On the Ground: Chapter 3
Title: On the Ground (Chapter 3)
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean, Sam, Castiel, etc.)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Word Count: 2,675
Date written: 17, 29 May, 18 July, 3 August 2009
Summary: On the ground, conditions are rough, everyone misses home, and they all feel the tides shifting, the approach of a great confrontation. Then Castiel is given a human charge. Nothing has ever been more confusing than Dean Winchester.
Other information: Story is cannon though Season 4. I’ve tried my best, but I still consider myself new to the Supernatural world. Please let me know if something is incorrect or doesn’t fit with cannon. I apologize in advance for mistakes. This was written just for fun, is completely fiction, and the characters and situations belong to Supernatural, the CW, et al. Written in American English. Thanks to moodwriterfor looking this over for me!
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 |
--
by AlchemyFreak@TDA
It is very terrifying.
And so, Castiel calls upon Anna. She is the only he can think of who might come close to understanding his situation. She is also the only angel Castiel thinks stands a chance of being safe for him to contact.
“Not this again,” Anna says when she realizes it’s Castiel who’s waiting for her.
“Please, Anna,” he requests.
She stands several paces off, her demeanor tightly controlled as she crosses her arms over her chest. They are alone in a small deserted cemetery. It is not a place without importance, but he is not sure if Anna knows that. The gross is overgrown all around them, yellowed with death, as if mirroring the condition of those now residing in the dirt below. One space, however, remains empty. The ground there sags, desolate and sunken, but disregarded and never noticed. Castiel saw it the moment he appeared on the grounds.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Anna says, and then with a knowing tone, “Anyway, it doesn’t sound like I should have to.”
“What do you mean?” Castiel asks, tearing his eyes from the slight indention in the ground and instead focusing on her.
“From the rumors going around, you’ve been calling your own shots.”
Castiel stares at her.
“You’ve left the fold,” she supplies. “Maybe you haven’t fallen from grace, but as far as the other Angels are concerned, you’re on their hit list now.”
“I know,” Castiel says. He knows what he has done, and there is no way to change it. To consider whether he would want to, given the chance, is impertinent. Though he is not bound by many natural laws which bind humans, he can not transcend time. There is only One who can.
“So, what am I here for?” Anna asks bluntly, no ounce of softness in her voice. It’s business.
“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel admits.
“I’m not giving you orders. I’m not, nor will I ever again be, your leader.”
Castiel watches her, wanting someone to understand him. Wanting to make her understand him. He believes she can, but she won’t try because he has injured her in the past. He needs some kind of guidance. His whole existence, it’s all he’s known. He understands clearly why the sheep need a shepherd.
“I’ve never felt all these things before,” Castiel says, trying another approach, “never planned my own battles, never-”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you,” Anna says softly, as if she’s actually sincere, “but I haven’t either.”
Castiel looks up at her quickly, hope threatening to shatter with her words.
“Not exactly, anyway.”
Castiel tilts his head to the side, puzzled.
“I fell from Grace,” she begins, “but you’re still an Angel. I made a choice and I was born human. I lived my life as a human, made my own choices, was taught to stand on my own two feet. I…I don’t know what it’s like to still be an Angel and to still… To not know… To feel…”
Castiel thinks Anna is, at last, being genuine with him. He is pleased, but still perplexed. She can’t help him. And if she can’t, by all of his calculations, it seems no one can.
“What is your plan, Castiel?” she asks, diverting his train of thought, as if on purpose.
“I don’t know.” He frowns, his thoughts shifting directions.
“Whose side are you on?” she questions.
“Side?” He has never thought much of sides. There was never a reason to. Never a question.
“There’s a war coming, Cas. It’s fairly simple. Either you’re with the Angels, or with the Demons, or on your own, caught between the two.”
“It’s not simple, Anna. There are more sides.” This he has already figured out. He’s not sure how many sides there are, but it’s nothing like the battles he normally fights. Good versus Evil. Angels versus Demons. God versus Lucifer. Those seem simple now.
