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Castiel wiped the demon blood off of his blade. This demon was nothing more than a grunt and knew next to nothing of the angel tablet, only that Crowley was after it. Old news. Another dead end.
“Cas, you got your ears on?”
Castiel heard Dean’s voice, for the first time in what felt like forever. He sounded tired, worn out, but his voice was one of Castiel’s favorite sounds regardless. It was a comforting sound, usually, but this time it felt sad too.
“Listen,” Dean said, “you know I am not one for praying, ‘cause in my book it’s… it’s the same as begging.”
Castiel was no longer sure of his own thoughts on prayers. Before he met Winchesters, he had seen prayer as a sign of faith, a sentiment he even expressed to Dean when he first rebelled. At that point, though, Castiel had never prayed before. He was always on the receiving end. Now he knew what it was like to have a prayer unanswered.
“But this is about Sam. So I need you to hear me.”
Castiel noted Dean’s urgency. This wouldn’t be a social call, it never is. But it made sense. After several months of not hearing from him, Dean would break the silence for his brother. Castiel knew he shouldn’t be disappointed by this, but that didn’t change his feelings.
“We are going into this deal blind… and I don’t know what’s ahead, or what it’s going to bring for Sam.”
Castiel understood what Dean meant—the trials to close the Gates of Hell. Though neither brother had told him about the trials directly, a human completing a trial of God is not an act that goes unnoticed by Angels. And it does not go well for the one completing them, either. Dean was right to be concerned.
“Now, he’s covering pretty good,” Dean continued, “but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me.” Castiel felt the heaviness of those words as his own. As long as he had known the man, Dean had always put his brother before himself, and would do so to the point of self destruction. Sam, of course, was the same way, and the two had laid down their lives for each other again and again. But Dean always felt that he deserved all the crap he put himself through, and Castiel had never figured out how to show him how wrong he was.
“So, for all that we’ve been through, I’m asking you… you keep a look out for my little brother, okay?”
Castiel had no response. There was nothing he could do for Sam, nothing anyone could do. Maybe God himself could save Sam, but he wouldn’t. The fallen angel had come to understand that much about his absent father.
Castiel felt Dean searching for him to appear.
”Where the hell are you, man?” Dean asked.
But something stopped Castiel from going to him, and he wasn’t sure what.
Typically, prayers ended when the person praying stopped speaking and let go. But this time was different. Castiel was used to picking up subliminal prayers in the form of thoughts or focused feelings, sharp and acute. The rest of this prayer did not feel anything like that. Maybe Dean was still trying to communicate, or maybe it was because of their bond, or a little bit of both.
Dean’s frustration and disappointment washed over all of Castiel’s feelings. It stayed with Castiel until he felt he would suffocate in it, and then it turned to loneliness and longing. Dean Winchester, after every way that Castiel had let him down, still wanted him back. ‘I’d rather have you, cursed or not,’ Dean once said to him. And what had Castiel done about that? He left Dean. Multiple times, now. Castiel vowed that when this was all over, he would not abandon Dean. Not again.
Dean’s thoughts shifted to family. He picked up a photograph of himself with his mother taken shortly before she had passed. Dean was only four years old then. He missed her warmth. Castiel heard Mary’s voice in his head, singing “Hey Jude” by The Beatles, as she often did when putting Dean to sleep. ‘Angels are watching over you,’ she would say. Castiel felt that, somehow, he was letting her down too.
Home. Castiel hadn’t realized how much ‘home’ was a feeling and not just a place. The Winchesters had discovered an old bunker previously used by the Men of Letters and had been using it as their base of operations, and shortly it became their default resting place between jobs. But Dean was starting to see the place as more than just a roof over their heads with millions of resources for his brother to geek over. He saw it as a place of safety, not just safety from all the monsters and threats that they fought every day, but safety to do things that for most of his life he had considered a luxury. He could relax, enjoy small pleasures, and even have a room to call his own, and he wanted that to continue. He saw a home for himself in that bunker. And somehow, he wanted Cas there with him.
Castiel felt Dean’s thoughts circling back to him. More anger and hurt, but confusion too. There was something off about Cas, since Purgatory, but he couldn’t tell what. Dean mulled over his memories, seeing Cas about to do one thing but suddenly changing his mind out of nowhere. And then there was what happened with the angel Alphie (Dean knew his name was Samandriel, never used it though). Dean saw the broken body of a once almost cute angel, and it was broken by Cas. Who said it was self defense, and it’s not like Dean had never killed in self-defense, but it still felt… wrong. What had Alphie done to deserve that?
“What have I done?” Castiel worried aloud.
Underneath all the pain and confusion, Dean missed Castiel. His awkward dorky angel best friend who rebelled against the largest forces he could conceive of to help him, at a time they barely knew each other. An angel who had died for him multiple times, and even fought against the Apocalypse as he lost all his power. Even when he made the wrong choices, Dean knew Cas always was trying to do right by humanity, and do right by Dean. He missed the references and sarcasm that Cas would fail to understand, and the strange little head tilt he did in confusion like a puzzled German Shepherd. And he missed Cas’s smile: it was soft, gentle, sometimes a little goofy, and something he hadn’t seen nearly enough.
Dean wanted that back. He just wished he could trust Cas again.
“That… this— this isn’t me.” Castiel said. Dean Winchester was right. Something was wrong, and has been since he made it out of Purgatory. Castiel did not trust himself either.
He sheathed his blade, and formulated a plan. Or, what passed for a plan with the Winchesters. He would go to Dean, tell him something is compromising him and that he did not know what. The brothers could keep him under watch and restrain him in the bunker so he couldn’t do anything like killing an innocent brother. The rest, they would figure out together. That thought made Castiel happy.
But he didn’t end up in the bunker. Instead, he was in a clean, overly bright room, and he was restrained to a chair. An angel dressed in a gray pantsuit with her hair pinned up smiled at him.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Castiel demanded. Then the memories flooded back.
“You don’t remember me?” She taunted.
Torture.
Secrecy.
“My name is Naomi. I’m here to help.”
Manipulation.
Lies.
“What have you done to me?!?” Castiel fought against the restraints, but to no use. This entire time, he had been made a puppet and a fool. Yet again.
“All I have done is help steer you in the right direction, every now and then.” Naomi sighed. “But it seems like you’re still being compromised. Those humans that you spend so much time with, I will never understand.”
“Those humans—”
“Are getting in your way. I can’t have you running off to your pet now, can I.” Naomi smiled, or possibly smirked. “Or is it the other way around?”
“If you lay a finger on Dean Winchester I swear—”
“You’ll what? Kill me? No. In fact, I won’t lay a hand on him.”
Castiel stared, puzzled. He could never tell what Naomi really wanted. Maybe the life of a single human was too small for her to be concerned with. But then Naomi finished her sentence.
“You will.”
The idea would have been laughable, if he had no memory of their previous encounters. He did not have all his memories, and probably never would, but he had enough to know that Naomi could very well get her wish.
“I’d rather die!”
That much was easy for Castiel to say, especially since it has happened before. Granted, both times were also to stop the Apocalypse, but even that still came down to Dean Winchester. Without him, Castiel would have fought to start the Apocalypse in the Glory of the Lord. He wasn’t that angel anymore, because of Dean.
”Maybe you’re not ready yet,” Naomi taunted.
“NO—” Castiel tried to reach for Dean in his thoughts, get a message out, warn him somehow, anything. But by this point, that connection had been severed. Castiel hadn’t even realized.
“But you will be. Don’t worry, Castiel, we’ll fix all that.”
Naomi smiled.
Never had a smile filled Castiel with so much dread.