FIC: Faith 1/2
Title: Faith
Rating: T ish
Warnings: None
Recipient: jacyevans
Word Count: 4111
Author's Note: Didn't mean for this to get so religious... but this is pre-series Castiel we're talking about.... Also, this somehow turned a bit 'weechester!'... so, I hope that's okay...
Summary: Pre-series - We know (via "Houses of the Holy") that Sam prays every day. Would love to see a fic where one or more of the angels - preferably Cas or Anna (or even Cas and Anna) are the ones who hear his prayers. The only time he/she/they hear Dean praying is when Sam is hurt badly on a hunt because all he keeps repeating is "Please save Sam."
Castiel tried not to crane his neck as he walked. Around him the buildings were tall and the air was stale and warm. He crossed the street and moved past a woman pushing a small child in a stroller. The young boy reached up towards his mother, pulling at the dress she wore and speaking words of gibberish. She laughed, wiping at her brow and continuing past Castiel.
It had been decades since he’d traveled to Earth and so much had changed so quickly that he couldn’t help but stare. The buildings had transformed into tall looming structures of steel. They perched like monoliths in the dirt, raised up as if trying to touch the heavens.
The clothing, vehicles, and atmosphere had morphed into something foreign too. Humans propelled themselves in iron they carved from the land and set up civilized societies that struggled to contain its people. Humans were forever surprising him, forever evolving and changing and fighting against anything and everything around them.
He paused, turning to look at two buildings before choosing the one on the left. Part of him was uncertain at entering such a place, surrounded by manmade metals and synthetic materials. Even now he longed for an open field, for a grove of trees or a deep still lake. He sighed slightly, feeling the movement of oxygen as his diaphragm shifted. He was still getting used to having a body once more, to muscles flexing and blood pumping. That Zacharias had sent him down for something so small was of no importance.
The building was slightly older than those around it and the inside of it smelled like a mix of mildew and lemon. At one point the walls had been a sunflower yellow, but now the color was washed out and dirty. He walked towards the front desk, already reaching into his jacket for the paperwork he’d prepared earlier. That humans had gotten so organized was a wonder to him, that they filed and charted and sorted seemed impossible. It felt as if just yesterday they were fashioning wood into crude bows and arrows.
The receptionist was a young woman with straw blond hair and dark brown eyes. She smiled up at him and he began the carefully worded phrases needed to move past her. She had become the new gatekeeper in this world of politics and power, an individual that Castiel could tell was nearly drunk on her own importance. Sweeping back a heavy bang, she smiled again, showing of bright white teeth and the curve of her neck.
“Miss,” he started, not sure why she kept blinking her lashes as if there was something stuck in her eyes. “I was hoping-“
Please, could you help Dad not be mad at me?
The whispered voice of a child slid through his mind. Castiel froze, mind split for a moment as the words teased his consciousness.
His eyes automatically searched the lobby, stopping first on a kid slouched in one of the blue plastic chairs. He was sleeping though, his mouth softened and his face still round with baby fat.
I didn’t mean to break it, I promise. Maybe Mom could talk to him if she’s not busy?
Next to the sleeping boy another child sat, this one a few years younger. The flannel shirt he wore was threadbare and dark brown hair hung in his eyes. He leaned on the boy next to him, hands bunching his shirt as they twisted nervously.
Castiel forced himself to look away and finish his conversation with the woman. She was purposefully being difficult, hiding behind rules and regulations to get whatever it was she wanted. He brought out a signed document, having been told before he’d arrived how much they needed to see proof and permission.
She deflated at the sight of it; her smile slowly leaving her face as her long nails dialed a number on the phone next to her. When it was finally over and she left to get the information he needed, he moved to sit near the children. He was certain it would take at least a few minutes for her to retrieve the necessary items.
The younger boy glanced at him as he approached before turning his head into the arm of the kid next to him.
Please, please, please, don’t let him be mad.
The prayer started up again, spoken in a small voice filled with regret. It happened sometimes, mostly with children, where prayers bled out and were heard by angels visiting earth. He’d listened as angels spoke about it, how greedy children were nowadays, how ungrateful they were for the gift of life that had been given to them.
Castiel listened to the boy, trying not to stare as he trembled across from him. Whoever he was, this child didn’t seem selfish. He looked skinny and dirty and young enough that prayer still meant something.
“Sam.” The boy glanced up, turning to look at the man who had approached.
He had shadows under his eyes and the crisp white sleeves of his shirt had been pushed up around his elbows. He pulled at the tie he wore and made an annoyed face. In his other hand he held a white bag and as he got closer he gestured to the smaller child.
Sam looked at the sleeping boy, before carefully straightening himself.
“Dad?”
Sam whispered and Castiel watched as the boy pushed himself up. When standing, Castiel noticed that his pants were a hairsbreadth too short and his shirt slightly oversized.
