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[castielsentries]

hey u alive

Indeed I am.

It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?

[castielsentries]

Hey there Cas! So, first off, I’m sorry about Dean and the whole angel-possession thing. But you have Sam and Jack to help you and support you. I know this is tough- to have one more person you love and care about taken away- but you’ll get him back.

…

[castielsentries]

Cas? You there?

I’m afraid I haven’t been here in a long time, sadly. Attempting to find any semblance of a way to fix our current situation has taken up far more time than anticipated.

Hello, what can I do for you?

[castielsentries]

Happy Easter

[castielsentries]

March 22, 2017

Hello,

Time seems to be a commodity I can no longer quantify like I have been accustomed to these past few years. To have seen so much in what feels like a blink of an eye in some regards and to see an eternity go by in one brief smile in others has a way of unbalancing even the most trained in the art that is timekeeping and surveying. Today was no exception.

Heaven, as I have said before, does not tell time in the same way that Earth does. Hell carries similar parameters, but regardless it has been a considerable amount of this unquantifiable source since I last spent a prolonged period in Heaven that was more than a few minutes at most. The circumstances, it appears, are at least somewhat less hostile then they once were, but that does not mean I am in a safe place.

…

Once, I would have said Heaven was the safest place. Now, that is nowhere near the case anymore.

They walk a lot more, my brothers and sisters, around the personal heavens of the souls that reside there. Although they have yet to truly speak to most of the souls, I cannot help but notice there is a rush to get as much accomplished despite the fact that 24 hours in a day is merely a notion, not a fact here. I suppose it is all hands on deck. The impending Nephilim will not wait for Heaven to prepare, if it comes to that.

An entire army will be ready to battle for the sake of this child—to destroy this child due to father. It is not the most ethnic of decisions, but rush, time, and none of the latter do not usually result in thought out moral discussions. We are angels, and one of the cardinal rules is to not give an unsuspecting child the powers of creation at their grasp. It will make them more powerful and more likely to encounter those that wish to use that power, but I had never truly stopped to think just what that must feel like for the child themself. I never thought of it with Jane, the life I robbed her of only to have the angels cast out of Heaven as my reward for naïvely following into a plan all for the sake of stopping that rush of time.

But this is different. This is Satan’s child, not another angel’s.

… The question still remains the same, though, doesn’t it.

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday

[castielsentries]

March 21, 2017

Reverse entries, or entries about previous episodes. Cas will only know what he knew up until that point, thus they’re similar to the season 11 and 12 entries that way (in essence, spn rewrite from Cas’s POV). Reverse entries will drop every Monday in order. Read more about RE here

Today’s Entry: 5x16 “Dark Side of the Moon”

Recommend rewatch before reading

Yesterday | Tomorrow

Report:

They are alive; in Heaven, but alive. I felt something change for a brief second, their souls no longer on earth, though how that is possible I cannot explain. They should not be seen or heard by any angel; why did I feel anything?

God is not answering; no one is answering. I cannot reach them in Heaven. I am not welcome there anymore.

I am wanted. I rebelled and sentenced myself to exile. I should know this by now.

And yet, they are now on the other side with a window of opportunity I no longer carry. I cannot help them more than I will try, but that does not mean I will not try.

There is a spell. It’s ancient Enochian known only to a few angels. No one uses it because we all theoretically speaking can return to Heaven. It is also not a spell done willingly. Sacrifices have to be made—Not of the human variety, but regardless. Acquiring blood from sacred animals is still sacrilegious in its own right.

“Cas?” It was filled with static, but the connection had been made.

“Yeah, it’s me.” A part of me wondered what the connection looked like on his end. What was I speaking out of?

“You gotta stop poking around in my dreams, man.” He sounded off. I can understand why; he was just shot to death. Souls never wish to recognize their reality when in Heaven, therefore in this regard Dean was fairing better than most.

“I’m dead.”

 “Condolences.”

I prayed God would help them. Zachariah has undoubtedly started searching for them, canvasing all of Heaven as well as their personal Heavens in search for them… I wonder what Sam and Dean see in their Heavens, not just the road that connects them.  They would be in separate places, but that does not mean a version  of Dean cannot be found in Sam’s heaven or a version of Sam cannot be found in Dean’s. The Axis Mundi is a powerful navigator, but even it does not reveal all of its secrets to the ones tasked with maintaining it. I always wondered, but I was never allowed to ask. The one who built it was never there to answer regardless.

