"things change. and friends leave. life doesn't stop for anybody." stephen chbosky
☁
"I'll give you two options, Castiel." the man, who dubbed himself Balor proposed.
Castiel was absolutely terrorized out of his mind. He didn't know what to do. He felt absolutely helpless and all he wanted to do was fly out of the situation. His shoulder was aching with pain, and bruises starting forming around his face where Balor had compressed his hands up against it. Dean had no idea. Sam had no idea. Charlie had no idea.
Were they even remotely worried that the almost-angel had been in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes? Castiel thought that they knew, but didn't care enough to save him. They were relieved that Castiel would finally die. Relieved from the weight on their shoulders that he gave them. They were relieved that they could go on hunts without worrying that he would burn the bunker down, or die and his blood would be on their hands. He thought that they wouldn't want that, so they let him die because of somebody else.
He couldn't die. Not right then. He had to be strong, he had to be courageous. He couldn't let some ignorant demon with poisonous eyes kill him. There were so many things about death that Castiel didn't understand, that he didn't want to understand. He didn't want to see what would happen certainly after he breathed his last. There was no way of knowing where he would go. He had tried reading books about it, but they were all in complex Enochian that only archangels could read. He had tried, but his little grace was far too weak. Even as a normal angel, he would be too weak. He had never asked Dean if he knew, because he didn't want him to go into lore and research it and work hard for no reason.
God, Cas wanted to save himself. To prove to the others that he was strong and not vulnerable, he wanted to be a Winchester. He wanted to be powerful like them, fighting off demons and using his powers to save the day.
"One, I can kill you right here in this bathroom, make it look like a suicide. All your precious Winchester friends will be the first to find you, your blood fucking staining the floor and your guts strewn out on the walls."
Castiel thought of all the memories he had with the Winchesters for the past month. First, being welcome into their bunker, their only home. Tasting the pleasantry of food, how fulfilling and delicious it was. The comforting, relaxing warmth of a real bed. Feeling what laughter was supposed to feel like, feeling what smiles were.
"Two, I'll bring you to Lucifer, and he'll torture you worse than any fallen angel had ever felt before."
The memories started to fade as bloodcurdling tears violently fell down his face. He didn't want to lose the memories. Feeling real, and not some flying angel who didn't know humanity. Every experience he felt up until this moment was pure and he loved every second of being real. The near-death experience that gave him rebirth. Rebirth as a human. Rebirth as a whole new person, a whole new entity. He was true, and he didn't want to lose it. He wanted to experience more of what being a human was like. He loved being a human. But his all-time favorite memory was being in love.
"So, what do you say, angel?"
Being in love with Dean.
"Two. Please, two." Castiel spattered out. He needed to take the chance. He knew Dean would find him and he knew Dean could save him, will save him.
"Brave choice, darling. No broken angel had chosen that." Balor's voice was so petrifying that it made Castiel's blood curl with fear mixed with anger.
His hands were shaking faster than his heart was beating. Castiel couldn't tell what rate his heartbeat was going, but judging by the fact he could feel it thumping out of his chest, he knew he couldn't breathe. His throat was jerked with tears, it brought a stinging numbness to the inside of his throat that ached. He knew this simple pain wouldn't even compare to the tyrannies he would be lashed with later. Everything about the situation would make anybody, everybody terrorized.
The feeling of being helpless, out of control. Where every single moment mattered, where every single moment was either life or death. Every breath he took, could be his last or could be no where near the last one. It was all chance, the circumstance. He didn't know what would happen, where it would happen. All he knew was who, and why.
Why? Because Castiel was an abomination. Fallen angels were considered to be pathetic, they had sinned, and couldn't go back to Heaven. Cas was practically banished from seeing anything remotely related to Heaven. His sins weren't overlooked, and instead of his grace they saw, they saw every single temptation he had. If angels were to look at him now, they would see lust for a man, Dean Winchester. And so, Castiel tried to prevent himself from seeing any angel, no matter who they were.
Who? Lucifer. Castiel's old, beloved brother. He couldn't fathom the thought that his once brother was now his adversary. Anytime other angels would talk about his fallen brother, he would ignore anything they had to say to him. The pain Lucifer caused to all the angels were unbearable, especially to Castiel. They were brothers, all of them technically were, though. But Lucifer was so close to him, and often times he would tell his younger brother how he planned to rebel against their Father. Castiel thought this wasn't true, because he knew it had never happened before. After Lucifer did, Castiel was awestruck with heartbreak.
Now, Lucifer was going to kill his own brother. All because he did the same thing that Lucifer did long ago. But it wasn't the same. Castiel couldn't control his humanism, because his grace had escaped from this body. As a human, he couldn't help but sin. That was just their nature. But, Castiel knew too much as a fallen angel, and Lucifer didn't want any broken angels to get in his way. So the only thing he could do, was torture him, let his mind be so empty, to the point where he would be practically braindead. After that, he wouldn't be able to tell anybody who he was or what he had witnessed, because his brain would be clear from any knowledge he had.
Memories, were only visions from the past. Memories were the timeless treasure of the heart, either being impractical or not at all. They were what kept people alive. With memories, you could laugh about inside jokes and recollect for tests. With memories, you could remember the feeling and touch of a first kiss, the innocence gone and white petals on the ground, withering. Castiel didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget the color of Dean's eyes, the radiance of his smile, the way his teeth stuck out when he tried to control his laughter. He didn't want to forget all the comforting things Dean had said to the almost-angel, the way his coarse, broad voice muttered alluring words.
