My name is Castiel and I am an angel of the Lord.
Castiel stays a step behind the Doctor and simply stares. His neck cranes around in all directions, trying to take it all in. The buildings, the people, the smells and sounds. It was amazing. Beautiful, in a chaotic way.
“Paper with psychic properties. Very interesting.” the angel mutters, staring at the paper again. He ignores the wink, too entranced by the Time Lord technology before him.
The Doctor puts an arm around the angel, steering him around the crowd as if they were water slipping through fingers. He led the other man to a small group that had gathered around something. That was when the Doctor released him, ducking around people to get closer.
Inside the circle two Kyratiovs were performing a traditional dance of love, or at least he thought that’s what it was. The two performers seemed very intimate with each other.
He smiled, knowing he had picked the right destination this time.
Castiel stiffens at first, still not accustomed to casual physical contact. But he is soon swept away by the city. And he almost misses the warmth of the Time Lord when the Doctor slips through the crowd.
In a blink of an eye Cas is beside him again. He stares curiously at the two performers and glances between them and the Doctor, a silent question in his eyes.
“And you miss him.” John responded quickly, hardly with any thought.
“Yes.” the angel replies softly.
“Well,” John said, rocking on his heels, “what do we do about it?”
Castiel stops. “I don’t know.” he admits. He is more confused than ever now. But he thinks it’s for the best. All of this.
Castiel suddenly felt very alone. If their positions were reversed then yes, there would be ways for Dean to tell Cas. The angel would probably be able to read it from the Hunter, in the way he moved and held himself. But there was never a way for Cas to do the same. He was an angel. This wasn’t meant to happen to him.
“You miss him.” it was a statement, mirroring Castiel’s own emotions, in a vain attempt to distract him.
“And you miss him.” John responded quickly, hardly with any thought.
“Yes.” the angel replies softly.
The guards nodded gruffly and allowed them to pass through the gates. The city was huge, golden sand skyscrapers rocketing into the horizon. He looked around, the place looked like a mad house. Citizens scrambling to set up for the festival, setting up booths and dance floors(all from sand of course). Men and Women who were performing in the festival were dressed in traditional Kyratiovian robes while everyone else wore street clothes.
“This is my psychic paper. It lets people see what I want them to see, it’s my way of getting into places I’m not supposed to be.” He winked at the angel good naturedly.
The Kyratiovs actually looked quite human, save for their pale yellow complexion and spotted skin. The Turons had a reddish brown skin tone and only four fingers. They’d fit in, perfectly.
Castiel stays a step behind the Doctor and simply stares. His neck cranes around in all directions, trying to take it all in. The buildings, the people, the smells and sounds. It was amazing. Beautiful, in a chaotic way.
“Paper with psychic properties. Very interesting.” the angel mutters, staring at the paper again. He ignores the wink, too entranced by the Time Lord technology before him.
John bit his lip, trying to think. If he was the one in the situation—and Sherlock was at risk—he knew that he would have troubles keeping it secret. He was hardly ever able to bear such weights on his own, and this would possibly make him crumble. Only his loyalty would ever give him the power to stand.
But Sherlock was perceptive. He would know, somehow, that John was up to something—that something was wrong. If it wasn’t with simple body language, it would be one of the automatic signals that John had developed over the years that Sherlock was so in tune to. Perhaps that would be the only way that John would warn him—since no one else could possibly know it.
“My friend and I … had this silly little system where we just had signals for the silliest things. I know we weren’t normal, but, if I had the means to tell him something that way, I would. It’s not fair if his life is on the line and I’m leaving him completely in the dark.” He scratched his head. “But I’d only say it if I was absolutely sure no one else would know.”
Castiel suddenly felt very alone. If their positions were reversed then yes, there would be ways for Dean to tell Cas. The angel would probably be able to read it from the Hunter, in the way he moved and held himself. But there was never a way for Cas to do the same. He was an angel. This wasn’t meant to happen to him.
“You miss him.” it was a statement, mirroring Castiel’s own emotions, in a vain attempt to distract him.
He opened and closed his mouth several times. Now he understood why Castiel was having such a difficult time. After all, how many people in the world would be willing to become a villain, even if it meant saving those they cared about?
John had done bad things, especially if it meant he could save Sherlock. But he always had some justification—he was taking down a villain to save his friend, sometimes breaking the law because it was for the ultimate good. What Castiel was mentioning was different. It was becoming a villain—willingly—for a good that might never be recognized. Even in hostage situations, people hardly understood and forgave the crimes one did.
