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Castiel couldn't tear his eyes away from the television screen. It buzzed and hummed with static, and the only thing playing was terrible soap opera reruns from the nineties. But it had put an irrestistable spell upon him, one he couldn't resist.
It wasn't even an especially interesting television. It was black, dusty, and had two little antenna sticking out of the top, though it frusturated Castiel a little that they weren't very useful. When he had the energy he'd reach out and hit the side of the tv. Usually that gave him a few seconds of clear video. Then it was back to crackling black and white blurriness.
Sometimes the sound turned off off. Cas wasn't sure why, he'd hit the tv as hard as he could yet it never even made one of those angry sputters it sometimes made. Then, when all else failed, he would sit back and listen.
That's when the voices came. Cas could hear the screaming, too. Sometimes, when it got really bad, he would sit in a corner and rock until it went away and the tv worked again.
He'd crawl back, the dusty, smudged screen like a soothing balm on his wounds.
After a while, everything became the same. Days started to wash into eachother, and slowly Cas started to become more disheveled. His hair, formerly a lustrous black, became oily and limp. The dark circles under his eyes became even more pronounced, and one day, when he looked down at his hand, he saw it was covered in dirt. He had ran his hand through it hair in puzzlement, and then confusion turned to fear when he reached a tangle and pulled out a chunk of gray hair. A sudden rush of fear and sadness came upon him, but then the television let out a particularly loud sputter and he was under its spell once more.
It had been the first hard emotion he had felt in weeks, and it was gone as soon as it came.
As time went on, more often than not the tv was off, and Cas was back in the corner. He would mumble his way through the day, often singing the little ditties that played when the commercials came on. His favorite was the coke one. He could hum that jingle for hours on end.
At one point he thought he had a visitor, but he couldn't tell what was dream or not. All he had to do was repeat the words and he would be ok. And that is exactly what he did. The visitor left, and Castiel forgot what happened.
Eventually, though, this time came to an end. Something disrupted Castiel's monotone existence.
That day had started like any other. Castiel was watching the coke commerical, completely oblivious, when the light flickered. That didn't bother him too much, it happened on occasion, and when the tv went silent he whimpered a little. Like a broken dog, he slumped off his chair and put his hands over his ears, sure that the screaming would start any time.
When it didn't, Castiel looked up in surprise, hugging his trench coat to his body. His eyes scanned the dimly lit room, alarmed when the light flickered again. He glanced at the tv screen for a second.
It was off. Completely off. The whole screen had turned pitch black. Not even a trace of the all too familiar static. Castiel moaned in desperation and knocked his palm against it, feeling panic spread throughout his body. For the... who knows how long he'd been there, the tv had been a constant presence. It had, somehow in Castiel's tortured mind, become his only friend. It was almost alive to him, and he despaired of it. It was like it had died, and when it did, all barriers broke. Cas wept on the floor, snot running down his face, coughing and sputtering like a demon had been caught inside of him.
Just years ago, Castiel had been one of the most respected, influential members of the seraphims. Now look at him-a sobbing mess on the floor over a television. Not even this thought, possibly sent from the only part of him kept sane, was enough to rouse him from the floor.
Castiel was midway through a sob when the pain started. His sobs turned to screams as the whole room seemed to liquify and brighten, and a horrible ringing reverberated through the white hot space. His very
core felt like it was being tightened and then expanded at unmeasureable speeds, and the absolute pain it caused was impossible to describe.
Was it years? Months? Days? Cas wasn't sure how long it had gone on. His thoughts were all over the place. It was like that when your very blood is on fire. At the very least, he had gained some of his clarity back. No longer did he feel like he was constantly underwater. The times he could think were when the pain lessened a bit, and then the memories came flooding back to him.
Through all the pain, he gained a grim determination. If this ever stopped, he wouldn't succumb to the cycle of the tv again. He'd buck, he'd fight, and he'd claw his way out of the trance if he had to.
He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. As soon as this was ov-
Then the pain gripped him again and he screamed once more.
As soon as this was over.