Earth's Bound Angel

Hunching further over his knees, he dug his palms into his eyes as though trying to forcefully stop the tears which were nearly painful as they fell down his face.  Come on Stiles, stop it, stop being so pathetic, just stop it!

He heard, distantly, what sounded like the flutter of wings but Stiles put it off as merely birds on the roof on even one in the bar but he couldn’t be bothered with them. It wasn’t until there was a soft touch to his forehead that the human suddenly realized he wasn’t alone. Flailing as he jerked backward, he cried out sharply as he smacked the back of his head off the cabinet, bringing a hand up to cradle the fresh throbbing flesh.

"Jesus fuck," he cursed out, blearily blinking his eyes open as the person before him spoke. Stiles recognized the voice, he knew he did, but his suspicions were confirmed as he laid eyes upon Castiel. "C-Cas?" he croaked softly, eyes widening at the sight of the angel though he was thoroughly confused as to how the other had gotten into the bar without him realizing it. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him, Stiles realized, since he had basically begged the guy to show up.

His mouth opened and closed silently as the angel asked him what had happened, suddenly unable to find the words to explain exactly what had transpired since they had last met. It seemed like something so easy to explain: oh you know, I keep suddenly forgetting important events and oh yeah, I also go possessed by my not-quite-lover’s ex-lover who was a psycho that burnt his house and family to the ground. But Stiles found the words lodged in his throat. The other’s next questions seemed easier to answer. Then again, he was always better at focusing on everyone else before himself, or so he’d been told, quite recently in fact by someone he’d rather never think of again.

"I don’t really know… Derek and I haven’t been really… close lately," that was a huge understatement because every time Stiles saw the alpha wolf he wanted to run away because of what he’d done to the other man, "He and Peter had an argument or something," Stiles murmured, biting his bottom lip at the memory of Kate talking to the other wolf in his body, Peter being as forthcoming as Peter ever was, "So he hasn’t been around either. I guess we’re all just… keeping to ourselves?"

Clearly, he thought as he listened, there was more to how the three separated. That much was obvious to the angel from the redness around the young man’s eyes, and that brave, pained attempt at a laugh. It was something the Winchesters would do sometimes, a mask of bravado while they were tearing themselves apart inside.

Derek struck Castiel as more than territorial about Stiles after all, and Peter was… well, had been sticking around for... possibly familial reasons. Castiel frowned, brows drawn closer together in concern though at the idea that either werewolf would simply leave the young man to fend for himself.

Granted, they were lone wolves, and while Stiles seemed to be accepted as part of their… pack? …He was human.

That in itself was not the problem. Humans were unpredictable, and sometimes surprisingly ingenious when it came to survival. What confused Castiel most was that... Stiles was like their spark of hope, the life of the otherwise dreary group, and in some ways... their moral compass as well. But Stiles was no hunter. Certainly didn’t move like one, or act as ‘careful’ around strangers. Something very bad must have happened or the… glue holding the group together wouldn’t be alone and in tears now.

And the boy wanted to know if there was ‘anything new and exciting going on’ instead? With Castiel himself?

“…I met Lucifer,” he offered shortly, awkwardly. That was probably the most exciting thing if not the newest. “We still do not see eye to eye about humanity,” Castiel frowned as soon as the words came out, because ‘still’ sort of implied a chance for change. Which was unlikely of course, but still…

He looked away, momentarily confused, cleared his throat and then looked back at Stiles. “So he tried to kill me-”

Again.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed as he realized then that he did not really want to talk about that after all. No, it had been a frightfully unpleasant memory. Both times. Better to figure out the reason the young man had been crying out to him: for company, help with reuniting with the others or...?

He supposed it could be a side-effect of stealing grace from an angel who’d been stealing other angels’ graces. Maybe he’d got some gardener in there. And maybe something of the other angels’ personalities were in there. It would be unprecedented, but then again, this whole thing was unprecedented. So they were in the right ballpark. 

"Growing flowers isn’t so bad. I mean, you meant to do something else… But I bet this camp would be really grateful if you can start instant-growing produce." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I know I could do with some other skill than ‘I can kill things really efficiently’." At the very least it would have made for a better resume.

