fic: What You Know is Wrong
Title: What You Know is Wrong
Author: lies_unfurl
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for the S7 finale, [[Fic Spoilers (click to open)]graphic torture and implied non-con in flashbacks]
Pairings: Unrequited Inias/Castiel, [[Fic Spoiler ]implied Dean/Alistair]
Word Count: 8600
Summary: Castiel comes back from Purgatory hellbent on making up for sins he won't talk about. Inias watches and picks up the pieces when he can.
Notes: The song title is taken from Running Through the Garden, which is a) one of my favorite songs ever, and b) something that I actually think describes Castiel towards the end of S7 really well, for reasons that I could spend a long time talking about. I have no clue where this fic came from, and I should probably go back to working on things with due dates now.
Now:
"Self-flagellation does not befit you, brother," Inias says quietly as he sits behind Castiel in his choice bit of Heaven. He remains in his vessel, but allows bits of his Grace to slip out, gently weave where today's hoard of demons sliced open Castiel's stomach with a sword stolen from a dead angel. Castiel will not allow him to heal the wounds, Inias knows, but neither will he deny himself the small comfort of his brother's touch-the only comfort he allows himself these days, really. "You'll go too far one day."
"I leave the flagellating to misguided saints who want to suffer for the sake of the Name," Castiel retorts. "Whipping my flesh would accomplish nothing. But if I have to bear some scars in order to bring down those who deserve it, then so be it. They are an acceptable price."
"How many more times, Castiel?" Inias stretches his wings and stares up at the clear blue sky. Castiel rarely ventures into Heaven, but when he does, it's almost always the same little version of paradise. "How long until you get whatever it is you're after?"
Castiel is quiet. The pure energy of his true form dulls a bit, and he stands up, even though the Grace gouged out by the angel sword has yet to be fully replenished. "I'll know after I have it," he replies, and then: "Goodbye, Inias."
"Goodbye-" he begins, but Castiel is gone before he finishes. He sighs and stands, flickers from Castiel's preferred Heaven to one of his own-dusk on the plains of Midwest America, the dream of a farmer's wife in the early 1920s. The soft golden light on the fields of wheat are calming, the solitude and silence usually relaxing. In the old days, this was where Inias went to contemplate things when he was not watching Earth.
Now, he spends far too much of his time here. The quiet has moved from being a blessed break from the chaos of Earth to being all too common in Heaven; even the Garden, the very core of God's Kingdom, lacks the bustle of his siblings. But Inias is a creature of habit, and habit tells him that he should still come here whenever he has a problem-and Castiel, at the moment, is undoubtedly a problem.
*
Then:
Castiel returns five months after he has been gone, five painfully long months for Inias. He has taken up hiding in a Russian monastery so out of the way that the Leviathans neither know nor care about its existence. But he retains his ties to Heaven, and was able to feel the precise moment when Castiel left Earth for Purgatory, the realm darker than Hell and twice as hard to access. And so once again, he began mourning for his brother and leader, the captain he would still willingly lay his life down for.
But then Castiel came back. Again.
The moment his Grace flickers in Inias's mind, sharp and unmistakable, he freezes. Brother Zhidiata frowns, asks him what is wrong, but Inias ignores him, focusing all of his awareness on the unmistakable presence that has appeared on what humans might consider a radar, and what he simply thinks of as a connection between his siblings. It is not as clean and perfect as Castiel's signature would have once been; there is something to it that makes it feel worn and hurt, but it is still unquestionably him.
Castiel. Castiel is alive.
Inias flies from the monastery without a look back. Castiel is in transit, moving from one place to the next with a speed that gives Inias no chance to follow him, but that doesn't matter at the moment. Castiel is alive and out of Purgatory, not hiding himself any longer. The angel Inias still considers his leader even after all of this time - he is alive.
He sets down in the Garden, folding his wings around his body. Trees and flowers beyond imagining on Earth stretch out around him. Their cores, their souls, thrum with life, a vitality that Inias feels within himself. His Grace stretches, contracts, and he lets his wings unfurl. Feels the desire to laugh, an oddly human urge rarely felt in one of his kind. In the distance, the Gardener gives him a knowing smile - no mysteries are kept from Joshua, none at all.
Castiel is alive.
Inias sets down to wait, not bothering to hide himself. Castiel will find him eventually; he knows that as surely as he knows that the loyalty he feels to Castiel is one a proper angel should only feel to the Father. He will come.
It does not take as long as Inias had expected it would. Barely a day of Earth's time has gone by before there is a flutter of wings behind Inias, and then -
Castiel.
His vessel looks worse for the wear; Inias knows this after centuries watching humans occupy themselves on Earth. His hair is pasted to his forehead, and stains of unidentifiable blood mar the whiteness of his torn and tattered uniform. And there is a haggardness to his face that was completely absent the last time that Inias saw him.
And in his true form - something has changed. It is Castiel; the true essence of him is unmistakable. But something in him is injured, tired. Although there are no physical wounds, and although he shines with more clarity than he did in the hospital that they previously met at, something about him brings grief to Inias.
They regard each other for a moment, and then Inias can no longer contain himself. "Castiel. I thought you dead, again."
Castiel gives him a wan smile, shifts his wings just slightly. "I could say the same of you."
"I hid. The only one of our garrison who managed to do so, to my knowledge. Perhaps there are more out there who did, but I know for certain that Sachiel and Baalis were killed trying to bring the Prophet to his home." He hesitates and then adds, "Although perhaps they will return. Death doesn't seem to last as long as it used to, at least not when you're concerned."
A ripple of something passes over Castiel's faces; his wings tighten closer to himself, and the weary look on his vessel deepens. "No. I suppose that it doesn't."
There is a deeper meaning to his words, but when Inias reaches out, lets a tendril of his Grace pass over Castiel, he finds that everything around him is shielded. What happened in Purgatory, where Castiel has been recently - none of that is clear to Inias, because he brother chooses to keep it out of view. He doesn't pry; to poke so invasively into his captain's business is entirely against everything Inias has been brought up to do.
Instead, he pulls back and simply asks, "Where have you been? In Purgatory?"
"Yes." He doesn't offer more, and Inias doesn't try. "And you?"
"In a Russian monastery. Too out of the way for the Leviathans to concern themselves with."
Castiel nods with a looseness that makes Inias suspect that his mind is not entirely focused on their reunion. "Wise of you."
"I suppose." A pause, and the air between them is so tense that Inias would be willing to say anything, absolutely anything to Castiel to break it. Which doesn't change the way that what he really wants to know is what's going on with Castiel. Why he seems so pained right now, why he is drawn so tightly into himself. But he knows Castiel won't respond to that, so what comes out instead is, "What are you going to do now? Will you return here?"
"To Heaven?" And Castiel gives such a bleak smile that it genuinely frightens Inias - more than seeing Castiel as a wild god did, more than the Leviathans, more than Hestor's rage. It recalls the Castiel before, the one so in-denial of his sins that his mind was twisted with some madness. But it's worse, somehow: that Castiel was content in his insanity, at least. This one, however stable, is far from happiness. "What's left?"
"Plenty," Inias says desperately. Suddenly, it is very important that Castiel stay. "The Cupid division - the Leviathans showed no interest in them. Joshua lives. Several other garrisons are alive, as well. The ones who watched the other cosmoses, they were left unharmed. The keepers of the Covenant remain. Enoch, I think he's still here, somewhere-"
"Inias," Castiel says quietly. Suddenly he's slumping, looking painfully defeated. Not like the warrior that Inias once watched smite a hundred demons at once to reach a single human soul. "Whose responsibility was this?"
He looks away. The flowers in the Garden suddenly seem dull, the fruits on the trees overripe. "No one person was responsible."
Castiel tilts his head and gives what is either a small smile or a grimace. "You're lying. You know who it was who slayed all those who were just following orders because I decided to fight for free will. And how many of Raphael's followers did I kill? How many did I slay when I took it upon myself to be God?" He shakes his head, looking pained. "I don't even remember myself. Then the Leviathans; I have no way of knowing how many they've gotten - and I think we both know who was responsible for setting them free. I'm probably responsible for the deaths of half the Host or more."
"You did what you needed to. And you'll be welcomed back, I know you will. We need as many as possible in our fight against the Leviathans." Heaven lacks organization now. Since Castiel left godhood, no one has tried to step up. The angels float around without guidance, occasionally organizing into small groups based on their previous garrisons. They rarely act, though; it takes an event as monumental as a new prophet to get anything done nowadays.
Some have ripped out their own Grace, others retreated so deep into the Garden that no one knows where exactly they are. Those foolish enough to venture to Earth without taking the necessary precautions are quickly found and slayed by the Leviathans. The beasts from Purgatory aren't as strong as they were in their heyday, not since their leader was killed five months ago, but they can still kill angels.
"I will fight against the Leviathans." Castiel straightens up, although the weariness is still there, etched deeply in his bones. "And the others - the demons, the dragons, the vampires, and whatever else is out there. I won't stop until I've cleansed the Earth. But I will not making the mistake of standing with Heaven again."
"Then with who?" Inias asks, but as soon as it's said, he knows the answer. "With Dean Winchester. And his brother."
Castiel surprises him by flinching and looking away. "No. I…I don't have a right to fight by their side, not now. Not anymore. The monsters I bring down are my penance, and penance is best done alone."
"Let me come with you," Inias says. Pleads, really, much as it shames him to admit. "You can accomplish more with me by your side. You know that's true."
Castiel's wings brush gently along his, and he shivers at the touch. He has not been so close to another angel since Hestor's death, and her Grace was wilder and rougher, close to the edge. Castiel is worn out and hurt, but he is not motivated by the fury that turns a ghost to a poltergeist, human to demon, angel to…something else. "Inias. I was removed from authority over you long ago; you should not feel the need to answer to me any longer. Find something for yourself and do it. If I've learned anything from walking among humans, it's that actions seemingly motivated by selfless desires are often reflections of what you want. Perhaps you should try being honest for a change, and actually act selfishly. I don't think anyone is left to chastise you."
Inias does not tell Castiel that he knows that it is selfish to want to go with him, that he doesn't care. Instead, he dares to say, "But what does that say about you? Are you feigning altruism yourself?"
