Bound By Grace
Title: Bound By Grace
Rating: PG-13
Length: One-shot (2188 words)
Pairings: Lucifer/Castiel
Era: Post-5.10: "Abandon All Hope"
Warnings: None
Summary: It was what he longed for, and Lucifer was the only one who could truly give that to him now.
Note: Written for cue for castielfest; chosen prompt - 'Just anything to do with halos' (Halos are in there, I promise!) Also, thanks to deansbabygirl17 for the beta job!
~*~
The first time it happened had been unexpected. It had truly taken him by surprise, had shocked him to the very core of his being.
Or, at least, that was what he kept telling himself.
He had listened to the winds blowing outside, knew the threat of the coming rain storms was near, and had tried to keep his focus on these more trivial matters. Simple things like the weather or the fact that riding in a vehicle really was an uncomfortable form of transport -- no matter what humans seemed to believe.
Then, he supposed, for them, it worked well enough.
But no matter where he tried to keep his thoughts, they kept being dragged back to the very same place, to the very same words, same images, same ideas ... the same individual.
It had been so long since he'd seen someone like him.
Still so beautiful, his Grace still shining so bright and strong, no matter the millennia he'd been forced to spend away from home. Still so much the perfect image of the Morningstar that he had been -- that every angel knew him as -- before everything …
For the mere appearance of the vessel didn't matter to him. The onset of scarring on the human’s face didn’t cause him to turn away. He could see the true form of his brother, the one that humans would never be able to see, the one that made him worthy of his name, of the legends and tales surrounding him. He saw the true glory of the Morningstar, the reason why he was the one loved most by their Father, why he truly was believed to be one of the greatest of them all …
And Castiel could not force himself to turn away.
He could not force himself to not long for the archangel's touch, for that briefest glimpse of Heaven's power that still seemed to flow through the Devil himself … but which, with each passing day, Castiel could feel draining away within his own body. He could not force himself to want to leave Lucifer's side, could not bring himself to hate it when his name was whispered through the elder angel's lips.
But rather, he longed for it.
"Why do you fight it, Castiel?" Lucifer asked him, leaning over the flickering flames that made up the ring of holy oil and bringing his vessel's scarred face within inches of the younger angel's. His voice, like always, was soft, quiet, tempting and luring Castiel even deeper with each new word. "I can feel you, and I know what you want, brother," he said, walking around the circle, his fierce gaze trained on Castiel the whole time.
"Do you even remember the feeling of home, Castiel?" said Lucifer suddenly, and Castiel's attention jerked around to face the first fallen angel. "Do you remember the way it was in the very beginning? Do you remember what it felt like to be surrounded by the others? By our brothers and sisters? Do you remember the golden fields, the clear skies? Do you remember what it was like knowing our Father was always there, loving us above everything else?"
Castiel bowed his head, for he knew where Lucifer was going; he knew the point that the archangel was attempting to make.
"Do you, Castiel, truly remember?" Lucifer reached across the flames and, grabbing Castiel by the collar of Jimmy's trench coat, pulled him to the ring's very edge, with barely a mere inch separating the young angel from the fire. He placed a hand on Castiel's chest, right where his heart beat out a calm and steady rhythm.
"It's not here, brother," he whispered. "Not like it should be. I can feel it, or the lack of it, and I know." Lucifer looked right into Castiel's eyes, blue gazing into blue as they kept their vessels from blinking. "Your Grace, your essence, everything that makes you who you are and what you are, is almost gone," hissed Lucifer.
It was silent for a moment when Lucifer stopped speaking, the only sounds coming from the wind blowing against the glass of the window, rattling the crooked, old panes. The two angels' positions remained fixed -- Lucifer still held onto Castiel, keeping him dangerously close to the fire, with his hand still placed right over Castiel's heart.
"And yet," said Lucifer, breaking the still quiet. "I've been cast out for thousands of years, but it's still here with me." And he grabbed one of Castiel's hands and placed it over his own heart, allowing the other angel to feel, to see, to experience that small taste of home that Lucifer knew he longed for.