Dean saw a road. He saw the Axis Mundi, but what else did he see, I wonder? And of Sam? Are they filled with the monsters of their lives or of the memories they cherished? Heaven can pick from either or both. There is no limit or cap on human imagination. My Father made sure of that.

…

The amulet has never so much as gleamed. I have been avoiding what that could mean, but now… Now, I don’t know what I’m avoiding anymore.

Speaking to Dean had been risky, this I knew already. It would reveal my location if it was being looked for, which was a certain possibility. I moved once more and tried again.

This time, the connection was stronger, most likely because Dean was searching for me as well. I told them what I needed them to do. They needed to find Joshua. They needed to do what neither I nor the amulet could.

If Joshua was still hearing God, then it was the only resource we had. Even if He will not hear my prayer, He will have to hear Joshua/s. The place to find him is in the Garden, and to let Sam and Dean go there without any source of backup was a risk I was willing to take. I needed to. The world was at stake. Zachariah could not find them. We would not have this opportunity again.

I moved after the second conversation, listening to as much as I could muster without being found. Already there were angels at my previous locations. My next communication would have to be more discrete. Angels contacting souls is much more difficult than souls contacting angels. It was easier when Dean reached out to me, but if he and Sam are evading Zachariah then I can no longer count on that.

To wait is all I have, but listening is a trait I am very familiar with. The angels are all searching; they are all communicating, though there is a voice there that I do not recognize, as if they were speaking with an accent. He goes by “Charcoal”. No angel carries that name.

That is not important right now. Another time.

What mattered now was what Joshua would say to the Winchesters. Joshua will tell us where God is. He wants the Apocalypse to end as much as the Winchesters do, I’m sure of it.

The phone rang the following morning. Time is questionable in heaven, but Dean’s voice was on the other line.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Where are you? What did Joshua say?” Months of searching were about to be answered. This must be what anticipation feels like as an emotion; I am not sure if I like it or not.

There was a pause on the other end, one that did nothing to alleviate this need to know. “You might wanna come here to hear the news, man.”

Hearing it in person did not alleviate that pain at all. A chasm only seemed to stretch where it should have been filled.

He does not want to help us. God wants no part in stopping the Apocalypse.

God does not care that the world is about to fall to ruin.

“Maybe Joshua was lying,” I heard myself say. Thoughts turned into words faster than I could process the information.

“I don’t think he was. I’m sorry.” Even that sounded far away, like the very tunnel most humans see in Heaven, two exist and a barrel of echo in between them.

He won’t help…

The amulet would never light.

“You son of a bitch. I believed in…” I thought I heard a whisper, even the smallest of hopes rising from where they had fallen.

There was silence. I did not even finish my final prayer.

God was our last chance. God was Earth’s last chance.

“It’s worthless.” I gave Dean back his amulet. It was never going to work, was it?

Everyone told me I would fail. Everyone said God had disappeared. And yet I did not stop. I put myself through hours of journeying, of searching, of despair for nothing.

God told them to back off.

What do I do now? What do the Winchesters do?

They would drink. That seems to cure their problems for a few hours.

…

Yours,

Castiel

[castielsentries]

March 20, 2017

Hello,

Have I ever discussed fishing? Has it ever needed to be discussed before? I have seen the mechanics, but I have never partaken in the act itself. The entire theory of fishing speaks volumes, however. Let me explain.

There are fish in an ocean so vast it encapsulates the entire earth, its treasures and secrets known only to those that live deep, hidden unless provoked. These are creatures that live in symbiosis with those that also call the water their home, some fighting for territory while others fight for survival. There is both love and loss in the sea, though who emerges victorious is never certain based on just those factors alone. Now, there are fish that serve to keep others clean, others whose purpose it is to warn or to avoid and so on, but not a single fish thinks about what lies beyond the surface. Well, more often than not you find fish that do not give the matter a second thought. Some are actually rather knowledgeable on the matter, but that is not the point here.

These fish, the ones that are unaware, are content with living their lives in the safety of their dwellings, reefs, or ponds, but the primal instinct to find food is ever present. Fish will search for their food—it is understandable: we search for food otherwise we starve. It is a universal truth. The same applies to humanity as well, only in slightly more complex actions, but I am diverging.

Think about this fish now; they are hungry and there appears to be a source of food hovering towards the surface almost as if inviting the fish for dinner. Most fish will go for the food, ultimately landing themselves in the belly of the fisherman that cast the bait out to begin with.

