When A Good Man Goes To War
Summery: Castiel saved Dean from Hell, becomming his Guardian Angel. In return Dean taught Castiel about friendship, love and freedom. But did he teach him enough?
Rating: M
~ 2.800 words
Friendship dies and true love lies
Night will fall and the dark will rise
When a good man goes to war
Chapter Three: Personal Space
"Death wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't anything. Raphael shredded me into nothing and then I was nothing. There was no calm, no peace, no happy feeling. I'm an Angel, and Angels are made from light. When you blow out that light, it's over. It's really that simple.
But for some reason it wasn't that simple after all, because I suddenly found myself alive again, put back together.
And after that nothing was simple. Now I suddenly found that I had desicions to make, hard and important decisions, and no one to go to for Revelations. The first decision wasn't hard though. I had to save The Winchesters, I had to save you and Sam, and it was the easyest kind of decision to make. I've made it so many times since then, and once I broke ranks, once I gave up everything and died for you that first time, it was never a hard dicision to make again.
But that is about the only thing for me in this new way of being that is easy. I have rebelled and now I face exile, alone and cut off from Heaven, from peace. It's painful and confusing, even with my… limited connection to feelings. So of cause I am not going to make it easy for you either. I put all my trust in you and I want you to prove yourself worthy of that trust. Is that too much to ask?
Of cause you aren't God, or even an Angel. But mankind at it's strongest can be such a brave and noble creature. And you are, after all, The Righteous Man. I don't know anyone in creation stronger than you. "
Castiel holds his breath as Dean stirs, almost awake now. The sun is rising and for some reason Dean forgot to close the blinds and the pale morning sun will reach his face soon. Castiel thinks absently that perhaps it used to be Sam's job to close the curtains. Dean is so lost without Sam, and he doesn't even recognize it. He's trying, trying so hard.
Castiel wants to talk to Dean now, to gently wake him up and ask for his help, but Dean has a hunt to finish today, and Castiel has promised himself and Dean, although the latter doesn't know it, that he'll wait until Dean is finished with his own job, before asking for his help.
That day he follows Dean around; for the first time in a long time Castiel has nothing better to do, knowing exactly what his next step is, but unable to get there without Dean's help. And he enjoys this, being able to study Dean and guess at what he'll do next. It almost becomes a game for Castiel. Until, at last, Dean is finished with the job, miraculously escaping a set of vampire teeth and amazingly ending drenched in someone else's blood only, and if Castiel helped a little, well, he's not going to tell.
He finds Dean back at the motel room, while he is washing his jacket clean of blood and Dean jumps as Castiel makes himself visible. Castiel had gotten too used to being this close to Dean that he didn't even think to move away before appearing.
"Cas. We've talked about this. Personal space." Dean explains this as if the words should mean something to Castiel, but they don't. Castiel has never understood how far is far enough, and he doesn't understand why there has to be this distance to begin with. And it's even harder with Dean, because he's usually so close to Dean when watching him while invisible, it seems silly to force the distance to increase just because he's visible.
And what does it even matter that Castiel takes that small step backwards, when three times in the next forty-two hours, Dean will break that distance anyway?
The first time it is unexpected. Mostly because he thought Dean was mad at him. He upset the girl, and he hadn't meant to. But she was sad, so sad that Castiel almost became sad just looking at her soul, and sadness turned out to be an unbearable feeling, one that Castiel hadn't learned to deal with, in fact he could barely recognize it when he felt it now. And then he just wanted to sooth her, but she got upset, became a shrieking harpy in a short second.
Luckily Dean came and helped Castiel out and away, and even though Dean seemed upset he changed and laughed and then he wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulder, breaking that distance that seemed so important to him just hours ago. And with Dean's short embrace a new emotion was sparked; happiness. This feeling Castiel came to connect with Dean and only Dean. Later he was taught relief, contentment and delight. But pure, simple happiness was something Castiel would only ever feel in connection to Dean. He wondered what that said about him, about their bond.
Castiel hadn't thought about their bond often, before he died and came back. It was like his Grace, a living and everlasting influence, never changing. But they were, now, both of them changing in a way that frightened Castiel more than any demon, monster or ungodly creature could. More than Hell had. As his Grace slowly weakened, the Bond he shared with Dean, the one who made Castiel Dean's Guardian Angle to begin with, became stronger. And Castiel wasn't confused as to the reason. It was obvious, really. As his tires to heaven became weaker, his ties to earth became stronger.