Castiel didn't want to let go of Lucifer the moment his hand connected with the Devil's chest. The strength of the angelic essence within him was strong, was powerful, was so bright. The Grace within Lucifer reached out towards Castiel, as if knowing that another angel -- a friend, a brother -- was in its presence. And Castiel could not bring himself to pull away.
Even if he knew, somewhere inside of him, that pulling away -- walking away, saying no, denying Lucifer -- was the "right" thing to do.
"I know you want this again," muttered Lucifer, his mouth now just a few inches from Castiel's ear, as the archangel leant far over the flames himself. "You want to feel some of this again, to feel like yourself again." His hand came up from Castiel's chest, to cup the young angel's cheek, and Lucifer used the hold to turn his brother's gaze to him.
"And I can give it to you, Castiel," he said, his thumb stroking the smooth skin of Castiel's face. "I can help you, brother, to become who are again."
And, in a way, it pained him to admit it …
But Castiel knew, deep inside, that the Devil was right.
**
The other times that Castiel met his brother, there was only a brief moment where he thought about trying to deny his actions; a brief bit of time at the very beginning where he thought about trying to excuse his behavior as something other than what it was.
But he realized, very quickly, that these types of excuses, these feeble tries at reasoning it out, none of them mattered.
Because the truth was, Castiel wanted to be with Lucifer.
Good or bad, right or wrong, he didn't care.
He didn't care about the will of Heaven.
He didn't care about the forces of Hell.
He didn't care about the apocalypse.
He didn't even care about the Winchesters.
Castiel didn't care about anything but the feeling of home, the feeling of Grace flowing through him once again, when he was with Lucifer. When he was in the presence of the fallen archangel, all that mattered to him was the simple fact that, for the first time since he had decided to rebel -- since he had first made that choice to go against everything he had ever known, believed, and trusted -- he truly felt like himself again.
He truly felt like an angel of the Lord.
**
"I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, brother."
Castiel hesitated briefly at the far end of the abandoned church, his eyes wandering over the wooden pews that hadn't held people in their seats for years, and the stained glass windows where rays of the setting sun shone inside.
He took in the sight of the large, golden crucifix and marble altar at the front of the church, a faint of layer of dust having settled on the fading white cloth that covered the altar. A few hymn books that had been left behind when the church was abandoned remained scattered among the pews; candles that would never be lit again still sat in holders below a statue of the Virgin Mary.
"It was very beautiful here, once," said Lucifer as Castiel made his way from the back of the church towards the archangel standing before the altar at its front. "Several decades ago, that is, before the humans allowed it to fall to ruin and waste."
Lucifer turned to face Castiel when the young angel had reached him and, giving a small smile, placed his hand upon his brother's shoulder. "Why are you here, Castiel?" he asked. "Hmm?"
Castiel tried to avert his eyes, but Lucifer was having none of it. He used his other hand to force Castiel to meet his own gaze. "I thought you had made your choice, as much as I tried to dissuade you from it. Did you not say you would rather become like them than remember home with me?"
The young angel thought back briefly to the moment he'd walked away, the moment he'd allowed that brief bit of fear that he was making the wrong decision (and, somewhere, he still knew he really was) to guide him into deciding that living as one with humanity was better than never feeling like himself again.
Never truly experiencing the feeling of Heaven, of home, again.
Because how could he reconcile the fact that he was trading everything -- his loyalty to God, his loyalty to the Winchesters -- to be with Lucifer, the one angel above all others that he was supposed to be against?
But as he stared into his brother's eyes, Castiel felt again the warm, bright power of the archangel's Grace. He felt it reach out to him, wrap around him, merge with the feeble amount that remained of his own. He felt comfort in the presence of the other angel, his brother, once again.
And he knew that, in the end, he would always choose the same thing.
Right or wrong, he couldn't give it up.
He couldn't give up being who he really was.
And Lucifer was the only one now that could truly give that to him.
Castiel forced himself to maintain his straight-backed posture, a state that was becoming more and more difficult with each passing moment. He looked, again, at the stained glass windows of the church, his eyes being drawn towards one of the angels (well, the poorly imagined human ideas of angels, that was).
