Chapter Text
This time was different.
He could still feel the echo of his own voice as it had rung out across the bunker, spread out and amplified by the ceiling and walls. The words themselves seemed oddly distant now, as though they had occurred during some kind of nightmarish daydream brewing in that celestial head of his. But he knew that they weren't. What had happened this time had really happened. And every single part of it hurt like a bitch.
Somewhere between the slam of a heavy door and Dean screaming at him to just wait, Jesus, fucking wait a second, Cas, he had ended up stumbling into a dark city, wings unable to carry him any further in this state. Neon lights were the only source of illumination as he walked blindly towards the first building he could find. His thoughts were a mess, a jumble of incoherence mixed with pain at the resounding reminder that he had wasted years rebelling, dying, pleading, and falling for nothing except a dismissal of his worth. The idea had a death grip on his heart, squeezing it like a stress ball in rhythm to the rise and fall of his chest.
It was the tail end of their conversation that had got him, a conversation Cas had initiated because he thought he knew how it would end. Maybe that was the worst part of all of this: that he had presumed he knew right. Because, boy, had he been wrong. He had been wrong in every conceivable way about what he thought was fact. He’d definitely known his own facts and his own feelings, and had assumed the remaining evidence could only point to one conclusion, a conclusion that he’d acted on, which was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.
And now he was in LA, pushing the glass doors open to some overly pricy and excessively sleazy hotel and practically slamming his hand down on the counter, money in palm, before the tattooed receptionist could even mumble out a greeting. "H-how long?" She finally managed to feebly inquire, taking due care to avoid the cold eyes of the angel standing before her.
"We'll see," Cas responded in a quiet tone, barely paying her attention, and taking in the scenery around him. He wanted to do something utterly insane, not for the first time, just so the events of the past couple hours would fade into a dull alternate reality, and he could go on living his life, and believing in his convictions. But Cas was, unfortunately, not inherently impulsive, and even checking into some random, shady joint in the city of sunshine and sin couldn't change his lack of imagination.
Was this why Dean--? He asked himself, before nearly biting his tongue. Despite the inquiry, the result would be pointless. He couldn’t change who he was. He didn't want to, not like this, even if it was within his power. True, he had changed the past few years with the Winchesters, but they had that effect on people, places, things. It was impossible not to be moved by Sam's unfailingly sympathetic heart, those pitiful puppy eyes, and his drive to never give up. And Dean, well...Cas didn't even need to mention anything about Dean. The guy had done something weird to Cas’s heart from the moment they first met each other, when Dean was screaming some horrific expletives in hell and Cas was trying to fight with him to raise his dumb ass back to Earth. It didn't feel very profound at the time, their bond. Cas fought the urge to smile at the thought, a notion quickly swallowed up by the frown replacing it. Things had seemed like they had changed since then, but it didn't mean they had. It didn't mean Cas meant any more to Dean than he did when the two were face to face with one another for the first time in a garage and the hunter had attempted--rather pathetically--to kill him with the demon blade.
That thought still stung. It was a fresh wound, he supposed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest and glancing at the moderately sketchy snack machines lined up near the bathrooms. The whole first floor of the venue was lit cheaply and reeked vaguely of sex, drugs and sweat. It reminded him of the Winchesters, but then, so did everything. It was going to take a while before he was able to look at anything again without associating them with it, if it could even be done. Perhaps, he would’ve been better off making haste towards heaven, and settling back into his obedient position as one of God's soldiers, but the taste of that idea left him more bitter than staying, somehow. For whatever reason it was, Earth would remain to be his home for now, never mind how utterly alone he felt.
"Well, well, well. Does my impeccable eyesight deceive me or do I spy with my little eye the little bother I never wanted? Castiel, bro, how you doin’?"
The angel found himself whirling around, even though he already knew the voice like the back of his hand. His memory didn't disappoint. The sight, however, of his older brother did, as it always had been ever since he had learned of how exactly the golden-haired, radiant archangel Gabriel had escaped the clutches of heaven without opting to fall from grace. The brutal death he’d suffered at the hands of Lucifer years ago seemed to treat him well. Gabriel looked no different than when the two had last met, when he was tossing Sam and Dean into television shows left and right for no good reason other than to play his twisted little game of forcing their hands.