The dad lowered himself until he was crouched in front of the boy and rested his free hand on the boy’s skinny shoulders. While Castiel didn’t entirely understand the relationship humans had with their fathers, he could see the love that the older man held for the small child.
The kid Sam was shaking, unable to recognize the forgiveness that Castiel could clearly read it in the soft lines around the dad’s face, in the comforting way he squeezed Sam’s shoulder. He thought it unlikely that the small kid could do anything that his father wouldn’t forgive. In that way, he reminded Castiel of his own father.
“I’m not mad okay.”
He spoke in a soft voice to Sam, squeezing at his son’s shoulder again when tears started to spill down the younger boy’s cheeks. Sam mopped at them with his sleeve, tension draining from his little shoulders even as his cheeks turned an alarming shade of red.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The words echoed in Castiel’s mind as the small child stood there and fought back tears. He wondered for a moment what the child had
done that he worried he wouldn’t be forgiven, when it seemed clear to him that all one had to do was ask and it would be given.
The older boy who had been sleeping yawned loudly, eyes blinking blearily as he seemed to take stock of the situation.
“Sam?” He spoke, sitting up and wiping absently at his eyes.
“He’s fine Dean.” The dad ruffled Sam’s hair, smiling as he stood back up. Resting a hand on the younger boys shoulder, he motioned to Dean. “Let’s go.”
The dad turned as Dean pushed himself out of the chair, the older man's eyes losing the softness as he scanned the room. Castiel watched, seeing for the first time the danger that seemed to cling to the man. It filled the space around him, and if Castiel had been a lesser being, he probably would have felt frightened instead of intrigued.
Castiel stared blankly when the father’s eyes finally found his own, sharpening in intensity as they took him in from head to toe. The
angel blinked, head tilting as the man studied him. What was so interesting about a thirty something year old Sunday school teacher, Castiel wasn’t certain.
Next to the dad, Dean leaned in close to Sam, whispering in his ear and not fighting it when Sam grabbed at his hand. The Dad frowned, eyes skipping back to the kids before resting on him again.
“C’mon boys.”
He steered the young children out of the building, eyes following Castiel as he moved through the heavy set of front doors. Behind him the boys followed, Sam still rubbing at his eyes.
“Sir?”
The secretary had returned, a bundle of files held under her arm and a tight smile on her face. Pulling his attention from the family, he eyed the woman and thought again of his mission.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
The next time Castiel was on earth wasn’t for some time, there were always things to do in heaven and Anna kept him busy. He didn’t mind, wasn’t sure how he would pass the time otherwise. Visiting earth was like visiting a foreign country, strange and fascinating, but energy draining and frustrating.
The ground was just as solid as the last time he visited, the mission just as simple. The area of the country was fields and small towns, completely different than the tall steel structures he’d recently seen. Castiel should have found the differences mesmerizing, the diversity in just a few hundred miles riveting.
He found himself distracted however, found his mind wandering in ways it hadn’t for a long time. Time in heaven compared to earth was just different enough that he wasn’t exactly sure how much time had gone by. The town was tiny, the church and general store the central buildings and the school a small building perched on a hill.
Late at night, he sorted through the even smaller town library, looking for a manuscript he was certain had been stashed there. He paused, still leaning over the filing cabinet he was currently sorting through. Outside a streetlight was just bright enough that he could recognize the words typed out.
Someone started talking and Castiel automatically stiffened, senses searching quickly for whoever had managed to sneak up on him. When he found nothing he paused, listening carefully to the voice. It took only a moment for him to recognize the soft timbre.
Please let dad get home soon. And let him let us stay, okay? I’ve been working really hard on my project and I know that Mr. Johnson is going to really like it. Okay?
The voice was older but still childlike, and it rang with sincerity and faith. It echoed in Castiel’s mind, so earnest that he was certain Sam had been praying for awhile.
Without thought he finished the mission; tucking away the large book in the briefcase he’d brought while in the background Sam’s voice rambled on and on.
I have been so good and I know that Dean wants to stay too, even if he hasn’t asked. I know. So please?
Castiel paused, running a hand through the thinning hair on the body he currently resided in. He couldn’t quite understand the draw he felt to the boy, the interest he had in the older brother and seemingly absent father.
In his time away from earth he had considered the small family occasionally. Why had they been in that building? What had happened to their mother? Who was their father and what had he seen when he’d looked at Castiel?
He wasn’t certain why the small boy’s prayers had returned; how after all the time that had passed Sam’s faith had remained unshakable. It seemed like something that should be impossible; Uriel was always telling him how faithless humans had become. Sam’s father didn’t seem particularly religious, and when Castiel strained his ears he couldn’t hear even a hint of prayer from the boy’s brother. How someone from such a faithless home seemed to cling to their faith so tightly, Castiel didn’t know.
Pushing the stray thoughts away, he returned to heaven.
