angel would punish you for the wrongs you’ve done, they should present an image of Zachariah to be more convincing. His face…faces had eyes everywhere, all of them seemed to focus elsewhere and everywhere.
And when they focus on a single object, clawing your eyes out seemed to be a good idea. Dean was just stubborn and Zachariah was dying when he actually saw it. Otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to take another thing to have nightmares of.
But Cas, Castiel was so different. The armor he wore seemed to be alive as light played a beat on it, the white, gold, orange and red glinted like the sun coloring the sky at the break of dawn. Though he was also coated from head to toe, the armor was less of a cover and more an organic part of the angel. His golden scales even extend all the way to the curve of his wings that Dean was not sure where the armor ended and the flesh of wings began.
He wore it like skin, comfortable and confident and so different from the man with the dirty trenchcoat that only seemed to serve as cover. Cas was like a kid huddling in clothes too big for him.
A smile tugged out of Dean’s gaping mouth when he noticed the long red cloth draped behind Cas like the tails of a coat. It probably didn’t serve a purpose other than Cas might like it. That bit of humanity in Cas warmed Dean so much he couldn’t believe how glad he was to see something that reminded him of human pettiness.
And there it was, Jimmy Novak’s face. Solemn, even sad, but his eyes burn with promise.
“You speak as if you understood.”
“I do. I am also not here to kill you.”
“What the ever loving fuck?” Dean mouthed to himself and he began to push himself up on his feet, up against the pressure of everything else that seemed to insist that he stayed level to the ground and on his knees. He wanted to yell at Cas to go for the kill, but he was afraid that Cas might actually hear him and be distracted.
“Then do you surrender?”
Dean recognized the posture when Cas’ shoulders began to sag, relaxing and loosening in on himself. Cas usually did it when he was about to argue with Dean and that type of argument was always one-sided, where Dean ended up pledging himself to become Heaven’s errand boy.
“Far from it.” Cas flexed his left wrist and fingers, a silver blade materialized in his hand --- the angel-killing sword but its edges and tip were shifting with blue and white and red and orange like a flickering fire…
Dean stopped trying to identify the colors for his own sanity.
“If I were to kill you now, those who chose to side with you will run amok in vengeance. The parts of earth you have consecrated will be the first to burn when they come with nothing but wrath. Your defeat will be slow, until all the angels fall in line.”
“You have become too human, Castiel.”
Dean closed his eyes when Cas moved, sword raised against his brother and his family who had already killed him once. Cas would fight alone in this holy ground where no one would hear or know of it, none of the people he fought in the name of.
They sting but if anyone asked, Dean’s eyes burned for not blinking and staring at the sun for far too long.
fin
Author: cugami
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Pre-slash, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: The French Mistake
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3,248
Summary: Dean could tell that Cas regretted having to use human feet instead of slamming into them via angel transport to get them out of there earlier.
Note: And wow, I did not expect the fic part to blow up to 3k. I was only thinking of a drabble at the time. The title came from here if you're curious.
They were just wrapping up another case when Cas showed up, forehead creased and wide-eyed with panic one second then his entire features levelled and smoothened into carved marble in the next. This salt and burn just went up several notches in the danger gauge after seeing that. Cas always brought with him bad news these days.
“Leave,” Cas said, tones clipped, low and rumbling. “Now.”
“Yeah, hey, hello. I’m doing great, by the wa…” Dean trailed off when Cas took that menacing step forward that usually meant uncomfortable bowel movements, both arms stretched and ready to send them off wherever. “Wait, my car!”
He felt Sam wrap his huge hand around his elbow and yank him back. “Dean!”
At the same time, Cas pulled his arms back fast enough just as a wall of flames cut through the last couple of steps between them. Dean could tell that Cas regretted having to use human feet instead of slamming into them via angel transport to get them out of there earlier. And the way Cas glared at him now, the blame was apparently on him too.
Yeah, well, what else was new? If he had to count how many things had gone wrong because of him, they’d never get out of this new shithole. Dean shrugged that off and assessed the situation, which was something far welcome than facing Cas.
The fire seemed to stretch from end to end of the cemetery and Dean could not help wondering if this was some really huge ring of holy fire or some demon fire. Cas seemed hesitant to cross it but very likely brewing up a mental storm as to how to do just that. This flame wall could not possibly stretch indefinitely. When he looked to check on Sam, he had already done the visual sweep as well.
