SPN: Angels Would Fall
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairing: implied Dean/Castiel, can be ignored
Contains: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Sam doesn't know what good this is supposed to do. For feywood.
Note: Title is from this song. I wanted to pick a line of the song that didn't contain the word "angel", but none felt right, and this did.
"Dean, he's just going to be a baby now. He won't be the Castiel you know."
Dean doesn't even dignify that with an answer. He's trying to narrow down exactly where Castiel came down, pulling up birth records, looking for something that might be right. It's been eleven months since Castiel cut out his grace and fell, two months since Dean started this insane fruitless search, and Sam doesn't even know what Dean plans to do when he finds Castiel. And Sam would be complaining even more, telling him it's stupid, demanding they hunt, but -- he owes Dean something. And he owes Castiel, too, even though he doesn't know what the hell good this is going to do either of them.
"We're not going to find him, Dean," Sam says, softly.
Dean looks up, his eyes empty, aching, and Sam's heart contracts.
"Sorry," he says, and looks away.
---
They found Castiel's grace. They stopped in that town for months, had all their acquaintances searching, and Sam doesn't even know what good this is supposed to do, but Dean threw himself into it whole-hearted and, well. Sam owes him, like he said.
The words are difficult, his mouth almost too clumsy for them. This is maybe the best sign that they're really onto something this time, that this is really the language of angels and not some gobbledegook. Capturing the essence of an angel is about as hard as it sounds, but Dean was determined it could be done -- and Sam remembered Uriel carrying Anna's grace, so he knew Dean was right.
Dean holds Castiel's grace in his hands, now, light spilling out from them, and the look on his face takes Sam's breath away, makes him ache deep down inside -- hurts so much there are no metaphors that fit, because this is all his fault, it's got to be.
Dean wears Castiel's grace on a chain around his neck, but it doesn't seem to help or bless him at all. If anything, he's more sad.
---
It takes them three years to find the baby. Sam called it impossible but he never thought it'd be this long, really, but he's not even hopeful now. But something happens when Dean sees the kid, something flares to life in his eyes and then dies again, and the toddler looks up at him with such solemn bright-blue eyes that Sam knows.
"What are you going to do, Dean?" Sam asks, softly. "Are you going to give him back his grace?"
For a long moment, Dean doesn't answer, and the woman -- the baby's mother -- looks at them both in a kind of terrified incomprehension. Then Dean closes his eyes, bows his head, like he's praying, and then lifts it again, meets Sam's eyes. The pendant around his neck seems to glow more brightly than ever.
"No, Sam," he says, quietly. "We're going to protect him."
Main characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairing: implied Dean/Castiel, can be ignored
Contains: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Sam doesn't know what good this is supposed to do. For feywood.
Note: Title is from this song. I wanted to pick a line of the song that didn't contain the word "angel", but none felt right, and this did.
"Dean, he's just going to be a baby now. He won't be the Castiel you know."
Dean doesn't even dignify that with an answer. He's trying to narrow down exactly where Castiel came down, pulling up birth records, looking for something that might be right. It's been eleven months since Castiel cut out his grace and fell, two months since Dean started this insane fruitless search, and Sam doesn't even know what Dean plans to do when he finds Castiel. And Sam would be complaining even more, telling him it's stupid, demanding they hunt, but -- he owes Dean something. And he owes Castiel, too, even though he doesn't know what the hell good this is going to do either of them.
"We're not going to find him, Dean," Sam says, softly.
Dean looks up, his eyes empty, aching, and Sam's heart contracts.
"Sorry," he says, and looks away.
---
They found Castiel's grace. They stopped in that town for months, had all their acquaintances searching, and Sam doesn't even know what good this is supposed to do, but Dean threw himself into it whole-hearted and, well. Sam owes him, like he said.
The words are difficult, his mouth almost too clumsy for them. This is maybe the best sign that they're really onto something this time, that this is really the language of angels and not some gobbledegook. Capturing the essence of an angel is about as hard as it sounds, but Dean was determined it could be done -- and Sam remembered Uriel carrying Anna's grace, so he knew Dean was right.
Dean holds Castiel's grace in his hands, now, light spilling out from them, and the look on his face takes Sam's breath away, makes him ache deep down inside -- hurts so much there are no metaphors that fit, because this is all his fault, it's got to be.
Dean wears Castiel's grace on a chain around his neck, but it doesn't seem to help or bless him at all. If anything, he's more sad.
---
It takes them three years to find the baby. Sam called it impossible but he never thought it'd be this long, really, but he's not even hopeful now. But something happens when Dean sees the kid, something flares to life in his eyes and then dies again, and the toddler looks up at him with such solemn bright-blue eyes that Sam knows.
"What are you going to do, Dean?" Sam asks, softly. "Are you going to give him back his grace?"
For a long moment, Dean doesn't answer, and the woman -- the baby's mother -- looks at them both in a kind of terrified incomprehension. Then Dean closes his eyes, bows his head, like he's praying, and then lifts it again, meets Sam's eyes. The pendant around his neck seems to glow more brightly than ever.
"No, Sam," he says, quietly. "We're going to protect him."