Rating: T ish
Warnings: None
Recipient: jacyevans
Word Count: 4111
Author's Note: Didn't mean for this to get so religious... but this is pre-series Castiel we're talking about.... Also, this somehow turned a bit 'weechester!'... so, I hope that's okay...
Summary: Pre-series - We know (via "Houses of the Holy") that Sam prays every day. Would love to see a fic where one or more of the angels - preferably Cas or Anna (or even Cas and Anna) are the ones who hear his prayers. The only time he/she/they hear Dean praying is when Sam is hurt badly on a hunt because all he keeps repeating is "Please save Sam."
Castiel tried not to crane his neck as he walked. Around him the buildings were tall and the air was stale and warm. He crossed the street and moved past a woman pushing a small child in a stroller. The young boy reached up towards his mother, pulling at the dress she wore and speaking words of gibberish. She laughed, wiping at her brow and continuing past Castiel.
It had been decades since he’d traveled to Earth and so much had changed so quickly that he couldn’t help but stare. The buildings had transformed into tall looming structures of steel. They perched like monoliths in the dirt, raised up as if trying to touch the heavens.
The clothing, vehicles, and atmosphere had morphed into something foreign too. Humans propelled themselves in iron they carved from the land and set up civilized societies that struggled to contain its people. Humans were forever surprising him, forever evolving and changing and fighting against anything and everything around them.
He paused, turning to look at two buildings before choosing the one on the left. Part of him was uncertain at entering such a place, surrounded by manmade metals and synthetic materials. Even now he longed for an open field, for a grove of trees or a deep still lake. He sighed slightly, feeling the movement of oxygen as his diaphragm shifted. He was still getting used to having a body once more, to muscles flexing and blood pumping. That Zacharias had sent him down for something so small was of no importance.
The building was slightly older than those around it and the inside of it smelled like a mix of mildew and lemon. At one point the walls had been a sunflower yellow, but now the color was washed out and dirty. He walked towards the front desk, already reaching into his jacket for the paperwork he’d prepared earlier. That humans had gotten so organized was a wonder to him, that they filed and charted and sorted seemed impossible. It felt as if just yesterday they were fashioning wood into crude bows and arrows.
The receptionist was a young woman with straw blond hair and dark brown eyes. She smiled up at him and he began the carefully worded phrases needed to move past her. She had become the new gatekeeper in this world of politics and power, an individual that Castiel could tell was nearly drunk on her own importance. Sweeping back a heavy bang, she smiled again, showing of bright white teeth and the curve of her neck.
“Miss,” he started, not sure why she kept blinking her lashes as if there was something stuck in her eyes. “I was hoping-“
Please, could you help Dad not be mad at me?
The whispered voice of a child slid through his mind. Castiel froze, mind split for a moment as the words teased his consciousness.
His eyes automatically searched the lobby, stopping first on a kid slouched in one of the blue plastic chairs. He was sleeping though, his mouth softened and his face still round with baby fat.
I didn’t mean to break it, I promise. Maybe Mom could talk to him if she’s not busy?
Next to the sleeping boy another child sat, this one a few years younger. The flannel shirt he wore was threadbare and dark brown hair hung in his eyes. He leaned on the boy next to him, hands bunching his shirt as they twisted nervously.
Castiel forced himself to look away and finish his conversation with the woman. She was purposefully being difficult, hiding behind rules and regulations to get whatever it was she wanted. He brought out a signed document, having been told before he’d arrived how much they needed to see proof and permission.
She deflated at the sight of it; her smile slowly leaving her face as her long nails dialed a number on the phone next to her. When it was finally over and she left to get the information he needed, he moved to sit near the children. He was certain it would take at least a few minutes for her to retrieve the necessary items.
The younger boy glanced at him as he approached before turning his head into the arm of the kid next to him.
Please, please, please, don’t let him be mad.
The prayer started up again, spoken in a small voice filled with regret. It happened sometimes, mostly with children, where prayers bled out and were heard by angels visiting earth. He’d listened as angels spoke about it, how greedy children were nowadays, how ungrateful they were for the gift of life that had been given to them.
Castiel listened to the boy, trying not to stare as he trembled across from him. Whoever he was, this child didn’t seem selfish. He looked skinny and dirty and young enough that prayer still meant something.
“Sam.” The boy glanced up, turning to look at the man who had approached.
He had shadows under his eyes and the crisp white sleeves of his shirt had been pushed up around his elbows. He pulled at the tie he wore and made an annoyed face. In his other hand he held a white bag and as he got closer he gestured to the smaller child.
Sam looked at the sleeping boy, before carefully straightening himself.
“Dad?”
Sam whispered and Castiel watched as the boy pushed himself up. When standing, Castiel noticed that his pants were a hairsbreadth too short and his shirt slightly oversized.