The wings were too white, too narrow, and too long. The angel looked far more like a young, beautiful human woman than any of them ever did, even the most beautiful of his sisters. The white ... well, he figured it was supposed to be some sort of a robe, but in his opinion, it resembled more of a human female's dress ... whatever-it-was was something only the daintiest Guardians would have possibly worn at some point, and Castiel wasn't even sure if that was true.
And he knew, for a fact, that there was never a harp.
Not ever.
"They did get the halos right, though," muttered Castiel, causing Lucifer to turn and gaze at the same stained glass window that had so captured the young angel's focus.
Both angels just stared at the sparkling glass image of the human-imagined dainty female angel, and while yes, everything about it was wrong, there was, at least, that one, however small, part that was spot-on perfect.
A pale ring of light, barely visible but clearly distinguishable as being part of the picture itself and not just a reflection of the sun, could be seen circling the angel's head. It wasn't a dark, heavy, thick circle that looked more like a crown than anything else. Instead, it was just that faint bit of light, almost emanating from the angel from itself. The halo didn't seem to have a clear beginning or end; its edges didn't seem to have a clear definition.
It was just like the softest bits of sunlight that shone behind the angel's head. Just an echo, a reflection, but an inextricable part of the heavenly being all the same.
No more or less than the angel's wings or Grace.
"Well," muttered Lucifer, still staring at the stained glass window as if transfixed. "I suppose, they did." He paused for a brief second and then said, "But then again, they're still only human ..."
Then, he turned to Castiel and, bringing both hands up to hold the younger angel's face, muttered a few quiet words in Enochian as he ran one of his hands through Castiel's hair, his fingers running smoothly through the dark strands. And as Castiel felt the coolness seep through his body and felt the shiver race through him, he knew exactly what his brother had done.
He didn't even have to look up and see the reflection of light on Lucifer's face to know the truth.
"They just got it almost right," Lucifer whispered, staring lovingly at the glowing halo surrounding Castiel as he laid a brief kiss on the young angel's forehead. "Just almost, brother."
And Castiel leaned into Lucifer, allowing the archangel to wrap his wings around his little brother and shelter him from the rest of the human world, his Grace joining with Castiel's and bringing the two angels the closest to home they had been in far too long.
~*~
Finite!
~Megan
Rating: PG-13
Length: One-shot (2188 words)
Pairings: Lucifer/Castiel
Era: Post-5.10: "Abandon All Hope"
Warnings: None
Summary: It was what he longed for, and Lucifer was the only one who could truly give that to him now.
Note: Written for cue for castielfest; chosen prompt - 'Just anything to do with halos' (Halos are in there, I promise!) Also, thanks to deansbabygirl17 for the beta job!
~*~
The first time it happened had been unexpected. It had truly taken him by surprise, had shocked him to the very core of his being.
Or, at least, that was what he kept telling himself.
He had listened to the winds blowing outside, knew the threat of the coming rain storms was near, and had tried to keep his focus on these more trivial matters. Simple things like the weather or the fact that riding in a vehicle really was an uncomfortable form of transport -- no matter what humans seemed to believe.
Then, he supposed, for them, it worked well enough.
But no matter where he tried to keep his thoughts, they kept being dragged back to the very same place, to the very same words, same images, same ideas ... the same individual.
It had been so long since he'd seen someone like him.
Still so beautiful, his Grace still shining so bright and strong, no matter the millennia he'd been forced to spend away from home. Still so much the perfect image of the Morningstar that he had been -- that every angel knew him as -- before everything …
For the mere appearance of the vessel didn't matter to him. The onset of scarring on the human’s face didn’t cause him to turn away. He could see the true form of his brother, the one that humans would never be able to see, the one that made him worthy of his name, of the legends and tales surrounding him. He saw the true glory of the Morningstar, the reason why he was the one loved most by their Father, why he truly was believed to be one of the greatest of them all …
And Castiel could not force himself to turn away.
He could not force himself to not long for the archangel's touch, for that briefest glimpse of Heaven's power that still seemed to flow through the Devil himself … but which, with each passing day, Castiel could feel draining away within his own body. He could not force himself to want to leave Lucifer's side, could not bring himself to hate it when his name was whispered through the elder angel's lips.
But rather, he longed for it.
