Well. Firstly, this is all sorts of spoilerly. Considering I've gotten myself into trouble three times this past week with that funny business...here goes: Spoilers for Mommie Dearest and the promo for The Man Who Would Be King. I swore that when I came back to post it would be for an update on one of the million unfinished fics, but this ones just been spilling forth and I couldn't help myself. Now, I don't own Supernatural and I obviously never will.
Now, Hell beckons. I have Finals to study for. Oh, and I seem to have lost my betas along the way, and I think my writing could definitely use it. If anyone is interested please just say so in a review or PM me.
Stumbling Toward Redemption
Hold on to what you believe in the light, when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight
-Mumford and Sons; Hold On To What You Believe
. . .
"Why?" Castiel cried out into the nightlight that glittered with a sky of stars. "I've never doubted you, not once."
Head bowed, Castiel stumbled to the ground. His vessel, Jimmy's, fingers dug into the ground and those nails cracked against the hard, almost frozen ground.
"Please! I've lost everything trying to fight for heaven, to do the right thing father. Just give me…" Castiel lifted his head from his chest with an effort. He'd spent so long living in Jimmy's body; sometimes he forgot it wasn't him. Differentiating between the two of them was sometimes difficult.
"Please," he begged finally. "I've lost everything else…all for you."
. . .
"…the fuck, Cas?" Dean looked over at him, eyes filled with disgust and anger, and worst of all, disappointment. "You don't work with demons. And you sure as fuck don't lie about it!"
Castiel almost wanted to turn to Sam and say, You understand. Dean hasn't been there, but you have.
But how could he? No one had judged Sam as harshly as he had for the indiscretions with Ruby, for the demon blood. He'd been unforgiving and petulant.
"Dean," Sam held a hand up against Dean's chest, stopping his brother's furious tirade, if even momentarily. "Give him a chance to explain. This is Cas, he wouldn't…"
Sam appeared to be lacking the words for what it was that he wasn't doing, but he appreciated the show of faith all the same.
He didn't deserve such kind understanding, and he couldn't use Sam as his reasoning. Castiel willed the words to pour forth, his defense for his sins-if that was what they were-but he couldn't say it.
Don't judge me so quickly, Dean. Sam did it as well. The small voice in his head wrote the script for him, and never forgot the line by line annotations. Because it panned out so well for Sam in the end, working with a demon, didn't it?
"Cas?" The hopeful look in Sam's eyes pled for an answer, and it was nearly too much.
He suspected that after everything that had happened…Sam still had faith.
If ever there had been a chance to remove these boys from the cross hairs of the war that wages around them, he would have taken it.
"Cas, just tell us whats going on." Sam asked. "We're with you, all the way."
"No!" Dean roared in a burst of anger, situating himself between his brother and Castiel. "There are rules…and if you're working with Crowley, if you lied to us-you crossed the line. You're not on our side any longer."
Dean taught him what friendship and brotherhood meant. Castiel supposed that it was fitting that he would be the one to sever the bond.
"Yes, I've been working with Crowley." Castiel admitted. "Since before you came back into the hunt, dean. I lied to you. Repeatedly."
"Get out of her." Dean pointed his finger irately, his voice cracking with anger that finally bubbled over. "Get out! My brother and I aren't going to be pawns in a game of angels and demons."
You always have been.
Dean's eyes glittered with a bright sheen as Castiel watched him. Humanity hurt.
"Not again." Dean said.
At the start, the Winchester brothers had been just pawns, the means to set the fated apocalypse into motion.
"We're done." Dean shook his head, "Really. No more 'quid pro quo'. No more errand boys for angels, no more praying for your help. Nothing. We're not going to have anything to do with you. Angels, demons…there's no difference. We're going to fight the fight like we always have, and God help you…"
Dean swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, his tirade over.
Disappearing from sight; he begged, plead, prayed…prayed that Dean was right.
"Father, help me!"