#whathappenswheniambored

[turningoftheshadow]

This isn’t Heaven’s first war.  He was there for the first.  And the second.  And now there is another.  And he is…tired. Angels have existed time immaterial, have literally seen everything.  And yet it still surprises Castiel sometimes…how much free will has changed them all.

***

As Dean sits quietly at the dinner table staring into his whiskey glass, he can almost see Sam, his Sam, in the glass. Lisa and Ben have learned to just let him be when he gets like this.  It’s easier that way. Neither of them will ever understand anyway.  What he’s been through.  What he’s lost. He never tells them, but he’d rather be with Sam, in hell, than here at this table.  And so he takes another sip of his drink, hoping the burn keeps his tongue silent and wishing he could drown in his glass.

***

The new sheriff in town.  That was what Dean had called it. Maybe it feels that way at first.  Things are chaotic; trying to create order out of the shambles Zachariah left is proving more than difficult.  Michael is gone.  God knows where Raphael is.  And no one knows where God is.  Joshua speaks in riddles and references Castiel doesn’t understand.  And he talks to the plants, which makes no sense. Balthazar is missing, presumed dead. Uriel is dead. And Anna. Castiel is alone. The only sheriff in town.

***

Sam and Samuel are just coming off of a hunt in Bristol, RI, having killed an Arachne and her prey. Sam is bleeding, but easily gets into the vehicle anyways. Samuel asks him not to bleed out on the way out of town. Sam thinks he can manage it.  Hunting and its assorted issues have seemed easier since he came back. He has more focus, efficiency and speed. And he doesn’t sleep.  Although, he’s not sure why, sometimes he notices Samuel staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

***

Castiel is trying, but he was never meant for this. Administrative decisions. Unilateral decisions. Apparently things have started to go missing.  Apparently angels steal things now. From heaven. Castiel knows how to be a soldier and he is good at following orders. He’s far more comfortable killing his brethren than he wants to be.  Even with the Winchesters, things were at least a group effort.  Now the decisions are solely upon his shoulders.  And they are heavy.

And he is tired.

***

Dean wakes ups. Again. He knows where he was.  It was hot. Or cold.  The temperature was never really important.  It’s the numbness that comes from the temperature either way.  That’s what hurts.  He looks at the clock. 3:19AM. At least he didn’t wake Lisa this time.  Or maybe she’s just gotten used to it.  He wipes the sweat off his face and lies back on the pillow.  Starts counting motel rooms he’s been to. Tries to calm himself down. Until he remembers that’s what he used to do. When Sam was still here.  And they would take turns counting off the rooms together. He turns over and watches the clock, waits as the minutes pass slowly.  The hole in his chest doesn’t heal, but if he’s quiet enough, he almost doesn’t feel it. Almost. Until he breathes again.