"Why do you fight it, Castiel?" Lucifer asked him, leaning over the flickering flames that made up the ring of holy oil and bringing his vessel's scarred face within inches of the younger angel's. His voice, like always, was soft, quiet, tempting and luring Castiel even deeper with each new word. "I can feel you, and I know what you want, brother," he said, walking around the circle, his fierce gaze trained on Castiel the whole time.
"Do you even remember the feeling of home, Castiel?" said Lucifer suddenly, and Castiel's attention jerked around to face the first fallen angel. "Do you remember the way it was in the very beginning? Do you remember what it felt like to be surrounded by the others? By our brothers and sisters? Do you remember the golden fields, the clear skies? Do you remember what it was like knowing our Father was always there, loving us above everything else?"
Castiel bowed his head, for he knew where Lucifer was going; he knew the point that the archangel was attempting to make.
"Do you, Castiel, truly remember?" Lucifer reached across the flames and, grabbing Castiel by the collar of Jimmy's trench coat, pulled him to the ring's very edge, with barely a mere inch separating the young angel from the fire. He placed a hand on Castiel's chest, right where his heart beat out a calm and steady rhythm.
"It's not here, brother," he whispered. "Not like it should be. I can feel it, or the lack of it, and I know." Lucifer looked right into Castiel's eyes, blue gazing into blue as they kept their vessels from blinking. "Your Grace, your essence, everything that makes you who you are and what you are, is almost gone," hissed Lucifer.
It was silent for a moment when Lucifer stopped speaking, the only sounds coming from the wind blowing against the glass of the window, rattling the crooked, old panes. The two angels' positions remained fixed -- Lucifer still held onto Castiel, keeping him dangerously close to the fire, with his hand still placed right over Castiel's heart.
"And yet," said Lucifer, breaking the still quiet. "I've been cast out for thousands of years, but it's still here with me." And he grabbed one of Castiel's hands and placed it over his own heart, allowing the other angel to feel, to see, to experience that small taste of home that Lucifer knew he longed for.
Castiel didn't want to let go of Lucifer the moment his hand connected with the Devil's chest. The strength of the angelic essence within him was strong, was powerful, was so bright. The Grace within Lucifer reached out towards Castiel, as if knowing that another angel -- a friend, a brother -- was in its presence. And Castiel could not bring himself to pull away.
Even if he knew, somewhere inside of him, that pulling away -- walking away, saying no, denying Lucifer -- was the "right" thing to do.
"I know you want this again," muttered Lucifer, his mouth now just a few inches from Castiel's ear, as the archangel leant far over the flames himself. "You want to feel some of this again, to feel like yourself again." His hand came up from Castiel's chest, to cup the young angel's cheek, and Lucifer used the hold to turn his brother's gaze to him.
"And I can give it to you, Castiel," he said, his thumb stroking the smooth skin of Castiel's face. "I can help you, brother, to become who are again."
And, in a way, it pained him to admit it …
But Castiel knew, deep inside, that the Devil was right.
**
The other times that Castiel met his brother, there was only a brief moment where he thought about trying to deny his actions; a brief bit of time at the very beginning where he thought about trying to excuse his behavior as something other than what it was.
But he realized, very quickly, that these types of excuses, these feeble tries at reasoning it out, none of them mattered.
Because the truth was, Castiel wanted to be with Lucifer.
Good or bad, right or wrong, he didn't care.
He didn't care about the will of Heaven.
He didn't care about the forces of Hell.
He didn't care about the apocalypse.
He didn't even care about the Winchesters.
Castiel didn't care about anything but the feeling of home, the feeling of Grace flowing through him once again, when he was with Lucifer. When he was in the presence of the fallen archangel, all that mattered to him was the simple fact that, for the first time since he had decided to rebel -- since he had first made that choice to go against everything he had ever known, believed, and trusted -- he truly felt like himself again.
He truly felt like an angel of the Lord.
**
"I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, brother."
Castiel hesitated briefly at the far end of the abandoned church, his eyes wandering over the wooden pews that hadn't held people in their seats for years, and the stained glass windows where rays of the setting sun shone inside.
