[fic] These Three Things (Supernatural; eventual Destiel) 4/10-ish
These Three Things
by: exorcistor
Fandom: Supernatural
People/pairings (this chapter): Castiel, Jimmy Novak, Dean, Zachariah, Uriel, Bobby, Sam, Pamela
Word count: 2222
Genre: idk, drama? family?
Rating: worksafe
Beta: Thank you aerilex for the helpful pointers on both canon, theology, and language!
Note: I meant to post this yesterday, as usual, but the weekend was very hectic and busy! In a fun way :) Future Destiel as the canon storyline goes on.
---
PART ONE: Faith
Chapter four: The Righteous Man
And now abide faith, hope, love; these three things; and the greater of these is love.
- St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians: 13:13, the Bible
Castiel is frustrated. He’s tried to speak with Dean Winchester once since the human dug his way out of his grave, and it proved highly unsuccessful. He was certain after his touch leaving nothing but a mere scorch that Dean was one of the chosen men who’d be able to view his visage, but to no avail. His voice hurt the man badly, and he retreats, leaving Dean to find his own way back to his kin. He wishes he could have done more to help the man, he must be truly confused, and hurting, going by the markings on his soul, but there is little Castiel can do like this.
He follows Dean from Pontiac to Sioux Falls, hovering close to his consciousness, acting like a shield around the human to make certain his soul stays shielded from demonic influence. Dean seems to grow stronger and detach himself further from the horrid experiences of Hell as he has his family around him again, and Castiel is relieved. His orders are to ignore the fact that the younger brother, Sam Winchester, is clearly infected by darkness, and he does so, as he can still sense a man of faith underneath the demon blood pumping through his veins. The demon in Sam’s company, however, bothers Castiel. He decides to keep a close eye on her.
Then Dean, his brother and the old hunter go to the psychic. Pamela is one of the strongest of her kind to walk the earth in many years; she must be, as she has a part to play in the prophecy. As she calls him, Castiel must go to her, though he begs her with urgency not to force him to reveal himself to her. At first he wonders if she’ll be able to look upon his true visage, but fact is that all human bloodlines have thinned too drastically over the past millennia. Pamela’s eyes light up like a torch, and as soon as her concentration is broken, Castiel flees the vicinity. He does not wish to harm her further, and he feels great regret that he had to do it at all.
One last time he attempts to speak to Dean Winchester, warn him that his brother may be walking into a trap. But there is no use; Dean cannot understand him. Instead, Castiel runs ahead to the place called “Johnny Mac’s Diner open 7 days”, appearing before the demons possessing the humans working there, burning them badly. Once again, he feels regret for the necessity which forces him to harm these humans, but Sam Winchester also has his part to play in the prophecy, he knows, though he has not yet been enlightened of what that part entails. It is important that he does not get hurt.
He goes to his superior to ask advice. Standing before Zachariah, he feels shame for not having carried out his mission flawlessly; Dean still does not know what he needs to do, and Castiel also let those demons appear frightfully close to a man chosen by divinity. But the older angel only shakes his head and smiles.
“What can I do?” Castiel asks eagerly.
“Dean Winchester must be made aware of his assignment. It is time. Is your vessel ready?”
Castiel nods. “I will go to him right away,” he says. Most of his garrison has already taken human vessels in order to to their Father’s work on Earth, and Castiel hurries back to Jimmy Novak. As he approaches the vicinity of Jimmy’s home, he finds the man standing outside, waiting for him.
“So, I wanna help you,” Jimmy says, head tilted back and eyes fixated on the clear sky. “I’m about to lose my family here, if you don’t tell me how.”
It is fascinating, Castiel thinks, that even to these mortals, family is such a important concept. Of course, humans are only humans, and it is impossible for them to fathom the true meaning of family and fatherly love, but he can appreciate their efforts. The number it does on Jimmy’s family and other relations is of no importance to Castiel, however; there are things of more importance at stake. The prophet’s Words must be followed.
“Please, Castiel, just talk to me? What do you want from me?”
So Castiel tells him. And after the provided promise that Jimmy’s family will come to no harm, the mortal opens his mind and soul to the angel.
It has been a long time since Castiel looked through the eyes of a vessel. The world seems flat and colourless to him now, as he sees it with Jimmy’s eyes. Wave upon wave of sensation fills him, and he shifts, raises a hand to marvel at the feeling of bone and muscles pulling, his fingers moving. It is a bit uncomfortable, definitely confining, but he shall have to get used to it.