That had been during the apocalypse, years ago, but the whiskey-eyed archangel hadn't aged a day, unsurprisingly. He still wore that nape-length golden hair and mischievous grin that had earned him the title of Trickster. Castiel had looked up to him as a role model, before the first war of heaven, when Lucifer and Michael had it out, but somewhere around that time, Gabriel had suddenly stopped showing up to Sunday dinners, no excuses offered, and disappeared soon after. And although Cas wasn't one to hold a deep-seated grudge, he loathed him ever so slightly for that: taking the easy way out. It was such a Gabriel thing to do, opting for the escape. He had left them all worried, wondering, wandering. The war had been a trying enough time without losing yet another sibling to the dysfunction of the angelic family.
Such fond memories, Cas thought bitterly, mouth set into a firm line as his eyes settle on the Trickster. "Gabriel," he stated evenly.
His brother's face was lit up like a neighborhood on Christmas Eve. "Cassie! So good to see you! Why the long face and loner pose? Did you forget to bring along the boyfriends on the company vacation?"
Cas supposed his face must've reacted before he got a hold of his emotions, because Gabe's expression twisted almost as soon as the words left his mouth. "Cas?" He repeated again, after a moment of silence. The smile was gone, a deeply set frown in its place. "Is something wrong? Where are Sam and Dean?"
Their names together, phrased like that physically pained Cas in a way he didn't even think was possible until after the stinging in his chest started. He reached up hesitantly and gripped the lapels of his trench coat, breaking eye contact if only to regain what little control he had left in his body. He absolutely was not about to have this conversation, not with anyone, and certainly not with a sarcastic, absentee brother he barely acknowledged existed. He was not ready to tell the truth. He couldn't even face it. None of it felt real yet, and frankly, if it hurt this badly already, Cas wasn't 100% sure he would be able to handle it when it did sink in.
"I...I am on my own," Cas finally responded, surroundings practically fading into black and white around him. Reality was beginning to sink in. The words echoed around his mind, louder this time, and with feeling, and they felt like literal angel blades jammed into his chest.
It was amazing, what four simple words could do. Cas had killed thousands of his own kind, murdered them with his bare hands and a single blade, and that was still something that haunted him, but the weight of genocide seemed to fall lightly in comparison to the crushing load of five simple words, uttered by Dean Winchester, in the course of a ten-minute conversation. He couldn't even breathe when he first heard them.
Gabriel was suddenly a lot closer than before, shoving him up against the nearest wall and grabbing his chin with the force of a hurricane. It didn't take longer than a second for Cas to remember just how strong his brother actually was before the trickster began speaking, "Cassie. The Winchesters. Where are they? Are they in trouble? Are you in trouble? Level with me, Cas. I can lend you a helping hand, but only if you fess up to what the hell's going on with that deer in the headlights look you got happening."
The words seemed to come out automatically, mechanically programmed to report the situation at hand, without feeling or idea. They felt a million miles away from Cas, who was roughly two minutes away from dissociating into a completely different dimension.
"I was wrong...about how the Winchesters think of me. Therefore, I have decided to undertake the task of becoming a hunter on my own."
The hunter part was a lie. A bold-faced, semi-automatic lie to cover up the fact that Cas had no fucking idea what he was doing, why he was here, except that he was emotionally bleeding out and that he had no idea what to do next. He had no idea who he even was. Who was Castiel, if not angel to the Winchesters?
Gabriel cocked his head to the side, then slowly released Cas and turned around, hand coming up to stroke some imaginary goatee. Cas stumbled slightly, leaning against the wall. He was in excellent cosmetic condition, yet, the words he'd just said had left him reeling, both mentally and physically. So this was it sinking in, then? The realization that he was alone again?
"A hunter, huh? Well, I tell ya what, Cassie." The archangel turned on his heel in the middle of stepping forward, just in time for Cas to mask the pained expression on his face, and strode ahead to meet his taller, younger brother with a grin. "That sounds like a humbling experience, even for you. But thing is, I worry about you out there, all by yourself. Which is why gotta I insist that I come with."
Pause. Castiel had to press a button on his inner monologue of suffering in order to address what had just been said by one of the most arguably self-centered angels he knew. "…I’m sorry, what? G...Gabriel...why? That's unnecessary. I assure you, I am fine by myself."