The dad lowered himself until he was crouched in front of the boy and rested his free hand on the boy’s skinny shoulders. While Castiel didn’t entirely understand the relationship humans had with their fathers, he could see the love that the older man held for the small child.
The kid Sam was shaking, unable to recognize the forgiveness that Castiel could clearly read it in the soft lines around the dad’s face, in the comforting way he squeezed Sam’s shoulder. He thought it unlikely that the small kid could do anything that his father wouldn’t forgive. In that way, he reminded Castiel of his own father.
“I’m not mad okay.”
He spoke in a soft voice to Sam, squeezing at his son’s shoulder again when tears started to spill down the younger boy’s cheeks. Sam mopped at them with his sleeve, tension draining from his little shoulders even as his cheeks turned an alarming shade of red.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The words echoed in Castiel’s mind as the small child stood there and fought back tears. He wondered for a moment what the child had
done that he worried he wouldn’t be forgiven, when it seemed clear to him that all one had to do was ask and it would be given.
The older boy who had been sleeping yawned loudly, eyes blinking blearily as he seemed to take stock of the situation.
“Sam?” He spoke, sitting up and wiping absently at his eyes.
“He’s fine Dean.” The dad ruffled Sam’s hair, smiling as he stood back up. Resting a hand on the younger boys shoulder, he motioned to Dean. “Let’s go.”
The dad turned as Dean pushed himself out of the chair, the older man's eyes losing the softness as he scanned the room. Castiel watched, seeing for the first time the danger that seemed to cling to the man. It filled the space around him, and if Castiel had been a lesser being, he probably would have felt frightened instead of intrigued.
Castiel stared blankly when the father’s eyes finally found his own, sharpening in intensity as they took him in from head to toe. The
angel blinked, head tilting as the man studied him. What was so interesting about a thirty something year old Sunday school teacher, Castiel wasn’t certain.
Next to the dad, Dean leaned in close to Sam, whispering in his ear and not fighting it when Sam grabbed at his hand. The Dad frowned, eyes skipping back to the kids before resting on him again.
“C’mon boys.”
He steered the young children out of the building, eyes following Castiel as he moved through the heavy set of front doors. Behind him the boys followed, Sam still rubbing at his eyes.
“Sir?”
The secretary had returned, a bundle of files held under her arm and a tight smile on her face. Pulling his attention from the family, he eyed the woman and thought again of his mission.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
The next time Castiel was on earth wasn’t for some time, there were always things to do in heaven and Anna kept him busy. He didn’t mind, wasn’t sure how he would pass the time otherwise. Visiting earth was like visiting a foreign country, strange and fascinating, but energy draining and frustrating.
The ground was just as solid as the last time he visited, the mission just as simple. The area of the country was fields and small towns, completely different than the tall steel structures he’d recently seen. Castiel should have found the differences mesmerizing, the diversity in just a few hundred miles riveting.
He found himself distracted however, found his mind wandering in ways it hadn’t for a long time. Time in heaven compared to earth was just different enough that he wasn’t exactly sure how much time had gone by. The town was tiny, the church and general store the central buildings and the school a small building perched on a hill.
Late at night, he sorted through the even smaller town library, looking for a manuscript he was certain had been stashed there. He paused, still leaning over the filing cabinet he was currently sorting through. Outside a streetlight was just bright enough that he could recognize the words typed out.
Someone started talking and Castiel automatically stiffened, senses searching quickly for whoever had managed to sneak up on him. When he found nothing he paused, listening carefully to the voice. It took only a moment for him to recognize the soft timbre.
Please let dad get home soon. And let him let us stay, okay? I’ve been working really hard on my project and I know that Mr. Johnson is going to really like it. Okay?
The voice was older but still childlike, and it rang with sincerity and faith. It echoed in Castiel’s mind, so earnest that he was certain Sam had been praying for awhile.
Without thought he finished the mission; tucking away the large book in the briefcase he’d brought while in the background Sam’s voice rambled on and on.
I have been so good and I know that Dean wants to stay too, even if he hasn’t asked. I know. So please?
Castiel paused, running a hand through the thinning hair on the body he currently resided in. He couldn’t quite understand the draw he felt to the boy, the interest he had in the older brother and seemingly absent father.
In his time away from earth he had considered the small family occasionally. Why had they been in that building? What had happened to their mother? Who was their father and what had he seen when he’d looked at Castiel?
He wasn’t certain why the small boy’s prayers had returned; how after all the time that had passed Sam’s faith had remained unshakable. It seemed like something that should be impossible; Uriel was always telling him how faithless humans had become. Sam’s father didn’t seem particularly religious, and when Castiel strained his ears he couldn’t hear even a hint of prayer from the boy’s brother. How someone from such a faithless home seemed to cling to their faith so tightly, Castiel didn’t know.
Pushing the stray thoughts away, he returned to heaven.