“What do you mean?” Anna watches him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“God’s side,” he says, as if it should have been obvious.
“But the Angels-” She protests, as if the Angels are still fighting for the Father.
“We both know that the Angels are not on God’s side.” He looks at Anna and one glance is enough to confirm that she agrees.
“And there is Dean’s side.” He sees a softened look in her eyes, and continues. “And Sam’s. Or…Sam and Dean’s together. I’m… I’m not sure.”
He frowns as he continues to work out how Sam and Dean will play their parts in the coming war. He doesn’t want them to be on opposing sides, but he is not sure yet if it is wise to side with Sam. Sam remains a question mark, and Dean the exclamation point that won’t let him go.
“You’re not fighting alongside the Angels,” Anna declares.
“No.” Of course he isn’t. It is no longer a question at all.
“And you’re not cheering for the demons and Lucifer.”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Where does it leave you?”
“With Dean,” he answers immediately.
“Yes.” Her voice is soft. “With Dean.”
“Does it become…easier?” Castiel asks.
“Choosing? Deciding? Planning?” she asks.
“And feeling,” Castiel adds in a quiet voice. He can’t look at her right away, and instead examines the dead blades of grass where they stand. Finally his eyes rove upwards, cueing her response.
“Yes. For me it did.”
Yet Castiel knows, as Anna said, that she became a human, and they are created to choose and to feel. But an Angel was never intended for such purposes.
“I take my own orders now,” Castiel says, but it’s more to himself than to her.
It’s quiet for several minutes. His mind is working fast, drawing up a plan, diagrams, maps, and marching orders. He has never done this before, but he has battled enough to know how to begin. And there’s no other place to start than at the beginning.
“I have faith in you, Castiel,” Anna says quietly.
He looks up at her, considering her words, her meaning, her expression.
“If you need me…” she says, letting the sentence hang in the air, her gaze long and steady.
Castiel nods, understanding.
“Remember, Castiel, he was your charge. But he’s also just a man.”
Castiel’s eyebrows knit together in consternation. Anna gives him a small wave and disappears from sight.
..:..
It’s been five days since Castiel visited Dean. He’s been investigating, researching, planning.
Sam and Dean still have all of their guards up, but Castiel finds them just as he did the last time. As if Lucifer’s return isn’t enough to keep them occupied, the brothers have spent the last week defeating an angry spirit who had tormented a family for years. Castiel wonders why they do this to themselves. They must know it will never end.
They must know that Lucifer has to be their focus now.
But what can they do?
Castiel finds the brothers hidden in an abandoned country home. It had once been a beautiful plantation, but as the American society moved from the countryside to the city centers in the past decades, abandoned homes were left behind, decaying and falling apart.
This home leaks on the second floor when it rains. Sam and Dean are staying on the first floor. It’s large enough that each has three rooms to himself, rather than the single motel room they’ve often shared over the years.
Castiel has never had a roommate. He doesn’t know what it’s like to wake up with the same person every day for years. Or to go to sleep with the same person. Or even what it’s like to sleep.
Castiel rests. He doesn’t know if he has ever slept.
Dean is sleeping when Castiel materializes inside the house. Dean is alone in a large bedroom, sleeping on a mattress with no bed frame surrounding it. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, the kind of clothing Castiel often sees on him. He doesn’t think it’s normal to sleep in the clothes one wears during the day. Castiel stops and considers for a moment that he has not once changed the clothes that his vessel wears. They remain intact and untarnished.
Sam is on guard in another room. Castiel wasn’t around earlier to witness why the brothers decided to retire to opposite ends of the abandoned house. He watches them often, gaining any new morsel of information he can through observation. But he has been busy lately.
Castiel sits at the foot of the bed, gently letting himself down and feeling the mattress give under his weight. Dean stirs, though Castiel doesn’t believe he has done anything to rouse the man. He watches as a slow shift of Dean’s body turns to a sudden jerk; all at once Dean is sitting upright, staring with wide eyes at Castiel. Dean swears, blinks a few times and glares accusingly at Castiel between glances at his surroundings.