"Physically? Sure you are, kiddo! But mentally? Ah jeez. You are a living, breathing train wreck, lil bro. It doesn't take a damn mind reader to see that you've been put through hell and back again, if you catch my reference."
The blue-eyed angel barely had time to scrunch together his eyebrows in confusion before Gabriel continued, sounding rather exasperated, "You know, Cas, if they can't appreciate you, you should find someone who does. Just sayin'."
"If you are referring to Sam and Dean, then--"
"Who the hell else would I have been talking about, Castiel?!" The trickster dropped his voice to a growl. "I know why you stuck around for them. Why you protected them. Risked everything for them. I almost think it's admirable, how much you care. But I have eyes, you know. And you...you care too much, Cas. It's not within their emotional capabilities to return the favor to you."
"Says who?" Cas replied, voice taking on a confrontational tone as he approached the trickster with his shoulders set in a mutinous stance. Gabriel didn't move a muscle, eyes fixated on Cas's blue gaze. They seemed...almost disappointed.
"You still wanna defend them, huh? That's...pathetic. Honestly. You should respect yourself more than that. I know you're a sucker for lost causes, always have been, but dammit, Cas, fucking respect yourself at least a little. Stop defending them. What was it, even? Did you tell him? Is that why you are here alone?"
"Tell whom what?" Cas replied, feigning an innocent tone. It was the most expressive he'd sounded since the knock-down drag out fight he'd had earlier with Dean, and there wasn't even a reason for it. He knew he couldn't fool Gabriel, someone whose entire survival hinged on deceiving other people in cruelly ironic ways. He couldn't trick the trickster, and there was no use trying to, but there he stood, feet digging firmly into the cheap paneling of the hotel lobby floor as he stared daggers at his older sibling.
Gabriel held his poker face like a champion. Years of practice, Cas figured, fighting a grimace. It wasn't like he himself didn't have training to back it up as well.
"You're pathetic," Gabe decided, within a minute of intense eye contact, furrowing his brows together before turning and shaking his head with exasperation. "You're just...wow. Something else entirely. Okay, Cassie. Deny it allllll you want, but we all know how the story ends. Everything always comes out before the close. And you are not helping prove your sanity to me at all, so I guess that means I just have to come along with you on this, huh? Cassie, Cassie, forcing my hand. Oh well, it's what a good brother must do, I suppose."
Despite the substantial metaphorical weight bearing down on his shoulders, Cas was still able to dig into his mind and emerge with an impressive amount of disgust for Gabriel's attitude. "How pious of you," Cas muttered, gazing cynically at the shorter angel, who had dropped the annoyed act in favor of grinning like a madman, thrilled with the new role of being the protective, paternal older brother. "But I neither need nor desire your help. My mental state is fine, and putting that aside, I would find your company to be more grating than soothing."
Gabe faked an astonished, hurt expression, hands fluttering over his heart as he stepped backwards dramatically, announcing, "So mean! Who put cyanide in your Cheerios, Cas? Because I'm pretty sure you drugged yourself, from the looks of you. There is only pain in loving humans, after all, and you had plenty of opportunities to step back." The humor, the drama, the playful tone was gone. A single glint remained in those golden eyes as the very presence of the trickster seemed to expand and cover the room in a tense aura. Gabriel took a step forward, gaze trained on Castiel, eyes narrowed into calculated slits.
"So what happened? He read you the ol' 'It's not you, it's me' act? I love that one. It's timeless." The words cut like the jagged edge of a freshly sharpened blade, and Cas tried not to let it show as the angel crept closer, still watching him carefully.
"Or was he completely disgusted with you? Absolutely revolted, terrified even, that somehow like you could feel like that about him? Because you know, I'm still amazed you settled for his angst-ridden ass when you could have literally anyone you wanted. No, really, why would you settle for him, when you could have better? When you could be loved back?"
"Stop. Stop talking." Cas was the first to break eye contact, unable to keep even his hands steady as he shoved them into the pockets of his trench coat, funneling all of his available energy into keeping the rest of his body still. He couldn't even focus on trying to lie anymore. As he had known earlier, it had been a pointless, wasteful effort, but what did time matter to him? There was, after all, no one with whom to share an eternity now, so what use did time have to a celestial powerhouse like Castiel? "Please stop. You are...correct."