“I’ll take left,” Sam said and was already on his way while Dean turned to do the same on his side.
Cas snapped right then. “No. Stay where I can see you.”
Well, that attitude just irked Dean in an instant. And now they’re back to Cas just telling them what to do. Their relationship had been on this fence way too long.
Sam stood to his left, awkward and silent but Dean knew Sam would back him up for anything. Moral support, included. It gave him all the security he needed to keep going.
“Or you can start telling us what this is all about right now!”
Another flame wall blazed from his right, cutting through the one between him and Cas and across like some roadrunner. Dean whipped his head to its source to see whether he could spot the break in the wall, but like the first one this seemed to stretch just as far. Idly, he hoped his car just beyond the cemetery gates wasn’t parked in the middle of these forming walls.
The next one came much faster from their left and Sam instinctively moved closer to Dean even if the fire itself was still a good ten feet away. It officially caged them now, also Cas on the other side. There was still an open path behind them, but that meant leaving Cas here. “Is this holy fire?”
Wary now, Cas’ eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything. He was staring at Dean but his attention was elsewhere, as if he’s having some conversation or was seeing something else. It wouldn’t be too far off from the realm of possibilities.
At least he acknowledged Dean enough to answer, “No. This is Raphael carving a battlefield into the earth with his grace.”
“What? What do you mean battlefield?” Sam almost reached the fire when he stepped closer to Cas and Dean grabbed his jacket by the collar. Sometimes, Sam really was too curious for his own good.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Cas straightened up, his shoulders flexing as if flaring his wings ready to take flight. Dean shoved Sam aside and behind him, taking point once again, “Cas, damnit. This is a bad time to be cryptic.”
“With the weapons now at my disposal, he is at a great disadvantage. To bring me to an even keel, he will bring the war to the ground on this earth.” Cas’ lips thinned, his frustration evident even if his expression hardly faltered from its stone cold indifference. “Everything Raphael chooses as a battlefield is open invitation for the Host to arrive in their true form. And if we fight in our true form, then nothing on this plane will survive. The victor dictates the state of the domain.”
“I thought you needed vessels on earth?” Sam, bless him. Dean was still speechless, scrambling for anything he could grasp to stop Raphael and his army.
“To walk this earth, yes. Consecrated ground elevates this plane of existence into Holy that is close enough to Heaven. The laws our Father made to keep us from earth is nothing more than an afterthought to an angel on sacred ground.”
“Can’t we banish the angels? We can paint blood sigils everywhere if you tell us the places to hit.”
“The sigil is also Holy. The same way you cannot banish an angel when in Heaven.”
What Cas was not saying, as Dean understood Cas-crypticese, was Heaven would be brought down on Earth with the wrath of angels. With no God to tell them what to do, and no authority to dictate the terms of war, they now have an archangel pissed enough to take the law and crush it into a new order.
This was fucking worse than when angels were all over the place trying to execute God’s Plan. At least there was a plan. There were rules of engagement.
Cas’ gaze darted to the left and Dean instinctively followed it with his own eyes. Just in the far distance another flame wall shot up from the ground then ran through a long line until Dean could no longer see where it actually ended. Now that he knew more about these fire walls, he could now see lightning cracks nearer the ground where the fire took its roots. This was Grace… or whatever was the residue of Raphael’s path while he carved whatever it was that sanctified this place.
In his mind, he could imagine a huge sigil being drawn on earth’s surface. They were only seeing bits and pieces of it as the lines went through where they were standing as if they weren’t even there. He tried to imagine what it would be like to get in the way of that literal warpath.
“Cas…”
The ground began to vibrate, and Dean could remember clearly the beginnings of when an angel was about to land… or literally talk his eardrums off his head. And just as Cas insisted to keep an eye on him and Sam, Dean also refused to draw his own eyes away from where Cas stood, two short steps and a wall of Raphael’s wrath in between.
It seemed entirely for Dean’s benefit that Cas began to explain, his eyes softening and the frown on his face almost seemed apologetic. “I will carve my own grace on the surrounding lands, wherever Raphael had made his claims. If I can limit his movement, then perhaps I will be able to…”
Sam almost stepped too close to the fire and Dean had to hold him down once again. “You are playing chess on our world!”
Cas actually understood, to Dean’s surprise and disappointment. He would be playing the game Raphael started in equal measure.