And Castiel looks impossibly sad at that, and Inias almost apologizes, but he doesn't have a chance. "Perhaps I am. I expect that whatever I do will change little for those that I've hurt. But if it gives me something to do, something to try for-"
He breaks off, shakes his head. "Goodbye, Inias. If I need you - if you wish - I'll find you then."
"I'd like that," Inias says, but he doesn't know if Castiel hears him because he leaves so quickly.
*
Then:
Castiel shows up with no forewarning, blood streaming out of the three slashes in his vessel's chest and the soft blue light of his true form pulsing just beneath. This is maybe a week's time after he left, and Inias has spent it worrying for him, wondering what he's been doing. But all that fretting disappears the moment that his brother sets down beside him, his hands clutching at the ragged wounds.
"Castiel!"
The vessel's suit is stained red, and he can see the lines that mar Castiel himself. Any wound strong enough to actually hurt an angel is a potentially deadly one, and in the heat of the moment, he finds himself without his previous certainty that everything will be all right. It is close to doubt, closer than Inias has ever been before, but no one is left to reprimand him for it.
He grabs hold of Cas's arm, intending to take him to the Garden and let him heal in Heaven's heart, but Castiel shakes his head and says, "No. Let me."
He flaps his wings, and Inias follows. This is the first time that they end up sitting together in Castiel's choice Heaven, the one with the vibrantly blue sky and the impossibly green grass.
Castiel falls to his knees as soon as they touch down, clutching at his chest with a grimace of pain. Inias kneels next to him a moment later. "Castiel. I can heal it."
"I didn't come here to have you heal it." He presses his hand over the lacerations, wincing. His pain is evident in the throbbing of his Grace, and it hurts Inias just to watch. "I came because I required a place to set down, and…and I admit, going to you was not intentional. But I was in pain, and you were the first…available source of help that I thought of. I sought you out without meaning to." He pauses, lets this sink in, and then adds, "You can leave."
"Leave? No. No, of course I won't leave." Inias shakes his head, trying to make sense of Castiel's words. He reaches out his hand, intending to alter the bloody wounds. "Castiel, you're injured. You're hurting. I can change that; just give me a chance."
"I don't want you to change anything." Castiel shakes his head. His wings flicker warningly, and Inias realizes that he's not putting on some show of false bravado; he will leave if Inias attempts to help him. "The pain is mine to keep, to accept. To let it cleanse me, as much as pain can."
"What are you talking about? That doesn't make any sense." He has been sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, but now he pulls away some, tries to take a better look at Castiel, like that will offer him some answers. It doesn't. He can see how the pain makes him wince, makes his Grace stretch and then contract in hurt spasms, but Castiel takes it all. That goes against an angel's nature, he knows - angels are meant to keep themselves well when they can, to be ready to fight for the Name, if need be.
"You remember that I've been on Earth. Hunting down demons, monsters, the like?" Inias nods, and he continues. "And I called it my penance. And that hasn't changed. If my pain can bring me any closer to the pain that I have caused Sam and - the pain that I have caused others, then I will gladly take it."
"You're martyring yourself," he replies. His disapproval is evident in his voice, and he winces; he dislikes speaking to Castiel in such a manner even if he no longer outranks him. "And what more pain can you take in? You willingly took all memories of Hell from Samuel Winchester; all other pain that you feel is meaningless."
"'Meaningless?'" Castiel looks at him. Surprisingly enough, a small smile plays at his lips, and his wings flicker out. Their tips brush against Inais's, and he starts, surprised. "That's a very… angelic thing to say. It's been a long time since I've heard something like that. So logical. Sensible. Humans aren't like that, not really."
Inias is about to ask what, exactly, he means by that, but Castiel continues. "Of course, I'm not one. Not currently, and as I have no desire to rip my own grace out, I don't think that will change soon. But I've been among them for so long that I don't deserve to count myself as a productive member of the Host, either."
Castiel pushes himself to his feet. Inias rises next to him, reaches out a hand, and is about to protest. He's waved off by Castiel, and so he lets his arms fall to his sides. You don't argue with your Captain; it's one of the most important rules of being a soldier of Heaven. "Inias, the amount of suffering that my actions caused is immeasurable. Any pain that I cause myself is nothing next to that, a droplet of water to the ocean."
"But the ocean is made of drops like that," he points out, and then he realizes that that's where Castiel was going with the comparison. "You think that if you're able to feel what you did, you'll somehow have redeemed yourself."
"I think that it will have been a start." He gathers himself up, loosening his wings, letting his Grace slowly unravel outwards. "Redemption connotes having been able to make it up to the people that I hurt. In many cases - in the important ones, certainly - there is no possible way for me to do that. For a multitude of reasons. But if I know that my victims weren't the only ones who suffered, if I humble myself enough to feel their pain…perhaps that will mean something. I don't know what, but something."
The wounds on his vessel are mostly healed right now, just thick, knotty scars remaining. Inias can still see scratches on his true form, though, slicing through and altering the wavelengths very slightly. It looks painful. "Surely your victims wouldn't wish that on you. Not the ones that are your friends."
"Were my friends." Castiel glances at him, and his eyes look impossibly heavy and sad. "I think I lost the right to that label long ago. Goodbye, Inias. Thank you…for staying."
And before Inias can ask what occurred that was so horrible that it took him permanently away from the Winchesters, before he can ask about Purgatory, and what exactly is was that transpired there, Castiel is gone. Inias stares at the empty spot that he was in, which is now only occupied by stunningly green grass and the shadow of a kite, and wonders what exactly to do about his brother.
*
Now:
Castiel's comings and goings have been almost commonplace for Inias. And much as he loathes himself for feeling that way, they're actually rather…welcome. They shouldn't be, as Castiel only shows up when he's had a wing nearly clawed through while fighting a hundred Hellhounds, or when he gets so dangerously exhausted that he needs to actually be in Heaven to replenish his Grace. But Inias looks forward to the visits all the same.
Maybe it's because Castiel provides a break from the monotony-there are no new missions left in Heaven; virtually all of the commanders who would assign them are dead, and there are precious few left who could carry them out anyway. So Inias just wanders around, helps where he can. Sometimes he fills in for a reaper and brings souls up; sometimes he flits down to Earth and performs miracles for the ones who pray sincerely, perhaps offing a few Leviathans on the way. But mostly he just flies through time and space purposeless and alone. Castiel brings a welcome change from that.
But at the same time, Inias thinks that it's something…more. Would he have the same reaction if it were Zachariah who came back, or Balthazar? Hestor? He doesn't think so. Inias has always cared for Castiel deeper than for his other siblings, for reasons that he cannot explain. And he doesn't try, just accepts his love for his former commander as a fact.
It's out of that love that he goes to Joshua when Castiel leaves. Joshua is the highest-ranking angel left, and something of an enigma - the gardener who is always alone, who talks to God as he wanders the outskirts of Eden.
Inias approaches him hesitantly, head lowered and wings angled so as to suggest deference. Joshua looks up, smiles. "Inias. I'm glad to see that you're still with us."
"I'm glad to still be here," he replies honestly. He falls into step with Joshua, ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch of a tree that perpetually has pomegranates hanging from it. "There is a matter concerning me, and I have…well, I don't have anywhere else to turn to. Would I be able to speak to you about it?"
Joshua reaches up to a branch that's nearly bowed over under the weight of its fruit. At his touch it springs back up, although Inias doesn't notice any change in the number of pomegranates dripping off of it. "Is it in regards to Castiel?"
"Yes. Yes, it is." He feels an unexpected flow of relief that he doesn't have to explain the whole situation to Joshua. Although really, he should have expected him to already know. Joshua talks to God. Nothing of importance can escape him. "I worry for him. His state before Purgatory was troubling enough, but he was…content. Wasn't harming anyone, least of all himself. But something must have happened while he was there, because he's very different now. More like his normal self in that he's got full control of his powers and he doesn't…he no longer acts like he's in total serene harmony with the world. Now he's fighting to atone for something, and I don't know what. But the method that he uses - he's going on hunts against creatures so strong that they pose a threat to him, a fully-powered angel. He's come to me injured so many times, and I'm worried that he'll go too far. He's so caught up in redeeming himself for whatever occurred that he can't be bothered to concern himself with staying alive."
He stops, surprised at how much he's spilled. It's the first time that he's vocalized his worries about his brother, and he hadn't realized that they were so extensive.
Joshua has paused in a small glen surrounded by vibrant fruit trees. The gentle smile of before is gone, replaced with an expression that Inias thinks is sadness. But there's some deeper thing to it, like it's not just Castiel he's sorrowful for. Inias is suddenly very certain that Joshua knows exactly what happened in Purgatory, and also that he's not going to tell him. "Castiel has an unfortunate habit of running from his mistakes."
"What? No." Inias shakes his head. "He's not running, he's trying to perform penance. And he's always tried to help in the past, you must know that."
"You misunderstand me. Castiel's intentions have always been good, there's no doubt about that in my mind. None at all. But good intentions rarely lead here, Inias. Castiel took Sam Winchester's pain because it was the best he could do. It didn't fix his actions, though, and he retreated when he saw what ruins he had left behind - intentionally or not," he adds, stalling Inias's protest. "Part of him was always very aware that his bees wouldn't turn on him, that he could care for them better than he could bring down the Leviathan. Part of him didn't want to fight, to try to clean up his messes because he was too scared to act, fearing that the harm he caused would be greater than what he could salvage.
"And there was a time shortly after he'd freed the Purgatory denizens when he was without a memory - do you think it's a coincidence that he chose not to find out what he had done? Subconsciously, he always knew that his actions had had consequences too great to be easily fixed. It scared him, and he turned away. He loses himself in a cause, a passion, to avoid facing what he did. A flaw, undoubtedly - but we are all flawed creatures, of course."
"But what is it now?" asks Inias, desperate to salvage Castiel's name, even though Joshua isn't really slandering it: he's just stating something that might be a truth. Maybe Inias would see it as a truth if he looked critically, but he can't. It's as simple as that; Castiel is his captain, and Inias will be blindly loyal to him to the end. "He hunts the things that he released. He's setting Earth back into order. There's little that he could do for Heaven, anyway."
