Heaven on Earth (part 1)
The pain is more intense than Castiel has ever felt before. But then again, Raphael had always prided himself in being the most skillful… persuader. The ice-cold scissors slip in between his feathers as Raphael reaches into his grace and searches. Castiel knows exactly what he’s searching for. Memories of the Winchesters, of Dean. Dean is the reason he’s here in the first place. Castiel was too fond of him. Too close, as his superiors liked to phrase it. Castiel knows that the memories he’s hidden deep inside his grace will not be safe from Raphael. His only concern is what Raphael will do with the memories once they’re found.
Bound by Enochian sigils Castiel can’t even move his chest cavity to breathe. Not that he needs to, but the tightness in his chest is becoming aggressive and threatens to snap his ribs. He can feel Jimmy’s body struggling to make the motions that it is so used to. Another of Raphael’s brilliant ideas, torture the angels and the vessel. Open up the human senses but hold them back at the same time. The constant push and pull of grace and soul becoming almost unbearable. Castiel remains strong however, refusing to give into Raphael’s tactics.
“You’ve grown strong in your time away from home, little brother,” Raphael purrs in his ear, still pinching a feather between the twin blades, “or at least your mind has.” At this he closes the space around the feather and the tip gently drops to the ground, joining its brothers and sisters at the base of Castiel’s chair.
“It’s incredible, the things one can learn from our father’s creations,” Castiel grits out through clenched teeth, pain rushing through every one of Jimmy’s nerves and enveloping his soul.
“Yes, incredible.” Raphael glides slowly around his target, coming to the front to stare into Castiel’s face. The look he’s giving Castiel reminds Castiel of the look Dean gives to a demon when the demon has the nerve to resist torture. It’s confusion mixed with determination mixed with utter wrath.
When Castiel’s mind wanders to Dean, Raphael sees his chance. He pounces now, hand punching through Jimmy’s ribs and gripping tight on Castiel’s grace. When Raphael removes his hand, silver drips through his fingers, and suddenly Castiel can’t remember the look on Dean Winchester’s face as faces down a demon. The thought terrifies him and makes him sick. He throws up, nothing but blood and bone fragments. Jimmy’s body is broken beyond repair thanks to the special attentions Raphael has been giving him. Twice a day, every day, for the past two and a half years. Castiel wonders if it was this painful for Dean when he was in hell. Wonders if he’ll be able to survive thirty years in Raphael’s chair.
At the thought of Dean, Raphael reaches in again, this time for longer, more rough and determined. Castiel knows he’s accidentally given away tell tale signs of where his memories of Dean are hidden. Raphael reaches right for the spot he had pulled out the last memory from but when he pulls his arm out, there is no silver. Castiel thanks his father for that.
“So, we’ve been clever haven’t we?” Raphael’s tone is amused but his face is not.
Castiel smiles at this, remembering a trick he had picked up from his charges, “Only for you sweetheart.” He says it in a tone that would have mimicked Dean. Raphael does not pick up on this, but his face screws itself into a look of disgust. Castiel muses that the disgust is both from lack of understanding of sarcasm and the thought that Castiel has picked up a trait that is unmistakably human.
“Well Castiel, I believe we’ve had enough for tonight, what do you think?” Raphael steps back, wiping the traces of grace and down off of his silver sheers.
Castiel can think of a million replies, some more Winchester than others. He says nothing though but stares at his brother with challenging eyes. He knows Raphael is tired. He’s made sure of it. Playing the game just so, that way Raphael has to expand more grace than he would like to in order to elicit reactions from his little brother. Raphael is strong, but Castiel has inherited a Dean-like stubbornness and will not be bent to heaven’s will so easily. Not after he’s come so far on his own.
***
It’s the middle of the night, heavens lights are all out and its messengers gathering in another area to relax and converse about the day’s work. Castiel is sill shut away in the Education Room. His grace is growing weary of Jimmy’s body’s resistance to, well, everything.
He can feel the pressure, the burn of torn flesh and the sting of the air on the open wounds. He counts how many and loses track at two hundred and forty-eight. It’s a lot. He pushes out with his grace instinctively, trying to sooth the pain away but he knows the Enochian will not let him heal. It’s a clever trick.
He focuses now on his back. The flesh surrounding the joints where his wings manifest on Jimmy’s back has been removed. Raphael had stripped that away in their morning session. It stings most intensely when he turns to assesses how many feathers he’s lost today. A large chunk of down has been torn away, by silver tweezers. Castiel remembers the glint of light that had bounced off of them, happily mocking him and coldly warning that, yes, there will be pain. Raphael had taken a lot of time to pluck out each and every one of the soft down feathers. Castiel took a moment to admire his patience. His eyes traveled down from the large bald spot to the ends of some of his longest feathers. Or at least they were his longest, at one point. They’ve been cut in half; some have been reduced to as little as twenty-five percent of what they once were. Castiel takes in all of this, all the pain and sorrow over losing his beautiful feathers and the guilt at letting Jimmy’s body fall under such abuse. He takes it in and processes it. Why was he still resisting? Why didn’t he tell Raphael that he’d had enough? These questions surprised Castiel. He knew exactly why he didn’t give in. Didn’t let Raphael and the others mold his mind and grace back into the soldier he had been when he was sent on his mission to raise the Righteous Man. Dean. Dean was his reason for everything now. The way his green eyes flashed emotions across his face that don’t match his words, and how that usually meant sarcasm. The way the sun kissed his freckles, the way Castiel remembers painting them back on over every inch of Dean when he remade his body after hell.
Castiel thinks longingly about the tingling in his grace whenever Dean is near. Wonders how Dean is without him, knows it’s been too long. He can hear Dean’s mind calling to him, though Dean doesn’t yet realize it. Castiel knows that the connection has grown strong over the time he spent with Dean. Much too strong for the Host’s liking. Castiel likes it though. That’s all that really matters to him right now. He let’s Jimmy’s body fall asleep and gently pulls the memories of Dean out from the hiding spot in his grace. He holds them in his hands and gazes at them, lovingly and gentle. Like a parent would gaze at their new child. He picks out one of his favorites, Dean working on the Impala after a hunt.
Dean was simply changing the oil, no big deal as he had put it when Castiel asked if he had wanted him to fix it. He learned very quickly that Dean loved the car, didn’t want anyone else touching her, but he knew the Winchesters were in a hurry. They were trying to prevent the apocalypse after all. Dean took his time that day. Checking his baby from head to toe. It was sunset by the time Castiel had worked up the courage to stop staring at the way Dean’s arms moved under his t-shirt and how the grease looked smeared across his face. Castiel had taken note of all the bruises, twelve, and the few small scrapes Dean had received the night before hunting the ghost of an old widower but they were getting lost now in the tan of his flesh. As Castiel moved towards Dean, he couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun’s glow was running it’s fingers through Dean’s hair and reflecting the golden specks in Dean’s olive eyes. Castiel remembers being jealous of the sun and it’s ability to kiss Dean all over, all at once.
Castiel feels his brother approaching now, was it morning already? Stiff from letting Jimmy’s body rest, Castiel pushes the memories away, burying them deep down inside his grace as he braces for the next round of torture. He’s determined not to lose this battle, determined to get a chance to make the sun jealous of him and the way he will get to touch Dean. As soon as he goes back home.