“They will be here soon,” Cas said, looking up to the sky then on the ground with a frown, anywhere but Dean or Sam. “This is now Raphael’s dominion and there will be battle. Run to your vehicle and do not look back.”
“What will happen to this place?” To you, Dean wanted to say.
Blue irises finally met his, cold and flat, “Nothing if I win. But you cannot be here.”
The sound of thunder clapped all around them, and Dean was not sure if this was Cas or Raphael’s imminent arrival. Raphael was likely done burning his sigil into the entire cemetery now.
“There will be fire in the way but do not stop. I will be with you.”
Cas closed his eyes and lifted his hands once again, palm up. The crackling fire in their immediate vicinity climbed higher, towering over Sam’s already gigantic height. The fiery red and white lightning hissed almost sizzling then it burned blue.
Dean reached for Sam right then when he could no longer see Cas from behind the blue fire. “Sammy.”
“Don’t look back, Dean.”
And they’re off, running like their life depended on it --- which was not far from truth. True enough to what Cas had said, there was another flame wall and a layering of several more just ahead of them. He swallowed and was about to yank Sam to the side to where he’s about to turn when something from his right blinked and leapt in great bounds just ahead, leaving a blue streak in his wake.
Dean slowed down but Sam didn’t let him, dragging him forward. With Sam’s longer legs, it was almost a struggle to keep up with this pace until he got over the shock of that apparition and ran again full throttle. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Sam huffed, annoyed, and shot Dean an incredulous look. Of course, Dean should not be sightseeing at this point. The gate was not really close to their salt and burn grave earlier.
When Dean squinted to see as far into the distance as he could, he no longer saw the walls earlier by the gates. But something hovered by it, something large but inscrutable to his senses stood in the middle of the fire and effectively provided a gap they’d be able to go through. Of course, he stopped to stare.
“Dean!” Sam snapped and pulled on his collar, “Come on!”
Overhead, another blue streak dove and literally hovered in front of Dean before pushing forward ahead of them, directly along their path towards the gate. Dean did not understand what he was seeing, but the thing in front of him seemed to grow something akin to a pair of wings. When two great wings stretched, it brought to his attention that the flame walls from their sides were closing in.
The bird thing’s wings extended far enough that the walls actually stopped moving, at least temporarily. The path did not narrow further after that and the bird thing was always a step ahead of them. He stole a glance at Sam to check if he’s seeing it, too, but didn’t look like it. Or if he was, he dismissed these phantom animals as norm.
His lips went dry and he could feel himself slowing down, but once again Sam yelled at him. Apparently his brother was more aware about things than he was letting on. He was, at least, paying attention to Dean.
Dean forced himself to focus. To not be tempted. Even if his mind, his heart, and everything in him wanted to stop, and turn around right now.
There was this secret he held tight to his chest since Zachariah’s death. It wasn’t anything he could discuss, not even with Sam. Especially not with Sam during all the soulless robotic stint that lasted too damn long. So many things had happened since then, so there was really no need to bring it up. He’d forgotten about it, if he were honest.
Until now. The memory wasn’t so much as a trickle of awareness in the back of his mind but was more along the lines of a nuke exploding in his face, blasting all his senses to almost nothing.
At the time, Zachariah had reached far beyond the level of his hatred for Azazel. Zachariah’s actions had betrayed his mother’s words, his life, Sam‘s faith, the faith of those who sincerely believed in the goodness of God and the angels like Jimmy and his family, and for everything he and his brother had gone through. Cas, too. All because Zachariah and his angels were royal dicks.
He had wanted Zachariah to die that when the opportunity came up, he refused to look away. Even if it meant he would go blind, he had wanted to witness the death of this particular angel.
So he had looked. He’d simply refused to blink. He’d wanted to bear witness to every second of Zachariah’s passing and he would remember it. And that was all it took.
He wanted to see it so badly and so he did.
There was a lump in his throat as he thought about it, still running away as instructed but the rest of him was back there already. Heart hammering and not from the adrenaline, he slowed down until he stopped moving. Sam did as well, almost as soon as Dean did.
“Dean! What the hell? We have to go.” Sam pulled on his wrist but Dean dug his heels, swallowing. He looked at Sam, not able to voice out his own thoughts and Sam’s face contorted into that stubborn mulish expression. “Dean, don’t be stupid.”
The air around them was thick enough that he could actually feel it like a physical thing. And he could tell that Sam felt it too, the way Sam’s shoulders were stiff with tension and every instinct must be yelling to run and run. The vein on his forehead was practically threatening to explode, it was so visible.
