Chapter Text
Castiel was happy.
He was lying on the ground, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers and a sea of soft green grass. Above him, the sky was a deep blue and the afternoon sun felt like a blessing upon his naked skin. All around him, he perceived life and harmony. It was bliss.
Encompassed by the peaceful hum of the bee nest he had chosen to observe, Castiel experienced pure serenity. He let himself drift.
What would it be like to live as a bee?
Bees were… they were wonderful. Fluffy and useful and peaceful; they only ever stung to defend themselves. It was a tragedy that a single sting meant their death. It was cruel.
Then again, if every being were like that—if violence meant death—the world would be a much more peaceful place.
Angels didn’t sleep. Castiel wanted to sleep, didn’t want to be an angel, didn’t want to associate anymore with angels and their silver sting that hurt and hurt and hurt.
He had slain so many.
Castiel would much rather have a bee’s wings; stripes and fur, yellow and black, and spend his days collecting pollen and nectar to provide for his colony.
Castiel?