"Inias." Joshua looks at him, smiles again. His wing flickers out and gently brushes against Inias's, a gesture more paternal than anything. "Your loyalty to Castiel, your love of him, is admirable. Really, it is. But what he does now, it's comparable to him taking the remains of Hell from Sam Winchester. A good action, a very big step in the right direction. But that alone didn't lead him to full forgiveness, and he was unwilling - scared - to try to do more, to really face those he had wronged afterwards. You don't know the full story; of course you don't."
"I want to." Inias glances at Joshua quickly, then looks down again. He is humbled next to Joshua, who is also Metatron, when the time is right. "Please. I want to help him; I would do anything for him. But I find that there's very little I can help with without knowing what happened."
Joshua shakes his head. "It isn't my story to tell. Sometimes, Inias, what seems so very necessary right now would be better revealed in the future. And sometimes when it seems like we absolutely shouldn't interfere, it happens that we should. Do you understand?"
"I do." The meaning of the words, at least. How it applies to his situation, not so much.
Reading his emotions, Joshua says, "Just remember what I've told you. You will understand fully in time. I promise you that."
He turns away from Inias and bends over to sniff at a luminescent yellow flower. When he speaks, Inias isn't entirely sure that he's supposed to be listening. "I pity Castiel. He is beloved by our Father, and yet that can sometimes seem more a curse than a blessing. Oh, don't be surprised at that. It's very true. I'm not going to defend His choices at all, and He knows that. Sometimes the ones most cherished by Him are the ones who endure the most misery. Even you, Inias." Joshua looks up and smiles sadly at him. His Grace is warm and comforting in the close proximity, but he doesn't reach out again. "Your love of Castiel is sanctioned by our Father; I think He's rather charmed by it, actually. It's rare for us to be able to understand the fullness of something intended for human emotion only. But at the same time, it is a curse."
"I know Castiel doesn't reciprocate my feelings in full strength. I've accepted that, and I love him none the less for it." In a human, those words would probably be a lie, or at the very least, tainted with a black edge of bitterness. But Inias is an angel, and he always means exactly what he says.
"And make no mistake, that shows emotions purer than most ever feel. But to be so dedicated to one being-I imagine that level of devotion hurts. Or will hurt, if it doesn't yet. Although," and his elderly vessel's face crinkles up into a smile at this, "I shouldn't be talking, seeing as my existence is entirely dedicated to God."
That seems rather…different from being devoted to Castiel; God is God, and Castiel is an angel. But Inias wouldn't dare push this conversation with Joshua any further. He's gotten close enough to arguing for his comfort. "Perhaps that's so. Thank you for your time, Joshua. This was…insightful."
"Was it?" The Gardener looks thoughtful. "I doubt it. But in time it will be, Inias. And I don't think it's a long time coming, either."
*
And so Joshua is right, as he often is.
*
Inias feels the precise moment that the Leviathans strike Castiel, because when their poison sinks into him, he screams. Impossibly loud and painful, it slams into Inias's mind through the same "radar" that let him know when Castiel came back from Purgatory. Castiel keeps shields around himself mostly, too strong for Inias to track him unless he really wanted to try, but the pain is so much that they all explode, fall in pieces as pain shoots up all through him.
Inias doesn't remember consciously telling himself to fly, but a second after he hears the scream, he's there. Somewhere in the Americas, his mind registers dimly, standing on a dock next to a stormy ocean. It's nighttime. Those are details, though, and unimportant ones at that. What matters:
Castiel, on his knees. Wings flared out behind him. A wound in his vessel's chest, small damage compared to the dark lines that are spreading through him true form, corrupting his Grace. The poison will kill him soon, if it's not removed.
Three Leviathan stand around him; the bodies of six others lie behind. Even in the haziness of the moment, Inias is rather impressed that he managed to get down that many.
"Another bird?" The Leviathan closest to him curls up its lip. Steps forward, hand extended-
Inias burns it, hand slamming against its forehead before it can touch him. The other two snarl and try to fight, but they don't get very far. Later, he'll look back and wonder how he did it. He's just a foot soldier; not an important angel. He isn't particularly strong, he knows that. The Leviathans should rightfully have killed him. He'll be forced to accept it as a fortuitous chance - or, maybe, his Father's work. He doesn't know, doesn't think he'll ever find out.
Castiel looks up at him with clouded eyes as he approaches. "Inias…"
He picks him up, even though Castiel is far larger than him. "Castiel. Don't… don't speak. I'm here. You'll be okay."
Before his brother can respond to that, they're in Heaven - the Garden, because this is where Heaven's power pulses the strongest, and he needs all the help that he can get. Inias kneels down, keeping Castiel's torso wrapped tightly in his arms. He positions him so that Castiel's vessel is between his knees, his head lolling back onto his chest.
The poison in him seems to spark, and Castiel cries out so loud that, were they still on Earth, any glass would have been completely obliterated, and any human unfortunate enough to be passing by would have had blood pouring out from between their ears. Inias envelops him in his Grace, offers all the comfort that he can, but Castiel seems to feel none of it. The pain from the Leviathans has become the only thing that he is aware of.
"I can heal this," Inias says, and as he speaks the words he knows that they're true. The dark strands of the Leviathans' poison run through Castiel's true form like corrupt veins, but if he tries, Inias can destroy them. Can burn them away into nothingness; in Heaven, when it comes to his power versus the Leviathans, he will win. But…
"It's going to be painful. Very much so." He tightens his grip around Castiel, who's gone limp in his lap. The poison is just beginning to seep onto his wings, and Inias knows that it is imperative to stop it before it goes any further. "I apologize for that in advance."
"Do what you need to," Castiel murmurs in an almost inaudible voice. Inias nods, and then he starts.
He focuses all of his power, until he's got pure Grace condensed into slim strands. Praying to his Father that this will work, he tentatively reaches out to Castiel, lets his energy touch the trenches of poison left by the monsters from Purgatory-
Castiel screams.
It isn't the first time, of course, but now Inias knows that it is directly because of him, because of him burning out the substance staining his form. The dark strands flare up when he touches them, and then they're gone, leaving raw, red scars behind. Castiel isn't strong enough to replace the lost Grace, not yet. The poison fights, but it can't win against him. Not here. Not in his Father's kingdom.
He lets his wings dip down again. Castiel arches up into them, seeking their small comfort in a way that he never has before, and Inias gives it to him as best he can. He keeps his wings rubbing against Castiel, soothing the marks after he burns the poison from them. Even now he can feel Castiel's reluctance to show his weakness - but of course, that doesn't stop him from accepting what Inias gives. This is no small claw mark, no scratch from an angelic blade. This brought Castiel very, very close to death, and Inias knows that that's not an experience one just gets used to, no matter how many times it happens.
By the time it ends, Inias feels weak himself. His Grace is spent from his efforts, and he is light-headed, faint. But that's infinitely better than Castiel is.
He's…wrecked, is the kindest way to put it. His Grace is flickering erratically, uncontrollably; his entire form is marred with scars. The pain of having the taint seared from him is evident in the way he curls against Inias. His mind feels similarly distraught, unraveled.
"It's over," Inias says quietly. He adjusts his position and almost falls. "Castiel?"
A glance at Castiel, and Inias knows that his mind is elsewhere. Memories of his are flickering to the center of his unshielded mind now, memories that he has been deliberately hiding from anyone else.
"It's not over." He presses his head against Inias's chest, tired and world-weary. "It has far, far to go before it's over."
And then, without warning, the last bit of Castiel's guard falls, Castiel's Grace wraps around him, and Inias finds himself learning what Castiel has been trying to hide from him for so long - what, exactly, went on in Purgatory.
*
Endless night - dark forests that stretch on without end; interrupted only by an occasional stagnant bed of water, or dark and unending system of tunnels-
A stream of monsters - vampires, djinns, shifters; every abomination that has ever died, come to let their eternal souls rot here in Purgatory-
Inias sees Castiel and Dean Winchester on the run from those that would gladly take down the hunter responsible for so many of them. Sanity has returned to Castiel, whatever kept it out now gone, dispelled with the severity of the moment. He's powerless, though, save for his ability to fly - the living aren't granted the same privileges here as they are in other realms.
"It wasn't so bad at first," he hears Castiel say distantly, as he scans through memories of trees and half-formed shadows. "It was running, mostly. There's no death in Purgatory, and we found that the body enters a sort of stasis, unless otherwise disrupted. Food and water weren't necessary, and sleep was impossible. Hiding and avoiding those things that would harm us were our main priorities."
Inias nods, aware that he's still got his wings running over Castiel's form, has tendrils of Grace soothing his brother even as he examines his thoughts. "But things didn't remain that way?"
"No."
Dean Winchester, his face haggard and covered with dirt, knees drawn to his chest, resting against the wall of some cavern. Castiel crouches before him. The trench coat he used to wear is covered in unpleasant substances, the hospital uniform more brown than white now. "You leavin' me, Cas?"
"I won't be long. I just want to scout the area. We're getting close to where I opened the portal before. I need to see if there are any traces of it left." Inias can feel Castiel's own weariness, perhaps not as physically shown as Dean's, but present all the same. Angels are creatures of Heaven who can tolerate Earth. Hell, Purgatory, and all the others are more difficult to navigate.
Dean nods. "Go 'head, Cas. I'll be fine." He yawns. "Sure wish that I could get some sleep, though."
"I know." Castiel stands up, looks at Dean for a moment longer. "If there are any dangers, just go further into the caves. I'll find you."
Dean waves him off. "Relax. I'm a big boy; I think I can handle being left alone for a little while."
Castiel nods and leaves. Inias has a sense of searching, looking for a way out that isn't actually there, but these memories are faint and hazy. Unimportant to the story that Castiel is telling him. "If Purgatory were different," Castiel says, shifting and sitting up a little straighter, although Inias doesn't think that the intense pain he's going through has lessened, "if I had been able to actually access my abilities, everything would have changed. He could have called me; I could have come and been there for him, fought them off before they hurt him too badly… but of course, I suppose that's a very, unfortunately human way of looking at things. Seeing what could have been just as vividly as what was."