It must be confusing to wake up in so many different places, always changing one’s bed, and one’s home. Castiel thinks it’s probably difficult for a human.
Dean scrubs a hand over his face, still looking reproachfully at Castiel.
“Not that it ain’t good to see you, but you’ve gotta stop watching me sleep, man,” Dean says, his voice still carrying the edges of sleep in it.
Castiel’s brows lower. “I wasn’t watch-”
But Dean is already speaking over him, rolling his eyes. “So, tell me, what’s the news?” He yawns after he says the words and shifts so his legs swing over the opposite side of the bed from where Castiel sits.
“The enemy has a plan.”
Dean nods. “I kinda figured they would. They had one all along,” he says, his voice a mixture of bitterness and defeat.
“The Angels are waiting for Lucifer to strike, and then they’ll fight,” Castiel continues.
Dean swallows with visible effort and turns to face Castiel. He doesn’t have to speak for Castiel to understand Dean’s concerns.
Hoping to assuage his fear, Castiel goes on: “It can’t happen if you want your race to survive.”
Something snaps in Dean’s demeanor and he stands, his voice coming out cold and angry. “My race? Oh, right, just the stupid little human race, no concern to-”
He is building steam for an argument and Castiel cuts across him.
“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t my concern,” he argues, jumping up as well, his voice carrying a matching tone of aggravation. He is weary of running these circles with Dean. He doesn’t understand what it will take to prove himself to this man, and he’s even angrier that it seems he has to, in order to be trusted. It’s not the way of things.
Dean is standing a few feet away, eyes hard but mouth closed.
Castiel stares back and finds himself in a deadlock. There are many things he wants to say to Dean, challenges, threats, reminders of who it was that dragged his human body back onto his precious, God-forsaken planet. He wonders if Dean hears them, despite Castiel’s refusal to speak them.
At last Dean looks away, appearing to rein his temper in.
“The Earth will be destroyed if the Angels are given the chance to fight,” Castiel says.
“So Lucifer should be allowed to run free?” Dean asks skeptically.
“Lucifer needs to have that delusion,” Castiel corrects.
Dean nods and shifts on his feet, one hand going to the back of his neck while his eyes scan the room with an unseeing gaze. It is a look that Castiel recognizes as the expression Dean adopts when he is thinking and planning. He wonders if his face takes on a similar look when he plans.
“Why isn’t he coming after us?” Dean asks at length.
“He is expecting you to come to him.”
Dean responds with a puzzled look.
“Or rather, Sam,” Castiel clarifies himself. Dean still appears confused. “Sam set Lucifer free. When he rose from the depths, it was an unnatural shock to all of nature. Every being there was thrown, the building destroyed, and a great pit left behind in its place, so conspicuous that your news reporters have claimed something fell from the outer spaces.”
“Really?” Dean asks, mystified.
“You didn’t escape Lucifer. You were torn from him. And he expects, as those who brought him back to this world and gave him his freedom, that you are seeking him out, to be the leaders of his army.”
“Like hell we are!” Dean barks, looking affronted.
Castiel remains calm, despite the spike of energy Dean’s expulsion has set off.
“He believes Sam will find him.”
“Sam’s not going anywhere near that evil son-of-a-bitch!” Dean declares adamantly. There is a blaze in his eyes, one that might frighten lesser beings.
“On the contrary, he must go,” Castiel says calmly and immovably.
“What?!” Dean snaps, his tone low and deadly.
“Sam must go to Lucifer.”
“Have you lost your ever-loving mind?!” Dean protests, his incredulity leaping off him in waves so thick Castiel can nearly see them.
“If Lucifer discovers you are against him, neither of you stand a chance.” Dean begins to interrupt but Castiel pushes on. “You have an opportunity to win this war, for yourselves and for all of humankind, if you let Lucifer believe what he wants to believe.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Dean says at once, shaking his head.
Castiel stands quietly staring at him. Dean stares back with a much harsher gaze.
“What’s too dangerous?”
