To Fall From the Pedestal

Castiel was weak, and his vessel was no better. The wings he wore felt heavy on his shoulders, they didn’t belong to him anymore, not really. He had chosen to fall from the highest pedestal for the benefit of the Winchesters, and now, devoid of all of his power, he was making his way to the place where he knew he could count on finding them.

The corners of his lips tugged up into a small smile as he envisioned them. Sam Winchester, the youngest of the two, would be sat on the tattered couch that once belonged to Bobby Singer, immersed in a book of legend and lores, beer bottle resting half empty on the coffee table.

Dean Winchester, the eldest, would be sat by the table, laptop illuminated in front of him. He would be pretending to be researching their latest case, or exploring the web for anything that looked remotely appealing to their career, with a glass half full of the finest whiskey, probably stolen from Bobby’s personal collection.

Castiel’s cell phone was in the pocket of his trench coat, and Bobby’s home was still a few miles down the road. His vessel’s feet felt like cinderblocks, and night was soon to fall.

He thought of the 1967 Chevrolet Impala that Dean drove, and his smile seemed to widen. What he would give to be sat in the passenger seat, listening to whatever rock and roll song that would be transmitted through the speakers. Dean loved that car with all of his being, and Castiel couldn’t help but wonder if Dean could ever love him as much as he did that damned car.

As if Dean could hear Castiel’s silent plea for help, Castiel’s cell phone began to ring obnoxiously from his pocket. Grasping his flip phone in his hand, Castiel pulled the device from the deep pockets of his worn down trench coat, looking at the caller ID, his smile now visible as he saw DEAN W. imprinted on the screen.

Flipping open the device, Castiel brought the receiver to his ear. “Dean,” he greeted. His voice was more coarse than usual, probably from exhaustion. His vessel couldn’t withstand much more walking.

“Cas?” Dean’s guttural voice was almost music to Castiel’s ears, harmonious and soothing, a sound that not even the greatest works of Beethoven or Mozart could match up to. “You okay? You sound…” Trying not to cause offence, Dean thought of his next words carefully, knowing that Castiel wouldn’t quite understand any clever reference or witty joke. “Tired.”

“I am,” Castiel replied, not wanting to linger on the subject for too long. “Dean, I’m on my way. I need to tell you something.” Castiel exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief second as a cool breeze rustled through the branches of the trees surrounding him. Something was stirring, but Castiel couldn’t quite figure out what.

“Well, where are you? I’ll come and get you. I need to take a break from reading about freakin’ wendigos.” Dean chuckled lightheartedly, the jingling sound of keys could be heard in the background, and Castiel’s vessel’s shoulders slumped in relief.

A cold realisation hit Castiel, and he cleared his throat to interrupt Dean, who was telling a quizzical Sam where he was going, and that he wouldn’t be too long. “I’m not quite sure where I am, but I know it’s a few miles away from where you are now. Along the road with the bends, and the trees.”

“I know where,” Dean reassured him. “I’ll be there in five, just sit tight.” And with that, the line disengaged with a beeping tone. Castiel nodded to himself, flipping the cell phone shut and slipping it back into his pocket.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Castiel forced himself to walk, wanting to save Dean the trouble he was putting him through — why should Dean constantly be ready to rescue him? Castiel often wondered why the Winchesters even bothered with him at all, with the mistakes he’d made and the times when the Winchesters prayed to him in times of need and desperation and he just didn’t want to answer.

The sound of a roaring engine could be heard from about half a mile down the road, and Castiel lifted his gaze from the gravel as headlights became visible in the distance. Castiel smiled meekly as the sleek Impala, which was well taken care of in her old age, came to a halt in front of him.

“Get in!” Dean called out of the open window, and Castiel obliged, pulling open the passenger side door and lowering himself into the warmth, shutting the door behind him. Not bothering with his safety belt, Castiel rubbed his hands together in attempt to warm his skin. “What’re you doing out here, Cas? Man, there are coyotes that don’t care about your friggin… angel-y ass.”

Castiel turned to look at Dean, keeping himself as straight faced as he could. “I did not encounter any coyotes, Dean.” He stated matter of factly, relaxing back into the leather interior. “Can we stop somewhere? I need to tell you something.”

“Can’t it wait until we’re back where there’s liquor?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the otherwise empty road, knowing that his cargo was precious, not only to himself, but to the rest of the humans who needed something to believe in. Dean was just lucky to encounter such a wonderful being in the flesh.

And to be friends with him, too.

“No, Dean. I’ve made a decision, I…” Castiel inhaled through his nose anxiously, looking at his hands. “I don’t belong to Heaven anymore.”

“What do you mean you don’t belong to Heaven anymore, Cas?” Dean raised an eyebrow, bringing the car down to a thirty mile per hour maximum speed so they he could multitask.

“I’ve fallen, Dean.” Castiel looked out of the window as the sun began to set, and the sky was enlightened with orange and red hues. “I’m no longer welcome in Heaven. I’m now a traitor.”

Dean pressed his foot, as hard as he could, down onto the brake pedal, and poor Baby halted in the middle of the road with a deafening screech, the faint scent of burned rubber lingering in the air.

“Why would you do that, Cas?” Dean Winchester was usually a short tempered man, but for Castiel, he always found room for patience and understanding, trying to put himself in the position of the celestial being.

“Because, Dean, I’ve found my Heaven on Earth. I don’t belong there anymore, don’t you see? I haven’t belonged there since I first met you, Dean. I just,” Castiel paused, looking at Dean once more, his face confused, his luscious lips pursed into a thin line as his eyes flickered downwards, to Castiel’s lips, and then back upwards, to meet Castiel’s crystal blue eyes. Dean had never seen such a finer shade of blue, and he often compared them to the finest summer day.

“Dean, you know you and I share a profound bond.” Castiel heaved out a shuddering breath. “But I’m afraid that I’ve grown more attached than I care to admit.” Castiel paused. “And I think, Dean, I know I love you.”

The silence in the car was heavy, and the atmosphere was thick, but Dean didn’t react in the way Castiel had thought, or hoped. Dean stayed still, clearly processing the words that still lingered in the air. He nodded, focusing on Castiel again.

“Cas —”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same, Dean. I just thought you should know, because I’m not sure I could hold it in much longer,”

“Cas, will you shut up and let me finish?” Dean laughed. Upon seeing his smile, Castiel forced himself into silence. “You know I ain’t the lovey type, but I,” this time, it was Dean’s turn to feel nervous. “I love you, and if you think you’ve found your home with me, then we can build it together. We can work on it, Cas.”

Castiel nodded, the corners of his mouth once again, against his will, turning upwards into a smile. “We can work on it,” he repeated Dean’s words with a lighter spirit and heart. “I look forward to working on it with you, Dean.”