Chapter Text
Falling is a gradual process for an angel, but an angel will often refuse to admit it is happening until their wings have become skeletal figures upon their backs and their grace is no more. When they may no longer fly – when they have exhausted their efforts attempting to repent for their sins-, still they will not accept that they belong to Heaven no more. They will wander the Earth for all of eternity, wailing and lost, in search of a God whose back is turned.
It was the way of the Fall, and Castiel had long since accepted the he would Fall for his sins.
He wasn’t sure when he’d accepted that the Fall was coming, but when his Grace flickered and died in the midst of battle, he was not surprised; nor was he surprised to find the world peacefully still around him, the Winchester’s and their hunter friends caught in the slow crawl of a paused time stream, surrounded by an onslaught of demons.
It wasn’t a preferable time for a chat, but then again Joshua had never been known for his timing.
“Brother,”
Joshua’s vessel was that of a man once called Hank, with dark skin and graying hair; his hands were rough after so long tending the Garden, his eyes light and playful despite his age. His mouth was set in a grim line.
“Brother,” Castiel returned the greeting.
“I see I have approached you at an inconvenient time,” Joshua’s eyes roamed the still world and Castiel nodded grimly, sparing a glance to the bloody blade in his grasp.
“We were ambushed,” Castiel informed his superior, wiping his blade on the arm of his coat.
“Demons will never fail to trick us,” Joshua sighed, hands buried in pockets as he watched Castiel. The lesser angel stared at the blood smeared over his sleeve for a moment before meeting his superiors gaze.
“I mean no disrespect, Joshua, but if you have come then it is to initiate my Fall and the visit is not appreciated.”
“Not many would accept my message so willingly with a blade in hand.” Joshua eyed the weapon distastefully, but Castiel did not set it down; though the world was still around him, he was still in the midst of battle.
“I do not often let fate run its course.” Castiel agreed, “However, there are exceptions. Even I cannot prevent certain… Inconveniences on my path.”
“You believe Falling is your fate?” Joshua arched a brow, the motion so human of an angel it was unsettling— it reminded Castiel of himself, of the mannerisms of Dean’s he had unknowingly incorporated into his behavior.
“I have sinned in my Father’s eyes, and I shall not repent for that which I do not regret.” Castiel sighed.
“You have sinned with good intention, Castiel, and delivering your punishment pains me.”
“It is no fault of yours, Brother,” Castiel promised, taking a cautious step forward. Would the initiation of the Fall hurt? Would he feel his feathers falling away; his grace, already stressed, bleeding into nothing?
“You are not meant to Fall, Castiel.” Joshua extended a hand and Castiel placed his hand in his brothers. “He has told me your path will be different, so different it will be.”
Castiel nearly snatched his hand away in shock; his fingers twitched with the effort of restraint.
“He has spoken to you?” Castiel asked quietly. Joshua squeezed Castiel’s hand between both of his; the interaction was human in nature- like a father comforting his son. Odd that it should actually comfort Castiel.
“It is the first time in years that He has broken His silence,” Joshua nodded.
“If He does not want me to Fall… What must my punishment be?”
Joshua’s hands grew heated where they held Castiel’s, and the lesser angel felt an emotion – too long spent with humans, too much influence on part of the Winchester’s – similar to panic begin to bubble in his gut when Joshua maintained his silence.
Joshua; he was the one who heard God. He was good at listening, but never at speaking.
Heat ripped through Castiel, his grace igniting once more and raising like an angry tide within him; it was pressing against the inside of his vessel, trying to break free of its limits and explode in a flurry of light and sound. Castiel convulsed, Joshua’s hands cupping one of his own the only thing keeping him up.
“Joshua.” Castiel choked, knees digging into gravel as he slowly folded.
“Castiel,” Joshua’s hands constricted around his own and Castiel gasped, his vessel giving way to the press of grace. The world around him roared back to life, the full swing of battle carrying on around them, Castiel kneeling in the midst of it as his Grace threatened to consume him.
“May God help you.”
The words settled in Castiel’s chest, sitting heavily as everything around him exploded with light, and the demons screamed.