Work Text:
A serephimic being sat down at a big workbench in the sky, rolling up his sleeves as he readied to work. He was angel, you see. And his assignment had been to build a man; strong, but willing to submit to heavenly plans.
His oceanic blue eyes looked over his table, seeing each and every material he "needed" to build a man. A pile of clay waiting to be sculpted into bone, firm stones to be welded on as muscles, scraps of dented metal to cover it all up, and a sturdy titanium frame to go underneath it. Last but not least, a soul he must handle with gloves.
The angel knew this wasn't all he would need, but he persisted. He sculpted the clay over the titanium frame, but it wouldn't stay together. Determined to craft a human, he tore off a bit of his tattered old trenchcoat and wrapped it around the frame before placing the bones around it snugly. Surely heaven would not mind the addition.
His next issue came when he found the skull was empty so it caved far too easy. To fix this, a diamond in the angel's favorite green was placed inside. It was unbreakable, although cracked. And it shown through the eye holes with the most beautiful glimmer that he had ever seen. Something beautiful and strong willed, and undeniably human. The angel sanded down the edges and polished the stone well so that it would never break its holder and only gleam from inside. Possibly heaven could understand.
The third problem that the angel found was that the muscles of stone would shatter the bones. He wrapped the body in worn leather, a material touch but not unkind and the muscles adhered on nicely. Heaven wouldn't mind it too much, right?
Another problem arose when the scrap metal was too large for the frame so something was needed to fill the gaps. Without a thought to his assignment, the angel gave up some of his dark feathers and placed them under the skin. It was still dented and rough, barely welded together, but underneath lied a softness purely celestial.
Lost in his work, the angel added more and more for the angel was a creator at heart. He tanned the human man's skin, adding smile lines on the face, tattoos where they were due, and a mark from the angel on the shoulder—a signature. He gave him a friendly smile and a deep, but caring voice. Large calloused hands, humanity brown hair, and a heart destined to do what was right.
When he picked up his creation, the chest caved in with a hole. The angel frowned and knew he must add something inside. Ah yes, the soul! Only thinking of his creation, the angel barehandedly touched the soul to gently place it in the chest of his man. He only realized his error when the soul cried out for him from confinement in the body, contorting each lifeless limbs around his finger.
He made no effort to pull away his hand, calming the soul with a whispered promise that they'd reunite again. He flattened the body on his table again, sewing up the chest with threads he had handcrafted.
At last, he looked over his creation, a perfect man. Not yet, something was missing. The angel, Castiel, cut out his favorite piece of the sky and placed the constellations on the man's– Dean Winchester's face. The man's skin was now dotted with low hanging stars borne in the night over Larence, Kansas.
Now unable to help himself, Castiel lifted Dean's body and sighed life into it—something he was unaware he could do. Dean cried out first for his brother, then for Castiel. The name sounded unfamiliar in the mouth Castiel had crafted for him.
Without bidding adieu, Castiel placed the man in the ground on Earth, knowing he would pull him up again. He knew now that he had disobeyed his orders, and he felt shame wash over him in waves. He pushed it down and made sure Dean was buried well, still waiting and hoping for the day he would see him again.
There was still something Castiel nor Dean knew. Castiel had breathed more than life into Dean, but love and his own grace. With that love, Dean's design would be incomplete without Castiel. With that grace, Castiel would feel hollow without Dean.
Both names were written behind that piece of the sky Castiel had cut out for Dean. It was in Castiel's own little corner, hidden from heaven or hell. Despite everything, the angel stood up from his workbench and began on his journey.