He took in the sight of the large, golden crucifix and marble altar at the front of the church, a faint of layer of dust having settled on the fading white cloth that covered the altar. A few hymn books that had been left behind when the church was abandoned remained scattered among the pews; candles that would never be lit again still sat in holders below a statue of the Virgin Mary.
"It was very beautiful here, once," said Lucifer as Castiel made his way from the back of the church towards the archangel standing before the altar at its front. "Several decades ago, that is, before the humans allowed it to fall to ruin and waste."
Lucifer turned to face Castiel when the young angel had reached him and, giving a small smile, placed his hand upon his brother's shoulder. "Why are you here, Castiel?" he asked. "Hmm?"
Castiel tried to avert his eyes, but Lucifer was having none of it. He used his other hand to force Castiel to meet his own gaze. "I thought you had made your choice, as much as I tried to dissuade you from it. Did you not say you would rather become like them than remember home with me?"
The young angel thought back briefly to the moment he'd walked away, the moment he'd allowed that brief bit of fear that he was making the wrong decision (and, somewhere, he still knew he really was) to guide him into deciding that living as one with humanity was better than never feeling like himself again.
Never truly experiencing the feeling of Heaven, of home, again.
Because how could he reconcile the fact that he was trading everything -- his loyalty to God, his loyalty to the Winchesters -- to be with Lucifer, the one angel above all others that he was supposed to be against?
But as he stared into his brother's eyes, Castiel felt again the warm, bright power of the archangel's Grace. He felt it reach out to him, wrap around him, merge with the feeble amount that remained of his own. He felt comfort in the presence of the other angel, his brother, once again.
And he knew that, in the end, he would always choose the same thing.
Right or wrong, he couldn't give it up.
He couldn't give up being who he really was.
And Lucifer was the only one now that could truly give that to him.
Castiel forced himself to maintain his straight-backed posture, a state that was becoming more and more difficult with each passing moment. He looked, again, at the stained glass windows of the church, his eyes being drawn towards one of the angels (well, the poorly imagined human ideas of angels, that was).
The wings were too white, too narrow, and too long. The angel looked far more like a young, beautiful human woman than any of them ever did, even the most beautiful of his sisters. The white ... well, he figured it was supposed to be some sort of a robe, but in his opinion, it resembled more of a human female's dress ... whatever-it-was was something only the daintiest Guardians would have possibly worn at some point, and Castiel wasn't even sure if that was true.
And he knew, for a fact, that there was never a harp.
Not ever.
"They did get the halos right, though," muttered Castiel, causing Lucifer to turn and gaze at the same stained glass window that had so captured the young angel's focus.
Both angels just stared at the sparkling glass image of the human-imagined dainty female angel, and while yes, everything about it was wrong, there was, at least, that one, however small, part that was spot-on perfect.
A pale ring of light, barely visible but clearly distinguishable as being part of the picture itself and not just a reflection of the sun, could be seen circling the angel's head. It wasn't a dark, heavy, thick circle that looked more like a crown than anything else. Instead, it was just that faint bit of light, almost emanating from the angel from itself. The halo didn't seem to have a clear beginning or end; its edges didn't seem to have a clear definition.
It was just like the softest bits of sunlight that shone behind the angel's head. Just an echo, a reflection, but an inextricable part of the heavenly being all the same.
No more or less than the angel's wings or Grace.
"Well," muttered Lucifer, still staring at the stained glass window as if transfixed. "I suppose, they did." He paused for a brief second and then said, "But then again, they're still only human ..."
Then, he turned to Castiel and, bringing both hands up to hold the younger angel's face, muttered a few quiet words in Enochian as he ran one of his hands through Castiel's hair, his fingers running smoothly through the dark strands. And as Castiel felt the coolness seep through his body and felt the shiver race through him, he knew exactly what his brother had done.
He didn't even have to look up and see the reflection of light on Lucifer's face to know the truth.
"They just got it almost right," Lucifer whispered, staring lovingly at the glowing halo surrounding Castiel as he laid a brief kiss on the young angel's forehead. "Just almost, brother."
And Castiel leaned into Lucifer, allowing the archangel to wrap his wings around his little brother and shelter him from the rest of the human world, his Grace joining with Castiel's and bringing the two angels the closest to home they had been in far too long.
~*~
Finite!
~Megan