Dean gives a start, but Castiel does not. He is rarely surprised by human presence, so when Sam continues into the room and steps into his vision, Castiel merely turns to acknowledge him.
“It’s nothing,” Dean answers roughly, casting a brief glare at Castiel.
“It’s obviously something,” Sam argues, glancing between them.
“It’s not something we’re doing.” Dean’s words are half directed at Sam, half at Castiel.
“It’s safer than the alternative,” Castiel warns in a low voice.
“Will somebody please tell me what you’re talking about?” Sam asks in irritation.
Again Castiel goes through the things he’s discovered in the last five days. Most of his news came from listening in on conversations - orders passed down from Head Angels, or whispers between Demons, even a few human discussions about the phenomenon of the mysterious crater.
“You have to find another way,” Dean says when Castiel is finished.
Sam stares between them. The recent part he played in Lucifer’s rising has appeared to humble him. He is more willing to follow his brother again, but Castiel still senses an unhealthy amount of bitterness and anger within the younger Winchester. And there is still the matter of the visage underneath.
Castiel suppresses a shiver and forces himself to see only the outer human countenance.
“If Lucifer is expecting me to go to him, to lead his army,” Sam begins, looking between Dean and Castiel. “Well, then, we have to use that to our advantage, let him play into our own trap. We don’t have any other-”
“No,” Dean growls, glaring at Sam. “We’re not walking straight into his hands. It’s idiotic.”
The decision doesn’t get resolved. In the end, Sam informs Dean that it’s his turn to keep watch, terminating the discussion.
Castiel watches the brothers quietly for a few moments as Sam prepares for sleep and Dean slips his shoes on, tying them more forcefully than is necessary. He remembers what it was like to have someone covering his back. He feels exposed, naked, without someone there, without a garrison, or a partner. Angels who don’t battle don’t understand this feeling. And most combat Angels never have to feel it. It is disconcerting. He wonders if Dean suffers the same feeling when he and Sam are not together.
Castiel knows if it weren’t for Dean and Sam, he would not be able to do this. He could not stand, completely and utterly alone.
He hopes he will never have to.
Next: Chapter 4
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean, Sam, Castiel, etc.)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Word Count: 2,675
Date written: 17, 29 May, 18 July, 3 August 2009
Summary: On the ground, conditions are rough, everyone misses home, and they all feel the tides shifting, the approach of a great confrontation. Then Castiel is given a human charge. Nothing has ever been more confusing than Dean Winchester.
Other information: Story is cannon though Season 4. I’ve tried my best, but I still consider myself new to the Supernatural world. Please let me know if something is incorrect or doesn’t fit with cannon. I apologize in advance for mistakes. This was written just for fun, is completely fiction, and the characters and situations belong to Supernatural, the CW, et al. Written in American English. Thanks to moodwriterfor looking this over for me!
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 |
--
by AlchemyFreak@TDA
It is very terrifying.
And so, Castiel calls upon Anna. She is the only he can think of who might come close to understanding his situation. She is also the only angel Castiel thinks stands a chance of being safe for him to contact.
“Not this again,” Anna says when she realizes it’s Castiel who’s waiting for her.
“Please, Anna,” he requests.
She stands several paces off, her demeanor tightly controlled as she crosses her arms over her chest. They are alone in a small deserted cemetery. It is not a place without importance, but he is not sure if Anna knows that. The gross is overgrown all around them, yellowed with death, as if mirroring the condition of those now residing in the dirt below. One space, however, remains empty. The ground there sags, desolate and sunken, but disregarded and never noticed. Castiel saw it the moment he appeared on the grounds.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Anna says, and then with a knowing tone, “Anyway, it doesn’t sound like I should have to.”
“What do you mean?” Castiel asks, tearing his eyes from the slight indention in the ground and instead focusing on her.
“From the rumors going around, you’ve been calling your own shots.”
Castiel stares at her.
“You’ve left the fold,” she supplies. “Maybe you haven’t fallen from grace, but as far as the other Angels are concerned, you’re on their hit list now.”
