Fic; The Human Condition
Title: The Human Condition
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, & small appearances from Sam and Dean.
Word Count: 1371
Summary: Castiel's thoughts during and after 9x03.
The demands of the body are plenty, the stress and strain a constant, just as hunger and thirst are abated the need to urinate arises once more. And the craving for warmth, sleep, food, safety. It tires him, all these pulls against himself, these demands his body makes, this scrabbling for life. The knowledge that he is alone; that he has done this wrong; how deserving he is of this after what he wrought.
He learns quickly of course, knows far more now than he did but three days earlier. Kindness is quite something. He appreciates every scrap he’s given, makes an effort to not take that which isn’t his; despite his bodily protests. But the strain does not lessen and the angels at his back do not yield. There is a realness of earth that does not exist in heaven, the cold cuts to a depth he didn’t know of. It sits in his bones long after he is warmed and hunger sits in his gut long after he is fed. The glimpses of time where his needs are satisfied seem brutally brief and temperamental.
He once chided those for their lack of faith and now laughs bitterly within himself as he is in turn chided for his own lack. He has a new appreciation for those who still believe. There is nothing left.
*
The tiny, seemingly inconsequential, cut on his arm pulls at him. It throbs incessantly. Makes itself known at every motion of the limb.
Yet another kind stranger happens upon him and he accepts her sandwich. It is a good sandwich and sates his hunger well. It soon begins to rain and he has no means for shelter in this place. But the kind stranger brings him in, Castiel wonders at her acceptance of such an imposition. These humans are truly awe-some.
He is uncertain what to do when she leans in to kiss him. Thinks on how this is wrong, to share such a precious gift, such an intimacy, with someone he has just met. He’s unsure whether she expects this from him, in exchange for her hospitality. If that was the case he would have to make his way in the rain, as unappetising as that would be. But then she kisses him and he senses that it is not. No, she is merely comforting him, engaging in an activity to provide them both with mutual pleasure. And it is extremely pleasurable.
He is so worn down, after the desperation and hopelessness, the isolation and running and fighting, and surviving. He needs this. After all there’s no faith left, there’s no one left, for such sins to matter. And if he’s going to have sex, it seems appropriate that it would be with someone so kind. Hence he leans into her and follows the instinctual path his body takes.
*
He cannot believe he was so naïve again. That he was distracted so easily. He feels betrayed, violated, even though it was his own fault. He doesn’t understand why he feels the way he does, like he has been soiled. This one precious thing he had, tainted. He is to die so quickly only knowing a small cornerstone of the human experience.
He asks why because it seems such a great cruelty. She did it because she wanted to.
The pain is vast and cloying, deaths hold ripping at his flesh. Then they are present. It is a surprise.
They came for him. He thinks if he is to die he will with this thought; with this moment; of having Sam and Dean here with him, fighting for him.
*
The relief is immeasurable.
Having food and shelter and hot water readily available is no small thing. He has great love for this place. It almost feels disloyal, how grateful he is for their amenities, rather than the boys themselves, but after days half-starved, struggling, he can’t help but luxuriate in the safety.
Of course his gratitude of being with Sam and Dean is immense and far beyond that of any sustenance they provide, but it still feels disloyal. Sam and Dean are his friends and he is their friend. He is no longer alone. He feels cared for, looked after, ready to learn more of what it is to be human at their sides. It feels like finally, finally, everything will be okay.
He is home.
*
“You can’t stay.”
Three words and everything shatters.
Castiel wonders how he could, yet again, be so foolish. Of course they don’t want him here; he is an unnecessary danger to them. Can he survive out there on his own again? Fears of being without them rise within him. His mind swirls with hurt, he is not their family; he needs to remember that. It was generous of them to come and find him at all. And he has outstayed his welcome. A childish part of him wants to beg Dean for whatever forgiveness is required, beg him to be allowed to stay. But no, it is for the best that he leaves. Dean holds an agonised expression on his face and Castiel speaks to quell any further painful explanation.
“It is alright, I understand.”
*
He moves in a haze towards his room, no, the room he has been allowed to stay in. And begins to pack the few possessions he has. He senses Dean hovering, wanting to follow but deciding to not. It is Sam who enters.
“Going somewhere?” Sam asks jovially with a hint of concern.
“I cannot stay here,” he answers.
“What, why?” Sam asks.