Is that not an unsatisfying story? We hurt the fish, and yet we somehow end up getting the reward for it. Fate may be cruel, but that does not mean choice has disappeared. We chose to go fishing; We knew the final result before the fish even started its morning that day.

… I do not know where I am going with this; I needed something else to take my mind off of what is going on right now. Dean’s dream had come to mind then, bringing me back to what I once thought all those years ago. Perhaps I just don’t want to see another fish drown, but even then that is not something that is possible, is it?

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday | Tomorrow

[castielsentries]

March 19, 2017

Hello,

The weather is changing, finding that middle ground between blistering cold and the supernova of heat. To think the addition of wind can do so much to alleviate the temperature, and yet all people complain about is how their hair is being buffeted by the wind that cools them down. Irony in the battle between man and nature is never absent, it seems.

The wind can be one’s friend, however. It is a reminder that the body feels more than the mind registers, the air ghosting over skin and eyes as a reminder that they still exist in a space we forget. The wind is to us as water is to fish in that way. Do you think they know of the force that keeps them afloat? I believe so; I have seen them use it to their advantage. Birds do the same, but humans only seem to ridicule the force that grounds them. Instead of embracing it, they remain in a place where the wind cannot reach them. There is a disconnect there as a result. It is troublesome, really. When you feel that wind you remember your body in a world where it is so easy to forget yourself.

Next time you feel that wind, remember that last sentence.

Yours, Castiel

Yesterday | Tomorrow

[castielsentries]

March 18, 2017

Hello,

I do not know why I remember this now, but it came to mind regardless. In case it was not clear, we each have our own ways to cope with inactivity. Sam dives into research, I wander and help on occasion, and Dean washes every known surface in both the bunker as well as the cars in the garage. Once, I tried to do the same when Kelly Kline was still in the wind. I would argue that it was a time of deep inactivity I could not find my way out of.

Dean had said washing the Impala had been therapeutic. I decided to test his theory then.

There are cleaning products I have never heard of or thought would be applied to a car, and yet all of them were laid out in front of the truck I had taken what seemed like years ago. The truck was overdue to be cleaned, that much I knew from when I had first acquired it. Time and other priorities had overtaken my ability to even try to do so then, but at least this time I had the required tools. If only the knowledge that went along with that were as simple to attain.

There was cleaning fluid, wax, shine, wool, and that was only for the exterior. The interior had to be treated according to the material of the individual sections… And Dean did this for all of the cars?

And then there’s the water temperature. Cold should only affect certain areas whereas warm should be used in others. Where one can dent the metal the other can weather the leather. So many details to keep track of, not to mention the water hose Dean had bought is much more advanced than the rest of the equipment in the bunker.

“Just don’t drown the garage man. If you need help, just ask.” He had said. I did not want to bother him more than I needed to, but in hindsight I should have asked the knowledgeable one in how to actually go about a task. I was naïve to think I could figure it out.

I ended up getting every other car and surface in the garage soaking wet, both myself and Dean included after he came barging in asking what the noise was.

… To think that was only a few weeks ago.

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday | Tomorrow

[castielsentries]

March 17, 2017

Hello,

Angels don’t feel human pain, or rather, they did not once upon a time. I suppose I am different now. I feel the throbbing that comes with using a computer for too long. I am writing this now without the use of my thumbs as a result. It is like carpal tunnel, or rather, that is what happened to Sam once that I was able to diagnose and treat. It had been a difficult few weeks at that point, and Sam and Dean are no longer the same age as they once were. Age is only seen in the details not wanting to be visible.

My hands ache, much as they do right now that forces me to write in a different form. It takes longer and hinders the goal I set for myself every night, but that does not end up making the task impossible. If I have learned anything it is that there is always another way to meet your goal; it is as simple as changing the fingers you tell a story with. Humanity changes as it ages, this lesson only being taught exclusively as a result. Angels do not know the circumstances behind adaptation because they have never felt their hands ache in a growing pain that awakens with the sun and slumbers in the night if one is so lucky. We may have felt pain, but we have never felt daily cycles of a minor variety. It truly serves to teach that lesson I spoke of earlier, however.

Humanity are creatures of habit, staying up late to write or waking up early to train, schedules are key. When small pains inhibit those times, however, Humanity jumps through that hurdle and continues moving forward, not staying back and waiting for the pain to pass.

Even when we feel tired, we keep fighting. That is quite the parallel, don’t you think?