The threatening presence of the trickster, of a masquerading archangel at work in his most comfortable environment was gone within a single second, and there stood Gabe, whose expression had yet again shifted, but this time to something unreadable. "Am I? You sure about that?"
"I..." He wasn't certain how to respond to that. Whatever mind games Gabriel was interested in playing tonight, Cas wanted no part in them. "I know so. He...they...don't need me anymore. And I do not need them. Therefore, I am going to do something productive for the people of this planet and become a hunter, since it is an occupation in which I have at least a moderate amount of experience."
"Not to mention a shit ton of celestial grace from Dad himself," his older brother snorts, sounding somewhere between amused and sarcastic. "You know what? I believe you. I think you'll do just fine on your own. But, just so be safe, I'm gonna tag along."
It was difficult to suppress a groan on part of the taller angel, who was suddenly beginning to get a bit of a headache, entirely Gabe's fault. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, questioning how quickly the situation had gone from bad to worse in his commute from the bunker to here. One moment, he felt like his very life force was being ripped out of his chest, the next, he was standing in a questionably clean, suspiciously cheap hotel in Los Angeles, feeling arguably the same but now with the promise of embarking on some dumb, philanthropic journey to become a hunter with his older, absentee, and also dead brother. Not that the last part of that statement was relevant. Gabe had faked his death so many times, it hardly seemed important a detail to mention.
And during all of this, he could still hear Dean's words ringing in his head. Not his last words, no, because Cas hadn't even been listening to those. They passed right by his ears after Dean had spoken a statement that completely broke 10 years of friendship. Whatever happened afterwards, Cas was physically present for but missing in every other sense. The emotions still tangled in his throat when he attempted to swallow yet another painful lump that was a side effect of attempting to remain put together in front of Gabriel. He had struggled at first to even open his mouth when he was face to face with Dean, but when he had, the thoughts seemed to roll off his tongue, as though he had been saying them for years. And he had, never mind having not voiced them until today.
I love you. I love you. I love you, Dean Winchester.
And what a waste it had been, loving Dean Winchester, he wanted to yell. Giving up everything, sacrificing his grace, his mind, his loyalty and even his life just for some freckled, pretty-eyed human with daddy issues? Only someone with a true hero complex would dare fall for such a mess as one of the Winchesters. But on the other hand, he couldn't fathom a world where he didn't love him, or, for that matter, both of them. Deep inside, Cas knew this had been a necessary task: throwing away his old life for two emotionally damaged humans and becoming equally damaged as a result. It had been God's will, all along.
Or so was the only thought currently keeping him from having an utter existential meltdown.
In the middle of his musings, Gabriel had vanished, and upon zoning back into the situation, Cas made the relatively futile error of beginning to think that perhaps he was off the hook until the angel reappeared, clutching a set of keys with a devilish grin. Taking notice of his brother's spaced out, borderline disapproving expression, he said, "No worries, lil bro! Our new wheels were procured using completely legal methods! Well. Mostly."
Cas knew better than to question it, and instead resorted to sighing. He had dug himself a hole for sure. The only thing to do now would be to bear the heat of the split-second decision he had made, since Gabe had now hitched a ride on his train to nowhere.
“It’s no Chevy Impala, but it’ll do for now. Still the coolest ride in this parking lot, not that that’s saying much with this crowd.” Gabe scoffed. His haughty tone reminded Cas of this film he’d once seen. Mean Girls. He’d missed most of the jokes in the movie, so Sam had frequently stopped to explain, during which Dean was narrowly hiding his amusement. He would never admit to liking “chick-flicks,” but his face almost always betrayed him whenever the three happened to catch one on television. The slight upturn of his lips at the edge, the way his eyes seemed to soften and illuminate at the same time—
“So are we going or nah? Hey. Lady. Give my brother here a refund. As it turns out, he isn’t going to be catching crabs here tonight.”
…Right. Hunting. With Gabriel. Cas turned just in time to catch a set of keys flying at his face as his brother made his way to the counter, leaning over with a smooth motion to gesture towards the tattooed receptionist. Another sigh.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire he went.