Castiel

"There are several possible origins, but I believe the most likely one is the habit of Christianity to co-opt pieces of other, older religions in order to make itself more relevant to the civilizations it was attempting to spread to. The Greek pantheon was often depicted in art as playing the lyre, which is another stringed instrument not dissimilar in construction. And the harp itself, while it's been around long before Christianity, became very popular in Europe in your Middle Ages and Renaissance periods, where I believe this perception originated."

Trevor listens to Castiel’s explanation. He supposed it wasn’t too strange. It was just a walk in the woods. It would seem even angels need time alone too. However, the next part of what he said caught him off guard. “Wait, you saw the nest?” He asked, turning slightly, to look over at Castiel. “How many were there?” Trevor questions, if Castiel had seen the nest, maybe he could provide some useful information. Hopefully, the vampires in the nest hadn’t seen him, that could screw up the entire hunt.

Nodding as the angel continues, Trevor furrows his brows and turns to face forward as soon as he hears the fang comment. “I brought other weapons to don’t worry.” Though the statement is to reassure himself more than Castiel at this point.

“Eight,” the seraph reiterated, not put out by having to say it again. “Three female, the rest male.  The female was apparently the nest alpha,” he added, just so that Trevor would have a better chance of calibrating their mutual strategy.  “The building they are in is an old hunting cabin, likely not much more than three or four rooms.”

She let him go once he tugged to be set loose. After all, Oraia wasn’t playing the doting friend, just the reluctant ally. The moment they were both safely in her home, she closed the portal, which cleanly sowed itself up until there was no sign the air had ever been divided whatsoever. “Good. Then you just need to relax.” Her store of nectar could rejuvenate any supernatural being to her knowledge, but she’d never given any to an angel before–for obvious reason. Who knew how well it would work on an envesseled one, especially since too much of it usually killed humans.

“We’re in Malibu: Southern California,” she explained, “I suggest you lie down and get comfortable for the next few hours. Prop your head up with those pillows.” With a flick of her wrist, a cabinet gently opened, allowing a glass to float over to her hand and instantly fill with water. She placed it on the coffee table, then telekinetically pulled the drapes closed to block out some of the sunlight. “C’mon angel, you’ve got to trust me on this one.”

Trust didn’t come easily to Castiel these days; beyond the stint in Purgatory, the madness before that, the desperate civil war and dealings before that, all the way back to when he found out that angels, as much as demons, were behind the Apocalypse, he had plenty of reasons to be wary.

But he also didn’t exactly have many choices at the moment, either.  The vertigo kept him wanting to close his borrowed mortal eyes, the lids feeling heavier than they had any right to, and that sensation was at complete odds with his desire to watch for attack.  If she wanted to hurt him, she would have by now, yes?  She would have taken advantage by now, not brought him somewhere that was possible safe.

“You raided orchards?” He echoed, raising his brow but touched nonetheless. Hopefully no one minded…Given what he was, he had a feeling no one noticed, neither. Julian squeezed him back as they hugged and smiled a bit more. It sounded like seeing a friend helped, wherever she was. Somewhere within the state, somewhere else? Castiel mentioned having to stop a few times on the way down from Washington, leaving him to believe those long flights weren’t possible just yet. 

Still, it sounded like a good day.

“Kekipi’s got good taste, y’know,” he grinned and nuzzled into Castiel’s head. Another squeeze and kiss to his hair, then Julian let go, only for Castiel to turn him to the table. He had to laugh at that, frankly enjoying the gentle ‘push’ to dinner. Who knew reuniting could feel so good? “Work? It went well! My two surgeries were good. The first took a little longer than anticipated, only due to the size of the tumor, while the second needed more time to wake up from anesthesia. My other patients have been well and I’ve not been yelled at all day, neither.” A little victory in the realm of medicine, suffice to say. 

Julian did look over to Castiel, smile soft. “I’ve been thinking about this morning, what I wanted to do for my career. I want to focus more on emergency medicine than…oncology.” Perhaps a way to move on from his past, accept what was lost and had happiness else where, or a way for him to truly step back from workaholic tendencies. 

“I did.  No one is going to miss a couple dozen apples,” Castiel said, chuckling as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of Julian’s head before moving to the other side of the table.  Odd as it was sitting in a chair with wings, he could manage it.  He nodded over Julian explaining how his work day had gone even as he picked up his grilled cheese to take a bite, chewing and listening to his boyfriend coming down to the point of it.

He didn’t know what emergency entailed versus oncology, if it was more stressful or less, but if it was what Julian wanted to do with his career, Castiel would support him in it.

dean didn’t ask him right away when he saw him again, even though  —  he felt like he had every right to do it .  he kept trying to understand him but his silence wasn’t helping him at all .  it wasn’t until cas had finally told him what haunted him that he was able to piece together what had happened .  he was surprised he never saw the signs, never expected the guilt from him   —   but he was an angel  ;  his species weren’t programmed to feel guilt .   and yet, he did .  

the winchester was discouraged from speaking right away and, thus, he maintained his silence, respecting his wish to explain at his own pace .  dean nodded, from one self-loathing  person to another, he understood .  he hated what not knowing did to him, but he understood  .        

     ‘    i get it, cas .    ’       he spoke at a low volume to express his empathy despite everything  else that kept clouding his mind .        ‘  and maybe i wouldn’t get it back then, but i should’a known at least …   ’    he mumbled his last words, knowing that they shouldn’t be deemed as important .        

    ‘   — but you’re here now .  ’    he pronounced .    ‘  thanks to angels … ’        the suspicion  colored the tone of his voice, but he made no effort to express it more explicitly .  he was still contemplating how much he could trust the motive behind that rescue mission . 

“Ostensibly.”  Castiel was still not sure yet whether angels were actually involved.  But who else?  Who else would have?  Certainly not demons; Crowley’s surprise at seeing him was undeniably genuine. “I can’t think of who else, aside you, who would pull me out.  Though I don’t know why they haven’t spoken to me about it.”

Admittedly, his reputation amongst his siblings wasn’t good.  And he’d earned every bit of their anger.

Angels were not nearly so emotionless as anyone thought; being forbidden from expressing emotion was not the same thing as not having them.  But it was a distinction that Castiel didn’t think to explain, either.