There is a voice behind him, small and barely noticeable to his underdeveloped senses. It takes a second to register where the sound has come from. Castiel turns around. The girl - Jimmy’s daughter Claire, his vessel’s brain provides - looks confused as she stares back at him. At least he believes that the emotion displayed is confusion; it is so hard to tell through these eyes. He tilts his head, attempting a different angle. Perhaps it is a different sentiment entirely. He shall have to take some time to adjust; emotions are important if one wants to know a man’s true intentions.
Castiel turns away from the girl on the porch, and belatedly, he remembers that he should offer some explanation for his behaviour.
“I am not your father,” he states, and the vibration of his vocal chords also feels strange. He starts away from the house; there is no reason to frighten the girl more than necessary by disappearing in front of her. He goes to find Uriel, who has already taken several different vessels since the birth of Sam and Dean Winchester, and they converse at the edge of a lake not far from Pontiac.
“This new look of yours,” Uriel greets him. “I do not like it.”
Castiel can feel his face reacting on his confusion.
“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, vocal chords stumbling over Enochian, making it sound stuttered and unfamiliar to his ears. Surely, Uriel knows that Castiel would not have chosen to wear a mortals body if it had not been necessary.
Uriel shakes his head, amused. “This is called sarcasm, Castiel. It is something you had better learn to recognise; humans use it to hide their true emotions from one another.”
“...I see.” Castiel does not see. But he has more important things to worry about; only a few miles away, Dean and his hunter friend are currently setting up a ritual to summon Castiel. Uriel is even more amused by this; as if those two could actually force an angel to appear before them.
“I shall go to them,” Castiel states, balancing on his toes, then his heels, experimenting different movements with his arms. It all feels very strange, and he decides to just let it come to him naturally. In time, he will get used to this body, for now he shall just concentrate on the necessary things like breathing, and walking.
Uriel snorts. “Just don’t make it a habit; these apes are selfish and tend to demand more of everyone around them than they could ever deserve.”
Castiel nods. “You are wise, brother. I shan’t be persuaded by the fickle will of these humans.”
Uriel claps a hand on Castiel’s back. It is a strange gesture, although Castiel has seen it repeated particularly by males of the human species. He has understood it to be one of approval. He doesn’t know why one would do something so uncomfortable to show one’s approval for another person, as the hand on his back leaves him with a slightly burning sensation across his shoulder blades, and pushes the air out of his lungs.
“There is hope for your humour after all, Castiel,” Uriel says. Despite the discomfort of the clap on his shoulders, he appreciates the sentiment.
Dean Winchester is waiting for him in an abandoned warehouse at the outskirts of the town. Castiel is grateful for this; he has not yet gotten used to maneuvering his vessel, and his arrival is... messier than he’d have liked. As he approaches the two hunters, eyes locked onto Dean, he faintly notices both men blowing holes in his body with their guns. The sensation is much more uncomfortable than the clap Uriel gave him. He realizes that he will have to heal his vessel from these wounds, but at the moment, he pays them no heed.
As he walks up to Dean, the man reaches for the demon hunting knife. He positions himself to strike the angel as he turns to face him.
“Who are you?” Dean demands.
“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” Castiel answers. His vocal chords are agreeing more with him now, for which he is grateful.
“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes narrow. “Thanks for that.”
Castiel nods, but before he has the chance to feel pleased that this is going so well, Dean lunges the knife into his chest. Now, either human customs have changed a lot since the last time he walked amongst them and interacted with any of them, or Dean wasn’t truly grateful for Castiel’s help. Castiel remembers what Uriel told him about the human invention called “sarcasm”; perhaps this is it?
He removes the knife, and blocks the swing which Dean’s companion aims at his head. All the fighting is highly inconvenient; he needs to speak with Dean alone. With a simple touch, he puts the other man to rest. Ignoring the angel, Dean rushes to his friend’s side, and Castiel takes the opportunity to examine the spell with which they attempted summoning him. It is old, dark magic, and Castiel thinks of how amused Uriel would be by the fact that the hunters had believed they could summon an angel with this incantation.
He can feel Dean’s glare on him from his position on the floor.
“Your friend is alive,” he reassures him.
“Who are you?” Dean asks again.
“Castiel,” Castiel answers, as repeating his earlier statement should be rather unnecessary.
“Yeah I figured that much, I mean what are you?”
