FIC: next, R, Castiel-centric
Apr. 6th, 2010 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloudy_ficTitle: next
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel after a fashion
Rating: R
Word Count: 826
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: angst
Summary: The war ends and Castiel is human.
Author's Notes: I'm in a yuck mood and I wrote this. Like one of those half-hour challenge things. Argh.
The war ends and Castiel is human.
He climbed inside this body and it became his and now he'll never be without it. It rules him as surely as Heaven did once and when the world doesn’t end, he is alone in it. It's more than a simple prison because he can run and walk and drive and it'll always be wrapped around him. His true self, gone, but not forgotten. He will never be seen again and it's too much to bear.
The war ends and Castiel leaves.
He's a travelling man now. Across state lines and through strange lives. He leaves his true name with Heaven and his borrowed name with Dean. Now he is truly no one. A piece of driftwood and he floats, carried to and fro by a destiny he doesn't understand. That is last remnant of Heaven. All falls away, but Castiel will always believe in destiny. He was meant for this and no amount of anger and self-abuse and desperately sought oblivion will change it.
In Mississippi, he meets a girl named Sally. She is not pretty or interesting or anything Castiel wants. He doesn't know how to want. He just knows his body aches and it requires relief and Sally is a willing teacher. The experience sickens him. As he looks down into Sally's lust slackened features and feels this body he never wanted lose control, Castiel is disgusted. And it makes sense that this is the act Dean so often craved. It creates a false reality of genuine emotional connection. The only way Dean could allow himself to feel the deep and terrible emotions that constantly roll through human souls and knock human minds away from logic and sense. Castiel hates it. He hates giving into the want and he hates sharing this body he earned through disobedience and terrifying self-awareness.
Violence is much better. The body craves intensity. It wants to feel alive when Castiel feels nothing, but a void. He follows the clues of death and finds himself on a case. An angel transformed into a human hunter. There are demons and ghosts and he is surprised to learn that his original purpose, his soul deep ache to destroy and rend evil from existence follows his journey. It echoes his footsteps and leads him from case to case. He leaves a string of ruined corpses and grateful families in his wake.
They talk about him. The other hunters whisper amongst themselves and he gains fame. They don't know his past or his connection to their brethren that started and ended the war between good and evil. Nor do they know his true name. He is a silent killer. His only words are given to victims and authority and in between kills, he sleeps in darkened hotel rooms. He throws away his coat and steals a canvas jacket. His blue dress pants rip and tear and the mother of a victim gives him several pairs of blue jeans. The clothing fits him like his humanity, stolen and borrowed.
It's not long before it hurts to speak. His unused voice lingers in his throat and Castiel thinks about the words he used to say. The names that used to slip off his tongue and he knows the owners of those names are looking for him. He hears a rumor about the Winchesters. The eldest searches for a fallen angel. Have you seen and do you know and always Castiel quietly shakes his head and moves along. There isn't room in this new heart for the brothers. For Dean. It's too small and Castiel will be pulled under. He'll drown and Dean won't choose to rescue him. His grace gave him distance and now Castiel must create that distance himself.
He moves along and time travels with him. It tears at his body and breaks it down. Slowly, dreams creep in. He sees light and love and the magnificent faces of his former brothers. He feels heat and moisture and he walks along the Garden path. He feels his Father's touch across his face and it's a dream. Always a dream. He hears a gruff voice whisper in his ear and that's a memory. Rough and dark and Castiel could climb inside it if he knew he'd make it out alive. The memories and the dreams clamor for his attention and the years make his human mind slow and one day in Texas, Castiel is stabbed in the back by a demon he remembers meeting in another lifetime.
His blood is dark red and as it seeps out, pooling around his body, Castiel doesn't know if his soul is spreading along with it. He doesn't know if he was granted a soul. He doesn't know if this is a true ending or the beginning of a third life. All he knows is that he's ready to shed this skin.
He lies on the dusty floor and smiles.
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel after a fashion
Rating: R
Word Count: 826
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: angst
Summary: The war ends and Castiel is human.
Author's Notes: I'm in a yuck mood and I wrote this. Like one of those half-hour challenge things. Argh.
The war ends and Castiel is human.
He climbed inside this body and it became his and now he'll never be without it. It rules him as surely as Heaven did once and when the world doesn’t end, he is alone in it. It's more than a simple prison because he can run and walk and drive and it'll always be wrapped around him. His true self, gone, but not forgotten. He will never be seen again and it's too much to bear.
The war ends and Castiel leaves.
He's a travelling man now. Across state lines and through strange lives. He leaves his true name with Heaven and his borrowed name with Dean. Now he is truly no one. A piece of driftwood and he floats, carried to and fro by a destiny he doesn't understand. That is last remnant of Heaven. All falls away, but Castiel will always believe in destiny. He was meant for this and no amount of anger and self-abuse and desperately sought oblivion will change it.
In Mississippi, he meets a girl named Sally. She is not pretty or interesting or anything Castiel wants. He doesn't know how to want. He just knows his body aches and it requires relief and Sally is a willing teacher. The experience sickens him. As he looks down into Sally's lust slackened features and feels this body he never wanted lose control, Castiel is disgusted. And it makes sense that this is the act Dean so often craved. It creates a false reality of genuine emotional connection. The only way Dean could allow himself to feel the deep and terrible emotions that constantly roll through human souls and knock human minds away from logic and sense. Castiel hates it. He hates giving into the want and he hates sharing this body he earned through disobedience and terrifying self-awareness.
Violence is much better. The body craves intensity. It wants to feel alive when Castiel feels nothing, but a void. He follows the clues of death and finds himself on a case. An angel transformed into a human hunter. There are demons and ghosts and he is surprised to learn that his original purpose, his soul deep ache to destroy and rend evil from existence follows his journey. It echoes his footsteps and leads him from case to case. He leaves a string of ruined corpses and grateful families in his wake.
They talk about him. The other hunters whisper amongst themselves and he gains fame. They don't know his past or his connection to their brethren that started and ended the war between good and evil. Nor do they know his true name. He is a silent killer. His only words are given to victims and authority and in between kills, he sleeps in darkened hotel rooms. He throws away his coat and steals a canvas jacket. His blue dress pants rip and tear and the mother of a victim gives him several pairs of blue jeans. The clothing fits him like his humanity, stolen and borrowed.
It's not long before it hurts to speak. His unused voice lingers in his throat and Castiel thinks about the words he used to say. The names that used to slip off his tongue and he knows the owners of those names are looking for him. He hears a rumor about the Winchesters. The eldest searches for a fallen angel. Have you seen and do you know and always Castiel quietly shakes his head and moves along. There isn't room in this new heart for the brothers. For Dean. It's too small and Castiel will be pulled under. He'll drown and Dean won't choose to rescue him. His grace gave him distance and now Castiel must create that distance himself.
He moves along and time travels with him. It tears at his body and breaks it down. Slowly, dreams creep in. He sees light and love and the magnificent faces of his former brothers. He feels heat and moisture and he walks along the Garden path. He feels his Father's touch across his face and it's a dream. Always a dream. He hears a gruff voice whisper in his ear and that's a memory. Rough and dark and Castiel could climb inside it if he knew he'd make it out alive. The memories and the dreams clamor for his attention and the years make his human mind slow and one day in Texas, Castiel is stabbed in the back by a demon he remembers meeting in another lifetime.
His blood is dark red and as it seeps out, pooling around his body, Castiel doesn't know if his soul is spreading along with it. He doesn't know if he was granted a soul. He doesn't know if this is a true ending or the beginning of a third life. All he knows is that he's ready to shed this skin.
He lies on the dusty floor and smiles.