“I gotta do this, Sammy.”
“No, Dean. I’m going to drag you out of here if I have to.”
Their path was clear ahead of them, the walls no longer moving and each side had a visible blue streak. Far ahead, Dean could still see the phantom bird clearing a path and even farther from it, a thing with four legs stood guard by the gate. They were so close to getting the hell out of here.
“Get the car running, I won’t be long.”
“Dean!”
But Dean was already running back.
He wanted to see this.
It wasn’t too far when the echo of voices assaulted his ears. He brought his hands up for cover but he kept running. Not too long after that, he’d fallen to his knees with the weight of something he couldn’t really see. Everything overwhelmed him, all his senses were hyper aware of every little thing that moved. He could hear the wind, the sway of grass, the rustle of leaves. His own breathing and heartbeat were akin to drums beating out a call to war.
But he could hear it. Hear them.
“You insult me in your insistence to wear that face even in your true form, Castiel. Even more so, that you have split your Grace to guide your pets out of my domain. Do you think me weak enough that you would dare battle with half the strength?”
“You are wrong, brother. I honor you with the face of humanity, of a man who had given up his family, his life and everything he could hope for because he did not wish those he loved to suffer.”
Dean forced his head up right then, struggling to keep his hands off his ears. He forced his eyes open so he could see, even though he already knew what face Castiel wore.
He knew, on hindsight, that Castiel was roughly the size of the Chrysler building but witnessing it even from this distance was a staggering experience. Castiel in his true form was not what he expected, although he must admit that he hadn’t really given it much thought until today.
Zachariah was a monstrous beast, hideous and devastatingly ugly that would give nightmares even to the nastiest trucker with a bone to pick. When they said an angel would punish you for the wrongs you’ve done, they should present an image of Zachariah to be more convincing. His face…faces had eyes everywhere, all of them seemed to focus elsewhere and everywhere.
And when they focus on a single object, clawing your eyes out seemed to be a good idea. Dean was just stubborn and Zachariah was dying when he actually saw it. Otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to take another thing to have nightmares of.
But Cas, Castiel was so different. The armor he wore seemed to be alive as light played a beat on it, the white, gold, orange and red glinted like the sun coloring the sky at the break of dawn. Though he was also coated from head to toe, the armor was less of a cover and more an organic part of the angel. His golden scales even extend all the way to the curve of his wings that Dean was not sure where the armor ended and the flesh of wings began.
He wore it like skin, comfortable and confident and so different from the man with the dirty trenchcoat that only seemed to serve as cover. Cas was like a kid huddling in clothes too big for him.
A smile tugged out of Dean’s gaping mouth when he noticed the long red cloth draped behind Cas like the tails of a coat. It probably didn’t serve a purpose other than Cas might like it. That bit of humanity in Cas warmed Dean so much he couldn’t believe how glad he was to see something that reminded him of human pettiness.
And there it was, Jimmy Novak’s face. Solemn, even sad, but his eyes burn with promise.
“You speak as if you understood.”
“I do. I am also not here to kill you.”
“What the ever loving fuck?” Dean mouthed to himself and he began to push himself up on his feet, up against the pressure of everything else that seemed to insist that he stayed level to the ground and on his knees. He wanted to yell at Cas to go for the kill, but he was afraid that Cas might actually hear him and be distracted.
“Then do you surrender?”
Dean recognized the posture when Cas’ shoulders began to sag, relaxing and loosening in on himself. Cas usually did it when he was about to argue with Dean and that type of argument was always one-sided, where Dean ended up pledging himself to become Heaven’s errand boy.
“Far from it.” Cas flexed his left wrist and fingers, a silver blade materialized in his hand --- the angel-killing sword but its edges and tip were shifting with blue and white and red and orange like a flickering fire…
Dean stopped trying to identify the colors for his own sanity.
“If I were to kill you now, those who chose to side with you will run amok in vengeance. The parts of earth you have consecrated will be the first to burn when they come with nothing but wrath. Your defeat will be slow, until all the angels fall in line.”
“You have become too human, Castiel.”
Dean closed his eyes when Cas moved, sword raised against his brother and his family who had already killed him once. Cas would fight alone in this holy ground where no one would hear or know of it, none of the people he fought in the name of.
They sting but if anyone asked, Dean’s eyes burned for not blinking and staring at the sun for far too long.
fin