Castiel looks at him. Of course he had not anticipated that Dean would recognise him from their escape from Hell; even if he had not been as torn and wounded as he had been, he still had not had a true consciousness at the time. Not to mention that Castiel’s vessel looked absolutely nothing like his true self. Still, Castiel would have hoped that he could at least feel the pureness of his own intentions, and come to a conclusion on his own. He can feel the tingle of Dean’s soul clearly against his own Grace, it appears strange to him that the human cannot feel the same thing.
“I am an angel of the Lord,” he explains.
Dean doesn’t believe him. Castiel knows Dean Winchester is not a man of faith, there has been too much suffering in his life for his insignificant soul to handle without feeling the influence of the dark call from beneath, and that will have to change. It will be tiring to guide a man to do God’s work who does not trust him, and Castiel calls on a minor miracle to attempt convincing Dean. As lightning flares around them, Dean can see the outline of the angel’s wings, despite his human senses being too dull to actually perceive them.
Dean continues to rain threats and vile words onto Castiel, accusing him in one breath, and mocking him in the next. Castiel understands that this is a way for Dean to gain some comfort; distancing himself from something which scares him through humour.
“Look, pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling, so who are you really?”
Castiel frowns. He is growing tired of repeating himself; the vibrations in his throat feel strange and he wishes to express himself in as few words as possible.
“I told you.”
“Right.” Dean makes a face. “And why would an angel rescue me from hell?”
Finally they are getting somewhere. Castiel steps closer. Dean flinches and leans away.
“Good things do happen, Dean,” the angel assures the mortal.
“Not in my experience.”
Castiel tilts his head. “What’s the matter?” he asks. There is more to Dean’s refusal to accept his words than simple confusion, he senses, and he leans in, close, observing the man’s face closely. It is the first time he has ever encountered someone so stubborn in his pessimism. Usually, Castiel can turn a mortal to faith with a simple gesture, but Dean only closes himself off further. Even in this limited form, he can sense the scars left upon Dean’s soul.
“...You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” That’s it, he realizes. The change in Dean’s demeanor tells him he has uttered the truth. Dean Winchester, the righteous man, is too certain of his own ruin to believe in the higher powers wishing for him to live.
“Why’d you do it?” he asks, teeth gritted.
“Because God commanded it,” Castiel explains. “Because we have work for you.”
---
Previous | Next
by: exorcistor
Fandom: Supernatural
People/pairings (this chapter): Castiel, Jimmy Novak, Dean, Zachariah, Uriel, Bobby, Sam, Pamela
Word count: 2222
Genre: idk, drama? family?
Rating: worksafe
Beta: Thank you aerilex for the helpful pointers on both canon, theology, and language!
Note: I meant to post this yesterday, as usual, but the weekend was very hectic and busy! In a fun way :) Future Destiel as the canon storyline goes on.
---
PART ONE: Faith
Chapter four: The Righteous Man
And now abide faith, hope, love; these three things; and the greater of these is love.
- St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians: 13:13, the Bible
Castiel is frustrated. He’s tried to speak with Dean Winchester once since the human dug his way out of his grave, and it proved highly unsuccessful. He was certain after his touch leaving nothing but a mere scorch that Dean was one of the chosen men who’d be able to view his visage, but to no avail. His voice hurt the man badly, and he retreats, leaving Dean to find his own way back to his kin. He wishes he could have done more to help the man, he must be truly confused, and hurting, going by the markings on his soul, but there is little Castiel can do like this.
He follows Dean from Pontiac to Sioux Falls, hovering close to his consciousness, acting like a shield around the human to make certain his soul stays shielded from demonic influence. Dean seems to grow stronger and detach himself further from the horrid experiences of Hell as he has his family around him again, and Castiel is relieved. His orders are to ignore the fact that the younger brother, Sam Winchester, is clearly infected by darkness, and he does so, as he can still sense a man of faith underneath the demon blood pumping through his veins. The demon in Sam’s company, however, bothers Castiel. He decides to keep a close eye on her.
Then Dean, his brother and the old hunter go to the psychic. Pamela is one of the strongest of her kind to walk the earth in many years; she must be, as she has a part to play in the prophecy. As she calls him, Castiel must go to her, though he begs her with urgency not to force him to reveal himself to her. At first he wonders if she’ll be able to look upon his true visage, but fact is that all human bloodlines have thinned too drastically over the past millennia. Pamela’s eyes light up like a torch, and as soon as her concentration is broken, Castiel flees the vicinity. He does not wish to harm her further, and he feels great regret that he had to do it at all.