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday | Tomorrow

[castielsentries]

March 16, 2017

Hello,

Primary colors can paint a life.

If you think about it, the combination of just three colors has spawned an entire world of vibrant images, lands, and more, and yet none of them can be created again once they have been altered. They are constantly evolving and changing, never the same from where they started and yet still holding that pigment in everything that they touch. Red, blue, and yellow, only they are not just that are they? They are so much more.

Color is something I have spoken of before, not because I have been absent of it but rather it is a statement of individuality; something Heaven lacked long before. I first encountered it without a filter on Earth, where color is the gear that brings about the inner soul of each creature that shows it. Different forms of primary colors mean different things be it because they are unsaturated or too saturated, miniscule in presence or devouring the entire image; you name it. They are primary, but that does not mean they do not change. There is a fitting message of life there.

Humanity paints in the colors knows the most about. They can paint happiness, sadness, calm, quiet, or any combination of those. It is the innate sense of wanting to create that drives people to use certain colors. They wish to convey what cannot be said through visual cues, hence the mixing and evolving of colors so that they are no longer one simple layer. Even one shade of blue is not simply one shade. It is interacting with the world around it, changing color depending on what it sees. I describe it like a sentient being because it very much is that: an organism that coats the exteriors of everything we see. They change as the person wearing them changes, layer upon layer being added until a masterpiece is created in the soul that has lived their life to the fullest. Even in death, there is color, which only adds to the argument and conundrum of why Heaven is devoid of it outside of humans’ individual heaven.

Perhaps I should have seen it as a sign even then. A place without color is a place without life, but that does not mean that place does not exist either. I should know; I lived there for millennia.

I never realized there was another reason why I left, one I did not see until I came to a world vibrant with it.

Primary colors can paint a life, but it takes the eye to see just how far that canvas will stretch.

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday | Tomorrow

[castielsentries]

March 15, 2017

Hello,

I had yet to discover a dog park until today.

It was recently opened, a grand celebration having taken place just days prior, and despite the chill in the air the park had attendants in both families and individuals alike. All had any range of number of dogs all in different sizes, breeds, ages, and appearances. I thought my knowledge of canines was fairly large, but I knew nothing about labradoodles, therefore it humbled me to learn of them today.

The owner of the labradoodle in question did not ask me where my dog was, most likely assuming it to be either the 10-year old beagle that was looking at the bigger dogs or the golden retriever that was busying itself with going after a greyhound that was enjoying the sun, but he did ask if I had ever heard of such a name for a dog before. I confessed I had not, and that was when I was educated.

There are countless kinds of dogs, this is established. Some have been companions to leaders and others have been revered for their loyalty, but what most seem to forget in history is the kind of dog that carried the title. Egyptians had dogs, but do you know what kind? What about the dog who would wait at the train station for his deceased owner to return? Or the brave creature that rescued 27 people from drowning? History is famous for generalizing the truth behind significant events, and I’m afraid it has rendered me incapable of answering these questions… except the first question. They are Ibizan Hounds, not to be confused with pharaoh hounds who actually have no ties to ancient Egypt. Ezekiel taught me that once.

But regardless, the erasure that these animals have faced in history has only grown to appear in modern day knowledge, or rather lack thereof, different breeds of what has been deemed “man’s best friend.” That is an interesting phrase, but one story at a time.

The labradoodle was named Lucky. What lucky qualities must he possess, I wondered. The man whom Lucky answered to told me then: Lucky had been a runt in the litter, cast out by her mother and put up for adoption extremely early. He suffered through an illness as a puppy that many did not believe he would survive, but he persevered. The runt of the litter lived and grew to be 8 years old now.

“He’s an oddball at times, but he’s seen hell when he was still a bird in a nest. Once he got past that, well; the world was his oyster.”

Those are words to dwell on.

Lucky had soft fur as well, but his eyes showed more than any human soul. The owner had been right, only without all the information. This was not Lucky’s first life.

But, a story for another time. 