“I know,” Castiel says. He knows what he has done, and there is no way to change it. To consider whether he would want to, given the chance, is impertinent. Though he is not bound by many natural laws which bind humans, he can not transcend time. There is only One who can.
“So, what am I here for?” Anna asks bluntly, no ounce of softness in her voice. It’s business.
“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel admits.
“I’m not giving you orders. I’m not, nor will I ever again be, your leader.”
Castiel watches her, wanting someone to understand him. Wanting to make her understand him. He believes she can, but she won’t try because he has injured her in the past. He needs some kind of guidance. His whole existence, it’s all he’s known. He understands clearly why the sheep need a shepherd.
“I’ve never felt all these things before,” Castiel says, trying another approach, “never planned my own battles, never-”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you,” Anna says softly, as if she’s actually sincere, “but I haven’t either.”
Castiel looks up at her quickly, hope threatening to shatter with her words.
“Not exactly, anyway.”
Castiel tilts his head to the side, puzzled.
“I fell from Grace,” she begins, “but you’re still an Angel. I made a choice and I was born human. I lived my life as a human, made my own choices, was taught to stand on my own two feet. I…I don’t know what it’s like to still be an Angel and to still… To not know… To feel…”
Castiel thinks Anna is, at last, being genuine with him. He is pleased, but still perplexed. She can’t help him. And if she can’t, by all of his calculations, it seems no one can.
“What is your plan, Castiel?” she asks, diverting his train of thought, as if on purpose.
“I don’t know.” He frowns, his thoughts shifting directions.
“Whose side are you on?” she questions.
“Side?” He has never thought much of sides. There was never a reason to. Never a question.
“There’s a war coming, Cas. It’s fairly simple. Either you’re with the Angels, or with the Demons, or on your own, caught between the two.”
“It’s not simple, Anna. There are more sides.” This he has already figured out. He’s not sure how many sides there are, but it’s nothing like the battles he normally fights. Good versus Evil. Angels versus Demons. God versus Lucifer. Those seem simple now.
“What do you mean?” Anna watches him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“God’s side,” he says, as if it should have been obvious.
“But the Angels-” She protests, as if the Angels are still fighting for the Father.
“We both know that the Angels are not on God’s side.” He looks at Anna and one glance is enough to confirm that she agrees.
“And there is Dean’s side.” He sees a softened look in her eyes, and continues. “And Sam’s. Or…Sam and Dean’s together. I’m… I’m not sure.”
He frowns as he continues to work out how Sam and Dean will play their parts in the coming war. He doesn’t want them to be on opposing sides, but he is not sure yet if it is wise to side with Sam. Sam remains a question mark, and Dean the exclamation point that won’t let him go.
“You’re not fighting alongside the Angels,” Anna declares.
“No.” Of course he isn’t. It is no longer a question at all.
“And you’re not cheering for the demons and Lucifer.”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Where does it leave you?”
“With Dean,” he answers immediately.
“Yes.” Her voice is soft. “With Dean.”
“Does it become…easier?” Castiel asks.
“Choosing? Deciding? Planning?” she asks.
“And feeling,” Castiel adds in a quiet voice. He can’t look at her right away, and instead examines the dead blades of grass where they stand. Finally his eyes rove upwards, cueing her response.
“Yes. For me it did.”
Yet Castiel knows, as Anna said, that she became a human, and they are created to choose and to feel. But an Angel was never intended for such purposes.
“I take my own orders now,” Castiel says, but it’s more to himself than to her.
It’s quiet for several minutes. His mind is working fast, drawing up a plan, diagrams, maps, and marching orders. He has never done this before, but he has battled enough to know how to begin. And there’s no other place to start than at the beginning.
“I have faith in you, Castiel,” Anna says quietly.
He looks up at her, considering her words, her meaning, her expression.
“If you need me…” she says, letting the sentence hang in the air, her gaze long and steady.
Castiel nods, understanding.
“Remember, Castiel, he was your charge. But he’s also just a man.”
Castiel’s eyebrows knit together in consternation. Anna gives him a small wave and disappears from sight.
..:..