One last time he attempts to speak to Dean Winchester, warn him that his brother may be walking into a trap. But there is no use; Dean cannot understand him. Instead, Castiel runs ahead to the place called “Johnny Mac’s Diner open 7 days”, appearing before the demons possessing the humans working there, burning them badly. Once again, he feels regret for the necessity which forces him to harm these humans, but Sam Winchester also has his part to play in the prophecy, he knows, though he has not yet been enlightened of what that part entails. It is important that he does not get hurt.
He goes to his superior to ask advice. Standing before Zachariah, he feels shame for not having carried out his mission flawlessly; Dean still does not know what he needs to do, and Castiel also let those demons appear frightfully close to a man chosen by divinity. But the older angel only shakes his head and smiles.
“What can I do?” Castiel asks eagerly.
“Dean Winchester must be made aware of his assignment. It is time. Is your vessel ready?”
Castiel nods. “I will go to him right away,” he says. Most of his garrison has already taken human vessels in order to to their Father’s work on Earth, and Castiel hurries back to Jimmy Novak. As he approaches the vicinity of Jimmy’s home, he finds the man standing outside, waiting for him.
“So, I wanna help you,” Jimmy says, head tilted back and eyes fixated on the clear sky. “I’m about to lose my family here, if you don’t tell me how.”
It is fascinating, Castiel thinks, that even to these mortals, family is such a important concept. Of course, humans are only humans, and it is impossible for them to fathom the true meaning of family and fatherly love, but he can appreciate their efforts. The number it does on Jimmy’s family and other relations is of no importance to Castiel, however; there are things of more importance at stake. The prophet’s Words must be followed.
“Please, Castiel, just talk to me? What do you want from me?”
So Castiel tells him. And after the provided promise that Jimmy’s family will come to no harm, the mortal opens his mind and soul to the angel.
It has been a long time since Castiel looked through the eyes of a vessel. The world seems flat and colourless to him now, as he sees it with Jimmy’s eyes. Wave upon wave of sensation fills him, and he shifts, raises a hand to marvel at the feeling of bone and muscles pulling, his fingers moving. It is a bit uncomfortable, definitely confining, but he shall have to get used to it.
There is a voice behind him, small and barely noticeable to his underdeveloped senses. It takes a second to register where the sound has come from. Castiel turns around. The girl - Jimmy’s daughter Claire, his vessel’s brain provides - looks confused as she stares back at him. At least he believes that the emotion displayed is confusion; it is so hard to tell through these eyes. He tilts his head, attempting a different angle. Perhaps it is a different sentiment entirely. He shall have to take some time to adjust; emotions are important if one wants to know a man’s true intentions.
Castiel turns away from the girl on the porch, and belatedly, he remembers that he should offer some explanation for his behaviour.
“I am not your father,” he states, and the vibration of his vocal chords also feels strange. He starts away from the house; there is no reason to frighten the girl more than necessary by disappearing in front of her. He goes to find Uriel, who has already taken several different vessels since the birth of Sam and Dean Winchester, and they converse at the edge of a lake not far from Pontiac.
“This new look of yours,” Uriel greets him. “I do not like it.”
Castiel can feel his face reacting on his confusion.
“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, vocal chords stumbling over Enochian, making it sound stuttered and unfamiliar to his ears. Surely, Uriel knows that Castiel would not have chosen to wear a mortals body if it had not been necessary.
Uriel shakes his head, amused. “This is called sarcasm, Castiel. It is something you had better learn to recognise; humans use it to hide their true emotions from one another.”
“...I see.” Castiel does not see. But he has more important things to worry about; only a few miles away, Dean and his hunter friend are currently setting up a ritual to summon Castiel. Uriel is even more amused by this; as if those two could actually force an angel to appear before them.
“I shall go to them,” Castiel states, balancing on his toes, then his heels, experimenting different movements with his arms. It all feels very strange, and he decides to just let it come to him naturally. In time, he will get used to this body, for now he shall just concentrate on the necessary things like breathing, and walking.
Uriel snorts. “Just don’t make it a habit; these apes are selfish and tend to demand more of everyone around them than they could ever deserve.”
Castiel nods. “You are wise, brother. I shan’t be persuaded by the fickle will of these humans.”