Castiel had fallen, and it ached.
Fallen, as an angel. Losing his grace and becoming new and whole. He wasn't God's messenger anymore. All of that was left behind, left to be retrieved another day, another night. He didn't have a blood-lined family, all of them either forgot about him or abandoned him. The almost-angel's wings were shattered, the feathers were dry and chapped, the bones were decrepit and delicate, and overall, they were broken, gone.
He had also, fallen, as a human. Fallen for another man like him, the fall that hurt so badly his heart practically shattered. He had never felt remotely close to what that Winchester gave him. The feeling of being complete, like Castiel knew he had a purpose, to know he has another person who was made for him. His soulmate, they could say. Castiel could only imagine the positive outcome, rather than the negative. The positive, the Dean Winchester would tell Cas he loved him so jubilantly the same and they were perfect together. The negative, Dean Winchester would be painted with such disgust, that a goddamn broken angel was in love with a man, the vulgarity of the situation would bring the man intense detestation to him.
He could only imagine the positive. Immerse himself onto the greener side, to where the dismal clouds couldn't reach him anymore. They were gone, forever. The clouds would fade and all there would be is the euphoric sun that always came up in the morning.
But, with the circumstance Cas was in now, all he could focus on was the dead, dead grass.
☁
"Another round on me, guys!" Dean shouted in the air. Sam and Charlie projected their cheers as they shot their glass down on the wooden table.
"Hold on, hold on..." Sam hushed Dean, the crowd not listening to him but only the mentioned did. "We're missing something.."
They all three, were extremely, no, exorbitantly intoxicated. Alcohol reeked their clothing and that was all they were smelling. They had all forgotten. All forgotten that their almost-angel friend had been gone for half an hour. There was an empty seat, an empty voice, yet they still forgot. There was no fourth voice, no fourth laughter, yet they still had forgotten. The fear of being forgotten, was probably the most rational fear. Once forgotten, it is stripped away from memory until recollected again.
"Yeah, you're right," Dean responded, the taste of vodka dancing on his tongue and capturing his breath. He hummed to himself, thinking.
"Nachos!" the redhead exclaimed, her plaid-covered arms in the air.
Sam cheered to Charlie's response. Dean nodded as he called the waitress over, then he asked for the food. Dean rubbed his hands together and downed another shot at the table, he hiccuped and put his hand on his chest, chuckling. The rest smiled with him, their eyes dreary and blind, as they couldn't see the missing piece.
The oldest began to tell a joke, his teeth flashing his smile he was trying to keep in. He finished the joke and all three of them roared with laughter. Their hands on their bellies trying to keep in the upcoming aches that the laughing would give them. Charlie fanned her face and wiped a nervous tear from her eye. They all got closer that one night, as they never seemed to relax because they were all hunting. Hunting was tiring, to anybody, really.
The nachos came and they all started digging in, smiling at the cheesy goodness. They then decided to stop drinking, as they knew the pain in their heads would worsen with every ounce that next morning. The time seemed to have flown by as Dean checked his watch and it was an hour after midnight.
Forty five minutes, Castiel was now forgotten. The hard bellum that went through his head, that somebody would find him. Yet for a long time, nobody had seemed to have noticed. Not even the supposed love of his life. It was funny, really, how Castiel thought he would be found. Yet, through it all, he was unremembered.
"Fuck," the oldest muttered, running his fingers through his hair. The alcohol no longer consumed his body and no longer stained his eyes.
Dean stood up, shoving the chair beside him. Sam and Charlie looked up and asked what was wrong. It was almost as if time had stopped, people ceased to move. Jarring pain stabbed through Dean, as if a piece of him was ripped out of his body. Dean felt absolutely hopeless, as the realization came to him.
"Cas." he muttered, his voice so fragile and insubstantial. Dean felt like he couldn't move. He was gone, for almost a whole goddamn hour. Nowhere to be seen.
He ran to where Castiel was supposedly, shoving people out of his way as tears crept up in the crevices of his eyes. Then he burst through the men's bathroom, only to find it to be empty. Empty except for a familiar phone. Dean's heart was beating faster than it had in a long time. He was gone, nowhere, disappeared. He checked all the stalls, kicking them open only to be found empty. Empty like his mind at the moment that currently felt like it was being repeatedly.
Picking up the phone, he saw the screen was cracked and little dollops of blood had seeped between the cracks. He slipped the broken phone into his jacket pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. He had recognized it as Cas', since the lockscreen was familiar as Dean had helped him pick it out. Nowhere. He was nowhere.
Lucifer.
It had to have been Lucifer.
Dean knuckles started to bleed as he had punched the bathroom mirror, lashing his anger at the reflective glass. The shattered mirror resembled his heart, broken with a single blow, a single action. He couldn't believe his single actions had taken away the healing man he was supposed to protect. He was supposed to protect the man until he had became an angel.
He needed to take the chance to find him. Even if it cost everything. At the moment, Dean didn't care if it costed his life. The only life that matters was the angel's.
His angel's life.
halfway through the story! there'll be thirty chapters in this, (plus a sequel that I'm currently writing notes for)
also, DESTIEL ACTION IS HAPPENING REALLY SOON I SWEAR! Hint hint... in two chapters? teehee