Inias nods. He doesn't much understand that; angels are to focus on that which is, not to speculate about how Fate's paths could have gone. But of course, as Castiel has said several times before, perhaps he can no longer call himself an angel.
The moment he sets foot in the cave, he knows that something is wrong. The scent of sulfur fills his nose, and there are shadows falling where there were none before. And, most tellingly, Dean is no longer there - but he can hear screams of pain coming from a distance. Dean.
The demons attack him before he can get too far, leaping out of the shadows with their claws extended. Castiel snarls, strikes out at them. A sword appears in his hand, an angel's blade. It doesn't surprise Inias that he carried it with him; Castiel, when he was captain of the garrison, was always very strict about caring for his weapons. "What have you done with Dean Winchester?"
They laugh, and one says, "Us? We haven’t touched that pretty face. What our boss is doing…can't speak for that, but I bet that it'd be a hell of a lot of fun to watch."
"That human piece of shit killed me," another snarls. "Whatever Alistair is doing to him right now, it isn't enough."
Inias feels Castiel's dread at the name. It isn't one that holds any meaning beyond the facts for him - he knows that he was in charge of torturing in Hell, that Castiel captured him at one point, and that Sam Winchester killed him - but clearly, that isn't the case for Cas.
He doesn't speak again. Instead, he launches to the second one and sinks his knife into its chest, drags it down. Demon blood, dark as the Leviathan's poison, spills out, and it howls in pain. The others throw themselves at Castiel. They go for his wings and try to rip his Grace, but he doesn't go down.
Inias can't tell how long the fight lasts, doesn't think that Castiel knows either. A murmured, "There was no time there, not like you think of it," confirms this idea. In any case, it's the aftermath that matters, not the details.
One wing is torn almost completely off, and his left hand has been mangled. A rib is crushed, and several others are bruised. None of this matters to Castiel as he strides down into the cavern. The demons lie in bleeding piles behind him, how they will remain for all eternity. There is no death in Purgatory.
Several other demons rush out at Castiel. Some of them injure him. All are left in shredded, pathetically useless sacks of flesh and bone.
It seems to Inias and Castiel alike that the walk takes too long. The screams grow louder as he gets further on. Sometimes they form into words, pleas to please, please stop, and Castiel? Castiel, help, oh, god, please-
The scene that greets Castiel makes rage crackle around him in an almost palpable presence. Dean lies on the ground completely naked, his clothes shredded and strewn out beside him. His fingers are misshapen, like they're been broken at each of the joints, and the soles of his feet look flayed. Blood and some other substance stain his thighs from unseen wounds, but Castiel is very, very aware of their source.
None of that, though, compares to the state of his chest. His rib cage and chest cavity have been pried open; several of the ribs have been broken off entirely, tossed aside like gnawed-on chicken bones. The muscle is bleeding, sliced through. The labored rise and fall of his lungs is visible beneath.
His torturer looms above him, laughing. A bloody razor dangles from one of his hands, and bits of flesh and muscle are dripping from his fingers. He turns to look at Castiel and grins, every one of his impossibly sharp teeth visible. Distantly, Inias notes that they match up to some of the wounds on Dean Winchester's arms and shoulders. "Like what you see, little angel? Want a turn?"
This part of Castiel's memory is pure, flaming fury. He launches himself at Alistair, uncaring about what damage might be brought to him. There's blood spilled on both sides, harsh metallic clanks as the razor is scratched against the sword, and Dean just keeps on screaming from behind.
The laughing stops sometime after the demon's head has been torn from his neck.
"Dean." Castiel drops to his knees, worse for the wear, but still alive. Still in better shape than Dean. " Dean!"
"Cas?" Dean raises his head as much as he can-which isn't much, not at all. He falls back, coughs, and cries out at the pain that brings. "Oh, God. Please let me die."
"I'm sorry, Dean." His hands pass over his open chest, briefly trace the lines of his ribs. His own fingers touch Dean's broken ones, withdraw quickly when even the light touch elicits a yell from him. "I can't heal here; my powers don't work. I'm so sorry."
"Then why aren't I dead yet?" His body spasms, and when he falls back, he lets out a low sob. "No. No, Cas, don't tell me that this is how I'm gonna stay; it can't - that doesn't work-"
There is no death in Purgatory, Inias thinks again.
Castiel murmurs again that he is sorry before he gathers Dean up in his arms and stands. "We need to find a new safe place. There will be others who knew Alistair, and I expect they'll want to collect him." He casts a withering glance to the demon who lies in pieces behind him. Not dead, though. Of course not.
*
"That's all you need to see," Castiel says, and then Inias finds himself out of his brother's memories, separated once again. "The rest…I stayed with him. There was no time there, as I said before, so I can't say for how long it was. But I don't think time means very much when you're holding your friend who, by all accounts, should have died long ago. Who's forced to endure pain that no one should have to go through, because you were too foolish to insist that he come with you. Too weak to hear his screams before it was too late."
"Castiel, it wasn't your fault." He ruffles his wings against Castiel but, to his surprise, his brother pushes him away. Apparently now that he's out of the memories, he's no longer willing to take in any comfort. "There was nothing you could have done; the laws of Purgatory prevented you from acting in any other way. You can't blame yourself."
"I could have brought him with me. I could have not left him there. I could have done a better job scouting around while I was flying. I could have taken more precautions to ensure that we weren't being followed. Of course there were other things I could have done." He lets out a ragged sigh. "It didn't end there. Sam Winchester brought us back, some sort of arrangement with Death - do you know about this?" Inias shakes his head, and he goes on. "Another passageway was created, and I went out, carrying Dean with me. He died as soon as we were back on Earth."
Inias starts to tell Castiel that he's so sorry, that there was nothing at all he could have done, but he doesn't have a chance. "I brought him back, of course. Healed his body, put his soul back in. His brother watched me the entire time. Panicking, of course; he'd been without his brother for so long, and he had expected me to take care of him, and I failed. I failed terribly and completely."
He draws in a ragged breath and then finishes, "I haven't seen them since I brought back Dean. I can't. Perhaps it's cowardly to be unable to go back and face the two people that I've wronged more than anyone, but until my shortcomings have been made up for - whenever that might be - I won't go back there. I can't."
Castiel falls silent, and Inias struggles to think of what is appropriate to say. All he can come up with is, "It wasn't your fault. I'm sure they understand that."
"I'm his guardian, and he is my ward. Of course it was my fault." He sighs, droops again in Inias's arms. He hadn't realized how tense Castiel had become. "I need to withdraw inwards for some time. To allow myself time to heal."
"Of course. I'll stand watch."
Castiel shakes his head. "No. If you're willing to do one last thing for me, Inias, then please bring me back to Earth. Anywhere isolated would be fine; I need to be alone. You have to understand, Heaven is no longer my home. I might be an angel, but I'm not of the Host anymore."
"Yes. I'll do that, of course. I hope you heal quickly and without pain, brother." He risks a touch to Castiel's wing, avoiding the scars where the poison crept in.
To his surprise, Castiel smiles at him. "Thank you, Inias. I appreciate that."
A moment later, his Grace curls at the edges, condenses in, and Castiel becomes unaware of the world around him. His vessel falls back against Inias, and he regards it thoughtfully. An idea is forming in the back of his mind, one that he thinks is very bad, and not at all what he ought to do- but perhaps it's what would be best for his brother? But oh, he would be furious. And Inias doesn’t know the Winchesters like Castiel does; perhaps they truly are as angry at him as he suspects.
Joshua's words come back to him then. Sometimes when it seems like we absolutely shouldn't interfere, it happens that we should.
This isn't his fight. But it's Castiel's, and Inias loves Castiel, would do absolutely anything for him. And maybe this is what he needs more than anything right now.
He stands, Castiel's body slung over his shoulder. "If this goes wrong, then please forgive me. I assure you, I'm only thinking in your interests."
And Inias flies to Earth, praying to his Father that right now is a time when he is supposed to be interfering.
*
The Winchesters burn brightly, not hard to track down at all. Inias is pleased to find that their room, located in a motel in Oklahoma, is without wards.
He silently sets down in the center of it. It's midnight, but both of them are awake, and he's unsurprised to have guns trained on him within a millisecond. "Sam. Dean. Don't be afraid."
"Who the fuck are you? Do we know you?" Dean asks, at the same time that his brother says, "Is that Castiel? Cas!"
"I don't mean any harm. My name is Inias, and yes, we've met before." He pauses, and it isn't long before recognition is dawning on their faces.
"You were with Hestor when she tried to kill Castiel? But you stood up for him." He nods at Sam's comment, and Sam continues, "But I thought you were dead. Cas said that everyone in his old garrison was."
"I was hiding. I lived."
"No shit." Dean still hasn't lowered his gun. "Want to tell us why you're toting around a comatose Cas?"
Inias is suddenly very nervous. Is his anger due to that he, a relative stranger, has just broken into their motel room? Or is it directed at Castiel, showing that he does blame him for what went on in Purgatory? "He was injured, and he asked me to…to bring him somewhere safe while he heals. Somewhere on Earth," he amends, unwilling to really lie. "I know of your friendship, and I thought that perhaps you would be willing to take him in? It shouldn't take long at all for him to heal." Truthfully he doesn't have a clue how long it'll take. "Please?"
Sam and Dean are looking at each other, some form of communication undecipherable to Inias going on. Finally, they break their gaze and Sam says, "Yeah, of course. Of course we'd be willing; he's our friend. You can just put him," and he nods at the bed that Inias is standing closest to.
He lays Castiel down very carefully. Straightening up, he regards Sam and Dean, and does his best to read their faces. Sam looks…hopeful, maybe? Glad to have Castiel back, he thinks (although his interaction with humans is very limited, and he really isn't very good at figuring out emotions). Dean's face is entirely blank. He keeps his feelings as close to him as Castiel does his Purgatory memories.
Inias steps away from Castiel, and nods at Sam and Dean. "Thank you."
They nod back and Sam replies, "Not a problem."
"Still. I… I appreciate this. Goodbye." He turns and flees, not knowing what else to say, and just hoping so very, very desperately that he made the right decision.