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday

[castielsentries]

March 14, 2017

Yesterday | Tomorrow

Hello,

The first few digits of pi are:

Keep reading

[castielsentries]

March 13, 2017

Reverse entries, or entries about previous episodes. Cas will only know what he knew up until that point, thus they’re similar to the season 11 and 12 entries that way (in essence, spn rewrite from Cas’s POV). Reverse entries will drop every Monday in order. Read more about RE here

Today’s Entry: 5x15 “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid”

Recommend rewatch before reading

Yesterday | Tomorrow

Report:

Detoxing Sam proved stressful, though I fear it took its toll on Dean the most. From the second day onwards until Sam had no more demon blood in him, Dean was distant, like he saw a future he did not want to see. I would know; I have had the same look. He won’t tell me what he saw or who showed him something he cannot unsee, but if it was enough to haunt Dean Winchester then it must have been unthinkable.

We parted ways after that, me continuing my search and them looking into a new case that would bring them to Sioux Falls. For a place not in any geographically advantageous place, it has made a name of itself for taking the seemingly ordinary and turning it into something of great important.

Famine’s spell stopped when Sam weakened him and took his power, but their effects still linger in my mind. To be bested by a simple craving, to become a primal creature with not forward thinking beside the consumption of meat… To think an angel could be rendered so helpless that way… It is not something to be taken lightly in any regard, rather it should be noted and eradicated. Angels should not lost their power so easily, but I suppose I am not an ordinary angel. Can I call myself that? Should I? That is what Heaven undoubtedly sees me as.

But I will repent; I will find our Father and put an end to a war that should not have started. I will find a way to fix what I have broken, to fix a battered Heaven and show it a different point of view. It is a fool’s errand in any mind, but not in the determined. There may have yet to be any leads of value, but that does not mean they are nonexistent, only that I have yet to look elsewhere where they are obvious. Help would be appreciated, but no one believes anymore. We are in the Apocalypse and no one believes…

We are zombies walking to our deaths. Or at least, we would be if it were not for the Winchesters fighting back. They have already acquired two rings; who is to say they may not persevere themselves? They are doing the unthinkable. I can as well.

Zombies were one alive. Zombies are born again with all of the knowledge they died with, including their death. I am beginning to feel like I may fall into a similar category.

But I will not walk to my death. I refuse to stop searching for my Father. He has to stop this if it truly will come to an end. For now, both Sam and Dean refusing has kept it at bay and will continue to do so, but a short term resolution will not cure a long term illness. If only I could find Joshua.

I will walk, and I will do so alive—

No. It can’t be. They can’t—

Yours,

Castiel

[castielsentries]

March 12, 2017

Hello,

I remember I used to love the microcosm that was Heaven. It was always so big and yet there were a few key places where everything was available; the entire universe was in the palm of your hand. It was, well, magical. Everyone had a personal heaven, a piece of proverbial pie. We coexisted and traveled, those that were closest in connection being able to visit others and those that were soulmates being able to share in their own slice of their lives. I remember wondering if angels had the chance to get their own slice of this; whether or not angels had a place to come to should their lives end. I thought I saw it once, briefly… Or maybe I hadn’t. That is not the point.

I enjoyed walking around, enjoyed talking to those whose Heaven I had been invited into. There are stories in every home, entire lives worth of information told from those that lived it, and yet angels never once thought enough to listen to the souls who experienced what we were given only brief knowledge about. That was how it was once, however. Maybe Joshua made them see something I could not. Maybe Bobby has returned to his rightful place. Maybe they forgave him… There are too many maybes to have an absolute. Again, this is not the point.

So, what is the point? Why do I ramble on this way reflecting on what I once had and where I once had been? I had been naive, thinking about the souls we were told to keep in compartments and only oversee, not engage with. Heaven wasn’t free then; it wasn’t free two years ago either. It was only free to angels that were forgotten, but that does not mean the angels were free to roam Heaven as they pleased. 

I used to believe in Heaven, used to believe in the idea that there was everything you could ever imagine all in one place. I never realized that was an place Heaven refused to open.

But maybe… Maybe…

Yours,

Castiel

Yesterday

[castielsentries]

March 11, 2017

Hello,

I did not know what I expected. I still don’t. What lies beyond the doors is something I can no longer gauge. I could be met with indifference or destruction. I could walk into a place of refuge or a place of imprisonment, and whatever the consequence it will have been of my own volition.

There is no backup. There is no way of contacting the Winchesters should Heaven detain me.

I said I would listen, and in turn there was a slim possibility that what Kelvin said was true. I was to be going home…

Then why does it feel I have made a grave mistake?

Yours, Castiel

Yesterday | Tomorrow

[castielsentries]

March 10, 2017

Deals with 12x15 “Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell” told from Castiel’s POV. Watch before reading.

Yesterday | Tomorrow

Keep reading