It’s been five days since Castiel visited Dean. He’s been investigating, researching, planning.
Sam and Dean still have all of their guards up, but Castiel finds them just as he did the last time. As if Lucifer’s return isn’t enough to keep them occupied, the brothers have spent the last week defeating an angry spirit who had tormented a family for years. Castiel wonders why they do this to themselves. They must know it will never end.
They must know that Lucifer has to be their focus now.
But what can they do?
Castiel finds the brothers hidden in an abandoned country home. It had once been a beautiful plantation, but as the American society moved from the countryside to the city centers in the past decades, abandoned homes were left behind, decaying and falling apart.
This home leaks on the second floor when it rains. Sam and Dean are staying on the first floor. It’s large enough that each has three rooms to himself, rather than the single motel room they’ve often shared over the years.
Castiel has never had a roommate. He doesn’t know what it’s like to wake up with the same person every day for years. Or to go to sleep with the same person. Or even what it’s like to sleep.
Castiel rests. He doesn’t know if he has ever slept.
Dean is sleeping when Castiel materializes inside the house. Dean is alone in a large bedroom, sleeping on a mattress with no bed frame surrounding it. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, the kind of clothing Castiel often sees on him. He doesn’t think it’s normal to sleep in the clothes one wears during the day. Castiel stops and considers for a moment that he has not once changed the clothes that his vessel wears. They remain intact and untarnished.
Sam is on guard in another room. Castiel wasn’t around earlier to witness why the brothers decided to retire to opposite ends of the abandoned house. He watches them often, gaining any new morsel of information he can through observation. But he has been busy lately.
Castiel sits at the foot of the bed, gently letting himself down and feeling the mattress give under his weight. Dean stirs, though Castiel doesn’t believe he has done anything to rouse the man. He watches as a slow shift of Dean’s body turns to a sudden jerk; all at once Dean is sitting upright, staring with wide eyes at Castiel. Dean swears, blinks a few times and glares accusingly at Castiel between glances at his surroundings.
It must be confusing to wake up in so many different places, always changing one’s bed, and one’s home. Castiel thinks it’s probably difficult for a human.
Dean scrubs a hand over his face, still looking reproachfully at Castiel.
“Not that it ain’t good to see you, but you’ve gotta stop watching me sleep, man,” Dean says, his voice still carrying the edges of sleep in it.
Castiel’s brows lower. “I wasn’t watch-”
But Dean is already speaking over him, rolling his eyes. “So, tell me, what’s the news?” He yawns after he says the words and shifts so his legs swing over the opposite side of the bed from where Castiel sits.
“The enemy has a plan.”
Dean nods. “I kinda figured they would. They had one all along,” he says, his voice a mixture of bitterness and defeat.
“The Angels are waiting for Lucifer to strike, and then they’ll fight,” Castiel continues.
Dean swallows with visible effort and turns to face Castiel. He doesn’t have to speak for Castiel to understand Dean’s concerns.
Hoping to assuage his fear, Castiel goes on: “It can’t happen if you want your race to survive.”
Something snaps in Dean’s demeanor and he stands, his voice coming out cold and angry. “My race? Oh, right, just the stupid little human race, no concern to-”
He is building steam for an argument and Castiel cuts across him.
“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t my concern,” he argues, jumping up as well, his voice carrying a matching tone of aggravation. He is weary of running these circles with Dean. He doesn’t understand what it will take to prove himself to this man, and he’s even angrier that it seems he has to, in order to be trusted. It’s not the way of things.
Dean is standing a few feet away, eyes hard but mouth closed.
Castiel stares back and finds himself in a deadlock. There are many things he wants to say to Dean, challenges, threats, reminders of who it was that dragged his human body back onto his precious, God-forsaken planet. He wonders if Dean hears them, despite Castiel’s refusal to speak them.
At last Dean looks away, appearing to rein his temper in.
“The Earth will be destroyed if the Angels are given the chance to fight,” Castiel says.
“So Lucifer should be allowed to run free?” Dean asks skeptically.