Author: lies_unfurl
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for the S7 finale, [[Fic Spoilers (click to open)]graphic torture and implied non-con in flashbacks]
Pairings: Unrequited Inias/Castiel, [[Fic Spoiler ]implied Dean/Alistair]
Word Count: 8600
Summary: Castiel comes back from Purgatory hellbent on making up for sins he won't talk about. Inias watches and picks up the pieces when he can.
Notes: The song title is taken from Running Through the Garden, which is a) one of my favorite songs ever, and b) something that I actually think describes Castiel towards the end of S7 really well, for reasons that I could spend a long time talking about. I have no clue where this fic came from, and I should probably go back to working on things with due dates now.
Now:
"Self-flagellation does not befit you, brother," Inias says quietly as he sits behind Castiel in his choice bit of Heaven. He remains in his vessel, but allows bits of his Grace to slip out, gently weave where today's hoard of demons sliced open Castiel's stomach with a sword stolen from a dead angel. Castiel will not allow him to heal the wounds, Inias knows, but neither will he deny himself the small comfort of his brother's touch-the only comfort he allows himself these days, really. "You'll go too far one day."
"I leave the flagellating to misguided saints who want to suffer for the sake of the Name," Castiel retorts. "Whipping my flesh would accomplish nothing. But if I have to bear some scars in order to bring down those who deserve it, then so be it. They are an acceptable price."
"How many more times, Castiel?" Inias stretches his wings and stares up at the clear blue sky. Castiel rarely ventures into Heaven, but when he does, it's almost always the same little version of paradise. "How long until you get whatever it is you're after?"
Castiel is quiet. The pure energy of his true form dulls a bit, and he stands up, even though the Grace gouged out by the angel sword has yet to be fully replenished. "I'll know after I have it," he replies, and then: "Goodbye, Inias."
"Goodbye-" he begins, but Castiel is gone before he finishes. He sighs and stands, flickers from Castiel's preferred Heaven to one of his own-dusk on the plains of Midwest America, the dream of a farmer's wife in the early 1920s. The soft golden light on the fields of wheat are calming, the solitude and silence usually relaxing. In the old days, this was where Inias went to contemplate things when he was not watching Earth.
Now, he spends far too much of his time here. The quiet has moved from being a blessed break from the chaos of Earth to being all too common in Heaven; even the Garden, the very core of God's Kingdom, lacks the bustle of his siblings. But Inias is a creature of habit, and habit tells him that he should still come here whenever he has a problem-and Castiel, at the moment, is undoubtedly a problem.
*
Then:
Castiel returns five months after he has been gone, five painfully long months for Inias. He has taken up hiding in a Russian monastery so out of the way that the Leviathans neither know nor care about its existence. But he retains his ties to Heaven, and was able to feel the precise moment when Castiel left Earth for Purgatory, the realm darker than Hell and twice as hard to access. And so once again, he began mourning for his brother and leader, the captain he would still willingly lay his life down for.
But then Castiel came back. Again.
The moment his Grace flickers in Inias's mind, sharp and unmistakable, he freezes. Brother Zhidiata frowns, asks him what is wrong, but Inias ignores him, focusing all of his awareness on the unmistakable presence that has appeared on what humans might consider a radar, and what he simply thinks of as a connection between his siblings. It is not as clean and perfect as Castiel's signature would have once been; there is something to it that makes it feel worn and hurt, but it is still unquestionably him.
Castiel. Castiel is alive.
Inias flies from the monastery without a look back. Castiel is in transit, moving from one place to the next with a speed that gives Inias no chance to follow him, but that doesn't matter at the moment. Castiel is alive and out of Purgatory, not hiding himself any longer. The angel Inias still considers his leader even after all of this time - he is alive.
He sets down in the Garden, folding his wings around his body. Trees and flowers beyond imagining on Earth stretch out around him. Their cores, their souls, thrum with life, a vitality that Inias feels within himself. His Grace stretches, contracts, and he lets his wings unfurl. Feels the desire to laugh, an oddly human urge rarely felt in one of his kind. In the distance, the Gardener gives him a knowing smile - no mysteries are kept from Joshua, none at all.
Castiel is alive.
Inias sets down to wait, not bothering to hide himself. Castiel will find him eventually; he knows that as surely as he knows that the loyalty he feels to Castiel is one a proper angel should only feel to the Father. He will come.
It does not take as long as Inias had expected it would. Barely a day of Earth's time has gone by before there is a flutter of wings behind Inias, and then -
Castiel.
His vessel looks worse for the wear; Inias knows this after centuries watching humans occupy themselves on Earth. His hair is pasted to his forehead, and stains of unidentifiable blood mar the whiteness of his torn and tattered uniform. And there is a haggardness to his face that was completely absent the last time that Inias saw him.
And in his true form - something has changed. It is Castiel; the true essence of him is unmistakable. But something in him is injured, tired. Although there are no physical wounds, and although he shines with more clarity than he did in the hospital that they previously met at, something about him brings grief to Inias.
They regard each other for a moment, and then Inias can no longer contain himself. "Castiel. I thought you dead, again."
Castiel gives him a wan smile, shifts his wings just slightly. "I could say the same of you."
"I hid. The only one of our garrison who managed to do so, to my knowledge. Perhaps there are more out there who did, but I know for certain that Sachiel and Baalis were killed trying to bring the Prophet to his home." He hesitates and then adds, "Although perhaps they will return. Death doesn't seem to last as long as it used to, at least not when you're concerned."
A ripple of something passes over Castiel's faces; his wings tighten closer to himself, and the weary look on his vessel deepens. "No. I suppose that it doesn't."
There is a deeper meaning to his words, but when Inias reaches out, lets a tendril of his Grace pass over Castiel, he finds that everything around him is shielded. What happened in Purgatory, where Castiel has been recently - none of that is clear to Inias, because he brother chooses to keep it out of view. He doesn't pry; to poke so invasively into his captain's business is entirely against everything Inias has been brought up to do.
Instead, he pulls back and simply asks, "Where have you been? In Purgatory?"
"Yes." He doesn't offer more, and Inias doesn't try. "And you?"
"In a Russian monastery. Too out of the way for the Leviathans to concern themselves with."
Castiel nods with a looseness that makes Inias suspect that his mind is not entirely focused on their reunion. "Wise of you."
"I suppose." A pause, and the air between them is so tense that Inias would be willing to say anything, absolutely anything to Castiel to break it. Which doesn't change the way that what he really wants to know is what's going on with Castiel. Why he seems so pained right now, why he is drawn so tightly into himself. But he knows Castiel won't respond to that, so what comes out instead is, "What are you going to do now? Will you return here?"
"To Heaven?" And Castiel gives such a bleak smile that it genuinely frightens Inias - more than seeing Castiel as a wild god did, more than the Leviathans, more than Hestor's rage. It recalls the Castiel before, the one so in-denial of his sins that his mind was twisted with some madness. But it's worse, somehow: that Castiel was content in his insanity, at least. This one, however stable, is far from happiness. "What's left?"
"Plenty," Inias says desperately. Suddenly, it is very important that Castiel stay. "The Cupid division - the Leviathans showed no interest in them. Joshua lives. Several other garrisons are alive, as well. The ones who watched the other cosmoses, they were left unharmed. The keepers of the Covenant remain. Enoch, I think he's still here, somewhere-"
"Inias," Castiel says quietly. Suddenly he's slumping, looking painfully defeated. Not like the warrior that Inias once watched smite a hundred demons at once to reach a single human soul. "Whose responsibility was this?"
He looks away. The flowers in the Garden suddenly seem dull, the fruits on the trees overripe. "No one person was responsible."
Castiel tilts his head and gives what is either a small smile or a grimace. "You're lying. You know who it was who slayed all those who were just following orders because I decided to fight for free will. And how many of Raphael's followers did I kill? How many did I slay when I took it upon myself to be God?" He shakes his head, looking pained. "I don't even remember myself. Then the Leviathans; I have no way of knowing how many they've gotten - and I think we both know who was responsible for setting them free. I'm probably responsible for the deaths of half the Host or more."
"You did what you needed to. And you'll be welcomed back, I know you will. We need as many as possible in our fight against the Leviathans." Heaven lacks organization now. Since Castiel left godhood, no one has tried to step up. The angels float around without guidance, occasionally organizing into small groups based on their previous garrisons. They rarely act, though; it takes an event as monumental as a new prophet to get anything done nowadays.
Some have ripped out their own Grace, others retreated so deep into the Garden that no one knows where exactly they are. Those foolish enough to venture to Earth without taking the necessary precautions are quickly found and slayed by the Leviathans. The beasts from Purgatory aren't as strong as they were in their heyday, not since their leader was killed five months ago, but they can still kill angels.
"I will fight against the Leviathans." Castiel straightens up, although the weariness is still there, etched deeply in his bones. "And the others - the demons, the dragons, the vampires, and whatever else is out there. I won't stop until I've cleansed the Earth. But I will not making the mistake of standing with Heaven again."
"Then with who?" Inias asks, but as soon as it's said, he knows the answer. "With Dean Winchester. And his brother."
Castiel surprises him by flinching and looking away. "No. I…I don't have a right to fight by their side, not now. Not anymore. The monsters I bring down are my penance, and penance is best done alone."
"Let me come with you," Inias says. Pleads, really, much as it shames him to admit. "You can accomplish more with me by your side. You know that's true."
Castiel's wings brush gently along his, and he shivers at the touch. He has not been so close to another angel since Hestor's death, and her Grace was wilder and rougher, close to the edge. Castiel is worn out and hurt, but he is not motivated by the fury that turns a ghost to a poltergeist, human to demon, angel to…something else. "Inias. I was removed from authority over you long ago; you should not feel the need to answer to me any longer. Find something for yourself and do it. If I've learned anything from walking among humans, it's that actions seemingly motivated by selfless desires are often reflections of what you want. Perhaps you should try being honest for a change, and actually act selfishly. I don't think anyone is left to chastise you."
Inias does not tell Castiel that he knows that it is selfish to want to go with him, that he doesn't care. Instead, he dares to say, "But what does that say about you? Are you feigning altruism yourself?"