He tried to look reassuring; especially with the concern on Castiel’s face. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very experienced in the reassuring department. He’d usually been the one needing reassuring, not the other way around. 

The produce-related possibilities did cheer him up, so he smiled back somewhat, setting the matter aside. “And you have more to you than killing things very efficiently, Inias. You’ve also been a voice of reason and good council.” This was especially true when Hester was ready to fly off on a warpath. “We soldiers were a necessary means of peacekeeping after all. At least,” he amended in a quieter voice, “that’s what I thought we were meant for.”

He looked down, then quickly up again. It felt strangely liberating to admit this doubt and Inias did not seem to take offense in it either. No, this too was another angel who had doubts, but tried to make the best of things nonetheless. And he succeeded too, hadn't he, taking on the role of a mechanic when the humans around him had need of one?

Old, powerful and compelling. Inias could think of a few beings whose voices fit that description but none of them were creatures that would have helped Castiel. No, they would have snatched him away from Lucifer only to devour him themselves. But they were sleeping. And hopefully they would stay sleeping.

Inias nodded. More strange occurences likely meant more aethyrs that were active. And that meant less work to be done later.

All thought of aethyrs left him, however, as the rose began to grow out of the shattered remnants of the cabin. Logically he knew that Castiel shouldn’t have been able to do that. Normally, at least. Only gardeners did that. His mate had been able to make plants grow out of nowhere, but that wasn’t a skill soldiers were taught. How Cas was doing this now was beyond Inias.

He could fly, he noted. And looking his brother over again, he was reassured to find that he had still healed him... mostly. Both abilities seemed to take more time and concentration than before, but could be accredited to rustiness, he supposed. Castiel had no idea what that was though - that being... power to draw some sort of growth from the earth, to the point where it shook.

"This is disturbing," he opted to simply voice his thoughts as he trusted Inias with them. "You are in good health now. We both are." To think that Lucifer had just been killing him...

"And I have been... growing flowers," he gestured vaguely towards the rose vine, even as he glanced back towards the rather obvious spot of grass just around the cabin's entrance. "And grass, since acquiring this grace."

Was Lucifer into gardening? He was an archangel, but... And then there were the other angels he stole grace from-

Leaning forward with his hands on the tiled wall before him, Stiles trembled as the ice cold drops of water bit in his skin before sliding down his body. Cold showers were never his favorite, especially when he was teenager, but the human was glad that the shivers wracking his body gave him something concentrate on rather than the maelstrom of thoughts swirling in his head. So many things had happened, one seemingly right after the other, that the young human couldn’t make heads or tails of anything these days. Not all of them were bad but the majority of them were.

It had all started with the appearance of Klaus but that wasn’t even the worst of it. That situation was resolved relatively easy when compared to the others. Stiles kept losing time, sometimes saying awful things to Derek that knew had to hurt the older man even though the alpha told him, essentially, that all was forgiven. Then Kate decided she wanted to wear the human as a costume and he had to watch her touch and kiss Derek, which still made his skin crawl. He could barely let Derek touch him anymore without shying away because of the memories. Selfishly, he wanted to ask why him and ask what he’d done. But the more questions he asked himself, the more turmoil the young man found himself in.

A shaky exhale left his quivering lips as the water shut off again, the icy spray stopping as Stiles stood shivering in the shower stall. Blinking his eyes open, he stood up straight and reached for a towel, wrapping it around his waist and stepping onto the even colder floor. He hadn’t brought clothes in with him but as he walked toward the door to head to the bedroom, Stiles stopped as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

The apocalypse had taken its toll on the human but the effects of the last few weeks had really taken it out of him. His face was thinner than it had even been, even when his puberty ended and the residual baby fat faded from his cheeks. His dull eyes were shadowed by dark circles which stuck out even more so with his pale skin. It didn’t help that the reminders of his encounters were painted on his skin— the barely healed cut on his neck and the bruise on his cheek where he’d hit the floor. Closing his eyes to , he turned his back on the mirror and slumped against the small cabinet while holding his face in his hands.