No, he couldn’t think about it like that. That was taking out all emotion, all justification. The angel was doing this for his dearest friend, so John had to think about what he would do for his. If Moriarty threatened Sherlock— in a way that was absolutely inescapable—and John had to become a villain, would he? Yes, he would. He had always been willing to die for Sherlock—and if that meant even his reputation and friendship, then so be it.
“I’d have no choice.” John admitted reluctantly. “I’d try everything I could to make things better—get help where I could—but if it failed, I wouldn’t be able to fight it. I’d do anything, even if that meant he’d hate me forever.”
Castiel presses his lips together, overcome with such a strong emotion he was utterly helpless. Even if he’d hate me forever. He would do it. He would make Dean loath his very existence if it meant saving the hunter’s life.
The angel studies John carefully. It was odd, the man almost seemed to know what it was like from the other end. He was almost taking place of Dean. Almost.
“Would you tell him?” Cas inquires. “Even if you were told he would die if you mentioned it. Would you risk it to warn him?”
Castiel spun around, onto his back, to catch a glimpse of the Doctor on his falcon drawing level with him. His arms outstretched, the angel flipped back over and extended his wings to their full length. His blue eyes fixed on the city before them, growing larger by the second. A creature of the air, he knew exactly what it would take.
A split second later Cas pulled his wings in and fell into a steep dive, pulling away from the unsuspecting Doctor. Arms first, the angel fell gracefully towards the sand, angling himself in the direction of the city. At the very last moment possible he snapped his wings back open, pulling out of the steep decent. Circling twice Castiel landed softly on his feet just outside the gates, gazing elatedly up at the Doctor, waiting for the Time Lord to land.
“Never challenge a creature of flight to a race in the sky.”
The Doctor saw Castiel land before he sighed; at least the race was fun. He whispered for the falcon to slow down and descend to the ground. His feet hit the sand and he collapsed shakily. That flight had made his legs feel like jelly. After a moment he pulled himself up, whipping sand off his trousers.
“Nice flight!” He grinned before walking past the angel and stepping up to the guards. He bowed, doing the pose he’d practiced before. The guards did the same and when he straightened he pulled the psychic paper from his trouser pocket, having put it there before he took off his jacket.
“I’m the Doctor. I’m here with my comp-er-assistant to watch over and record the process of the sand dance festival to place in the galaxy records.”
Castiel smiles at the Doctor’s shaky legs. He obviously wasn’t used to flying. The angel follows him up to the guards, staying half a step behind the Time Lord. Castiel didn’t even attempt to mimic the bow. He had learnt long ago to let the apparent expert do that talking and/or bowing in this case.
He tilts his head curiously at the paper. It was just a bunch of wavy lines. But if he concentrated, he could see a multitude of credentials, shaping themselves into what the guards needed to see. Astounding.
“That is a very interesting piece of paper.” he remarked, attempting to play along with the Doctor’s tale. That he had also learnt to do. Don’t question the story. ‘Just roll with it.’
Cas?! God! You gotta stop just popping up like that! Gonna give me a heart attack!
My apologies, Dean.
Castiel’s mouth twitched. John was the first human, apart from the Winchesters, who had called being an angel a ‘pain in the arse’. “I suppose there are easier things.” he replies warmly, enjoying John’s words. His half smiles drops as the soldier continues.
“Oh they were worth it.” Castiel said, his voice soft. “I would rip out my grace a thousand times over for them.” and he would. He would do anything for them. For Dean. He would return to fiery abyss of Hell for Dean.
“Then you shouldn’t be sad about it.” John said bluntly. “If it’s worth it, then you should feel proud. Maybe you won’t be confident in every step you take, but I bet you have them waiting to support you. That’s what friends do, after all.”
He gave a smile. How long had it been since he talked about friends? Probably with Sherlock. No, most definitely with Sherlock. He remembered giving up so long ago, affirming that loneliness would protect him—even as the last entry on his blog. Maybe he was wrong. But everyone had that moment.
Castiel opens his mouth to reply, but he stops. John was right. He shouldn’t be sad. But he is. And it seems as though there is nothing he can do about it. “Let me ask you a question, John.” he begins softly. “What if, to save your friend, you had to do something horrible. You had to go against everything you once stood for. What your friend stood for. But it was your only choice. The only way to save them. And what if there was someone, whom you were working with, who threatened your friend’s life if you betrayed them. If you tried to warn your friend. If you went back on your deal, they would be dead. And what if you knew that that was the only way to save them. So save everyone. What would you do?”
*Rustle of feathers*
Hello, Dean.