“Lucifer needs to have that delusion,” Castiel corrects.
Dean nods and shifts on his feet, one hand going to the back of his neck while his eyes scan the room with an unseeing gaze. It is a look that Castiel recognizes as the expression Dean adopts when he is thinking and planning. He wonders if his face takes on a similar look when he plans.
“Why isn’t he coming after us?” Dean asks at length.
“He is expecting you to come to him.”
Dean responds with a puzzled look.
“Or rather, Sam,” Castiel clarifies himself. Dean still appears confused. “Sam set Lucifer free. When he rose from the depths, it was an unnatural shock to all of nature. Every being there was thrown, the building destroyed, and a great pit left behind in its place, so conspicuous that your news reporters have claimed something fell from the outer spaces.”
“Really?” Dean asks, mystified.
“You didn’t escape Lucifer. You were torn from him. And he expects, as those who brought him back to this world and gave him his freedom, that you are seeking him out, to be the leaders of his army.”
“Like hell we are!” Dean barks, looking affronted.
Castiel remains calm, despite the spike of energy Dean’s expulsion has set off.
“He believes Sam will find him.”
“Sam’s not going anywhere near that evil son-of-a-bitch!” Dean declares adamantly. There is a blaze in his eyes, one that might frighten lesser beings.
“On the contrary, he must go,” Castiel says calmly and immovably.
“What?!” Dean snaps, his tone low and deadly.
“Sam must go to Lucifer.”
“Have you lost your ever-loving mind?!” Dean protests, his incredulity leaping off him in waves so thick Castiel can nearly see them.
“If Lucifer discovers you are against him, neither of you stand a chance.” Dean begins to interrupt but Castiel pushes on. “You have an opportunity to win this war, for yourselves and for all of humankind, if you let Lucifer believe what he wants to believe.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Dean says at once, shaking his head.
Castiel stands quietly staring at him. Dean stares back with a much harsher gaze.
“What’s too dangerous?”
Dean gives a start, but Castiel does not. He is rarely surprised by human presence, so when Sam continues into the room and steps into his vision, Castiel merely turns to acknowledge him.
“It’s nothing,” Dean answers roughly, casting a brief glare at Castiel.
“It’s obviously something,” Sam argues, glancing between them.
“It’s not something we’re doing.” Dean’s words are half directed at Sam, half at Castiel.
“It’s safer than the alternative,” Castiel warns in a low voice.
“Will somebody please tell me what you’re talking about?” Sam asks in irritation.
Again Castiel goes through the things he’s discovered in the last five days. Most of his news came from listening in on conversations - orders passed down from Head Angels, or whispers between Demons, even a few human discussions about the phenomenon of the mysterious crater.
“You have to find another way,” Dean says when Castiel is finished.
Sam stares between them. The recent part he played in Lucifer’s rising has appeared to humble him. He is more willing to follow his brother again, but Castiel still senses an unhealthy amount of bitterness and anger within the younger Winchester. And there is still the matter of the visage underneath.
Castiel suppresses a shiver and forces himself to see only the outer human countenance.
“If Lucifer is expecting me to go to him, to lead his army,” Sam begins, looking between Dean and Castiel. “Well, then, we have to use that to our advantage, let him play into our own trap. We don’t have any other-”
“No,” Dean growls, glaring at Sam. “We’re not walking straight into his hands. It’s idiotic.”
The decision doesn’t get resolved. In the end, Sam informs Dean that it’s his turn to keep watch, terminating the discussion.
Castiel watches the brothers quietly for a few moments as Sam prepares for sleep and Dean slips his shoes on, tying them more forcefully than is necessary. He remembers what it was like to have someone covering his back. He feels exposed, naked, without someone there, without a garrison, or a partner. Angels who don’t battle don’t understand this feeling. And most combat Angels never have to feel it. It is disconcerting. He wonders if Dean suffers the same feeling when he and Sam are not together.
Castiel knows if it weren’t for Dean and Sam, he would not be able to do this. He could not stand, completely and utterly alone.
He hopes he will never have to.
Next: Chapter 4