It'd been a while since Castiel heard a prayer directed at him. When the cry echoed through, he looked up from what he was doing, momentarily confused. It wasn't that sister's voice - the one telling him to kill... someone. It wasn't that other voice, who may or may not be God. No...

He'd heard this one before... On earth, but-

Oh.

Stiles, the virgin human that lived with the alpha werewolves. Kind person who lent him clothes...

It took longer than he would have liked to search for the young man. Castiel did not know if it was because his grace was rusty from lack of use, being not entirely his own, or any other interference from, say, the aethyrs. As soon as he triangulated the human's location however, the angel took off from Camp Chitaqua and landed somewhere behind Stiles.

Wait a minute- He stared at the wall. Must be leaning against it.

With another flutter of wings, the angel flew into the bathroom proper this time, to see another wall at first, and then... He looked down at the shivering soul before him, even more confused.

How strange it was, this time around, that it was the other who was almost naked, he thought.

He's crying. He's been hurt. And Castiel couldn't quite see his soul clearly, although he could sense it.

"Stiles?"

He side-stepped so that there was room to kneel by the boy, to touch two fingers to his forehead. Cold. Malnourished. Fatigued. Not terribly hurt, physically. He healed those things: offering warmth, settling Stiles' stomach and chasing away the dark shadows upon the boy's skin. Thankfully, the grace he had was still good for some things - flying, for example, and things pertaining to physical matter...

He couldn't take away the boy's lack of sleep, unfortunately. Or do anything for his psychological state.

Glancing over at the angel, the human gave an appreciate hum as his eyes scanned over how his clothes fit Castiel better than the one Derek had given the other. Though they were a perfect match, the angel’s lithe build filled out his clothes far better than the ones that belonged on Derek’s bulkier frame. "Looking good," he told the angel with a grin, holding two thumbs up to show the man he approved.

A part of him wanted to preen as Derek shot him an irritated look when he told the angel he was welcome to stay just as the wolf was probably telling Castiel to leave. The alpha had that constipated look on his face that screamed he was uncomfortable and unhappy with the situation. Stiles barely withheld himself from sticking his tongue out at the older man like a child.

His grin slipped into a smile as he nodded at Castiel, "It’s no problem really… We don’t get many visitors so…" he trailed off with a shrug, glancing down at his lap with sad smile. Looking back up at the angel, his eyebrows furrowed at the slightly warmer look he was receiving, different than how the angel had looked at him before. Shaking his head, Stiles decided not to dwell on it, opening his mouth to speak but Derek beat him to it.

"How do you kill an angel?" His head snapped in Derek’s direction he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash, mouth agape in shock and outrage. "Derek!" he snapped at the alpha, jaw snapping closed and gritting his teeth as his eyes narrowed. His arms shook as he clenched is hands into fists, unable to help but think that Derek didn’t want him connecting with anyone else, that Stiles wasn’t allowed the same luxury the alpha allowed himself. His eyes slid shut in defeat as Castiel seemed to grow closed off once again, voice even and cold as he answered Derek’s question. “With another angel. Why do you ask?”

Standing from the his seated position, Stiles hung his head as he forced himself to take even breaths. "You know what… Just forget it," he muttered, raising his head and pasting a smile on his face as he stared at the wall over the angel’s shoulder, "I’m sure Castiel has better things to do than sit around talking to us. He probably has tons of angel things to do ya know?" Focusing his gaze on Castiel’s face briefly, he sighed softly with a shrug of his shoulders, "It was nice meeting you even with the odd circumstances. You can stay or go Castiel, but I have things to get done."

Stiles turned and walked away from what served as their living room toward their bedroom. There were clothes piled up that needed to be washed and he’d put it off as long as he could, taking to wearing his own shirts for days instead of borrowing from Derek again after the last incident with Klaus.

He didn’t normally get angry or impatient with Derek, trying his best to understand the man but he couldn’t this time. The alpha had brought his own friend home and it wasn’t like Stiles had intentionally asked Castiel to come over or something. It was a freak accident which landed the angel in their home. He didn’t understand why Derek was throwing such a fit over it, why he couldn’t seem to stand the angel. Then again, maybe it wasn’t Castiel at all, maybe it was just Stiles.