It was easy enough to understand, but it wasn't easy for Castiel to accept. Everything he knew had changed. Suddenly all Castiel knew to be right in this world revolved around Dean. Dean was his anchor, his moral compass. If the Angel had doubts about his purpose he would look to the Righteous Man. It wasn't just because he had given up everything for Dean, and thought the human somehow owed him to weather it through, it was simple Angle survival 101. If Dean couldn't stay strong, Castiel had no one to follow. And that was why he kept pushing Dean, challenging him, all the while holding him to a standard that no human could possibly live up to. Of cause Dean would disappoint. But Castiel told himself that it was worth the price. And it was sometimes. Happiness turned out to be worth the pain and disappointment, and Dean was happiness.
After leaving the brothel they had parked the Impala at a rest stop and were sitting at the hoot of the car, sharing some manly ritual that Castiel didn't really understand the purpose of, but Dean used to share this with Sam, so Castiel just felt awed and lucky to get to play opposite Dean this one time. The sun had circled out of sight hours ago, and the twilight was fading to darkness, and even though Dean couldn't see very far into the dark he still insisted that they sit here, in the dusk, watching stars. Lucifer's stars. It wasn't quite accurate to call them that, they were God's stars after all, but Castiel had always thought of them as Lucifer's, because Lucifer had been the Morning Star, the Light Bearer and no one had loved the stars like he had.
At some point Dean had asked if he was ever going to be able to see Castiel's wings. Castiel thought it was a strange question, not understanding why Dean would want to. But then it occurred to Castiel that Dean was curious about a thing that seemed strange to him, like Dean's emotions had seemed to Castiel. Castiel knew that Angels before him had shown their wings to humans, not their true wings tied to their true form of cause, but an approximation, a sign of their wings, something a human eye could comprehend and perceive.
So he got off the car and moved away, a few feet, to make room. Castiel wasn't exactly sure what he could produce and had to ask Dean to close his eyes while he experimented. Castiel learned that he could make his wings appear as many things, but he chose something Dean would appreciate, something he would expect and understand, even if it wasn't exactly like his true wings.
When he allowed Dean to open his eyes, he was happy with the response he received. Dean's mouth fell open, slowly, as if the muscles holding his jaw up became tired. And Dean's eyes became wider, trying to take in the sight of the wings from tip to tip. All in all, Dean's reaction made Castiel happy about his choice. He had chosen birdwings, feathery and huge, and had tried to make them a dark blue, Dean's favourite colour. The downs were soft, softer even than eiderdown, and the flight feathers strong, almost metallic, both in feel and in looks, a faint shine to them, like polished steal. They connected to his back, their strong base sprouting from his shoulder blades, but even for all their corporal feel and a sense of authenticity, the wings still grew threw his clothes, as if the clothes were sown around the wings.
Of cause the wings wasn't really physical, no one but Dean would be able to see them or touch them, Castiel had made sure. It was an illusion in most ways, but real in the few ways that mattered. And one of the ways that did matter was when Dean slid off the hoot of the Impala, and slowly reached for Castiel's outstretched right wing, without even asking for permission. Not that Dean needed permission from Castiel to do anything, but it amused Castiel that Dean could get all upset about a bit of space and then reach out and touch Castiel's wings, in a way he would never just reach out and touch Castiel in any other part of his body.
And although Castiel's wings might not be real, Castiel sure felt Dean's touch as real enough, a stronger sensation in fact, as these wings were tied directly to his true form and the touch was not experienced through a vessel. Physical contact experienced through his vessel was dulled, and felt somehow delayed and unreal, but Dean's touch to his wings were sharp and intense and beyond anything Castiel had ever experienced. That pure happy feeling filled Castiel and made him almost dizzy.
It was so close to the feeling Castiel had felt the day Dean's broken soul clung to his true form, and it felt like home, in a way Heaven hadn't felt since Castiel returned from the war in Hell.
Looking back, this was the moment Castiel, Angel of the Lord, witness to creation, knew he wasn't just the Guardian Angel of The Righteous Man, he belonged to Dean. In a way no Angel should ever belong to anyone who wasn't God. But he did, there were no way around it. Heaven wasn't Castiel's home anymore. Dean was his home. His Grace knew it, but Castiel wasn't ready to accept it. His mind still believed that everything could be fixed if he could only find God, even if his Grace told him that Dean had replaced God the moment his soul merged with Castiel's Grace.