And Castiel looks impossibly sad at that, and Inias almost apologizes, but he doesn't have a chance. "Perhaps I am. I expect that whatever I do will change little for those that I've hurt. But if it gives me something to do, something to try for-"
He breaks off, shakes his head. "Goodbye, Inias. If I need you - if you wish - I'll find you then."
"I'd like that," Inias says, but he doesn't know if Castiel hears him because he leaves so quickly.
*
Then:
Castiel shows up with no forewarning, blood streaming out of the three slashes in his vessel's chest and the soft blue light of his true form pulsing just beneath. This is maybe a week's time after he left, and Inias has spent it worrying for him, wondering what he's been doing. But all that fretting disappears the moment that his brother sets down beside him, his hands clutching at the ragged wounds.
"Castiel!"
The vessel's suit is stained red, and he can see the lines that mar Castiel himself. Any wound strong enough to actually hurt an angel is a potentially deadly one, and in the heat of the moment, he finds himself without his previous certainty that everything will be all right. It is close to doubt, closer than Inias has ever been before, but no one is left to reprimand him for it.
He grabs hold of Cas's arm, intending to take him to the Garden and let him heal in Heaven's heart, but Castiel shakes his head and says, "No. Let me."
He flaps his wings, and Inias follows. This is the first time that they end up sitting together in Castiel's choice Heaven, the one with the vibrantly blue sky and the impossibly green grass.
Castiel falls to his knees as soon as they touch down, clutching at his chest with a grimace of pain. Inias kneels next to him a moment later. "Castiel. I can heal it."
"I didn't come here to have you heal it." He presses his hand over the lacerations, wincing. His pain is evident in the throbbing of his Grace, and it hurts Inias just to watch. "I came because I required a place to set down, and…and I admit, going to you was not intentional. But I was in pain, and you were the first…available source of help that I thought of. I sought you out without meaning to." He pauses, lets this sink in, and then adds, "You can leave."
"Leave? No. No, of course I won't leave." Inias shakes his head, trying to make sense of Castiel's words. He reaches out his hand, intending to alter the bloody wounds. "Castiel, you're injured. You're hurting. I can change that; just give me a chance."
"I don't want you to change anything." Castiel shakes his head. His wings flicker warningly, and Inias realizes that he's not putting on some show of false bravado; he will leave if Inias attempts to help him. "The pain is mine to keep, to accept. To let it cleanse me, as much as pain can."
"What are you talking about? That doesn't make any sense." He has been sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, but now he pulls away some, tries to take a better look at Castiel, like that will offer him some answers. It doesn't. He can see how the pain makes him wince, makes his Grace stretch and then contract in hurt spasms, but Castiel takes it all. That goes against an angel's nature, he knows - angels are meant to keep themselves well when they can, to be ready to fight for the Name, if need be.
"You remember that I've been on Earth. Hunting down demons, monsters, the like?" Inias nods, and he continues. "And I called it my penance. And that hasn't changed. If my pain can bring me any closer to the pain that I have caused Sam and - the pain that I have caused others, then I will gladly take it."
"You're martyring yourself," he replies. His disapproval is evident in his voice, and he winces; he dislikes speaking to Castiel in such a manner even if he no longer outranks him. "And what more pain can you take in? You willingly took all memories of Hell from Samuel Winchester; all other pain that you feel is meaningless."
"'Meaningless?'" Castiel looks at him. Surprisingly enough, a small smile plays at his lips, and his wings flicker out. Their tips brush against Inais's, and he starts, surprised. "That's a very… angelic thing to say. It's been a long time since I've heard something like that. So logical. Sensible. Humans aren't like that, not really."
Inias is about to ask what, exactly, he means by that, but Castiel continues. "Of course, I'm not one. Not currently, and as I have no desire to rip my own grace out, I don't think that will change soon. But I've been among them for so long that I don't deserve to count myself as a productive member of the Host, either."
Castiel pushes himself to his feet. Inias rises next to him, reaches out a hand, and is about to protest. He's waved off by Castiel, and so he lets his arms fall to his sides. You don't argue with your Captain; it's one of the most important rules of being a soldier of Heaven. "Inias, the amount of suffering that my actions caused is immeasurable. Any pain that I cause myself is nothing next to that, a droplet of water to the ocean."
"But the ocean is made of drops like that," he points out, and then he realizes that that's where Castiel was going with the comparison. "You think that if you're able to feel what you did, you'll somehow have redeemed yourself."
"I think that it will have been a start." He gathers himself up, loosening his wings, letting his Grace slowly unravel outwards. "Redemption connotes having been able to make it up to the people that I hurt. In many cases - in the important ones, certainly - there is no possible way for me to do that. For a multitude of reasons. But if I know that my victims weren't the only ones who suffered, if I humble myself enough to feel their pain…perhaps that will mean something. I don't know what, but something."
The wounds on his vessel are mostly healed right now, just thick, knotty scars remaining. Inias can still see scratches on his true form, though, slicing through and altering the wavelengths very slightly. It looks painful. "Surely your victims wouldn't wish that on you. Not the ones that are your friends."
"Were my friends." Castiel glances at him, and his eyes look impossibly heavy and sad. "I think I lost the right to that label long ago. Goodbye, Inias. Thank you…for staying."
And before Inias can ask what occurred that was so horrible that it took him permanently away from the Winchesters, before he can ask about Purgatory, and what exactly is was that transpired there, Castiel is gone. Inias stares at the empty spot that he was in, which is now only occupied by stunningly green grass and the shadow of a kite, and wonders what exactly to do about his brother.
*
Now:
Castiel's comings and goings have been almost commonplace for Inias. And much as he loathes himself for feeling that way, they're actually rather…welcome. They shouldn't be, as Castiel only shows up when he's had a wing nearly clawed through while fighting a hundred Hellhounds, or when he gets so dangerously exhausted that he needs to actually be in Heaven to replenish his Grace. But Inias looks forward to the visits all the same.
Maybe it's because Castiel provides a break from the monotony-there are no new missions left in Heaven; virtually all of the commanders who would assign them are dead, and there are precious few left who could carry them out anyway. So Inias just wanders around, helps where he can. Sometimes he fills in for a reaper and brings souls up; sometimes he flits down to Earth and performs miracles for the ones who pray sincerely, perhaps offing a few Leviathans on the way. But mostly he just flies through time and space purposeless and alone. Castiel brings a welcome change from that.
But at the same time, Inias thinks that it's something…more. Would he have the same reaction if it were Zachariah who came back, or Balthazar? Hestor? He doesn't think so. Inias has always cared for Castiel deeper than for his other siblings, for reasons that he cannot explain. And he doesn't try, just accepts his love for his former commander as a fact.
It's out of that love that he goes to Joshua when Castiel leaves. Joshua is the highest-ranking angel left, and something of an enigma - the gardener who is always alone, who talks to God as he wanders the outskirts of Eden.
Inias approaches him hesitantly, head lowered and wings angled so as to suggest deference. Joshua looks up, smiles. "Inias. I'm glad to see that you're still with us."
"I'm glad to still be here," he replies honestly. He falls into step with Joshua, ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch of a tree that perpetually has pomegranates hanging from it. "There is a matter concerning me, and I have…well, I don't have anywhere else to turn to. Would I be able to speak to you about it?"
Joshua reaches up to a branch that's nearly bowed over under the weight of its fruit. At his touch it springs back up, although Inias doesn't notice any change in the number of pomegranates dripping off of it. "Is it in regards to Castiel?"
"Yes. Yes, it is." He feels an unexpected flow of relief that he doesn't have to explain the whole situation to Joshua. Although really, he should have expected him to already know. Joshua talks to God. Nothing of importance can escape him. "I worry for him. His state before Purgatory was troubling enough, but he was…content. Wasn't harming anyone, least of all himself. But something must have happened while he was there, because he's very different now. More like his normal self in that he's got full control of his powers and he doesn't…he no longer acts like he's in total serene harmony with the world. Now he's fighting to atone for something, and I don't know what. But the method that he uses - he's going on hunts against creatures so strong that they pose a threat to him, a fully-powered angel. He's come to me injured so many times, and I'm worried that he'll go too far. He's so caught up in redeeming himself for whatever occurred that he can't be bothered to concern himself with staying alive."
He stops, surprised at how much he's spilled. It's the first time that he's vocalized his worries about his brother, and he hadn't realized that they were so extensive.
Joshua has paused in a small glen surrounded by vibrant fruit trees. The gentle smile of before is gone, replaced with an expression that Inias thinks is sadness. But there's some deeper thing to it, like it's not just Castiel he's sorrowful for. Inias is suddenly very certain that Joshua knows exactly what happened in Purgatory, and also that he's not going to tell him. "Castiel has an unfortunate habit of running from his mistakes."
"What? No." Inias shakes his head. "He's not running, he's trying to perform penance. And he's always tried to help in the past, you must know that."
"You misunderstand me. Castiel's intentions have always been good, there's no doubt about that in my mind. None at all. But good intentions rarely lead here, Inias. Castiel took Sam Winchester's pain because it was the best he could do. It didn't fix his actions, though, and he retreated when he saw what ruins he had left behind - intentionally or not," he adds, stalling Inias's protest. "Part of him was always very aware that his bees wouldn't turn on him, that he could care for them better than he could bring down the Leviathan. Part of him didn't want to fight, to try to clean up his messes because he was too scared to act, fearing that the harm he caused would be greater than what he could salvage.
"And there was a time shortly after he'd freed the Purgatory denizens when he was without a memory - do you think it's a coincidence that he chose not to find out what he had done? Subconsciously, he always knew that his actions had had consequences too great to be easily fixed. It scared him, and he turned away. He loses himself in a cause, a passion, to avoid facing what he did. A flaw, undoubtedly - but we are all flawed creatures, of course."
"But what is it now?" asks Inias, desperate to salvage Castiel's name, even though Joshua isn't really slandering it: he's just stating something that might be a truth. Maybe Inias would see it as a truth if he looked critically, but he can't. It's as simple as that; Castiel is his captain, and Inias will be blindly loyal to him to the end. "He hunts the things that he released. He's setting Earth back into order. There's little that he could do for Heaven, anyway."
