#idk i'm obsessed with the relationship between uriel and cas and the rest of their garrison

[myaimistrue]

here, have a uriel and castiel conversation with a side of deancas! set at the beginning of 4x07 it’s the great pumpkin, sam winchester

read this on ao3 here and check out my other angel related works here

“They will be here soon,” Castiel said.

Uriel didn’t need to look over at his brother’s vessel to sense his anticipation; he could feel Castiel’s grace, restricted as it was on this plane of reality, and that sufficed. “I should hope so. I have no desire to stay in this hovel any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“The Winchesters are comfortable in places like this,” Castiel said. Uriel didn’t miss the way his vessel’s voice changed when he spoke, and though he was unsure of how precisely to define it, he knew he didn’t like it. “As I said, it’ll be better to speak with them here. They’ll be more likely to listen.”

Uriel scoffed, and stood up from the bed—it creaked as his vessel’s weight shifted off of it. Castiel remained seated on the opposite bed, flipping through a small Bible he’d found tucked into the end table when they had arrived at the motel. The two of them had shared a laugh when they found it—human Bibles were rarely accurate, a fact that had been the source of extensive amusement for Uriel and Castiel’s garrison over the years. It was strange, to share a moment like that with Castiel. They had grown further and further apart over the years, a process that began with Anna’s fall and only accelerated as Uriel felt himself drawn to Lucifer. The things about his brother he had once enjoyed—his spirit, his tenacity, his strength—had long since become things he viewed as potential threats. So to share laughter, even in these false bodies, was an almost welcome feeling. It was a moment of levity in this time of strategy and deception—there was relief in it.

But still, Uriel was angry. He didn’t bother to keep the emotion of it out of his vessel’s voice. “It doesn’t matter if the Winchesters listen to us or not. They’ll do what they’re told, or they’ll die.”

Castiel flipped a page in the Bible. “We aren’t going to kill them, Uriel. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He almost seemed bored. It had been long centuries since Castiel was Uriel’s favorite brother, but it wasn’t until this moment that Uriel had actual hate for him. Here, in a disgusting motel room in town doomed for destruction, waiting for two useless creatures who were nothing but tools to be used and then discarded, Uriel briefly considered revealing his true loyalties simply so he could kill Castiel. Uriel would ask him to join Lucifer’s efforts, but it was apparent Castiel would never betray Heaven, if only due to his affection for humanity (more specifically, the Winchester boy). He could kill Castiel before the brothers arrived, then smite the two of them once they’d had a chance to see the hollow vessel lying on the shag carpet. Uriel imagined it all unfolding, imagined how it would feel to end all of their lives in one fell swoop.

But that would be foolish.

Castiel finally looked up from the Bible, suddenly frowning deeply. “Are you alright?” His grace edged toward Uriel, and the sense memory of his brother’s essence overwhelmed him. Despite everything, it was a comfort. “I know you have concerns, Uriel. But I assure you, Dean Winchester will make the right decision here. He’s the Righteous Man.”

“You think he’ll let us destroy this town?” Uriel said incredulously. “I’ve watched him, Castiel, as you have. He will never allow this.”

And just like that, Castiel’s grace was gone, folded within himself again. His vessel’s eyes grew cold. “And who can say if this is the right choice?” Uriel couldn’t answer before Castiel continued. Rarely did Castiel pull rank so obviously; he would allow Uriel much, but apparently, he would not allow him this. He could hear the echoes of Castiel’s true voice beneath his vessel’s as he spoke, and his tone broached no argument. “I pulled Dean Winchester from the Pit. I saw the way his soul shone amidst all the agony and corruption. And then I rebuilt him, cell by cell, atom by atom. Don’t tell me what choices he will make. I know him, and he will not be influenced by either of us.”

For a moment, it was completely silent. Again, Uriel felt the temptation to tell his brother that none of it mattered; the seals would break, and Lucifer would rise, regardless of what Heaven wanted, and his pet human would be destroyed in an instant. But he could not overplay his hand. There were still moves to be made.

“I understand,” Uriel finally said. “I… won’t be so presumptuous.”

“Good.” And then Castiel turned to sit at the table by the door without saying anything further. Uriel watched him, and the resentment was so immense it felt like it was encroaching on his grace—on some level, he recognized that as the danger it was. But the realization wasn’t enough to stop him.

“Castiel.”

He seemed annoyed. “Yes?”

“We all can see it, you know.” Uriel let his vessel’s voice grow casual, as though his every word wasn’t a threat. “The mark you left on his soul.” Cas’s vessel’s head snapped to Uriel, and the satisfaction of gaining the upper hand was sweet. He let his words lilt into mocking concern. “I worry for you, Castiel. You are close to this Winchester boy, but you don’t fully understand the bigger picture yet. None of us do.”

Castiel’s grace was completely unseen to him now, buried deep within his true form. This was the first time Castiel had taken such a precaution around him, and despite his anger, Uriel felt something like heartbreak that he and his brother had come to this. “Do not—”

“Perhaps I’ve been presumptuous,” Uriel cut in, “but so have you.” Before Castiel could formulate a response, if there was one at all, Uriel turned to the motel room window and said, “He does not belong to you, Castiel. You’d better remember that.”

Another long silence. Outside, Uriel could see the backside of a gas station and the main road. The cars drove by, and Uriel felt his vessel sneer. There would be no regret for him when it came time to wipe this place off of the map—after the seal was broken, of course. 

“They’ve arrived,” Castiel eventually said. Uriel didn’t bother to respond, and he heard Castiel’s vessel sigh. “I trust we can put this all aside and focus on the mission?”

Uriel let the moment stretch, then put on his most jovial voice. The time for antagonism had ended, at least for now. “Of course, brother. I look forward to seeing how your Righteous Man handles this decision.”

And again, Uriel could not see Castiel’s vessel, nor could he see his grace any longer. But he still knew his brother’s uneasiness, knew it like he knew any fact of life. He imagined Castiel knew something wasn’t right, but couldn’t place what it was; never would he guess what Uriel was planning.

Uriel allowed himself to imagine how it would feel to watch Castiel’s grace drain slowly away as his existence ended. And slowly, deliberately, as Sam and Dean Winchester burst into the motel room, Uriel felt his vessel smile.