Castiel considers lying, telling Sam he decided it was unsafe for him to stay, but hiding his selfish desire to stay feels too deceitful,
“It is too dangerous for me to stay, Dean has said so and he is right.”
“What! That’s ridiculous! I’ll go and speak to him, you must have misunderstood!” Sam replies with alarm.
“Wait, don’t!” Cas pleads. Sam turns around and sits on the bed beside the bag he’s filling, hopes his voice holds the conviction he doesn’t feel, “I want to leave, I need to.”
Sam smiles warmly, a hand comfortingly placed on his shoulder, “it’s going to be okay Cas.”
He allowed the comfort for a few moments before replying, “I should be leaving.”
“Hey!” Sam says, “at least let us set you up with some credit cards first.”
Castiel turns towards Sam, that would be fraudulent, but who is he to denounce Sam and Dean’s way of life, them being the heroes they are. He, on the other hand, is undeserving of any such conveniences. However a few days were enough to take the shine off these ideals, and he could not imagine many weeks or months ahead of him without. So he replies imbuing the words with every bit of gratitude he feels at the offer.
“Thank you. I would like that.”
*
“New plan,” Dean declares, voice decisive and firm, “You stay in the bunker and Sam and I will go on a road trip, just for a few weeks until the heat dies down a little.”
“Why can’t he stay with us,” Sam argues loudly with outrage.
“I cannot take your home, you must stay here, I will leave,” he says.
“It’s just for a few weeks, and our home is your home,” Dean answers.
He revels in the warmth Dean’s sentiment brings even as he opens his mouth to refute it,
“The heat will not die down, if anything it will die up.”
“No arguing Cas, you’re staying, that’s final,” Dean says.
He nods reluctantly. Then realises Sam has been quiet after his initial protest and how unlike Sam it is to back down from an argument with his brother. He tilts his head and gives Dean a meaningful look; if Sam is possessed it is prudent whatever is inside him doesn't know of their knowledge of it.
Dean gulps, and unbelievably directs not-Sam’s attention to him. Cas looks at them in confusion as two fingers are pressed to his head to remove any memory of this revelation. One singular thought of the hand’s owner surfaces and dies before he has chance to voice it.
Lucifer.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, & small appearances from Sam and Dean.
Word Count: 1371
Summary: Castiel's thoughts during and after 9x03.
The demands of the body are plenty, the stress and strain a constant, just as hunger and thirst are abated the need to urinate arises once more. And the craving for warmth, sleep, food, safety. It tires him, all these pulls against himself, these demands his body makes, this scrabbling for life. The knowledge that he is alone; that he has done this wrong; how deserving he is of this after what he wrought.
He learns quickly of course, knows far more now than he did but three days earlier. Kindness is quite something. He appreciates every scrap he’s given, makes an effort to not take that which isn’t his; despite his bodily protests. But the strain does not lessen and the angels at his back do not yield. There is a realness of earth that does not exist in heaven, the cold cuts to a depth he didn’t know of. It sits in his bones long after he is warmed and hunger sits in his gut long after he is fed. The glimpses of time where his needs are satisfied seem brutally brief and temperamental.
He once chided those for their lack of faith and now laughs bitterly within himself as he is in turn chided for his own lack. He has a new appreciation for those who still believe. There is nothing left.
*
The tiny, seemingly inconsequential, cut on his arm pulls at him. It throbs incessantly. Makes itself known at every motion of the limb.
Yet another kind stranger happens upon him and he accepts her sandwich. It is a good sandwich and sates his hunger well. It soon begins to rain and he has no means for shelter in this place. But the kind stranger brings him in, Castiel wonders at her acceptance of such an imposition. These humans are truly awe-some.
He is uncertain what to do when she leans in to kiss him. Thinks on how this is wrong, to share such a precious gift, such an intimacy, with someone he has just met. He’s unsure whether she expects this from him, in exchange for her hospitality. If that was the case he would have to make his way in the rain, as unappetising as that would be. But then she kisses him and he senses that it is not. No, she is merely comforting him, engaging in an activity to provide them both with mutual pleasure. And it is extremely pleasurable.
He is so worn down, after the desperation and hopelessness, the isolation and running and fighting, and surviving. He needs this. After all there’s no faith left, there’s no one left, for such sins to matter. And if he’s going to have sex, it seems appropriate that it would be with someone so kind. Hence he leans into her and follows the instinctual path his body takes.