In the end, however, Dean seemed to realized what he was doing, seemed to find it inappropriate. And even though Castiel wanted to beg Dean to keep his hands on his wings, he held his mouth shut. Because he knew how Dean felt about so-called chick-flick moments, and this was definitely one, if Castiel had understood the concept right, and it wasn't a difficult concept to understand compared to creation and gravity and God.
When Dean's hands left Castiel, the Angel felt lonely, even if he didn't know what to call the feeling. But Dean didn't seem to notice Castiel's feelings, seemingly consumed in thoughts that Castiel had to struggle with himself not to read.
The next day was spent waiting for Rafael to return to his abandoned vessel, stored in a hospital. The short span of a day meant nothing to Castiel, but Dean was restless as always. The human would walk around the small room, fidget, sit down, stand up, drum on his thighs, go out for coffee, go out for food and bring back pie, fidget some more. It wasn't distracting to Castiel, who could easily focus on Dean's many movements and Rafael's empty vessel and at the same time let his senses and awareness stretch out to search the mind of the nurses walking past outside the room. But still Castiel would sometimes notice that too much of his attention had been directed towards Dean and he would shift it towards other things, just to keep the balance.
Rafael never showed at the hospital, but Castiel hadn't been expecting it. The Archangel might react to the taunt Castiel had made, but he wasn't a dog and he wouldn't be summoned like a rogue demon. He came in his own time, when he assumed Castiel would be surprised by his appearance. Only Castiel wasn't. Castiel used to be a powerless Angel fighting a war in Hell, when all he had was his quick thinking and his strategic mind. And it had served him then, like it served him this night.
If Castiel was a human it would have taken him an obscene amount of courage to stand in front of Rafael and demand answers the way he did this night. But courage was a human emotion and Castiel was an Angel, he had faith instead. This night however, Castiel's faith was broken. Rafael didn't lie, he didn't need to trick Castiel or deceit him. So when Rafael said that God was dead, Castiel had no reason not to believe him. And for a short moment Castiel gave up on God. It was the shortest moment between Castiel's Faith, the faith that had led the Angel through Hell, broke and Castiel's new emotions kicked in.
It was only because his weakened Grace had left him open to the vast variety of human emotions that Castiel was able to access this new set of feelings, the most human of them all, courage and hope. For the first time an Angel of the Lord had to resort to the human concept of courage.
As it turned out later, the destruction of hope was far more painful than the removal of faith. If Castiel had accepted that night that God had gone passive and wasn't going to interfere, Castiel could have saved himself the pain of losing hope when Joshua would later confirm Rafael's notion. Human emotions, as it turned out, were awful and unpleasant.
Well not all of them.
Reaching down into the murky pond of human emotions Castiel felt more connected to Dean than usual, the enigmatic nature of their bond strengthening. Perhaps because Dean was always ruled by his emotions; Castiel had found this concerning at best, but now, feeling the same emotions blur his perception and give him an invincible feeling that he couldn't place, Castiel felt, for the first time, compelled to add some of that spite that was so typical to the oldest of the Winchester brothers.
"Perhaps, but tonight you're my little bitch." He told Rafael. Castiel thought the words were something Dean could easily have said, and without turning his eyes to look at Dean, his consciousness could still interpret the look of awe in the face of his charge. At that moment Castiel was full of emotions, and they felt pretty damn good.
When they left the run-down farm house, left Rafael standing in a ring of holy fire, Dean's fingers gently, hesitantly, found Castiel's left wrist, stopping the Angel next to the Impala, because Castiel wasn't used to being touched, and he knew that personal space, however weirdly exaggerated the concept seemed to Castiel, mattered a great deal to Dean, and the breaking of that invisible bubble had to be significant.
"That was pretty bad ass, Cas." Dean said, something between a smile and a frown on his face. "You were pretty damn awesome in there!"
Castiel recognized the gesture of exchanging words of accomplishment and triumph, even if it was yet another concept that Angels had no use for. But he knew humans were fond of it, even if he hadn't found the concept commonly used between Dean and Sam. And Castiel knew that the gesture now, coming from Dean with Dean's fingers still softly wrapped around Castiel's wrist, had no equivalent amongst Angels. Neither did the warm and fluttering feeling that filled him from the toes to his ears, lingering and tingling where Dean's fingers were still connected to Castiel's borrowed skin.
Chapter two I Chapter four