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“I don’t want to do this.” Castiel knows he’s not sober, but he can’t decide if he’s hallucinating. Somewhere between the dregs of the bathtub gin and Percocet he’s lost track of reality, which is generally how he likes it.
On the other hand, he can see the aura of strangeness about the pretty red-head and the man (“That’s Amy, I’m the Doctor, don’t argue,” he had insisted as he pushed Castiel inside the box) but he can’t put his finger on what it is. Castiel clears his throat, but it doesn’t do more to get their attention. “Dean will worry — ” except that he knows that isn’t true; Dean, when he notices that Castiel is missing, will be more angry than concerned.
The girl gives him a look between a grin and a grimace. “We’ll be back before he even knows you’re gone,” she says. Her tone is unsympathetic but kind. Castiel tries to smile but can’t quite muster the energy.
The doors are closing behind him, and Castiel wishes he’d thought to grab something on his way out: a shot of absinthe, a handful of pills, a quick joint, anything to take the edge of the over-saturated realism of the Doctor’s… time travelling device, Castiel realizes as the bottom seems to fall out of his stomach. He can see the strands of time through the window on the door. “What are you doing?”
The Doctor leans forward on the console on his ship, frowning as he passes a metal contraption from one hand to the other. Castiel is dizzy, sobering all too soon as he sees time shifting, sliding backwards around them. The Doctor is staring at him. “Thing is, someone has to save Dean — and you seem to have forgotten how.”
Castiel rubs his face with both hands, tries to keep himself grounded as they fly back to destinations unknown. “I haven’t forgotten anything. I may be human now, but I’ve never forgotten a moment.”
“Sure you have.” The Doctor rounds the console, comes so close that Castiel twitches away. “You remember events but you’ve forgotten how they feel, isn’t that right Castiel? Trying to hide the feelings under chemicals until it stops hurting.”
“Humanity hurts.” Castiel looks away from the Doctor’s unwavering stare. Somewhere underneath confusion and shame and not a small amount of fear, he realizes Dean would find it amusing.
“It’s supposed to hurt. Humanity is about hurting and overcoming — and you’re doing it wrong.” The world comes to a stop and the Doctor straightens up, twirls around toward the door. “Amy, I’m going to need you to stay in for this one.” He taps the corner of one eye.
“But…” She looks from Castiel to the Doctor and says in a lower voice, “I’d really like to see what it’s like.”
The Doctor shrugs. “It would be the last thing you ever see, unfortunately. Not for human eyes. I promise, Space Florida. Eventually,” he adds under his breath. Amy nods and disappears into a corridor while the Doctor swings open the door.
The light burns Castiel’s eyes, and he hides his face in the crook of his arm. He knows the light — he feels it on his skin and doesn’t ever want see it again. But the Doctor is at his shoulder. “Open your eyes, Castiel. You can’t look away, not now.”
Castiel looks, sits at the threshold of the ship and looks at himself. They’re far enough away that the shapes are distinct but undetailed; Castiel can see the shape of his form, scaled down so that he can grip the fragile soul that was Dean Winchester — saved from Hell, rebuilt from the earth and the air. Watches as he carefully healed the wounds of Dean’s body, smoothed over the pitted soul as best he could.
“Did you think this would be the only time that Dean needed you? That he would ever stop?” The Doctor is watching without any apparent discomfort, even with a bit of scrutiny; Castiel half expects him to say Oh, that could have been done better.
“I was an angel,” Castiel says helplessly, his chest constricting as he watches himself lay Dean to rest. He remembers that moment with startling clarity, as he branded the Righteous Man and bade him to rest and recover.
“Oh, so you’re human now — that doesn’t mean you stop being an angel. You just have to work harder.” The Doctor taps Castiel on the shoulder, but Castiel can’t look away from the wreckage where he emerged from the Earth. His old angelic form shoots toward Heaven, wings flung wide. He’d had no idea that he was forever changed by that time spent remolding Dean.
“I can’t.”
“You must. It’s going to be hard, and he’s going to fight you like hell, but if you don’t lay off the self-destruction and help Dean again it’s lights out for everyone. I have stake in this planet.” Castiel can hear the the Doctor’s footfall as he walks back to the console. “Let’s get going, then. This won’t be easy. Dean can be stubborn, can’t he?”