Uriel claps a hand on Castiel’s back. It is a strange gesture, although Castiel has seen it repeated particularly by males of the human species. He has understood it to be one of approval. He doesn’t know why one would do something so uncomfortable to show one’s approval for another person, as the hand on his back leaves him with a slightly burning sensation across his shoulder blades, and pushes the air out of his lungs.
“There is hope for your humour after all, Castiel,” Uriel says. Despite the discomfort of the clap on his shoulders, he appreciates the sentiment.
Dean Winchester is waiting for him in an abandoned warehouse at the outskirts of the town. Castiel is grateful for this; he has not yet gotten used to maneuvering his vessel, and his arrival is... messier than he’d have liked. As he approaches the two hunters, eyes locked onto Dean, he faintly notices both men blowing holes in his body with their guns. The sensation is much more uncomfortable than the clap Uriel gave him. He realizes that he will have to heal his vessel from these wounds, but at the moment, he pays them no heed.
As he walks up to Dean, the man reaches for the demon hunting knife. He positions himself to strike the angel as he turns to face him.
“Who are you?” Dean demands.
“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” Castiel answers. His vocal chords are agreeing more with him now, for which he is grateful.
“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes narrow. “Thanks for that.”
Castiel nods, but before he has the chance to feel pleased that this is going so well, Dean lunges the knife into his chest. Now, either human customs have changed a lot since the last time he walked amongst them and interacted with any of them, or Dean wasn’t truly grateful for Castiel’s help. Castiel remembers what Uriel told him about the human invention called “sarcasm”; perhaps this is it?
He removes the knife, and blocks the swing which Dean’s companion aims at his head. All the fighting is highly inconvenient; he needs to speak with Dean alone. With a simple touch, he puts the other man to rest. Ignoring the angel, Dean rushes to his friend’s side, and Castiel takes the opportunity to examine the spell with which they attempted summoning him. It is old, dark magic, and Castiel thinks of how amused Uriel would be by the fact that the hunters had believed they could summon an angel with this incantation.
He can feel Dean’s glare on him from his position on the floor.
“Your friend is alive,” he reassures him.
“Who are you?” Dean asks again.
“Castiel,” Castiel answers, as repeating his earlier statement should be rather unnecessary.
“Yeah I figured that much, I mean what are you?”
Castiel looks at him. Of course he had not anticipated that Dean would recognise him from their escape from Hell; even if he had not been as torn and wounded as he had been, he still had not had a true consciousness at the time. Not to mention that Castiel’s vessel looked absolutely nothing like his true self. Still, Castiel would have hoped that he could at least feel the pureness of his own intentions, and come to a conclusion on his own. He can feel the tingle of Dean’s soul clearly against his own Grace, it appears strange to him that the human cannot feel the same thing.
“I am an angel of the Lord,” he explains.
Dean doesn’t believe him. Castiel knows Dean Winchester is not a man of faith, there has been too much suffering in his life for his insignificant soul to handle without feeling the influence of the dark call from beneath, and that will have to change. It will be tiring to guide a man to do God’s work who does not trust him, and Castiel calls on a minor miracle to attempt convincing Dean. As lightning flares around them, Dean can see the outline of the angel’s wings, despite his human senses being too dull to actually perceive them.
Dean continues to rain threats and vile words onto Castiel, accusing him in one breath, and mocking him in the next. Castiel understands that this is a way for Dean to gain some comfort; distancing himself from something which scares him through humour.
“Look, pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling, so who are you really?”
Castiel frowns. He is growing tired of repeating himself; the vibrations in his throat feel strange and he wishes to express himself in as few words as possible.
“I told you.”
“Right.” Dean makes a face. “And why would an angel rescue me from hell?”
Finally they are getting somewhere. Castiel steps closer. Dean flinches and leans away.
“Good things do happen, Dean,” the angel assures the mortal.
“Not in my experience.”
Castiel tilts his head. “What’s the matter?” he asks. There is more to Dean’s refusal to accept his words than simple confusion, he senses, and he leans in, close, observing the man’s face closely. It is the first time he has ever encountered someone so stubborn in his pessimism. Usually, Castiel can turn a mortal to faith with a simple gesture, but Dean only closes himself off further. Even in this limited form, he can sense the scars left upon Dean’s soul.
“...You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” That’s it, he realizes. The change in Dean’s demeanor tells him he has uttered the truth. Dean Winchester, the righteous man, is too certain of his own ruin to believe in the higher powers wishing for him to live.
“Why’d you do it?” he asks, teeth gritted.
“Because God commanded it,” Castiel explains. “Because we have work for you.”
---
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