*
He cannot believe he was so naïve again. That he was distracted so easily. He feels betrayed, violated, even though it was his own fault. He doesn’t understand why he feels the way he does, like he has been soiled. This one precious thing he had, tainted. He is to die so quickly only knowing a small cornerstone of the human experience.
He asks why because it seems such a great cruelty. She did it because she wanted to.
The pain is vast and cloying, deaths hold ripping at his flesh. Then they are present. It is a surprise.
They came for him. He thinks if he is to die he will with this thought; with this moment; of having Sam and Dean here with him, fighting for him.
*
The relief is immeasurable.
Having food and shelter and hot water readily available is no small thing. He has great love for this place. It almost feels disloyal, how grateful he is for their amenities, rather than the boys themselves, but after days half-starved, struggling, he can’t help but luxuriate in the safety.
Of course his gratitude of being with Sam and Dean is immense and far beyond that of any sustenance they provide, but it still feels disloyal. Sam and Dean are his friends and he is their friend. He is no longer alone. He feels cared for, looked after, ready to learn more of what it is to be human at their sides. It feels like finally, finally, everything will be okay.
He is home.
*
“You can’t stay.”
Three words and everything shatters.
Castiel wonders how he could, yet again, be so foolish. Of course they don’t want him here; he is an unnecessary danger to them. Can he survive out there on his own again? Fears of being without them rise within him. His mind swirls with hurt, he is not their family; he needs to remember that. It was generous of them to come and find him at all. And he has outstayed his welcome. A childish part of him wants to beg Dean for whatever forgiveness is required, beg him to be allowed to stay. But no, it is for the best that he leaves. Dean holds an agonised expression on his face and Castiel speaks to quell any further painful explanation.
“It is alright, I understand.”
*
He moves in a haze towards his room, no, the room he has been allowed to stay in. And begins to pack the few possessions he has. He senses Dean hovering, wanting to follow but deciding to not. It is Sam who enters.
“Going somewhere?” Sam asks jovially with a hint of concern.
“I cannot stay here,” he answers.
“What, why?” Sam asks.
Castiel considers lying, telling Sam he decided it was unsafe for him to stay, but hiding his selfish desire to stay feels too deceitful,
“It is too dangerous for me to stay, Dean has said so and he is right.”
“What! That’s ridiculous! I’ll go and speak to him, you must have misunderstood!” Sam replies with alarm.
“Wait, don’t!” Cas pleads. Sam turns around and sits on the bed beside the bag he’s filling, hopes his voice holds the conviction he doesn’t feel, “I want to leave, I need to.”
Sam smiles warmly, a hand comfortingly placed on his shoulder, “it’s going to be okay Cas.”
He allowed the comfort for a few moments before replying, “I should be leaving.”
“Hey!” Sam says, “at least let us set you up with some credit cards first.”
Castiel turns towards Sam, that would be fraudulent, but who is he to denounce Sam and Dean’s way of life, them being the heroes they are. He, on the other hand, is undeserving of any such conveniences. However a few days were enough to take the shine off these ideals, and he could not imagine many weeks or months ahead of him without. So he replies imbuing the words with every bit of gratitude he feels at the offer.
“Thank you. I would like that.”
*
“New plan,” Dean declares, voice decisive and firm, “You stay in the bunker and Sam and I will go on a road trip, just for a few weeks until the heat dies down a little.”
“Why can’t he stay with us,” Sam argues loudly with outrage.
“I cannot take your home, you must stay here, I will leave,” he says.
“It’s just for a few weeks, and our home is your home,” Dean answers.
He revels in the warmth Dean’s sentiment brings even as he opens his mouth to refute it,
“The heat will not die down, if anything it will die up.”
“No arguing Cas, you’re staying, that’s final,” Dean says.
He nods reluctantly. Then realises Sam has been quiet after his initial protest and how unlike Sam it is to back down from an argument with his brother. He tilts his head and gives Dean a meaningful look; if Sam is possessed it is prudent whatever is inside him doesn't know of their knowledge of it.
Dean gulps, and unbelievably directs not-Sam’s attention to him. Cas looks at them in confusion as two fingers are pressed to his head to remove any memory of this revelation. One singular thought of the hand’s owner surfaces and dies before he has chance to voice it.
Lucifer.