"Inias." Joshua looks at him, smiles again. His wing flickers out and gently brushes against Inias's, a gesture more paternal than anything. "Your loyalty to Castiel, your love of him, is admirable. Really, it is. But what he does now, it's comparable to him taking the remains of Hell from Sam Winchester. A good action, a very big step in the right direction. But that alone didn't lead him to full forgiveness, and he was unwilling - scared - to try to do more, to really face those he had wronged afterwards. You don't know the full story; of course you don't."
"I want to." Inias glances at Joshua quickly, then looks down again. He is humbled next to Joshua, who is also Metatron, when the time is right. "Please. I want to help him; I would do anything for him. But I find that there's very little I can help with without knowing what happened."
Joshua shakes his head. "It isn't my story to tell. Sometimes, Inias, what seems so very necessary right now would be better revealed in the future. And sometimes when it seems like we absolutely shouldn't interfere, it happens that we should. Do you understand?"
"I do." The meaning of the words, at least. How it applies to his situation, not so much.
Reading his emotions, Joshua says, "Just remember what I've told you. You will understand fully in time. I promise you that."
He turns away from Inias and bends over to sniff at a luminescent yellow flower. When he speaks, Inias isn't entirely sure that he's supposed to be listening. "I pity Castiel. He is beloved by our Father, and yet that can sometimes seem more a curse than a blessing. Oh, don't be surprised at that. It's very true. I'm not going to defend His choices at all, and He knows that. Sometimes the ones most cherished by Him are the ones who endure the most misery. Even you, Inias." Joshua looks up and smiles sadly at him. His Grace is warm and comforting in the close proximity, but he doesn't reach out again. "Your love of Castiel is sanctioned by our Father; I think He's rather charmed by it, actually. It's rare for us to be able to understand the fullness of something intended for human emotion only. But at the same time, it is a curse."
"I know Castiel doesn't reciprocate my feelings in full strength. I've accepted that, and I love him none the less for it." In a human, those words would probably be a lie, or at the very least, tainted with a black edge of bitterness. But Inias is an angel, and he always means exactly what he says.
"And make no mistake, that shows emotions purer than most ever feel. But to be so dedicated to one being-I imagine that level of devotion hurts. Or will hurt, if it doesn't yet. Although," and his elderly vessel's face crinkles up into a smile at this, "I shouldn't be talking, seeing as my existence is entirely dedicated to God."
That seems rather…different from being devoted to Castiel; God is God, and Castiel is an angel. But Inias wouldn't dare push this conversation with Joshua any further. He's gotten close enough to arguing for his comfort. "Perhaps that's so. Thank you for your time, Joshua. This was…insightful."
"Was it?" The Gardener looks thoughtful. "I doubt it. But in time it will be, Inias. And I don't think it's a long time coming, either."
*
And so Joshua is right, as he often is.
*
Inias feels the precise moment that the Leviathans strike Castiel, because when their poison sinks into him, he screams. Impossibly loud and painful, it slams into Inias's mind through the same "radar" that let him know when Castiel came back from Purgatory. Castiel keeps shields around himself mostly, too strong for Inias to track him unless he really wanted to try, but the pain is so much that they all explode, fall in pieces as pain shoots up all through him.
Inias doesn't remember consciously telling himself to fly, but a second after he hears the scream, he's there. Somewhere in the Americas, his mind registers dimly, standing on a dock next to a stormy ocean. It's nighttime. Those are details, though, and unimportant ones at that. What matters:
Castiel, on his knees. Wings flared out behind him. A wound in his vessel's chest, small damage compared to the dark lines that are spreading through him true form, corrupting his Grace. The poison will kill him soon, if it's not removed.
Three Leviathan stand around him; the bodies of six others lie behind. Even in the haziness of the moment, Inias is rather impressed that he managed to get down that many.
"Another bird?" The Leviathan closest to him curls up its lip. Steps forward, hand extended-
Inias burns it, hand slamming against its forehead before it can touch him. The other two snarl and try to fight, but they don't get very far. Later, he'll look back and wonder how he did it. He's just a foot soldier; not an important angel. He isn't particularly strong, he knows that. The Leviathans should rightfully have killed him. He'll be forced to accept it as a fortuitous chance - or, maybe, his Father's work. He doesn't know, doesn't think he'll ever find out.
Castiel looks up at him with clouded eyes as he approaches. "Inias…"
He picks him up, even though Castiel is far larger than him. "Castiel. Don't… don't speak. I'm here. You'll be okay."
Before his brother can respond to that, they're in Heaven - the Garden, because this is where Heaven's power pulses the strongest, and he needs all the help that he can get. Inias kneels down, keeping Castiel's torso wrapped tightly in his arms. He positions him so that Castiel's vessel is between his knees, his head lolling back onto his chest.
The poison in him seems to spark, and Castiel cries out so loud that, were they still on Earth, any glass would have been completely obliterated, and any human unfortunate enough to be passing by would have had blood pouring out from between their ears. Inias envelops him in his Grace, offers all the comfort that he can, but Castiel seems to feel none of it. The pain from the Leviathans has become the only thing that he is aware of.
"I can heal this," Inias says, and as he speaks the words he knows that they're true. The dark strands of the Leviathans' poison run through Castiel's true form like corrupt veins, but if he tries, Inias can destroy them. Can burn them away into nothingness; in Heaven, when it comes to his power versus the Leviathans, he will win. But…
"It's going to be painful. Very much so." He tightens his grip around Castiel, who's gone limp in his lap. The poison is just beginning to seep onto his wings, and Inias knows that it is imperative to stop it before it goes any further. "I apologize for that in advance."
"Do what you need to," Castiel murmurs in an almost inaudible voice. Inias nods, and then he starts.
He focuses all of his power, until he's got pure Grace condensed into slim strands. Praying to his Father that this will work, he tentatively reaches out to Castiel, lets his energy touch the trenches of poison left by the monsters from Purgatory-
Castiel screams.
It isn't the first time, of course, but now Inias knows that it is directly because of him, because of him burning out the substance staining his form. The dark strands flare up when he touches them, and then they're gone, leaving raw, red scars behind. Castiel isn't strong enough to replace the lost Grace, not yet. The poison fights, but it can't win against him. Not here. Not in his Father's kingdom.
He lets his wings dip down again. Castiel arches up into them, seeking their small comfort in a way that he never has before, and Inias gives it to him as best he can. He keeps his wings rubbing against Castiel, soothing the marks after he burns the poison from them. Even now he can feel Castiel's reluctance to show his weakness - but of course, that doesn't stop him from accepting what Inias gives. This is no small claw mark, no scratch from an angelic blade. This brought Castiel very, very close to death, and Inias knows that that's not an experience one just gets used to, no matter how many times it happens.
By the time it ends, Inias feels weak himself. His Grace is spent from his efforts, and he is light-headed, faint. But that's infinitely better than Castiel is.
He's…wrecked, is the kindest way to put it. His Grace is flickering erratically, uncontrollably; his entire form is marred with scars. The pain of having the taint seared from him is evident in the way he curls against Inias. His mind feels similarly distraught, unraveled.
"It's over," Inias says quietly. He adjusts his position and almost falls. "Castiel?"
A glance at Castiel, and Inias knows that his mind is elsewhere. Memories of his are flickering to the center of his unshielded mind now, memories that he has been deliberately hiding from anyone else.
"It's not over." He presses his head against Inias's chest, tired and world-weary. "It has far, far to go before it's over."
And then, without warning, the last bit of Castiel's guard falls, Castiel's Grace wraps around him, and Inias finds himself learning what Castiel has been trying to hide from him for so long - what, exactly, went on in Purgatory.
*
Endless night - dark forests that stretch on without end; interrupted only by an occasional stagnant bed of water, or dark and unending system of tunnels-
A stream of monsters - vampires, djinns, shifters; every abomination that has ever died, come to let their eternal souls rot here in Purgatory-
Inias sees Castiel and Dean Winchester on the run from those that would gladly take down the hunter responsible for so many of them. Sanity has returned to Castiel, whatever kept it out now gone, dispelled with the severity of the moment. He's powerless, though, save for his ability to fly - the living aren't granted the same privileges here as they are in other realms.
"It wasn't so bad at first," he hears Castiel say distantly, as he scans through memories of trees and half-formed shadows. "It was running, mostly. There's no death in Purgatory, and we found that the body enters a sort of stasis, unless otherwise disrupted. Food and water weren't necessary, and sleep was impossible. Hiding and avoiding those things that would harm us were our main priorities."
Inias nods, aware that he's still got his wings running over Castiel's form, has tendrils of Grace soothing his brother even as he examines his thoughts. "But things didn't remain that way?"
"No."
Dean Winchester, his face haggard and covered with dirt, knees drawn to his chest, resting against the wall of some cavern. Castiel crouches before him. The trench coat he used to wear is covered in unpleasant substances, the hospital uniform more brown than white now. "You leavin' me, Cas?"
"I won't be long. I just want to scout the area. We're getting close to where I opened the portal before. I need to see if there are any traces of it left." Inias can feel Castiel's own weariness, perhaps not as physically shown as Dean's, but present all the same. Angels are creatures of Heaven who can tolerate Earth. Hell, Purgatory, and all the others are more difficult to navigate.
Dean nods. "Go 'head, Cas. I'll be fine." He yawns. "Sure wish that I could get some sleep, though."
"I know." Castiel stands up, looks at Dean for a moment longer. "If there are any dangers, just go further into the caves. I'll find you."
Dean waves him off. "Relax. I'm a big boy; I think I can handle being left alone for a little while."
Castiel nods and leaves. Inias has a sense of searching, looking for a way out that isn't actually there, but these memories are faint and hazy. Unimportant to the story that Castiel is telling him. "If Purgatory were different," Castiel says, shifting and sitting up a little straighter, although Inias doesn't think that the intense pain he's going through has lessened, "if I had been able to actually access my abilities, everything would have changed. He could have called me; I could have come and been there for him, fought them off before they hurt him too badly… but of course, I suppose that's a very, unfortunately human way of looking at things. Seeing what could have been just as vividly as what was."