"You two… do whatever," he murmured, disappearing into the room to angrily grab clothes off the floor and throw them toward the door to be taken into the bathroom to be washed. Glancing at Derek’s clothes, he was tempted to leave them there but, with a sigh, he gathered those up too before shoving the pile toward the bathroom door. Stepping into the bathroom, Stiles sighed as he slumped against the wall beside the sink.

"Just forget it," Derek’s brow cocked, knowing exactly what was going to happen, Stiles was about to throw all his metaphorical toys out of the same metaphorical pram and the wolf just folded his arms and looked at him. Was that really it? He’d brought the Angel back here, stinking of arousal, given him clothes, passed him flirty looks and now he was just going to leave the two in the bar to do what? Probably kill each other?

"You two… do whatever," Derek watched the boy go before his hues darted in the direction of the Angel, trying to think of something to say, but even when he was being friendly, he wasn’t much of a talker. He looked the male up and down, who honestly, just seemed odd and out of place in Stiles’ clothes, but Stiles had been right, they did fit better. He felt a slight growl rise in the back of his throat as he realized Castiel now had a bit of Stiles’ scent on him but held it back, knowing that if he were to growl at the Angel, he really would be put in the dog house, and that was no metaphor.

Grumbling after a minute of silence and awkward glances, Derek slid off his seat “Stay right there Castiel. I’ll be right back.” he slid off his stool, passing the man "And help yourself to a drink while I’m gone." he gave another forced smile, but this one had more behind it than the others as he tried to at least be a little accepting that Stiles needed company, and he walked into the bathroom doorway, leaning on the door frame, blocking Stiles escape.

"I get it." he said with a small shrug "I’m not much of a talker. You’re human, you need to be social, doesn’t mean I do, or that I like it…" he said and pushed himself away from the door frame, glancing back to the odd looking stranger in his bar "Go talk to him. I’ll play the good dog." he joked, giving a warm smile, though it ached inside to do so, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom.

Moreover, Derek's response had been curious. Due to PR, people normally thought angels were nice and safe. Non-threatening. Guardian-like, even. Which was strange in and of itself since every time an angel was actually mentioned in The Holy Bible, their first words would be 'fear not' or something of the sort.

The angel watched his hosts disappear to and then reappear from another room, thoughtfully silent as he considered them with wonder. Perhaps Derek had met one of his not-so-friendly siblings while Stiles... had not.

There were a lot of anti-other angels. And a lot of anti-Cas ones too, come to think of it...

He considered helping himself to a drink for a moment, and allowed the labels to distract him as he tried to figure out what he ought to do next. Alcohol was scarce nowadays. Seeing such an amount and variety in one place was somewhat heartening in a strange way.

So focused was he on the labels that he actually felt surprised when Derek came right up to him again even though the werewolf's body language seemed to scream 'get out of my territory.'

Ah... So he had met some other angels before. Castiel's startled, defensively stance relaxed somewhat, and empathy crept into his blue eyes this time.

"Okay, so you, Meg, and I all have symbiotic aethyrs, and they’re active. Anyone else around here?" He tried to drown out another status report being broadcast over the command channels. Something about another prince of Hell linking up with Lucifer. It had been nothing but bad news lately. "We could at least make some sort of list. There’s a concrete number; if we start counting up those that have been triggered… It’s a start. And it’ll make it easier to tick off the list once I can snag us a complete roster."

After a moment, he simply looked away, turning inward as he searched through the sheer mess of what happened to him. "I- I don't-" Hope skittered across his brow as he looked back towards Inias, and then away again with a doubtful half-shake of his head.

He'd been brought back from death before, he knew. But not like this. At least, he didn't think that was the case, so he carried on from where he left off. "I'm uncertain. The voice is old, powerful, and compelling, but-" Aside from various iterations of 'Come away' when Lucifer was going to destroy him... Whether it was indeed Father, the voice was, "-not answering at the moment."

With a frustrated sigh, Castiel returned to their main topic. "I've heard rumors of more strange occurrences around certain individuals, none that I've yet been able to confirm." Mental note: confirm later.

After another glance around, he added, "I'm going to... try again."