Inias nods. He doesn't much understand that; angels are to focus on that which is, not to speculate about how Fate's paths could have gone. But of course, as Castiel has said several times before, perhaps he can no longer call himself an angel.
The moment he sets foot in the cave, he knows that something is wrong. The scent of sulfur fills his nose, and there are shadows falling where there were none before. And, most tellingly, Dean is no longer there - but he can hear screams of pain coming from a distance. Dean.
The demons attack him before he can get too far, leaping out of the shadows with their claws extended. Castiel snarls, strikes out at them. A sword appears in his hand, an angel's blade. It doesn't surprise Inias that he carried it with him; Castiel, when he was captain of the garrison, was always very strict about caring for his weapons. "What have you done with Dean Winchester?"
They laugh, and one says, "Us? We haven’t touched that pretty face. What our boss is doing…can't speak for that, but I bet that it'd be a hell of a lot of fun to watch."
"That human piece of shit killed me," another snarls. "Whatever Alistair is doing to him right now, it isn't enough."
Inias feels Castiel's dread at the name. It isn't one that holds any meaning beyond the facts for him - he knows that he was in charge of torturing in Hell, that Castiel captured him at one point, and that Sam Winchester killed him - but clearly, that isn't the case for Cas.
He doesn't speak again. Instead, he launches to the second one and sinks his knife into its chest, drags it down. Demon blood, dark as the Leviathan's poison, spills out, and it howls in pain. The others throw themselves at Castiel. They go for his wings and try to rip his Grace, but he doesn't go down.
Inias can't tell how long the fight lasts, doesn't think that Castiel knows either. A murmured, "There was no time there, not like you think of it," confirms this idea. In any case, it's the aftermath that matters, not the details.
One wing is torn almost completely off, and his left hand has been mangled. A rib is crushed, and several others are bruised. None of this matters to Castiel as he strides down into the cavern. The demons lie in bleeding piles behind him, how they will remain for all eternity. There is no death in Purgatory.
Several other demons rush out at Castiel. Some of them injure him. All are left in shredded, pathetically useless sacks of flesh and bone.
It seems to Inias and Castiel alike that the walk takes too long. The screams grow louder as he gets further on. Sometimes they form into words, pleas to please, please stop, and Castiel? Castiel, help, oh, god, please-
The scene that greets Castiel makes rage crackle around him in an almost palpable presence. Dean lies on the ground completely naked, his clothes shredded and strewn out beside him. His fingers are misshapen, like they're been broken at each of the joints, and the soles of his feet look flayed. Blood and some other substance stain his thighs from unseen wounds, but Castiel is very, very aware of their source.
None of that, though, compares to the state of his chest. His rib cage and chest cavity have been pried open; several of the ribs have been broken off entirely, tossed aside like gnawed-on chicken bones. The muscle is bleeding, sliced through. The labored rise and fall of his lungs is visible beneath.
His torturer looms above him, laughing. A bloody razor dangles from one of his hands, and bits of flesh and muscle are dripping from his fingers. He turns to look at Castiel and grins, every one of his impossibly sharp teeth visible. Distantly, Inias notes that they match up to some of the wounds on Dean Winchester's arms and shoulders. "Like what you see, little angel? Want a turn?"
This part of Castiel's memory is pure, flaming fury. He launches himself at Alistair, uncaring about what damage might be brought to him. There's blood spilled on both sides, harsh metallic clanks as the razor is scratched against the sword, and Dean just keeps on screaming from behind.
The laughing stops sometime after the demon's head has been torn from his neck.
"Dean." Castiel drops to his knees, worse for the wear, but still alive. Still in better shape than Dean. " Dean!"
"Cas?" Dean raises his head as much as he can-which isn't much, not at all. He falls back, coughs, and cries out at the pain that brings. "Oh, God. Please let me die."
"I'm sorry, Dean." His hands pass over his open chest, briefly trace the lines of his ribs. His own fingers touch Dean's broken ones, withdraw quickly when even the light touch elicits a yell from him. "I can't heal here; my powers don't work. I'm so sorry."
"Then why aren't I dead yet?" His body spasms, and when he falls back, he lets out a low sob. "No. No, Cas, don't tell me that this is how I'm gonna stay; it can't - that doesn't work-"
There is no death in Purgatory, Inias thinks again.
Castiel murmurs again that he is sorry before he gathers Dean up in his arms and stands. "We need to find a new safe place. There will be others who knew Alistair, and I expect they'll want to collect him." He casts a withering glance to the demon who lies in pieces behind him. Not dead, though. Of course not.
*
"That's all you need to see," Castiel says, and then Inias finds himself out of his brother's memories, separated once again. "The rest…I stayed with him. There was no time there, as I said before, so I can't say for how long it was. But I don't think time means very much when you're holding your friend who, by all accounts, should have died long ago. Who's forced to endure pain that no one should have to go through, because you were too foolish to insist that he come with you. Too weak to hear his screams before it was too late."
"Castiel, it wasn't your fault." He ruffles his wings against Castiel but, to his surprise, his brother pushes him away. Apparently now that he's out of the memories, he's no longer willing to take in any comfort. "There was nothing you could have done; the laws of Purgatory prevented you from acting in any other way. You can't blame yourself."
"I could have brought him with me. I could have not left him there. I could have done a better job scouting around while I was flying. I could have taken more precautions to ensure that we weren't being followed. Of course there were other things I could have done." He lets out a ragged sigh. "It didn't end there. Sam Winchester brought us back, some sort of arrangement with Death - do you know about this?" Inias shakes his head, and he goes on. "Another passageway was created, and I went out, carrying Dean with me. He died as soon as we were back on Earth."
Inias starts to tell Castiel that he's so sorry, that there was nothing at all he could have done, but he doesn't have a chance. "I brought him back, of course. Healed his body, put his soul back in. His brother watched me the entire time. Panicking, of course; he'd been without his brother for so long, and he had expected me to take care of him, and I failed. I failed terribly and completely."
He draws in a ragged breath and then finishes, "I haven't seen them since I brought back Dean. I can't. Perhaps it's cowardly to be unable to go back and face the two people that I've wronged more than anyone, but until my shortcomings have been made up for - whenever that might be - I won't go back there. I can't."
Castiel falls silent, and Inias struggles to think of what is appropriate to say. All he can come up with is, "It wasn't your fault. I'm sure they understand that."
"I'm his guardian, and he is my ward. Of course it was my fault." He sighs, droops again in Inias's arms. He hadn't realized how tense Castiel had become. "I need to withdraw inwards for some time. To allow myself time to heal."
"Of course. I'll stand watch."
Castiel shakes his head. "No. If you're willing to do one last thing for me, Inias, then please bring me back to Earth. Anywhere isolated would be fine; I need to be alone. You have to understand, Heaven is no longer my home. I might be an angel, but I'm not of the Host anymore."
"Yes. I'll do that, of course. I hope you heal quickly and without pain, brother." He risks a touch to Castiel's wing, avoiding the scars where the poison crept in.
To his surprise, Castiel smiles at him. "Thank you, Inias. I appreciate that."
A moment later, his Grace curls at the edges, condenses in, and Castiel becomes unaware of the world around him. His vessel falls back against Inias, and he regards it thoughtfully. An idea is forming in the back of his mind, one that he thinks is very bad, and not at all what he ought to do- but perhaps it's what would be best for his brother? But oh, he would be furious. And Inias doesn’t know the Winchesters like Castiel does; perhaps they truly are as angry at him as he suspects.
Joshua's words come back to him then. Sometimes when it seems like we absolutely shouldn't interfere, it happens that we should.
This isn't his fight. But it's Castiel's, and Inias loves Castiel, would do absolutely anything for him. And maybe this is what he needs more than anything right now.
He stands, Castiel's body slung over his shoulder. "If this goes wrong, then please forgive me. I assure you, I'm only thinking in your interests."
And Inias flies to Earth, praying to his Father that right now is a time when he is supposed to be interfering.
*
The Winchesters burn brightly, not hard to track down at all. Inias is pleased to find that their room, located in a motel in Oklahoma, is without wards.
He silently sets down in the center of it. It's midnight, but both of them are awake, and he's unsurprised to have guns trained on him within a millisecond. "Sam. Dean. Don't be afraid."
"Who the fuck are you? Do we know you?" Dean asks, at the same time that his brother says, "Is that Castiel? Cas!"
"I don't mean any harm. My name is Inias, and yes, we've met before." He pauses, and it isn't long before recognition is dawning on their faces.
"You were with Hestor when she tried to kill Castiel? But you stood up for him." He nods at Sam's comment, and Sam continues, "But I thought you were dead. Cas said that everyone in his old garrison was."
"I was hiding. I lived."
"No shit." Dean still hasn't lowered his gun. "Want to tell us why you're toting around a comatose Cas?"
Inias is suddenly very nervous. Is his anger due to that he, a relative stranger, has just broken into their motel room? Or is it directed at Castiel, showing that he does blame him for what went on in Purgatory? "He was injured, and he asked me to…to bring him somewhere safe while he heals. Somewhere on Earth," he amends, unwilling to really lie. "I know of your friendship, and I thought that perhaps you would be willing to take him in? It shouldn't take long at all for him to heal." Truthfully he doesn't have a clue how long it'll take. "Please?"
Sam and Dean are looking at each other, some form of communication undecipherable to Inias going on. Finally, they break their gaze and Sam says, "Yeah, of course. Of course we'd be willing; he's our friend. You can just put him," and he nods at the bed that Inias is standing closest to.
He lays Castiel down very carefully. Straightening up, he regards Sam and Dean, and does his best to read their faces. Sam looks…hopeful, maybe? Glad to have Castiel back, he thinks (although his interaction with humans is very limited, and he really isn't very good at figuring out emotions). Dean's face is entirely blank. He keeps his feelings as close to him as Castiel does his Purgatory memories.
Inias steps away from Castiel, and nods at Sam and Dean. "Thank you."
They nod back and Sam replies, "Not a problem."
"Still. I… I appreciate this. Goodbye." He turns and flees, not knowing what else to say, and just hoping so very, very desperately that he made the right decision.